“The Nose”

based on the short story by Nikolai Gogol

adapted by Josh Roche

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 28th June 2011

Often, the way in which a story is told can be far more interesting than the tale itself. The thrust of a plot can be dreadful, but if  we are interested in the craft of the narration an audience’s attention can be held nonetheless. Such is the case with Fat Git Theatre’s production of The Nose, which, aware of the thinness of the story it tells, manages to find intrigue in bravado and absurdity.

There isn’t much more to the plot other than the fact that Kovalyov loses his nose and finds that it manages to gain higher status than he. It is a wonderfully surreal story, and Gogol makes no attempt to give any explanation. Josh Roche’s text relishes the inconclusive nature of Gogol’s story and adds in a narrator – the Beast – and his aide – Stick – who are the audience’s way in.

The sheer theatricality of The Nose is what makes it such a success. It is so aware of itself that we are not once asked to believe in a word that is being said. Typified by the delineation of a white sheeted playing space outside of which actors remain neutral, we are constantly reminded we are watching a performance. Paints of various colours are splashed onto the white backdrop, transforming the stage from dull autonomy to diverse vibrancy, and music created from scissors and newspaper accompanies the mechanical pysicality.

The ensemble of actors embody the absurdism on show, inhabiting grotesque and inhuman characters, thus furthering the idea that we enjoy the telling of a story and not the tale itself. Joe Boylan as the weak Yakovlevich creeps across the stage; his physicality is mesmerising to watch. The decision to cast Kovalyov as a woman is interesting; at first it seems bizarre but it’s clear that the lost nose is a symbol of being emasculated. Kate Pearse bumbles along as the protagonist, and Shubham Saraf as Stick is the emobidment of Roche’s style. I wonder slightly, however, about the decision to portray Tom Syms’ characters as more human; when he is on stage his less grotesque persona doesn’t quite chime with the overall feel.

The current production of The Government Inspector at the Young Vic tries so hard to be surreal and real that the two worlds collide without having any coherence. What Roche has discovered is the importance of taking Gogol’s work with a very large pinch of salt, and he succeeds where Richard Jones failed. This is a beautifully original production from an up and coming theatre company, and is bound to be a hot ticket at Edinburgh later this year.

“Bane” by Joe Bone

at Warwick Arts Centre, Thursday 23rd June 2011

One man shows are notorious for sagging in the middle. A singular actor can find it difficult to sustain energy for the full length of the play and hold the audience’s attention. Not for Joe Bone, who, throughout his sixty-minute performance manages to do both while flitting between a multitude of characters, creating something spectacular regardless of its minimalism.

The storyline of Bane is much like that of many spy thrillers you’ll have witnessed in the past. Taking inspiration from film and graphic novels, Bone’s creation follows the detective Bruce Bane attempting to solve a mystery. The plot isn’t much, granted, but it’s what is done with it that makes this production so remarkable.

I have never seen multi-roling quite like it. Bone can happily portray a scene involving a handful of characters while managing to convey the narrative. The precision with which he moves makes it clear who we are watching at any given point, and his physicaility is effortless.

Accompanied by a live guitar soundtrack played by Ben Roe, Bane is real drama without ever taking itself too seriously. I worry somewhat that many of the film references went straight over my head, but that’s no doubt down to my ignorance rather than Bone’s lack of clarity. If you want a masterclass in playing multiple characters at the same time, get yourself along to Bane at the next opportunity.

“Chicken Soup With Barley” by Arnold Wesker

at the Royal Court, Wednesday 8th June 2011

It isn’t difficult to see why Dominic Cooke wanted to revive Arnold Wesker’s Chicken Soup With Barley at this point in history. Its discussion of left-wing ideas and the importance of politics in society is extremely relevent in mainstream conversation today, while the destruction and questioning of values is something which resonates across generations.

