The timeless tale of ‘star cross’d lovers’ and ancestral strife is one of the most well-known and widely adaptable works of literature, but just what makes a great adaptation of Romeo and Juliet? Passion, poetry, power, pathos: even without the Bard’s words, English National Ballet’s staging of Rudolf Nureyev’s Romeo and Juliet is all that and more.
The choreography is perfectly poised between the grand and the gentle: the crowd scenes are feasts of chaos and activity, from families at war to flag-waving to fellas womanising away, and the Capulet ball is a grandiose pageant of patriarchal control as the men flaunt their women like fashionable capes and the brass of Prokofiev’s music beats beneath. The fencing and fight scenes are frenzied and furious and performed with such force by a male corps, with the opposing families captained by Pedro Lapetra’s petite but capricious Mercutio, James Forbat’s benevolent and beautifully-jumped Benvolio, and Fabian Reimair’s prowling, Prince of Cats, the cavalier Tybalt. With much of the fighting between the young Montagues and Capulets founded on attempts to emasculate each other – crossing swords, kissing, hands sweeping across crotches – it cleverly captures the anxieties of masculinity in cultures contemporaneous to the play, this 1977 production, and the modern day. For a four hundred year old play and a forty-year-old production, the performance feels fresh, poignant, and full of life. While the vigour and grandeur powers the production through the prose of the play, its poetry and gentleness lies with the lovers. Aaron Robison’s Romeo moves from laddish daydreamer to ardent lover to desperate outlaw, and his spirited, playful allegro in Act I are elevated to soaring leaps and fast turns in the freely expressive pas de deux that descends, as the lovers do, into a dance of death in the last Act. And that last Act belongs to Jurgita Dronina’s Juliet: blossoming into a bold young woman from the blushing girl made to dance with her betrothed at the ball, she’s reckless with her Romeo, flying in death-defying lifts and falling, drunk with love, into his arms. Yet, Dronina is also immensely arresting, fearlessly fighting off her mother – a frighteningly fatalist Stina Quagebeur – and facing her fate with a searing, silent scream. A promising new partnership for English National Ballet, the balcony pas de deux is playful and passionate, the farewell in Act III fraught and full of longing, and it's the gentlest of touches – palm to palm, an echo of Shakespeare’s ‘holy palmer’s kiss’ in the play – that are the most touching. Prokofiev’s magnificent score has never felt more passionate or more powerful in the hands of the English National Ballet Philharmonic and under the baton of Gavin Sutherland, particularly in the strength and strings of the ‘Dance of the Knights’ and the soaring beauty of the ‘Balcony Scene’, and Ezio Frigerio’s rich, Renaissance costumes not only place the period but part the feuding families into colour-coded factions. This is a truly transcendent dance production, impressive as a piece of drama in its own right and a spirited and spectacular adaptation ‘of Juliet and her Romeo’. - Leah Tozer
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Andrew Bovell’s Things I Know To Be True is bought to us for its third tour by the UK’s critically-acclaimed Frantic Assembly and State Theatre Company South Australia production. Directed by Geordie Brookman and Scott Graham, we are shown how things are never as they seem. The seemingly perfect Price family are not-so perfect as we look deeper into their struggle to get by in the ever-changing world. We follow Fran and Bob Price and their four fully grown children, Rosie, Pip, Ben and Mark, who are all trying to find their way in life. The story starts with a strong monologue held by Kirsty Oswald as Rosie, opening up to us about how she had her heart broken during her travels in Europe. This speech is genuine, characterful and touching. The subsequent scenes follow with a similar pattern. We watch Rosie, Pip, Ben and Mark unfold their hidden realities to their family. Bovell’s writing is truly commendable and the talented ensemble cast couldn’t have portrayed a truer family. It is your family – it is everyone’s family.
Cate Hamer as Fran Price, the mother we all can identify, is remarkable. The depth of her character is impressive; she is always irate yet kind and well composed yet constantly in a muddle. This works wonderfully with husband Ewan Stewart (who stepped in as Bob Price due to John McArdle’s ill health). Stewart is quieter but not short of humour, he shows struggle to talk about his feelings and shows stubbornness when it comes to the changes in his children’s lives. The parents are stuck feeling that they thought their children’s lives should be like theirs. As a millennial, for the first time I understand where parents are coming from, as if they were mine. Surely, children owe that to their parents? “Getting by is the point”, Bob Price claims. In world where ‘settling’ for something isn’t a thing anymore, one could question: Are we becoming a selfish generation? Matthew Barker as Mark Price has the hardest job; his identity struggle is relevant and important. With the little stage time, the subject matter is only touched on delicately highlighting each generations view. With an array of sub-plots connecting into one, I would have loved to seen more. Each story could be deepened into a play of its own. A positive thing, I must say, as it lets our imagination run wild. I can’t stop thinking about it now. The lighting and set design is simply beautiful. The lighting is used sparingly, but it is delightful to the eye when it is used. Although the set may seem simple, there has been much more thought into the set than meets the eye. The beautiful rose trees that blossom throughout as the family weaken. The space accounted for slick table sliding stage transitions and graceful moments of movement which reflect strength and powerlessness at the same time. As the ending approaches, all that is heard is sniffs and snivels. Although what occurs may have been foreseen at some point throughout, it doesn’t take away from the utterly heartbreaking message it leaves us with. Is love really enough? Do we need to love more? Or, maybe loving too much is the issue. This is a striking production that plays on your minds for hours, days (and maybe even weeks) after seeing it. - Holly Kellingray As the saying – and singing, in this opera – goes, ‘chacun à son gout!’: ‘to each his own taste’, and the taste of Welsh National Opera’sDie Fledermaus is champagne – bubbly, celebratory, flamboyant, but with a little bit of bitterness in the aftertaste.
