Theatre Review: A Midsummer Night's Dream at Theatre Royal Bath

 This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

Blue-daubed fairies prance and writhe, furious lovers claw and fight under a huge forest moon as one of Shakespeare’s best-loved comedies – the one so many of us cut our teeth on at school – is given a captivatingly contemporary and imaginative treatment in this new production from the Theatre Royal Bath.

Directed by Laurence Boswell, better known for showcasing international plays to great acclaim in next door’s Ustinov Studio, his A Midsummer Night’s Dream creates a magical kingdom at once both familiar and new: physical, visceral, sensual, funny and above all endlessly entertaining.

This romantically interwoven play can become messy and confusing if the elements don’t gel; the unevenly matched lovers, quarrelsome fairies and ragtag rude mechanicals putting on a play to celebrate a wedding in the Athenian court. Here bold, intelligent vision combines with minimalist staging from designer Jamie Vartan to create a cohesive whole.

In pre-publicity, there has been much talk of Phill Jupitus’ Bottom; he acquits himself well in his Shakespearean debut, delivering prose with relish in his larger-than-life characterisation of the domineering weaver. His transformation into an ass at the hands of Simon Gregor’s astonishingly nimble and menacingly exuberant Puck is perhaps less strikingly characterised than some, but he and his band of amateur players exploit all the comedic potential of their roles. Their performance of the play-within-a-play at the end is the farcical highlight it should be; Oscar Batterham as Frances Flute is a hilariously over-the-top Thisbe and Ekow Quartey charms as Snug’s hopelessly ineffectual lion.

The lovers are an explosively well-matched quartet; Maya Wasowicz and Eve Ponsonby as Helena and Hermia bicker and spar as only old friends can, bewildered by the inconstancy of their spellbound suitors, Lysander and Demetrius, played by William Postlethwaite and Wilf Scolding. Together, they bring such energetic physicality to Shakespeare’s central premise that to fall in love is to fall out of control – punching, clinging and tearing away garments – that it’s almost a disappointment when their plight’s neat resolution is brought about.

Katy Stephens, commanding, haughty and beautifully moderated as Titania, is all the more convincing in her metamorphosis into Bottom’s silkily seductive admirer, while Darrell D’Silva’s lowering and quixotic Oberon is always master of the ultimately benign games he plays with the lives of mere mortals.

Jon Nicholls’ echoing sound design and contemporary composition, together with Colin Grenfell’s lighting, brings layers of atmospheric complexity to the set’s clean lines and hidden doorways. With this production’s all-out theatricality, Boswell has conjured up a parallel universe of unique and accessible enchantment; no matter how well you might already know the play, it’s an unexpectedly refreshing and vibrant place to visit.

Reviewed on 10 August 2016 | Image: Contributed 

Book Review: The Museum of You by Carys Bray

Carys Bray's A Song for Issy Bradley was a heart-breaking and memorable debut; shortlisted for both the Costa First Novel Award and the Desmond Elliott Prize, it marked her out as an author to watch. If you haven't read it yet, you can find my review here, together with a reading group guide.

Bray's second novel, The Museum of You, mines many similar themes to her first: a family tragedy that finds those left behind struggling in its aftermath, a young person's perspective on the grown ups in her world and an adult's wrong-headed assumptions about a child's needs. In this and its use of the close third person, it has echoes of another recently published novel, My Name is Leon by Kit de Waal.

Twelve-year-old Clover Quinn lives with her Dad, Darren, in a magpie house full of stuff he never quite gets around to sorting. It's the summer holidays, the first where Clover is allowed to be on her own; in previous years, she's had to stay with Mrs Mackerel next door while Darren is out working as a bus driver. Clover is  enjoying her new-found freedom - watering plants in the allotment, riding her bike and now, trying to find out more about the past events that are constantly shaping her present.

Meanwhile, Darren watches and worries about his daughter and tries to think of everything she'll need. He surrounds her with things: a skateboard, guitar and plenty of bargain books for her shelves. What he still can't bring himself to give her are answers to the questions she doesn't dare ask, but most wants to find out; ones concerning Becky, the mum she never got to know.

