The Trial...

Last night Stuart​ and I went to see The Trial at the Young Vic in London's increasingly glitzy Southwark.

Before the play I had a pulled-port burger at The Cut Bar and it was delicious, sweet, spicy, and varied. Four words that could not have been used to describe the play we saw next.

Rory Kinnear is an outstandingly fine actor. This production was not. What should have been gripping just left us griping. Rather like the main character Joseph K. trapped in an awful world from which he cannot escape so Kinnear too is trapped in this arduous production.

When people use the adjective Kafkaesque, it is The Trial they have in mind - the nightmarish world of Joseph K., where the rules are hidden from even the highest officials, and any help there may be comes from unexpected sources. K. is never told what he is on trial for, and when he says he is innocent, he is immediately asked "innocent of what?"

So a bit 1984, a bit Brazil then.

Indeed the play has a constant, relentless atmosphere of disorientation and quirkiness. Superficially the subject-matter is bureaucracy, but the story's great strength is its description of the effect on the life and mind of Josef K.

That said, this production was frankly boring. The conveyor belt set was a nice touch but it soon got tired. This was no Brazil. No 1984. We just wanted Mr (unspecial) K. to meet his fate so we could go home.

Some people around us fell asleep. 'Nuff said.

Avoid.

A View From The Bridge...

Last night Stuart and I went to see Arthur Miller's seminal play A View From The Bridge at The Wyndham's Theatre in London's glitzy West End.

And wow, it was an amazing production. Delightful, thrilling, funny, scary, sexy, harrowing, claustrophobic, and menacing.

Deceptively simple staging with a single chair as a prop and performed in the semi-round you felt up close and personal to each and every nuanced emotion of the brilliant cast.

Staged by Belgian director Ivo van Hove with lead actors Mark Strong (as Eddie), Phoebe Fox (Catherine), and Nicola Walker (Beatrice) the production has been a huge success at the Young Vic before it's transfer up West.

The play is set in 1950s America, in an Italian American neighbourhood near the Brooklyn Bridge in New York. It employs a chorus and narrator in the character of Alfieri. Eddie, the tragic protagonist, has an improper love of, and almost obsession with his orphaned niece, Catherine. Eddie's wife Beatrice is supportive of Catherine's endeavours to strike out on her own in the world but Eddie infantalises her and his over protective nature is almost unseedy.

Enter stage left two of Beatrice's cousins from Italy (the two gentlemen from Verona?) who are there illegally as work is scarce back home. Marco is a strong hard worker whereas Roldolpho is effeminate in nature, singing, joking, dying his hair blonde, cooking and making dresses. Catherine falls for Roldolpho and when they plan to marry against Eddie's wishes trouble comes a-knocking. Just what lengths will Eddie go to keep these star-crossed lovers apart?

As you can tell I detected a strong Shakespearean element to the play although the obvious parallels are to a Greek tragedy.

If you get a chance to go, do. Best show in the West End at the moment. 5 stars.

Theatre Themes...

When you're as much of a pair of West End Wendies as Stuart and I are you start to see trends in theatrical productions. Over the past few years we've watched trends come and go. So I thought I'd note a few recent ones down.

• A couple of years ago it was all nuns and Nazis (Sister Act, Cabaret, The Sound of Music, The Producers)
• The year before last it was male nudity (Hair, My Night With Reg, Bent, Judas Kiss, Privates on Parade)
• We also had immersive theatre (Secret Cinema, Punch Drunk's A Drowned Man, Fire Hazard's  zombie runs) 
• Last year it was straight-through shows without intervals (Macbeth, most things at the National these days, Henry IV at Donmar, two recent plays at Almeida, The Scottsboro Boys, Ghosts Stories, A Chorus Line)
• And even most recently it's been faux-helicopters (Kate Bush, Miss Saigon, Made In Dagenham, Here Lies Love).

I wonder what the next theatrical fad in 2015 will be?

The Scottsboro Boys...

Last night Stuart and I went to see The Scottsboro Boys at the Garrick Theatre in London's glitzy West End.

This Young Vic production had been such a hit that it had transferred up West. And deservedly so. It was powerful, disturbing, entertaining and dazzling. Everything, in fact, you might expect from the writers of the edgy musicals Cabaret and Chicago - the wonderful John Kander and Fred Ebb.

As with those other two shows the humour here is brutal. And it needs to be as the dreadful story unfoldes of nine black teenagers falsely accused of rape in Alabama in 1931. Told through the medium of minstrels this civil rights musical exposes and lampoons racist bigotry. But for all it's humour it rarely makes you smile. It's savage and sad. The humour is black in many senses of the word.

We witness the frame-up, the all-white jury, the rushed trials, the attempted lynching, and hear the angry mob.

Powerful stuff, challenging. And a great night out.

A Streetcar Named Desire...

Last Saturday night Stuart and I went to see Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Names Desire starring Gillian Anderson as Blanche DuBois at the Young Vic in London's increasingly glitzy Waterloo.

Under Benedict Andrews' direction this was a first class revival with a revolving set and an outstanding performance by all the cast. We loved it.

Set in modern times we were somewhat concerned that the play might perhaps lose some of it's old world charm. Blanche DuBois is after all a woman from an earlier age. However we needn't have worried. Once the action got into its stride, particularly in the second half, Blanche's descent into madness played out just as strongly as we had hoped.

Ben Foster was intriguing yet perhaps not quite brutish enough as Stanley while Vanessa Kirby was suitably coquettish as much put upon Stella. The play however belonged to Gillian Anderson.

Anderson use of the spinning claustrophobic stage - ironically all open and exposed to the audience - first wound and then unwound much as her fantasies did. It was a downward spiral in many senses. Her masterful performance gradually racketed up the tension to an explosive finale of raw emotion.

A five star performance in a five star play.