Die Fledermaus is an operetta caught somewhere between Restoration and Shakespearean comedy: a well-moneyed misdemeanant – a markedly strong Mark Stone – seems more interested in other women than his own wife, everyone from the mischievous chambermaid to her suspicious mistress set about scheming their way into a masquerade ball, an elaborate if improbable plot featuring false identities, lots of flirting and a few faux-Frenchmen, and, of course, a finale where all is forgiven and the ruse is revealed. This is operetta with frills-and-all, and with all the fun and frolics, it’s more than just the misbehaving husband who’s getting merrily mocked, it’s the opulence and improbability of opera, too. Act I is a triumph, particularly in its faux pas-fest of a finale that’s gloriously funny and gorgeously performed by Judith Howarth’s wronged-but-wily Rosalinde, her ardent ex-lover Alfred – a fantastically theatrical Paul Charles Clarke – and James’ Cleverton’s Colonel Frank, a partying prison governor after a good time. Act II follows with the frou-frou of silk skirts and three-piece suits from Deirdre Clancy’s fabulous costumes, the rich and wonderful sound of the Welsh National Opera in the chorus numbers, and Anna Harvey’s brilliant performance as the bored Prince in a wholly-believable breeches role. Yet, in Act III, Steve Speirs, though as droll and charming as a drunk gaoler can be in his non-singing operatic debut, somewhat stops proceedings to perform some out-of-place stand-up. Die Fledermaus doesn’t need any non-diegetic assistance to find its laughs: the drunken governor’s ungainly entrance in Act III is expertly played, Rhian Lois’ coquettish chambermaid-come-actress Adele is a soubrette of a soprano with sublime comic-timing, and Ben McAteer’s troublemaker is as voracious and vivacious as a bon viveur should be. Strauss’ music is sumptuous, with the rich, waltzing overture setting the scene for the riches, waltzing, and romps to come. James Southall conducts Welsh National Opera’s joyous and spirited orchestra with verve and joie de vivre, and it’s the music makers – on stage and off – that provide the real taste of the evening. - Leah Tozer I’m sat in the Old Red Lion Theatre waiting for No Place Like Hope to start. I'm looking at the well-made bed with too many pillows propped up on it. I'm looking at the bare furnishings, the books with covers full of promises, the inoffensive green of the pattern on the wall and the beaming white of everything else. I’m in a hospice. End of life care. And this environment, like a Greek Chorus or a doctor's diagnosis, has given away the ending of the story. I’m wondering whether this play is going to try to make me cry.
In walks Becca (Holly Donovan). She’s here to clean, fulfilling community service she received, she says, for stealing a dog. She’s seventeen and rebellious, supressing a fidgety energy and provoking those she meets with a mixture of childishness and insight. She has a spooky (or unbelievable?) gift for remembering movie quotes and applying them to any given situation. It looks as if she’s about to steal a trinket from a dying woman. Enter Anna (Claire Corbett). She has cancer. She can be prickly and patronising, but maybe that’s because she’s tired and used to being alone. Instinctively, she treats Becca like an adult. She’s rebellious too, especially in her interactions with her nurse, Bri (Max Calandrew). In fact, it’s the naked hostility and open distrust of this 'healthcare professional' that first bonds the two women together. I like him though, he’s nice. I’m happy when we hear more from him. The writing is honest and passionate. So are our protagonists. Maybe it’s the inherent finiteness of their relationship that allows them to let go, but Becca and Anna open up to one another. They help each other excavate their pasts, with warmth and humour. Both are struggling to deal with how they got here and how they'll go on. It’s a joy to watch them communicate. In fact, their friendship is so gentle and generous that when they do come into conflict it doesn’t sit right. A little too sudden, unearned. I’m glad when they see sense. The play does try to make me cry. At the end. A perfect, still, quiet moment is interrupted by a sequence with music that’s emotionally on-the-nose. That’s ok. I remember crying over a bereavement while listening to Coldplay's 'The Scientist’. What a clichéd choice, I think now. But music and drama are there to help us feel things, if we trust them. This sensitive play is worth your trust. - Henry Gleaden Kneehigh really do dance to the beat of a different drum. The Cornwall-based collective have created a monster from Günter Grass’ allegorical, wartime tale: a magical, musical monstrosity of chaotic mayhem with their trademark anarchy and inimitable artistry at its core.
The tale of Oskar, a boy banging his tin drum in rebellion against an adult world of war and responsibility, is a tough one to adapt: a bildungsroman where the boy won’t grow, a parable whose moral compass points all the wrong ways, and a myth with too much grit to be truly magic. Undaunted by the dangers, Kneehigh unites the novel’s density and diversity in their adaptation. Part epic, poetic opera, part Spring Awakening-style musical, part creeping electronic soundscape, The Tin Drum has music at the heart of its storytelling. While three onstage musicians play Charles Hazlewood’s chaotic, electronic score, the actors are an eclectic chorus of unusual voices, from Dom Coyote’s uncanny, almost-countertenor tone for Oskar, to Damon Daunno’s, Mika-like lilts that dance like his passionate Pole dances with Oskar’s mother, to the soothing, soaring sounds of Nandi Bhebhe. The effect is cacophonous, and it really works to tell such a chaotic story. As is only expected with operatic performances,The Tin Drum demands repeat viewings, so impressively fast and funny are the almost-rapped recitatives that it’s impossible to laugh, listen, and follow along all at the same time. As such, on initial viewing, this doesn’t feel like Kneehigh’s neatest narrative, although Grass’ novel, where unreliability and unruliness reign, may be more to blame. Yet, the wild, quick-witted cleverness is never lost in the chaos, from Sarah Wright’s expert puppeteering of the slightly sinister, sleepless-looking Oskar, to Etta Murfitt’s freely creative choreography, to the quips of Carl Grose’s script that fly effortlessly in the performances of a versatile and effervescent cast. Kneehigh’s creation is not only comic but creepy, with Oskar’s shrieks shattering the glass windows of Naomi Dawson’s dynamic, double-level, dilapidated-looking set, Malcolm Rippeth’s atmospheric lighting creating creeping shadows from suspended lamps, handheld lights, and a central chandelier that seems to rise up of its own accord, and through glimpses into the greater political powers at play. Red banners and armbands are enough to allude to the Nazi Party, but the threat could be from any far-right faction: as they sing to set the scene, ‘which war? It doesn’t matter!’; the peril, as we’re all too aware, is ever-present. The Tin Drum is a riot in every way: in the themes of political uprising mirrored in a very personal revolt against growing up, in the genre-resisting reflection of Grass’ novel, the electric, eclectic artistry, the hearty and horrid humour, and the weird wonder of it all. - Leah Tozer In a basement cafe in the heart of the Northern Quarter, A Grey Divide provides an intimate, comfy and friendly start. The play, directed by John-Mark Reid, follows duo Anna-Maria and Jason who meet in the cafe and find they have a mutual connection leading to much more than just a coffee and a chat. The realistic setting of the cafe brings the spectators together and as we take our seats on chairs, sofas and stools we immediately become part of the action.