The Museum of You feels as though it has a more playful tone than Issy Bradley. While both are a poignant mixture of laughter and tears, the grief here is older, less raw; a hum that underlies the noise of everyday life. The story's protagonists, Clover and Darren have - in different ways - learnt to live with their loss, but that doesn't make it any less present or overwhelming.

Much of the humour comes from the busybody next door, Mrs Mackerel - a real Mrs Malaprop in her pronouncements:

'LOOK AT YOU' Mrs Mackerel interrupts. 'So GROWN UP all of a sudden. All that HAIR. You're the SPLITTING IMAGE OF YOUR MOTHER, God forgive her. ' 

Clover nods. Hoping for more.

'And your POOR FATHER - the way he put her on a PEDAL STOOL.'

The Museum of You is animated by Bray's feel for creating endearing characters, authentically realised in their day-to-day dealings with the minutiae of loss. Darren is selfless, doing the best he can in a life that turned out so much differently than he thought. Not only is he bringing up his unexpected daughter alone, he's also looking after his wider family.

But it is Clover - the clever, perceptive and funny emotional centre of this story - that you quickly take to your heart; navigating a tentative course towards adolescence without her Mum's help, she finds her own touchingly quirky and pragmatic ways to begin filling in the spaces that Becky left behind.

The Museum of You is published in the UK by Hutchinson. Many thanks to them for my review copy.

Theatre Review: Guys and Dolls at the Bristol Hippodrome

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

 

Marry the Man Today may not seem the sort of sentiment to be accepted lightly by a theatre-going audience in 2016, especially given the blatant shortcomings of the potential grooms. Hitching up with low-life crap shooters Nathan Detroit and Sky Masterson could only end in disaster, we suspect; Miss Adelaide and Sister Sarah far better off either ploughing an eternally single furrow or capitalising on their newfound friendship and moving in together.

Nevertheless, such is the alchemy of rousing music and timeless storytelling in this Chichester Festival Theatre touring production of Guys and Dolls, that it’s all too easy to invest in these two central love affairs. Rolling dice takes on the moral purpose of saving Sister Sarah’s mission house in central New York, while Nathan’s marriage to Miss Adelaide would at least make an honest woman of her as far as her mother is concerned.

It’s heady, escapist stuff; taking us back to a New York that never really existed, encapsulated in Peter McKintosh’s set of rainbow advertising hoardings and a mission house distorted into the crown of the Statue of Liberty. Maxwell Caulfield’s Nathan Detroit is suitably downbeat and put upon, as he searches for a venue for his illegal floating crap game, pursued by the long arm of the law and harangued by a motley assortment of low-life gamblers on the one hand and his long-suffering fiancée Miss Adelaide on the other.

Charismatic gambler Sky Masterson, the role taken by Marlon Brando in the 1950s classic film, is played here by Richard Fleeshman; convincingly suave and charming with a surprisingly rich voice, especially in the lower register. It’s unfortunate, then, that his diction is occasionally muffled in the songs, especially as initial problems in balancing the sound in the beginning of the show are otherwise quickly ironed out.

There’s no such issue with the two female leads; Anna O’Byrne soars vocally as the pious Save-a-Soul mission sergeant, Sarah Brown, her soprano silvery clear and pure in I’ll Know and I’ve Never Been in Love Before. Meanwhile, Louise Dearman must be giving her London show counterpart Rebel Wilson a run for her money as Hot Box dancer Miss Adelaide, comically persistent in her determination to get Nathan to the altar, wistfully endearing in her rendition of Adelaide’s Lament.

The leads are supported by a strong ensemble, live orchestra and dazzling choreography from Carlos Acosta and Andrew Wright, with the scenes in Havana an electric riot of colour. The fast moving Luck Be a Lady recreates all the atmospheric lighting and echoing sound of the sewers, while full roof-raising justice is done to the iconic Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat.

Guys and Dolls has long been venerated as one of the greatest musicals of all time; many still refer to the National Theatre’s legendary 1982 revival under Richard Eyre. While this production might not be quite up there with the all-time classics, it’s still captivating and fizzing with energy, well worth catching as it nears the end of its tour.

Reviewed on 12 July 2016 | Image: Anna O’Byrne