The Ruling Class...

Last night Stuart and I went to see the hunky James McAvoy starring in Peter Barnes' satirical play The Ruling Class at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy West End.

The (black) humour of the play hinges on one of two things; (1) whether you find the idea of a paranoid schizophrenic psychopath British nobleman inheriting a peerage funny, or (2) whether you find a talented actor playing a paranoid schizophrenic psychopath British nobleman inheriting a peerage funny. We are in 'laugh at' vs 'laugh with' territory again.

For me the answer to (1) was "not really."
The answer to (2) was (as the actor in question is James McAvoy) "largely, yes."

So here it was - a rather broad, rather blunt attack on those who rule us (clue: they all talk in posh accents, went to Eton, own country estates, and hate the poor.)

When the play worked it was fine - the action was zany and madcap with Mr McAvoy sparkling as mad Jack. He got to show us his unicycling skills, his ripped bod, his demon smile and his underwear.

When it didn't work (especially in the 2nd half) it rather reminded me of a 'trendy vicar' routine I used to do when I was a member of the Cambridge University Light Entertainment Society (CULES) back in 1982 - cringingly old hat.

3 stars (mainly for Mr McAvoy's spirited performance and evil grin)

East is East...

Last night Stuart and I went to see East is East at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy Westminster.

Based on Ayub Khan-Din's original play at the Royal Court Theatre in 1997 and then on the film in 1999 East is East is a comedy-drama set in Salford, Greater Manchester in 1971.

The action takes place in a mixed-ethnicity household that is headed by Pakistani father George (Ayub Khan-Din) aided by an English mother, Ella (Jane Horricks).

George expects his family to follow Pakistani ways, but his seven children, who were born and grew up in Britain, increasingly see themselves as British and reject Pakistani customs of dress, food, religion, and living in general, leading to a rise in tensions and conflicts in the whole family.

It's a very funny play and while exploring multiculturalism in the early 1970s still resonates today.

Recommended.

Richard III...

Last Friday night Stuart and I went to see Richard III at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy Westminster.

As part of the Trafalgar Transformed season it stars our own, our very own Martin Freeman as Shakespeare's most terrifying of psychopaths. Only this Richard we see in the manner of a persistent insurance salesman trying to sell you a policy you don’t want or need.

In fact Freeman's Richard all but blends into the background in many scenes - save for the grunts while strangling a victim with a telephone cord. We have to take it as read that this man is feared throughout the realm as Freeman gives no fearful performance here. Rather he plays it as a bureaucrat - and in a comparison he would surely hate - a slightly more demonic version of Tim from The Office.

Faring better was Jamie Lloyd’s production referencing as it does the UK's 1979 own so-called 'winter of discontent'. That was a time when the country seemed to be falling apart and rumours of an aristocratic plot to overthrow the Labour Party by military coup were rife. Lloyd imagines how Britain might have looked had such a coup taken place, and it is a dreary, desperate world that he sees.

We visit it here in this dilapidated, linoleum-floored office, suggesting a Whitehall run to seed. Clever use is made of lifts (and lift music), old fashioned rotary telephones, cassette players, the sound of flushing toilets and an illuminated aquarium for the drowning of Richard’s brother Clarence (Mark Meadows). There are also rows of microphones, for official pronouncements and debates.

With his humpback scarcely visible beneath bespoke suits and uniforms, Freeman’s Richard speaks in the measured manner of an accountant toting up numbers and looking for discrepancies in expense reports. He’s a precise, fussy little man, who when decreeing that the princes in the Tower should be despatched seems to be just tying up loose ends rather than committing such a gross act of infanticide and regicide.

Freeman does find some adroitly timed and funny line readings within this repressive persona. However he lacks that hypnotic force of will that allows Richard to seduce a country, not to mention women like the doomed Lady Anne (Lauren O’Neil). It seems fitting that a later potential conquest, Elizabeth (Gina McKee), will listen to Richard’s suit only after she’s been trussed up in a chair by his henchman.

That Richard requires such coercion to get an audience with a lady makes you feel rather sorry for him. His rival, Richmond (Philip Cumbus), displays more oomph. By the time he’s slain Richard and ascended to the throne, Richmond registers as twice the demented nutter that his predecessor was.

So I'd say is is a good production, but not a great one.

Another Country...

Last week Stuart and I went to see Another Country at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy Westminster.

It was a fresh production of the 1981 classic that back in the day made stars of Rupert Everett, Kenneth Branagh, Daniel Day-Lewis and Colin Firth.

Telling the story of spy Guy Burgess the play is set in the 1930s in an English public school for boys. Guy is openly gay and his friend Judd is a Marxist. Both are outsiders and they rear up against the blatant hypocrisy and snobbery they see around them.

The young and good-looking cast delivered the lines as sharply and as crisply as the day they were written. The scenery was great too - the wooden panelling serving as a powerful metaphor for the claustrophobia both our heroes experience.

It asks a number of questions of the class system too; namely whence comes it's power to force conformity, who runs it's Old Boys' Network that holds the inalienable right to administer career, privilege and position, and why do people caught up in it fear change so greatly.

The answer that Guy finds seems to be 'play the game' but betray it. A conclusion we can perhaps not sympathize with but certainly understand.

Great show. Go see.

Ghosts...

Last night Stu and I went to see Ghosts at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy Westminster.

It was a night of loss, abuse, self-denial, lies, snobbishness, debauchery, illegitimacy, incest, disease, suicide, and evangelical pomposity. And that was just the foyer programme seller.