Although the acting space works well for the initial opening, it soon becomes distracting. The general noise of the cafe itself under-tones the entire play, with fridges and drinks machines buzzing throughout and the business phone ringing during intimate scenes, taking us away from the action. The lighting is harsh and doesn't compliment the intimate moments within the piece. It is naturalistic in acting style but lacks pace and dynamism, often feeling slow and awkward. The character objectives are not clear, and this is evident in the acting throughout. It feels all one level with the occasional outburst that does not lead anywhere and often motif's are overused, becoming repetitive. A Grey Divide excels in exploring new ways of putting on a play in a naturalistic setting, pushing the expected norm for the spectator. Unfortunately the unpolished performance does not make an impact. - Rebecca Phillipson Ranked among the greatest composers of the classical and early romantic era, Franz Peter Schubert is celebrated in this 14 song piece by The Guildhall School. Renowned professor at the Guildhall, Iain Burnside, masterfully brings a new light to 'Schwanengesang', a collection of songs written by Franz Schubert at the end of his short life and published posthumously by interspersing monologues between each song from characters throughout history who describe their deep connection to Schubert.
His friends range from Franz Von Schober (Oliver Higginson) who was a poet and librettist, his laundry girl Liesl (Poppy Gilbert), who amusingly remarks that 'when you find mercury in the sheets, its game over.' Referring to the fact the sheets are ruined (rather than the poisoning of ones body), Tobias Haslinger (Jordan Angell), his publisher who came up with the name ‘Swansong', Ivor Gurney (Declan Baxter), a poet and composer who reflects on Schubert from the city of London mental hospital in 1923, Johannes Brahms (Harvey Cole), a late arrival in Vienna, and Emily (Erica Rothman), an American grad student visiting Vienna in present day. The construction of the monologues are beautifully written with each actor perfectly executing their narrative to keep in tone with their respective characters time frame. Intelligent direction from Burnside brings a crisp breath of fresh air to my lungs; both effortless and natural. The actors are as much a part of the songs as the singers, and visa versa. There is no doubt that each soloist is a true professional, with flawless accompaniments from Michael Pandya and Dylan Perez on the grand piano. Particular compliments must be made to the tenor Andrew Hamilton, who makes the German language sound hauntingly romantic. James McKeogh’s slick lighting design gives extra life to the stage, providing its own character. The set is minimalistic, and feels three dimensional with its staggered pillars coated in a canvas portrait of what appears to be Vienna. A truly beautiful piece of theatre. - Alex Grainger Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get’. This famous Forrest Gump quote is one I have always struggled to comprehend - but Romantics Anonymous is just that. A box full of delights, or rather a piece of delicious, rich chocolate. The story follows Angelique, a shy young woman with a passion for making chocolate. Although her talent is recognized, she struggles with the most basic of human interactions and therefore suffers painfully. Meanwhile, Jene-Renẻ is about to lead his family heirloom, the chocolate factory, into bankruptcy because he is unable to take risks. Fate leads the two together but their shy personalities keep them from acting on their feelings thus stalling their development in life.
The nine-strong cast of actors works flawlessly together, playing off one another and expertly highlighting the array of colorful characters, sprinkling the narrative. The music feels classical and French, giving the production an atmosphere of magical realism. Reminiscent of Amẻlie and The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg, the narrative flows in a wonderfully enchanting way, a fine example of good storytelling. In fact, the entire production is made out to be an experience rather than mere entertainment, complete with pre-show and interval acts. The traditional musical form is taken and simplified, and the book effectively conveys the inner life of two people who are simply too sensitive for life. The Art Deco style set is Particularly noteworthy, with light up signs used in a creative manner to convey scene changes. The production tackles the heartbreak of life itself in a joyous manner, skipping between light and dark moments with ease. It asks, ‘is tradition really what we want?’ and with regards to Emma Rice’s portfolio of fantastic productions challenging tradition, I sure as hell hope not. If you fancy an evening of laughter, tugging at heartstrings and the sweetness of chocolate, this is the show for you. Romantics Anonymous proves that even in this age of technology and disconnection we are not too good for a touch of romance. - Disa Andersen Twenty years ago, in 1997, it was a time of Take That, Tamagotchis and British teachers celebrating in the staff room after Tony Blair and the Labour party were elected with the mantra ‘education, education, education’. Wardrobe Ensemble’s eponymous play unpacks the politics of this cultural moment with wit, warmth, and winning charm, exploring the optimism and the realism that cuts through the 90s nostalgia with political poignancy.
Set in a well-meaning but not-quite-comprehensive comprehensive secondary school in the immediate aftermath of the election, the Ensemble places the individual at the centre of political change. From the highly-strung but ever-hopeful holistic teacher hopelessly losing control of her classes to the stroppy student trying to petition her teachers for a place on the school trip. Wardrobe Ensemble is unmistakably a devising company, with each character so well developed in communication and movement that even when saying the same things or doing the same dance moves, the characterisation is unmistakable, and the creative doubling of each teacher as a student sharing the same name as their actor counterpart is clearly distinct. As the plot balances the optimism and pessimism of a new political landscape, the play is a practiced blend of the lifelike and the stylised: the script is slick and its delivery quick, eliciting laugh-out-loud moments from its wit alone, but there’s also the absurdity of a walk-through the corridors – with two moveable doors creating endless possibilities – to a 90s music nostalgia-fest with everything from Natalie Imbruglia to ‘Let Me Entertain You’. All this nostalgia needs an outsider to look in and see Britain at the time for what it really was, and this is where Tobias, a dry, droll, German teaching assistant steps in. Yet, as well as looking in to comment like a (German) Greek Chorus, he looks out to the auditorium as the house lights come up and addresses us directly, even singing a few lines of the Spice Girls while comparing them to Socrates. James Newton’s turn as Tobias is just one of seven strong, centred, and impressive performances from the Ensemble. In Education, Education, Education, Wardrobe Ensemble capture the politics of yesteryear with the same anxieties of our present, managing to be riotously funny and quietly reflective; as head teacher Hugh says, in light of the election the teachers must remain politically impartial in all their classes, but, ‘we did win Eurovision, so talk about that as much as you wish’. The show ends blasting D:Ream’s election anthem ‘Things Can Only Get Better’, and there’s hope, as for the Tamagotchi and its reset button, that they can. - Leah Tozer The Birmingham Stage Company’s adaption of David Walliams’s Awful Auntie is a new addition to the flora of children’s books adapted for the stage. The production stars a colourful cast of characters each more hilariously ridiculous than the last one. The actors do a great job of bringing the story to its heightened life. The energy between Stella, played by Georgina Leonidas, and Soot, played by Ashley Cousins does a great job of driving the story along. The charming and relatable characters play well off each other and provide a good balance for the story. The production uses the stunning stage design of Jaqueline Trousdale in an effective manner, although the portable pieces are moved around excessively. Complimenting the set is the sound design of Nick Sagar which together heighten the world of the play and provide a platform for children’s imagination to take flight.