Spanning over 20 years – from 1936 to 1958 – Wesker’s play charts the progress of the Kahn fanily, considering how they cope with the war and the continued existence of an industrial, capitalist world. This Jewish, working class family are all believers in socialism, yet their conviction and preferred methods of change all differ dramatically. The conversations they have about strikes, protests and business are akin to ones which I’m sure have taken place at dinner tables all over the country in the past year.

Wesker’s writing is truly extraordinary; he manages to make the personal philosophies of the characters relevent to everyone and writes with such clarity that nothing needs to be repeated. Cooke’s direction makes each and every characters’ motives stem directly from personal experience and ensures that there is no single character who has more sympathy from the audience than the others.

There are some memorable performances here, too. All members of the central family unit are performed with brilliance. Jenna Augen as Ada, the daughter who embodies a pastoral socialism, is quiet and collected with moments of brutality. Tom Rosenthal’s Ronnie begins with anti-capitalist fervour before coping with disillusionment, and Danny Webb’s deterioration from joyful father to helpless patient is remarkable. Samantha Spiro, in the central part of the mother, Sarah Kahn, is extraordinary. She is so focussed on her beliefs that she is blind to what is happening around her, yet she seems stronger for it. It is tragic to watch this family heading towards its inevitable self-destruction.

The design by Ultz, which transforms from 30s flat to 60s apartment in the interval, is also wonderfully detailed; we see heirlooms being carried from one era to the next, as some are lost. It is a nice touch that the ‘kitchen sink’ which gives this style of drama its name is placed just below the stalls’ eyeline, out of view. Gary Yershon’s powerful music takes us from one time to a next, rallying us to the cause.

This is a near-perfect production of an astonishing play, and it comes at just the right time. Wesker never questions socialism, merely the trend which those on the left seem to set of enforcing its own collapse. As much as this play is a product of its time, it is one which has ever-present arguments and will always tug at heart strings, no matter what your political persuasion.

“Cause Célèbre” by Terence Rattigan

at the Old Vic, Wednesday 8th June 2011

Whilst I’m not utterly convinced that the fuss over Terence Rattigan on the 100th anniversary of his birth is healthy for British Theatre, it must be conceded that Thea Sharrock has done a stunning job of rekindling the nation’s love for this playwright. Following the success of After The Dance at the National last year, Cause Célèbre does wane somewhat in comparison, however, for the strengths in the production highlight the weaknesses in the text.

This is definitely not Rattigan’s best play; it is sexist, misogynistic, snobby, uber-conservative and -perhaps most appallingly of all – somewhat dull. The bulk of the play concerns itself with the trial and public humiliation of Alma Rattenburg for the murder of her husband with the help of her lover, George Wood. She is particularly hated by Edith Davenport, the jury forewoman, who asserts that she cannot be fair in judging the defendent because of the disgust she feels towards her moral character. The play then descends into an argument about whether or not Alma should be found guilty simply for her moral ‘repugnance’, regardless of her innocence. She is painted as the devil-woman, even though there is little reason to deem her so, especially in the 21st century.

But here’s the issue; it seems at times that Rattigan sympathises with the haters, and we can’t be too careful in a Tory age of our moral vision becoming blurred. No adulterer deserves to be lynched, yet all Cameron’s talk of ‘family values’ means this could end up once again becoming truth. No matter how beautifully written and well structured Rattigan’s plays are, we can’t get past the fact they are hardly representitive of a liberal society.

Sharrock’s production makes some good points about verisimilitude, showing us some of the contradictory statements in a hazy atmosphere, forcing us to question what we take as fact. There are also some interesting links to the modern day, with all its talk of celebrity and mob-mentality resonating in an injunction era. One of Alma’s wardons tells her that her music “will sell very well” following the publicity of the trial.

Hildegard Bechtler’s astonishing set is incomprehensively versatile, moving from vast unforgiving cavern to cosy living room without a sound. It is lit with warmth by Bruno Poet, who manages to distract us during crucial moments so that various coup-de-theatres can be performed.

