Theatre Review: Goldilock, Stock & Three Smoking Bears at Tobacco Factory Theatres, Bristol

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

It may be July, but that doesn’t stop The Wardrobe theatre company from reprising its 2015 Christmas show, this time in the Factory Theatre.

And why not, when this seasonally ubiquitous mash up of Guy Ritchie’s 1998 cockney gangster film Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels with the Goldilocks and the Three Bears fairy-tale has proved to be such a Bristolian hit.

Even if your recall of the original stories is too fuzzy to pick up all the self-referencing jokes, there’s still plenty to enjoy in this comic caper devised by director Adam Fuller and his four-strong cast. Goldilock (Emma Keaveney-Roys), a struggling East End market trader, finds herself short of cash and takes on a seemingly straightforward furniture delivery job for local mobster Vinnie (Andrew Kingston). Unwittingly, she becomes entangled in the seedy card-sharping underworld of gangland boss Harry (Harry Humberstone) and his sidekick Barry (Lotte Allan).

The four players blast their way through multiple roles as Goldilock seeks to recover a mistakenly appropriated chair from the dingy pad of three very privileged and drug-addled bears. Throw in a family of extreme Scottish porridge providers flogging hipster takeaway breakfasts and you have the recipe for multiple plot threads colliding with riotous results.

It’s all very meta, as Goldilock undoes her own storyline by questioning the physics behind the porridge’s drastic temperature variation and deciding her bed at home is more comfortable. Meanwhile, Ritchie’s slow-motion character introductions and card game sequences are ingeniously invoked with help from Edmund McKay and Ben Osborn’s lighting and sound design.

The cast maintains the madcap energy throughout, with only the occasional moment of quiet self-reflection pervading the succession of high-octane scene and costume changes. Keaveney-Roys keeps the complex narrative clear and strong while Humberstone excels in comedic physicality and characterisation. Harry’s ongoing bromance with Allan’s none-too-bright Barry is the show’s standout storyline, both hilarious and oddly touching in turn. The three bears – Winston, Rupe and Paddy – are similarly well-defined, with only the Scottish porridge makers outstaying their stage-time, never rising above the two-dimensional while seeming to add little to the plot.

Perhaps this is something to work on before the show continues its upward trajectory with runs at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe and The Drum in Plymouth in December. It doesn’t detract overall though from a clever, silly and uproarious show that may be short on subtlety but is always long on laughs.

Reviewed on 21 July 2017 | Image: Contributed

Book Review: Dying to Live by Michael Stanley

Dying to Live is the latest thriller by South African writing duo Michael Stanley (Michael Sears and Stanley Trollip) to feature Botswanan detective David 'Kubu' Bengu. You can read my review of Deadly Harvest, an earlier book in the series, by clicking on the title link.

This new instalment plunges straight into the sweltering heat of the Kalahari desert, where a Bushman's body is found near a road to the game reserve. Back in Botswana's capital Gaborone, where he is taken for an autopsy, a puzzle emerges. The deceased is white-haired, frail-boned and clearly very old, yet his internal organs appear to be those of a much younger man. What's more, there's a bullet lodged in one of his muscles - yet no sign of an entry wound.

Although the case is being investigated locally, Kubu can't help looking into it - especially when he feels inquiries are drawing to a premature close. He discovers the Bushman had been much sought after because of his oral storytelling abilities and profound knowledge of the Kalahari's healing plants - of particular interest to anthropologists, international drug companies and local witch doctors alike.

Once more, the narrative mixes police procedure with Kubu's home life - where his adopted daughter Nono, HIV positive from birth, is suffering from the complications of her condition. Kubu's mother advises traditional remedies but he and his wife Joy are determined that modern Western style treatments will prevail - until a crisis causes an unexpected rift between them.

Kubu's dedicated young colleague Samantha Khama begins investigating a separate mystery: the disappearance of a renowned witch doctor rumored to offer a powerful traditional medicine or muti promising eternal life. Then the Bushman's body is stolen from the morgue and the two cases begin to overlap. The detectives find themselves enmeshed in a complex web of greed, corruption and murder, spanning the continents as far as America and China and back again.

The vibrancy of Gaborone and insights into Botswanan life - the clash of ingrained traditional beliefs and modern thinking - once again provide a compelling backdrop. Kubu is as thoughtful and endearing a central character as ever, hiding his steely determination and incisive mind behind the guise of a family man and food-lover who rarely misses a meal, no matter what comes up - yearning for that second portion of bobotie or rifling through his office drawers for snacks. My only quibble is that the authors introduce a few too many new characters to grapple with late on in the plot, threatening to confuse what is otherwise another intriguing and involving slice of  'Sunshine Noir'.

Dying To Live is published on 30 July 2017 by Orenda Books. Many thanks to them for my review copy.

Theatre Review: Racing Demon at Theatre Royal, Bath

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

Jonathan Church’s inaugural summer season for Bath’s Theatre Royal signalled changes from the moment his programme was revealed – without any hint of the usual Shakespeare or Coward. Instead, it opens with a revival of David Hare’s 1990 play Racing Demon, a meditation on the state of the Church of England, complete with a heavyweight cast.