The story does, however, contain some concerning messages for a play meant for young children. Such as the notion that boys ‘just know these things’ in the context of knowing how to drive, and the main heroine - although intended to empower young girls - does not come up with a single useful idea. It is concerning that she could not have figured out anything without help from Soot. A long period of time is spent making fart jokes at the expense of Soot, with a lecture about politeness not too eloquently pushed into the dialogue. There are dozens of missed opportunities to teach children about more important things such as compassion and tolerance. The play is two hours long which may prove to be a challenge for the younger part of the audience to follow. Awful Auntie is, although slightly problematic, an entertaining, colourful and well-produced production. - Disa Andersen Roger Gallert’s Quaint Honour first debuted in 1958 just under a decade before the decriminalisation of homosexuality in Britain. Christian Durham’s revival of this often obvious coming of age play fits well with celebratory events marking the 50 year anniversary since the act was passed in government. Sexual frustration and manipulation haunts the dormitories at a revered all-boys boarding school. Head of House, ‘Park’, (Oliver Gully) a 17-year-old moralist-Christian, has suspicions about the sexual deviation arising in the aptly named Cock House in which he is head Prefect. As a troubled Christian, Park confiDes in the understanding and composed headteacher ‘Hallowes’ played with a perfect clipped foppishness by Simon Butteriss.
Park’s intentions to stomp out the immoral behaviour are thwarted by peer ‘Tully’ (Harley Viveash) who covertly parades himself as an unchaste libertine amongst the younger pupils. Viveash commands this role with a sinister cruelty, playing his sexual relationship with 15-year-old ‘Turner’ (Jaques Miche) with smutty calculation. Although the churlish Turner gives as good as he gets, relishing in the thought of his master bedding the dreary ‘Hamilton’ (Jack Archer). The tension between the boys plays out sluggishly at times, though Durham’s direction stirs with a toxic sexuality. Flirting between the boundaries of sexual awakening and sexual manipulation, Quaint Honour taps into the troubled psyche of any boy exploring themselves beyond the confines of heterosexuality. Tim McQuillen-Wright’s stage design fits snuggly into the intimate Finborough Theatre capturing the hallowed beauty of a 1950s boarding school. The set and costume accent the period well, matching the crisp RP sported by the cast and the ostentatious language of the script. It bears the question as to what purpose this play has to modern gay culture? Sexual exploration will always culminate in complex power dynamics, but the datedness of script lacks gutsy vigour. 50 years ago this script might have been a powerhouse that questioned the politics around same-sex relationships, but this production does little more than rehash bygone years. - Niall Hunt Trooping down to a shipping container for a séance has got to be up there with the weirdest-ways-to-spend-your-Friday-night. I was waiting for a mate to turn up - a pretty no-nonsense lad that probably watches The Omen, carelessly chuckling, whilst drinking Baileys. This was when I started to get pretty anxious about the fifteen minutes of fear in a metal box - that now appeared to be growling. (When it comes to Horror, I’m more at the shaking, pissing Chihuahua end of the spectrum.) The shipping container started looking a bit like a chubby version of the menacing black cuboid from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I made a mental note to bite my mate’s ear off if he bailed. Who’d laugh at me if I pissed myself? However, I didn’t piss myself or die from fright or anything as melodramatic as I am, but instead found myself tentatively delighted in the fright.
If you’re claustrophobic, this is probably not the best show for you. The audience is closely seated round a long table, amongst fellow concerned-looking comrades. Headphones are popped on, the lights go out, and you’ll be plunged into complete darkness in essentially an oversized locker. But don’t worry, you’re given a chance to make a dash for it. The theatre guide will give you a speak-now-or-forever-hold-your-peace moment, after a polite and alarming notice, that after the doors shut no one will be allowed out. Which is polite and alarming. But if you’re not fainthearted, stay squirming in your seat please. Séance is a chilling and mischievous immersive experience that draws you in deep. The collaboration between Glen Neath and David Rosenberg provides a prickling brilliance of sensory manipulation, like puppet masters. They tantalisingly dangle audio tricks in front of your ears, such as foot prints you could swear were walking from left to right round your head. This gives your rationality a real rattling. In the pitch black, a new world in conjured, and you’re persuaded by the ring-leader-like medium with eerie authority that “You believe in the table, yet you can’t see it. You can’t see me, yet I want you to believe in me.” Séance has picked up on the subtlest details of sound and touch that unknowingly make life feel real, and then exploited the hell out of these tricks. This experience successfully deceives your fingertips and ears into believing in a new realm where spirits are conjured by faceless tricksters in front of a disturbed faceless audience. Séance blurs the lines of the real and the sensory, cunningly using nothing more than a pair of headphones to give an empty dark space a pulse. However, I was also promised by a menacing whisper that’d “I’d never be lonely again.” Which begs the question why I’m still dining on single serving microwavable lasagne and a bottle of Lambrini with a straw. - Jess Butcher Get your dancing shoes on for the new touring production of the 80s classic Flashdance, which is currently making its way across the UK. The story is unforgettable as we follow 18 year old Alex who by day works as a welder and in the evening transforms into a 'flashdancer'. She dreams of going to the prestigious Shipley Dance Academy and becoming a professional dancer. Known for it's film, the new production from the award winning team at Sealladoor Productions will take on the inspiring musical about holding onto your dreams and love against all odds. I caught up with leading cast members Joanne Clifton and Ben Adams about bringing the 80s to the now. For Strictly Come Dancing ex-professional Joanne Clifton this isn't the first time she's taken on musicals, fresh from leaving the show she explains that "the only thing thats different from Strictly is the style of dance". Joanne has switched from the ballroom to switching up the volume with Street and Hip Hop, which are styles she has never experienced before the role. However, Joanne explains theres a bigger challenge on stage than executing the choreography, "The other thing is riding a bike. I can't ride a bike and the first thing I have to do in the show is ride across the stage". She's got a year to master her cycling skills, we'll probably be seeing her take on the Tour De France in no time! For Ben Adams who has always had some kind of performance influence element in his career, including the days of being in late 90s boyband A1 as well as also continuing to be an established song writer and producer has seen Flashdance as another great opportunity. Ben explains that "It's not really that different from the other things I've done because it's still performing". Joanne's character is Alex, the main thread that holds the musical together. Alex falls in love with Ben's Character Nick Hurley who sees the ambition within Alex and helps push her audition at the prestigious dance academy. Joanne explains that "one of my favourite parts in the musical is when there is a big argument between Nick and Alex over the audition". Ben spoke about how he was enjoying working alongside Joanne as a lead character and that "some of our scenes are our favourite together". You will be able to see one of those moments together when they release their recording of 'Here and Now' from the stage musical very soon. Expect all of the songs, iconic scenes and love for the stage production as there has been for the film over the years. When Joanne takes on the water-drop scene, she says that she enjoys taking on that part of the show because "the audience are all waiting for that moment. It's like 2 tanks they've got coming down on me and I love seeing the audiences reactions to it". The new production of Flashdance is different to the one that was touring around 7 years ago. As Ben said "the script has been updated and things, there's new choreography and ideas into the production" so there's plenty new additions to expect. Ben explains Flashdance is "a high level energy show, there's a lot of dance in there. They can expect all of the songs that they all know from the film. The choreography is slightly different but there's nods to the film". So why should you come and see Flashdance? To finish off I asked Ben and Joanne to give me 3 words to describe the production, "Energetic, Fun and Wet!" - Joanne "Energetic, Sexy and Wet!" - Ben You can find out more about Flashdance and book tickets through the Selladoor Productions website. Written by Emmie-Hope Newitt Out of the System (curated by Freddie Opoku-Addaie) is the first in a new series of programmes for Dance Umbrella, London’s annual festival of international dance. Yinka Esi Graves and Asha Thomas open the evening with Clay, exploring the connections between ‘who they believe themselves to be, and the unconscious parts that make up who they are’. The movement language (and live accompaniment by Guillermo Guillen) blends Flamenco to Contemporary to African. Graves and Thomas pound their heels into the floor at lightning speed whilst maintaining a sense of ephebism, responding to the complex rhythms their bodies are compelled to make. Later, the dancers each have solo moments, using props and additional costume that seem disjointed from the rest of the work - detracting from their technical skill and slowing the pace. Clay is strongest when the two are dancing together, sharing their cultures and histories as an exchange in movement.