In Richard Eyre's new version of this potent Ibsen drama, Lesley Manville's haunted widow never loosens her grip on the audience.

She plays Helene Alving, a rich widow stifled by several awkward relationships: with her son Oswald, an artist who has recently been living in Paris; with Manders, the local pastor to whom she was at one time attracted; and with her dead husband, whose memory she has chosen to honour by building an orphanage. There is also friction between her, her maid Regina (Charlene McKenna) and Jacob Engstrand, the devious hypocrite who is generally understood to be Regina’s father.

The play is superb - the acting top notch. I cried and cried at the raw emotion in the final scene. Bravo.

The Pride...

Last night Stu and I went to see gay play The Pride at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy Whitehall.

The play tells two stories using the same three actors. The first set in 1958 tells of a husband and wife on the surface happily married but things go somewhat awry with the appearance of the wife's rather "mannered" friend. What follows is a painful and destructive path where the violence turns from gentle and emotional to painfully and physical. The shame in their actions force all the characters to regret their past decisions and indeed their very nature.

The second story set in 2008(?) tells the story of a gay couple and how one of them suffers from sex addiction. Actually his partner probably suffers just as much. He's had enough and is leaving him. The sex addiction seems to be born out of a self-loathing and the inability to explain himself to his partner has led to the disintegration of their long-them relationship.  It reflects the gay shame that destroyed the relationship of the earlier piece.

Now if all that sounds rather depressing and worthy it is - a bit. And it isn't. There is much brevity in the piece not least by Matthew Horne's various stylised appearances as a sex Nazi, an aversion therapist and most successfully as a lad's mag editor with a story to tell.

The wife in 1958 also playing the straight best friend in 2008 talks the most sense and has many of the funniest lines. She is in many ways the voice of the writer. Counselling and scolding, explaining and supporting.

It's an excellent piece, we really enjoyed it and it's well worth seeing. Not least for the brilliant cast and the "to Russia, with love" signs that they bringing out when they take a bow.

Macbeth...

Last night Stu and I went to see James McAvoy play Macbeth at the Trafalgar Studios in the London's glitzy West End.

This particular version of 'the Scottish play' was resolutely Scottish with accents as thick as Nessie's rump. Not that that was in any way a bad thing but when coupled along with the rather dated post-apocalyptic grunge look of the set it came across more low-life Glasgow estate than Highland Royal Estate. Jamie Lloyd’s production has Scotland as a place of broken windows, filthy people and foul toilets. Feel free to add your own joke at this point but I think I can perhaps rise above such cheap insults here.

James McAvoy's Macbeth is buffed, handsome, and charismatic. A Hollywood actor with twinkly eyes to match. But sadly all the slickly choreographed sword fighting, bearlike roaring, excessive spitting and needless vomiting in the world couldn't convince me he was the brave Scottish warrior of old. Braveheart he was not.

Macbeth's slow descent into madness following his bloody regicide is often a gripping part of the play to witness. Sadly in the hands of Mr McAvoy it was handled with the care of flicking on a light switch. One moment he was nervous, shy and loyal. The next he was screaming down the house, chewing up the scenery and spitting out anything he could put in his mouth.

Lady Macbeth was not much better. Why, she barely seemed to be sorry for what she has done. Her suicide almost came as a surprise.

Other cast members faired better (the Porter, Malcom's son and Macduff's wife being particularly good examples) but the excessive use of Kensington Gore and the flashing overhead lights to signal menace gave the whole production the feel of a well funded college production.

Cast, crew, audience, Bard - we all deserved better.

Post review Update: OK, it wasn't terrible - it's just been done so much better recently. Older incarnation of Charles Xavier Patrick Stewart's recent version being an outstanding example. Well, on the up side there are a few cute supporting cast members to keep an eye on. Sadly lots of X Men fans were in the house - some taking photos and videos during the performance! Shameful.

Shirley Valentine...

Last night Stu and I went to see Shirley Valentine at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy West End. The one-character play starred the marvelous Meera Syal as Shirley, a middle-aged, working class Liverpool housewife. The play is a monologue focusing on her life before and during a transforming holiday abroad to Greece.
Originally performed at the Everyman Theatre in Liverpool in 1986, it reappeared at the Vaudeville Theatre in 1988 starring Pauline Collins and directed by Simon Callow. So successful was it they all transferred to Broadway and an award winning film was made in 1989.
Ms Syal was blooming marvelous. She acted her socks off, had us in fits of laughter and got the tone of the piece just right. Best line: "That's right, Millandra, I'm going to Greece for the sex! Sex for breakfast! Sex for dinner! Sex for tea! And sex for supper!"

Educating Rita...

Last night Stu and I went to see Educating Rita, part of the Willy Russell season at the Trafalgar Studios 1.
The story, in case you are unaware, is of Rita, a young, brash hairdresser, who has recently discovered a passion for English literature and enrolled with the Open University. This is much to the dismay of her husband Denny. Her tutor Frank, a bit a soak, gets caught offguard by Rita's fresh reaction to the classics.
Laura Dos Santos was excellent as the ambitious Rita as was Tim Pigott-Smith as "for dismissal it would have to be nothing less than buggering the Bursar" Frank. They both had big shoes to fill as Julie Waters and Michael Caine between them won awards for the 1980s stage and screen versions. Ultimately the play is about choice and gaining the wherewithal to have one. There must be better songs to sing than this...