The production takes a while to get into its stride. At its centre is Lionel Espy, played by David Haig, a priest who has essentially lost his faith but retains his conscience. He’s out tending to his south London flock at all hours – without wanting to specifically mention God or Jesus, for fear of putting them off. Haig, infinitely adaptable and always watchable, here portrays a tortured soul cloaked in the cassock of a self-effacing man of the people – more comfortable with A4 summaries of good intentions than specifics of sacrament and doctrine.

Contrast this with Paapa Essiedu’s firebrand young curate Tony, who has little patience with Lionel’s reticence and advocates an evangelical approach. Essiedu proves that his recent stellar trajectory has been no fluke as he portrays Tony’s single-minded insistence on delivering change while giving glimpses of inner conflict. He’s all direct action and filling the pews, at the expense of Christian tolerance in his personal relationships, especially with his forbearing partner Frances (Rebecca Night).

It’s difficult to know where Night can go with Frances, less of a character in her own right and more of a canvas for others to project upon – as is Lionel’s neglected wife Heather, played by Amanda Root, bringing a heartbreaking reticence to the role. But ultimately, in a church that in the 1990s is baulking at ordaining women bishops, it’s all about the men.

Here, there’s much to admire, both in the profound performances and David Hare’s incisive writing that juxtaposes rival forces in a Church struggling to maintain its position. The soliloquies, as each character shares their innermost thoughts with God, are revealing and affecting. Arguments intensify from the theological to the personal as the authoritarian Bishop of Southwark (Anthony Calf) seeks to enforce his will. There’s a light-hearted interlude as Lionel’s colleagues Donald ‘Streaky’ Bacon (Sam Alexander) and Harry Henderson (Ian Gelder) defend his livelihood while drinking too much tequila at the Savoy. Most poignant of all are the moments when Tony re-examines his shattered childhood and Harry tranquilly comes to terms with the impossibility of his own situation, while still encouraging Lionel to fight.

Simon Higlett’s understated and subtly lit design effectively evokes the surroundings of church and synod, yet it does feel as though the play is creaking a little at the seams, compared with issues tackled so astutely in the recent television sitcom Rev. Women’s ordination and homosexuality remain contentious in some quarters but events have moved on – to discussions of same-sex marriage and scandals centring around abuse. Racing Demon is a work that remains firmly set in 1990, harder to relate to now than some of Hare’s other plays of the era, such as his dissection of the political establishment in The Absence of War. Seen through this prism, though, it remains a compelling examination of personal and institutional turmoil.

Reviewed on 29 June 2017 | Image: Nobby Clark

Ballet Review: Coppélia at Bristol Hippodrome

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

Based on the stories of E T A Hoffmann, Coppélia is the lightest and most fragile of confections; the tale of a mechanical doll who entrances and enrages in equal measure. Yet the enchantment of this enduringly popular 19th Century work is underscored by this classical production from Birmingham Royal Ballet.

Not for this company a touring set of a few two-dimensional scenery flats; their Coppélia is a sumptuous creation of pastoral idyll and opulent costumes, designed by the late Peter Farmer and delivered to Bristol by a fleet of articulated lorries. There’s a complete (and lengthy at times) scene change between each of the three Acts.

It’s an exquisite backdrop for the story to unfold, as Swanilda (Céline Gittens) meets her lover Franz (Tyrone Singleton) in the village square, only to find him distracted by the beautiful lifelike doll that eccentric toymaker Dr Coppélius (Michael O’Hare) has placed on his balcony. Gittens is a beguiling Swanilda, her dancing lyrical and expressive, in complete control of the technical challenges of the role. Her mime is full of a spurned sweetheart’s fury as she admonishes her flirtatious fiancé and questions his faithfulness, followed by darting mischief as she and her nervous friends steal into the toymaker’s workshop to find her mysterious rival.

Gittens' performance is matched by Singleton’s charismatic Franz, more loveable rogue than love rat, despite his roving eye. Singleton dances with strength and fluidity and his on-stage chemistry with Gittens is persuasive throughout. This is combined with an assured comedic touch as he tiptoes across the village square with a ladder to climb up to Coppélia’s balcony, then ineffectually tries to evade capture by the angry Doctor.

The story may be featherweight and the outcome never in doubt, yet Delibes’ incurably romantic score, sensitively interpreted by the Birmingham Royal Ballet Sinfonia under the baton of Paul Murphy, is impossible to resist. The central second Act of magical discovery in the toymaker’s workshop is captivating, as the individual dolls are wound up and come to life and Coppélius tries to capture Franz’s spirit to transform his most prized creation into a living, breathing woman.

No less impressive are the set piece dances; the gypsies are a whirl of scarlet and green and the Eastern European Mazurkas and Czárdáses a highlight of Act I. Daria Stanciulescu is imposing as the gypsy temptress who dances with Franz despite Swanilda’s protests. Equally spectacular is the succession of celebratory dances in Act III’s Masque, particularly the gravity-defying Call to Arms.