Continuing the exploration of identity, Alesandra Seutin performs a self-choreographed solo Across the Souvenir. Seutin enters the space from behind the audience. Following a pathway of light around the stage, she walks slowly, regal, wearing a white mask that partially covers her face and a long white skirt that carries movement with each step. Projection is used throughout the work, stopping the action on stage and disrupting the energy. We see women washing away a white line on a black wall, a close up of white shoes walking slowly... Seutin pulls a row of white shoes out from underneath a white bench, all connected by white strings, and begins to dance on the pathway these present to her. Her energy comes from the ground up, causing her spine to convulse and travel in waves as she is pulled along the strings. Perhaps the shoes, or identity, she has been presented with, don’t quite fit, and her body is making sense of this contradiction. Black female spirituality is being examined here, and Seutin gives a moving performance. The final piece of the night is VEN a duet by LA MACANA designed specifically for street festivals, performed at Rich Mix with audience on three sides. Caterina Varela and Alexis Fernandes are exceptional. The first half of the piece is spent with Varela launching herself at Fernandes, who catches her in his arms, on his shoulders, around his neck, across his thighs, behind his back - as if they are playing a game against physics. Later, the roles are reversed - Fernandes never touches the floor. His hands, feet, and any other part of his body only ever come into contact with Varela. A particular highlight is when Varela is lying on the floor on her stomach, Fernandes is standing on her buttocks, he jumps high into the air tucking his knees into his chest as she rolls once to arrive back on her front, and he lands back where he started. There is tenderness to the duet, but also a sense of rigour – testing what each other can do as opposed to being driven by emotion. I spent the entire piece wondering with excitement what they were going to do next - VEN is an exhilarating watch. Out of the System is an ambitious programme that gives opportunity to worthy artists who may not usually be invited to present work in Dance Umbrella. Congratulations to Opoku-Addaie for curating an excellent evening, I hope this is a model that will be taken forward in future years. - Emily Labhart Howard Barker’s The Castle is a tough nut to crack. From a man who claims not to ‘ involve myself in political and ideological issues’ as he stated in an interview in The Guardian last January, his play, The Castle, sure features enough ideological discussions to keep a crowd of people arguing long after last orders have been called. The play, written in 1985, features aimless female protagonists whom continuously contradict themselves, in harmony with popular critique of second wave feminism, and a complicated battle between the genders over power, social status and religion. Many ideas are introduced, such as the total reform of patriarchy as we know it and the notion that a world run by women would be a socialist paradise with no governing structure. However none of the themes are discussed at length because that would contradict Barker’s policy of being un-influential. The cast does a decent job of delivering the complex text and frequent curse words break up the otherwise dry and formal language of the play in an effective manner. Some scenes fall flat because of lack of harmony between the actors and the story could also benefit from more energetic storytelling. Actors shout frequently without the scene having necessarily provided the tension to justify the character’s anger - it therefore comes across as insincere. The staging is dynamic and interesting and the compilation of set and light play well off each other regardless of what appears to be a very limited budget. Anthony Cozens’ s portrayal of the cuckolded Stucley is incredibly powerful. Stucley’s almost comical short temper is highlighted as he grasps at regaining power, coming only slightly short of fascism when he manages to reinstate the power of the church. Chris Kyriacou is also noteworthy as Krak, the pained engineer of the castle, adding tension to a scene with the character’s pregnant silence. A few themes from the story have left a lasting impression such as the scene where Stucley confronts his wife, Ann, played by Shelley Davenport, about her affairs with other men while he was away. ‘I could kill you and no one would bat an eyelid’, he shouts, a striking reminder of the dangers of domestic violence which endangers the life of many women today. Or the way Ann can not stop procreating even though she is way past her childbearing age. For someone who claims not to be political, Barker is eerily topical at the very least.- Dísa Anderson Not everything is quite what it seems behind closed doors, especially so in Scott James’ drama ‘Between a Man and a Woman’. In Britain alone, it is estimated that there are 1.3 million women who are victims of domestic violence. Stomaching this grim figure is a hard task, but an important one in combating the problem.