As always, Sharrock’s skill is evident in the direction of her actors, and three performances in particular stand out. Nicholas Jones’ portrayal of O’Connor, the defendent lawyer, is remarkably intelligent, and he alone carries the narrative of the second half of the play. Niamh Cusack is horribly unforgiving as the vindictive Edith Davenport, but does show moments of humanity. In the lead role of Alma Rattenbury, Anne-Marie Duff provides a stellar performance, showing the horribly contradictory nature of someone troubled by inner termoil and all the while remaining incredibly reserved.

Although this is a strong, accomplished and striking production, it is difficult not to question Rattigan’s insistence on reminding us that Alma’s ethics are questionable, taking away the decision from the audience. There is no doubt that this is a dramatic piece of theatre, but Cause Célèbre makes it evident that Rattigan should never be held in too high esteem by the British theatrical establishment.

“Cabaret”

music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb and book by Joe Masteroff

at Warwick Arts Centre, Thursday 2nd June 2011

The world is a miserable place. Most of us with an ounce of wisdom can agree on that. But the creators of so many musicals seem to dodge away from difficult subjects, preferring to take the easy way out by showing a happy-clappy version of the world in which everyone lives happily ever after. Callum Runciman and Lilith Brewer’s production of Cabaret could not be further from this trend, portraying a gloriously pessimistic view of humanity during its darkest hour which at once provokes and delights.

We are in – unsurprisingly – a cabaret club in 1930s Berlin, and the American writer Clifford Bradshaw turns up hoping to find inspiration for a new novel. He meets and falls in love with the British Sally Bowles, and they live together in a boarding house presided over Fraulein Schneider, who is in turn in love with the Jewish Herr Schultz. As the various couples face troubles of their own, the impending Nazi takeover becomes more obvious. The whole enterprise is overseen by the omnipresent Emcee, here shown to be just as much a creator as a commentator on the events of the story.

The most striking aspect of this production is its gorgeous aesthetic. The film-noir inspired design is juxtaposed with the red curtain and yellow lights, and forces the Nazi Swastikas to stand out. The colour of Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz’ relationship is emphasised, they being the only ones to dress in colour.

This production is both sexy and sensitive. Musical numbers such as ‘Two Ladies’ are simply hilarious, and Shultz’ optimistic faith in humanity is one of the few redeeming features of this society. The bold, brash choices made at the closing of the first and second acts send shivers down the spine. We are sat in Cabaret-style set-up, forcing us to consider what we take as truth and what is illusion.

Each and every performer has utter conviction in their roles; even the chorus of Kit Kat boys and girls are utilised well. Stewart Clarke’s portrayal of the right-wing Ernst Ludwig is just enough of a caricature to remain funny, but still has enough humanity for us to follow his path. Edward Davis and Claire Furner as Schultz and Schneider both give perfectly nuanced performances, and as the relatively bland Bradshaw, Alastair Hill injects some genuine emotion. Tom Syms as the androgynous Emcee is nothing but class; at one point he is a droll narrator, and when in drag looks like a cross between Marilyns Manson and Monroe. The show is pretty much stolen, however, by Charlotte Cowley’s portrayal of Sally Bowles, with stiff upper lip and conserved emotions. When she sings the title number ‘Cabaret’, she proves herself to be an upcoming star of the stage.

This production of Cabaret is one of the best musicals I have ever seen. The theatricality of the sexual Kit Kat Club is juxtaposed carefully with the raw emotion in the more private scenes. With wonderfully original choreography by Katie Wignall and blinding lighting by Sam Daughty, the musical numbers don’t detract from but add to the action, and Kate Meadows’ musical direction adds another layer of emotion to the production. Cabaret makes some bold moves, and Runciman and Brewer’s direction draws out some of the key themes in the narrative. The fact we are sat mere metres away from the action adds to the drama, and for the two and a half hours we spend in the space, this is a far better alternative to sitting alone in our room.