Birmingham Royal Ballet’s uplifting and technically assured production embraces the traditional interpretation of Coppélia derived from Marius Petipa and Enrico Cecchetti’s late 19th Century choreography. It’s a spellbinding setting for family-friendly comedy and fairy-tale devilry, beautifully told through ravishing colour, passionate dancing, and unashamed romance.

Reviewed on 28 June 2017 | Image: Andrew Ross

Theatre Review: Thoroughly Modern Millie at Bristol Hippodrome

This review was first written for The Reviews Hub

If it’s light-hearted escapist entertainment you’re after then the jazz age Thoroughly Modern Millie, with Strictly Come Dancing’s Joanne Clifton asserting her musical theatre credentials in the title role, could just fit the bill.

Be warned though, around the edges, it does feel dated. In this revival of the 2002 musical, based on the 1967 film starring Julie Andrews, Millie Dillmount from Kansas arrives in the 1920s metropolis of New York. Determined to be a ‘modern’ girl, she undergoes a rapid flapper makeover – all bobbed hair and fringed hemline – takes a room in a women-only hotel and decides her future lies in getting a job that will allow her to marry the boss.

Most charmingly, she seems to spend her time falling for the enticing but impecunious Jimmy Smith, played by a debonair Sam Barrett, instead. Less charmingly, there’s a questionable sub-plot centring around white slavery that involves the hotel’s proprietor Mrs Meers (Lucas Rush) and two Chinese helpers (Nick Len and Andy Yau). These scenes have their comedic moments but don’t sit comfortably with the present day, either in the storyline or racial stereotyping.

Clifton proves she can sing and act as well as dance with pleasing on-stage presence – although her Millie, like many of the production’s characters under Racky Plews’ direction, is a broad-brush stroke creation veering towards the overly-dramatic. One shining exception to this is Jenny Fitzpatrick as Muzzy Van Hossmere, who elevates the closing moments of the first half with her luminous performance of Only in New York. Many of the show’s amusing highlights involve Graham MacDuff as Millie’s boss Trevor Graydon: dictating letters at speed, falling head-over-heels in love and portraying a flailing comedy drunk with all the co-ordination of a flamingo on an ice-rink.

At times, the pacing flags and scenes feel protracted, particularly in Act One. It’s the ensemble numbers that really zing with clever choreography; the title song Thoroughly Modern Millie is an obvious highlight. Then there’s the desk-dancing, swivelling stenographers of Millie’s workplace and Forget About the Boy, the rousing opening number in Act Two.

The colourful and glittery sequinned flapper costumes look as though they’ve been borrowed straight from Strictly’s wardrobe. Morgan Large’s art deco set neatly captures the New York skyline as well as doubling as a hotel lobby and workplace, even if by the end it feels as though it has run out of surprises. But the small surtitles, providing occasional Chinese translation, are both a distraction and difficult to read in a large venue and, on press night, there are some occasional problems with clarity of sound.

If Thoroughly Modern Millie is not generally held up as a classic of musical theatre, then this production will do little to alter that view. Overlook certain aspects of the plot though and it does provide plenty of good old-fashioned entertainment and a toe-tapping distraction from current reality.

Reviewed on 20 June 2017 | Image: Darren Bell

Book Review: Wolves in the Dark by Gunnar Staalesen

Private investigator Varg Veum is back, and this time he's in real trouble. As readers of Gunnar Staalesen's previously translated Nordic noir We Shall Inherit the Wind and Where Roses Never Die will know, Veum has been plunged headlong into despair by the loss of his long-term partner Karin. If you haven't read either of these titles yet, there's enough backstory in Wolves in the Dark to make his predicament clear.

Hauled into Bergen's police station for questioning after an early morning raid, Veum is astounded to find himself accused of accessing child pornography online. A cache of incriminating material has been found on his computer and he's remanded in custody as a suspected member of an international paedophile ring.

After three and a half years of trying to obliterate his grief with alcohol and one-night stands, Veum has recently met Sølvi and found some solace in their tentative new relationship. But he's still over-reliant on his bottles of Aquavit as a crutch, and there are too many holes in his memory.

Yet, despite the blackouts, Veum is convinced of his own innocence. Will he be able to remember enough to identify the person who hacked into his computer and planted the evidence?

He has no shortage of enemies, indeed his confrontational style is destined to ruffle plenty of feathers. Now it seems there's a dearth of sympathy from those already decided on his guilt. So, when an unexpected chance to escape presents itself, Veum grabs it with both hands. On the run, he now has a fraught and hazard-strewn opportunity to clear his name and solve his most testing case of all.

Staalesen's writing, translated from the Norwegian with accustomed fluency by Don Bartlett, is as tense and spare as ever and his gruelling subject matter is treated with sensitivity. Veum is humanised by his self-deprecating acknowledgment of a flawed past, in contrast to the repulsive and amoral - but always believable - inhabitants of Bergen's murky underworld. There's a palpable sense of place as Veum crisscrosses city streets while ducking away from the police and Staalesen introduces enough twists, turns and dead ends along the way to keep intrigue levels smouldering nicely. Gripping and satisfying, Wolves in the Dark is proof that this father of Nordic noir has lost none of his enduring powers.

Wolves in the Dark was published by Orenda Books in paperback on 30 June 2017. Many thanks to them for my review copy.