Discussing the issue on stage requires a great capacity for emotional empathy. James throws the narrative at full throttle, which frequently comes across as heavy-handed. Manipulative Tom (Millin Thomas) relentlessly controls his wife, the ever-enduring Polly (Jasmine Gleeson), whilst also conducting an affair with uni student Siobhan (Roisin Gardner). Gleeson works hard to give her character dimension and Thomas offers moments where the audience can really get to grips with the trauma he has suffered as a child. The script trudges along, peppered with blips of chaotic shouting and predictable movement sequences. Charlotte E Tayler offers us a saving grace as Tammy, the concerned sister of Polly. Delivering her monologues with a poetic command, Tayler successfully draws the audience in with a crisp, unflinching conviction. Unboxing multiple narratives of abuse, trauma and sexual assault creates a lingering feeling of tactlessness in James’ piece. Resolutions to the issues discussed aren’t found, yet the harrowing scars are left ripped open as the house lights come up. Adding unnecessary drama is easily done, especially when the plot teeters on vagueness. Paring back and focusing the drama more thoroughly will give this production the vital restructuring it needs. James’ piece is most intriguing when the moments of silence become resonating bolts of heart-aching beauty. Exploring these pauses in the next run will anchor the script deeper in the heavy ebb and flow of a tumultuous relationship. This clearly isn’t a professional production yet, but with more guidance, James has the groundwork for creating a beautiful script that tackles an incredibly sensitive subject. - Niall Hunt Hairspray is an iconic musical in its own right and the feel good, thrilling piece has circulated through many productions over the years, even in 2016 with a UK tour. The musical production has all it should have to be a brilliant night out: a quirky, tongue-in-cheek script, exciting cheorgraphy but also a cast of triple threats unlike no other. Whilst it may seem that it's a musical that is overdone, this 2017 cast have proven why it's still enjoyed by audiences throughout the country.
The story is set in 1962 where young Tracy Turnblad (Rebecca Mendoza) proves that being a big girl, with an even bigger heart can't stop you from pursuing your dreams. Tracy is determined to make it onto a popular teen TV show and win over the heart of teenage hearthrob Link Larkin (Edward Chitticks). Along the way Tracy is confronted with continous sneers from Amber Von Tussle (Aimee Moore) as well as wanting to create a change in segregation of race on the TV show. The topics of race, culture, class and acceptance are the backbone of this play, its issues as relevant back in the 60s as they seem to be now. Layering up with the addition of extraordinary choeography and a 5* cast. Tracy's parents Edna (Matthew Rixon), who is a huge presence from the beginning (and so confident in heels!) is complimented well by her partner Wilbur (Norman Pace) whose charm warms the heart. Their rendition of You're Timeless to Me is truly beautiful piece that brings out the best in their relationship. Brenda Edwards is a force to be wreckened with in her role as Motormouth Maybelle. The strength in her characteristics and vocal range, particularly in her solo number 'I Know Where I've Been' are spectacular and the audience roars in appreciation of her power. Seaweed's character, although usually in the forefront, is packed with a punch under the direction of Layton Williams, known for his character's own individual dance flare. He completely commands the role with his fun, energetic attitude and it's hard not to feel wonderfully exhausted from the amount of energy he presents. Tracy Turnblad is a character that demands a lot from its actor, particularly in the first half when she barely leaves the stage, but Rebecca Mendoza does a brilliant job in the title role, and also her professional debut. Her vocal range is flawless, as well as having both the sassiness, confidence and humour needed to execute this role. The production also recognises other incredible talents starting out in professional debuts with Tracy's best friend Penny Pingleton (Annalise Liard-Bailey), a remarkable voice and delightful knowing innocence makes her a real delight to watch. The only downfall is the set, which is slightly sparse and dull, at times slightly clumsy and did dampen some of the sparkle of the production. It definitely makes up in performance and that alone steals the show. You'll definitely be dancing along to You Can't Stop The Beat at the end and is definitely worth a watch! - Emmie-Hope Newitt Oh my god, you guys. I totally had the best Monday night! Martin Dodd’s production of Legally Blonde the Musical hit the Royal & Derngate last night and it’s nothing short of fabulous. It’s full of energy, it’s over-the-top, it’s slick - it’s hard not to have fun. Based on the famous novel by Amanda Brown and the 2001 movie, Legally Blonde the Musical follows Delta Nu’s sorority queen, Elle Woods, as she attempts to find a way into Harvard Law School in the pursuit of her ex-boyfriend Warner Huntington III.
Lucie Jones, the UK’s Eurovision Song Contest entrant, returns as the preppy, privileged and apparently not-so-serious Elle Woods. She gives Elle more sass and power than ever before. Although she may not be a dancer, I can't help but feel her uncomfortable-looking costumes helped. Nevertheless, she worked the routines well. With an outstanding voice for stage, Lucie admirably embodies a feisty yet extremely likeable Elle. Margot (Rebecca Stenhouse), Serena (Rachel Grundy) & Pilar (Delycia Belgrave), Elle’s three main sorority girls are a joy to watch as they follow her throughout, wearing the most spectalucar costumes of the show (Elizabeth Dennis). Helen Petrovna as fitness fanatic Brooke Wyndham undoubtedly stole the show with her remarkable skipping routine during Whipped into Shape. An applaud goes out to everyone involved in this very complicated routine. The original storyline is retained well - with Elle’s obsession with Warner, proving she isn’t the ‘pretty in pink dumb blonde’, taking on her first murder trial and helping her hopeless friend Paulette - with the famous Bend and Snap scene. This production gives Legally Blonde a new buzz. The musical numbers are a treat to listen to, in particular, Laurence O’Keefe and Nell Benjamin’s hilarious Gay or European number during the murder trial. The entire cast looked to be enjoying every moment they were on that stage singing and dancing. As Elle’s best friend, and soon-to-be lover Emmett Forrest, David Barrett has an obvious natural talent, catching Emmett’s nice-guy personality perfectly. Soap star, Bill Ward brings the right amount of pretentiousness Professor Callahan needs, whilst Eastenders star, Rita Simons is splendid as Paulette Bonafonte; she is hilarious, warm and vocally magnificent. But of course, it wouldn’t be Legally Blonde without Bruiser! I have to say Bruiser was the cutest cast member on stage. The whole production is certainly a hit. Along with a jazzy touring set (Jon Harris, Jason Bishop and David Shields) that works well with some fantastic choreography (Anthony Williams and Dean Street), I have no doubt this tour of Legally Blonde is a definite crowd-pleaser filled with brilliant new talent. - Holly Kellingray Beginning follows Laura (Justine Mitchell) and fellow singleton Danny (Sam Troughton) as they experience those precious few hours after a house party where there's optimum wine in the system for deep conversations and bold choices. Complete with a ketchup stain on his shirt, Danny clumsily navigates the lighthearted conversation with endless puns and Cockney rhyming slang, but intelligent Laura sees right through his facade. She discovers a warm, kind, lonely man. A kindred spirit.
Directed by Polly Findlay, Beginning is the epitome of naturalism with writing (from David Eldridge) that depicts the reality of our era expertly. The characters are wholesome and believable, each with their own relatable real-life problems. Mitchell and Troughton's chemistry is electric, and their characters' connection blossoms naturally throughout the play. The piece provides just the right amount of quirkiness to keep us engaged, and we long for the pair to finally seal the deal with a kiss. The characters discuss Facebook, politics, gender equality, and that's all it is. A discussion. It is so refreshing to not have deep views, messages and issue based theatre shoved down your throat, but to simply intertwine it through the piece via discussion. There are magical moments of silence within the piece and we feel their excitable anxiety so tangibly. I found myself smiling for the entirety of the piece. The duo are utterly brilliant, with admirable characterisation and naturalism. This charming piece is exactly what I'd hoped it would be and more. - Faye Butler Hysteria is a cabaret crossed with spoken word poetry mashed on top of some very serious writing. Combine this with a never ending stream of high energy in the tiny basement theatre of the Oran Mor and you are left feeling perplexed and rather unsatisfied. Unfortunately for both actors and audience it was a distracted performance. Smashed glasses and a collapsed audience member drew focus away from the hard working performers but the reception of the show remains the same. It is a jumble of messages with not one outstanding point making itself known therefore we never fully connect with the subject matter.
We started off at a million miles per hour, jumping between sketches, songs and spoken word about people around the world who suffer from various mental health problems without specifically mentioning what they are. This is enjoyable as it is relatable and follows a nice pattern of light and dark. As the show progresses however it seems to steer more towards mental health in women, and then mental health in regards to the historical misconception that it had something to do with women's reproductive systems. At this point a logical progression would be to continue on this path of discovery about the misconceptions and cultural developments surrounding women and their mental health. But this all suddenly grinds to a halt; and we find ourselves on a slow path to nowhere talking about ‘rape’. It is well researched material, but it is performed more like a Ted Talk, or a conference on ‘rape’ about the laws surrounding it and just the three actors repeating testimonies. This may have worked had the entire piece been about three women and their experiences so that the audience had connected with seemingly real characters, but due to the opening cabaret style of performance the actors has become no more than vessels in the audiences eyes and therefore there was little emotional connection to them. Aside from one misplaced ‘exercise video’ moment the slow second half of the show does not improve until the inclusion of the song ‘Quiet’ which was written for the woman's march. A few audience members joined in the singing of the song and were very clearly moved by the piece but even their emotion roused little in me as I was still baffled by the question ‘what is this show attempting to do?’ The theatrics of the show are funny but distract so heavily from the core of the piece which is ‘rape’ that I am not lead to feel sad, or angry or roused by some of the very powerful material which is spoken in this play, therefore that hard work becomes redundant because I am just left feeling bored and bruised by it. - Lucy Newbery The story of Jekyll and Hyde is almost unrivalled in the gothic canon. Its influence, scope and complex moral psychology have so much transcended Robert Louis Stevenson’s Victorian novella that to produce an original adaptation is a considerable task, but one largely met by the NYT REP Company. The blurb describes a ‘radical reimagining’ of the original text and certainly delivers on that promise, with the story of Dr Jekyll transposed onto his imagined widow Harriet (Elizabeth McCafferty). In a further layer of ‘radical reimagining’ the novella is framed by the modern context of an 18-year-old feminist blogger (Jenny Walser), appropriating Stevenson’s text as a satire for the present day.
The first half of the play skirts and hints around this wider context in a manner which is initially jarring, but gains greater resonance with hindsight so that scenes and beats that lacked impact or cohesion at the time are attributed retrospective poignancy. The language of the 21st Century bleeds into the Victorian tale with a degree of inconsistency that blurs the line between the different levels of fiction, and though this may have been the intention of writer Evan Placey, it occasionally strays too far into the absurd. Tonally, the play has problems. As the second half builds to an engaging climax, the politics of the script are at times didactic to the point of parody, while the comedy – of which there is a lot – lacks the appropriate subtlety for satire. Meanwhile, the injection of moral ambiguity to the storyline via feminism is a compelling idea, but is too frequently pushed beyond the limits of empathy. Elizabeth McCafferty brings an impressive delicacy to the role of Harriet Jekyll, but the script and direction deny her the freedom and motive to be fully convincing as the alternative personality Flossie Hyde, increasingly losing the nuance that shines so brightly from McCafferty’s performance in the early stages of the play. The second half is dominated by Jenny Walser’s artful and accomplished performance as Hyde’s modern-day counterpart, as she walks a carefully considered line between vulnerable righteousness and undiluted amorality. The ensemble, too, is strong and the direction excels when it fully utilises the full-bodied physicality of the cast, while standout moments of comic delivery come notably from Mohammed Mansaray and Rosella Doda. At times, the ambition and ideas of the piece exceed its financial and logistical capabilities, and for all the technical wizardry, a touch more directorial restraint may better exhibit the acting talent of the company. Regardless, NYT’s Jekyll and Hyde provides a characterful new voice to a time-worn classic, bringing under the spotlight some of the most accomplished young actors in British theatre. - Sandy Thin In a small town, much like yours or mine, lives a community on the brink of despair. Their leader, a dragon, is cruel, unruly and greedy. Spoiler alert: the 'three headed' dragon is hilariously a middle aged man clad in a cape with a small paunch and a nasal voice. Rory Mullarkey's Saint George and The Dragon takes the tale of the legendary British hero and guides it through the centuries to provide relevance to today's socially and politically active audience. John Heffernan plays George, a dragons-layer desperate to save the town and help it to progress, yet when it does move forward George fears that the village are losing the most important thing, the spirit of the community. Heffernan gives the simplistic text as much depth, life and vitality as possible through vivid vocal storytelling.
The set is cleverly done, with a large upward slope providing a great surface area to manipulate for various projections. The miniature houses, factories and skyscrapers are complete with chimneys spewing smoke which provides a quick and simple setting for each era. There are some warm moments in which the importance of community shines through, such as when the village band together to provide George with a ramshackle 'collection of scraps' to form a suit of armour. The ensemble provide sweet, honest performances and showcase a variety of accents from across the UK, giving a snapshot of each actors own community, with particular commendations to Amaka Okafor who gives strength and depth to the damsel Elsa. Despite this, there are some feeble and quite frankly uninspiring songs scattered throughout the piece that scream "we're singing because the set behind us is being changed". The piece certainly perks up in the second act when bought into the contemporary society, as we witness traditionalist George attempt to slow down a rapidly progressive society, much different to the one formed on community that he knows and loves. The style of the piece does feel slightly confused, as the farcical moments are trampled on by emotional monologues with serious messages then wrapped up with jovial group singing. With bright character driven costumes, simplistic text and a moral to the story, Saint George is essentially a middle class pantomime. - Faye Butler Connected talks and events for Saint George and the Dragon: 16-21: Designing Saint George and the Dragon Monday 9 Oct & Monday 16 Oct, 5pm A Short History of Saint George Tuesday 31 Oct, 6pm Class – an unequal nation? Thursday 2 Nov, 5.45pm Designing Saint George with Rae Smith Monday 20 Nov, 5.30pm Rory Mullarkey and Lyndsey Turner Thursday 23 Nov, 6pm Theatre Dialogue Club Thursday 30 Nov, 7pm George and Ira Gershwin first composed music for the romantic comedy film Girl Crazy in 1930, at the dawn of the golden age of the cinematic American musical, but the thirties in America were also famous for the Great Depression, and audiences craved the escapism offered by such musicals. Eight decades later, the name might have changed but the escapism hasn’t, as Crazy For You dazzles and delights anew in an age where we definitely need it again.
The story itself has little to say – the tale of budding but blundering performer Bobby, who’s sent to shut up a failing theatre in Nevada but ends up falling for the proprietor’s daughter Polly and putting on a show to save it – but it’s the score that’s literally the star of the show. Full of favourites from the Gershwin catalogue, including ‘Shall We Dance’, ‘I Got Rhythm’, and ‘Embraceable You’, the score is a jukebox of jazz classics that are joyful and filled with infectious rhythm that only catches quicker because it’s performed onstage by a crazily-skilled cast of actor-musicians. Nathan M Wright’s choreography incorporates the instruments into every number, including a wheel-mounted double bass, and Diego Pitarch’s gorgeous designs, set on-and-backstage in the Gaiety Theatre that Bobby sets off to save, go from dilapidated to dazzling under Howard Hudson’s ingenious lighting, and even make use of some meta-theatric tricks in revealing the run-down but once-magnificent theatre auditorium. Along with the multi-talented actor-musicians, leading man Tom Chambers proves himself a triple-threat performer: attacking the tapping with true talent and singing the Gershwin songs with easy style, Chambers’ Bobby is a quick-witted, charismatic comedian whose unwavering broad smile and almost-manic acting style is tailor-made for the show’s traditional Broadway charm. A masterclass in physical performance, Chambers acts, sings and taps out of his skin, particularly impressing with his slapstick skills, impersonating the impresario as part of his plan, and dancing with Charlotte Wakefield’s plucky Polly, which wonderfully develops Bobby’s infatuation into a full-blown romance between the two. As a leading lady, Polly is a woman with a fierce front concealing a vulnerability that Wakefield’s crystal-clear voice elevates to the fore in her enviable solos. Caroline Flack plays Bobby’s floozy, fractious fiancé well in a walk-on part that doesn’t quite warrant the star-casting and second-billing, but she’s supported by an outstanding cast of comic cowboys and fabulous follies, with Ned Rudkins-Stow’s bass-slapping Moose and Seren Sandham-Davies’ slaphappy Patsy as the standouts. Crazy For You is good, old-fashioned fun that features some of the Gershwins’ greatest songs, and, like the theatre at the centre of the story, it’s Gaiety in all its glory. - Leah Tozer It is rather exciting entering a theatre one is very familiar with only to see it transformed before ones eyes with pots, pans, suitcases and blankets strewn across the foyer and all the way into the bar. Upon entering the auditorium audience members are sat throughout the traditional seating and some have been placed on stage. Banners declaring that ‘no knives over 3 inches’ may be carried and ladders leading between the circle and the stalls give you a theatre in its most un-glamorous state. You get a sense very quickly of where you are being transported to by the creative team. In this case, present day becomes 1948. The Lyceum becomes a theatre in Germany; and the audience become displaced persons from across a post-war Europe in this well executed site specific production of Cockpit.
We are introduced to our characters one by one. A French farmer who just wants to go back home, a young Jewish Pole clutching desperately to her newborn and two tense British Soldiers attempting to keep total chaos and panic at bay. A high tension piece which could potentially become a little repetitive and boring is broken up by the charm of the eccentric Stage Manager (Dylan Read) and a beautiful moment of calm within chaos as Sandra Kassman enchants us with her rendition of La Traviata. In a post-war Europe we hear the voices of many nationalities, religions and political standings fighting against each other yet we understand they desperately just want to return home to a country they loved. The characters are all far too aware that the face of Europe has indeed changed forever, potentially, even now the camps have been closed, putting their lives at risk. It feels as if something is missing. We enter an auditorium as an audience, but throughout the piece we are half-heartedly included in the social and political crises’ happening throughout the show, such as when we are gestured to and told that everyone sitting in the stage right stalls are Latvian and Lithuanian, for example. Adding that onto sitting audience members on stage and the actors running in and out of the auditorium doors and across the upper circle it comes across as a half baked attempt at immersion when in reality at no point was I ever taken out of my comfort zone as an audience member. I never fully engage with the idea that I am supposedly anything more than an a modern day theatre goer. The plot twist of a potential case of the bubonic plague which calls for all the ‘doors to be locked’ so that no one can leave the theatre almost makes me feel that I was becoming part of this collective of refugees and that I could loose my autonomy as an audience member. This announcement is promptly followed by a blackout and an ushering by front of house to purchase drinks, which completely kills any inclination I have towards being fully immersed in this performance. - Lucy Newbery Our House, the high energy Madness musical revolves around a family home on Casey Street and the consequences of a decision made by Joe Casey on his 16th birthday, sounds simple? It isn’t. This show misses the mark on so many levels, the plot is forced around the songs making it completely stretched and a struggle to watch. The cast as a whole are overcompensating for the broken narrative by overacting, bringing down the standard of the production to that of an amateur one. The one liners are lost on the audience as the comedic timing is off, sadly ensuring the already dull story falls totally flat.
In spite of this, the group numbers save the show, with a particular highlight being ‘House of Fun’. The choreography by Fabian Aloise is exhilarating and the cast execute it perfectly, showcasing an unwavering high energy and great technical skill. The names they’ve brought in to encourage an audience are Emmerdale’s Deena Payne and Britain’s Got Talent's George Sampson. Payne does a nice job, but unfortunately doesn’t escape the overplaying curse, whereas Sampson is the other end of the scale, performing on one monotonous level throughout. Audience members that have come to see him dance may also be disappointed, he performs very little solo material, and what he does is limited. This show may have be an Olivier Award winner, but this production definitely didn’t win this audience - the increased amount of empty seats by the start of act 2 is hard to ignore. The curtain call and encore is the most energetic part of the show (maybe they’re relieved to have got through it), with the cast members engaging in a ‘dance off’ and encouraging the audience to get up and join in. This musical is definitely one for Madness fans, but I wouldn’t recommend it to theatre-goers who enjoy any sort of substance. - Anna Jobarteh |