Theatre review – Purple Heart

One of the central messages of Bruce Norris’s brilliant play – written in 2002 and given its UK premiere at the Gate Theatre – is the dehumanising effects of war. He focuses on what this means for those left behind and the often disturbing nature of the grieving process.

It’s 1972, somewhere in the American Midwest. Carla (Amelia Lowdell) is mourning the death of her husband in the Vietnam War and has sunk into alcohol dependency. When not drunk she sleeps off her hangover. Her 12-year-old son, Thor (Oliver Coopersmith), attempts to distract himself and his mother with novelty games and jokes. It’s another way of coping. Carla and her overbearing mother-in-law Grace (Linda Broughton), constantly bicker. We never learn what Grace feels about losing her son.

Then a lone soldier, Purdy (Trevor White) turns up on their doorstep. He is calm and quiet and sits almost deathly still. At first Carla thinks he is there to share memories of her husband but gradually a more sinister reason for his visit is revealed.

Cleverly, Norris gives his anti-war drama a domestic setting and frequently plays with our expectations. Grace is not as insensitive as she seems and Carla is struggling to disentangle ambivalent feelings towards her late husband – whom she loved, but who was also abusive.

PURPLE HEART was originally commissioned by the Chicago-based Steppenwolf Theatre Company known for their actor-centred ensemble work. Norris is clearly a dream writer for actors. The four give excellent performances and Christopher Haydon’s finely judged production draws out the play’s contemporary resonances. Norris writes with real vigour and his frequent plot twists and shifts in tone keep us guessing until the end.

Running at the Gate Theatre until 6 April

Review originally published by Theatreworld

 

Theatre Review – Gruesome Playground Injuries

Kayleen and Doug meet at primary school, aged eight, and forge an unlikely friendship. He’s just ridden his bike off the school roof and “broken his face.” She is suffering from a stomach ache. This unpromising beginning develops into a tenuous love affair that spans over thirty years and is defined by their various injuries and ailments.

Doug is forever having accidents while Kayleen makes herself sick or self-harms. They spend years apart and usually only come together as the result of one or the other falling ill or being hospitalised. Somehow, though, they always fail to make the connection that will tie them together definitively.

It doesn’t sound like a great story for theatre but don’t be put off. Pulitzer Prize finalist Rajiv Joseph’s GRUESOME PLAYGROUND INJURIES is a wonderful piece of drama, finely detailed and beautifully executed by Mariah Gale and Felix Scott. It has many funny moments but is also heart wrenchingly sad. The violence of the injuries sustained by the characters over the years, and the bravado they display, contrasts with the evident tenderness they feel for one another. Love, it is implied, can damage as well as nurture and until they begin to care about themselves their relationship cannot flourish.

The action is played out on Lily Arnold’s clinically white set, a traverse stage slicing the Gate auditorium diagonally in two. Under the deliberate glare of Andy Purves’ lighting, Kayleen and Doug both wear their hearts on their sleeves but appear unable to articulate the complexity of their feelings for one another. In between scenes the lights dim as they change clothes on stage, tenderly helping to dress each other and paint on their wounds and scars. I don’t think I have ever seen such emotive scene changes. The suggestion is that love often takes root in life’s quieter moments.

Remarkably, Joseph has not been produced in Britain before now. Justin Audibert is this year’s recipient of the Leverhulme Bursary for Emerging Directors. It is a fruitful pairing of talents. Not to be missed.

Gate Theatre until 16 February

Originally published by Theatreworld

 

Theatre Review – Sunset Baby

The Gate Theatre
Running until 20 October 2012

A man stands alone, filming himself, and offers a complex, slightly surreal definition of “fatherhood”. He is Kenyatta Shakur (Ben Onwukwe), a former revolutionary in the Black Liberation Movement, who has come to New York to find and reconnect with his estranged daughter Nina (Michelle Asante). The video recordings are for her. His brief monologues to camera set the tone for Dominique Morisseau’s play – a powerful and moving meditation on love, loss and regret.

Kenyatta’s wife, also once an iconic figure in the late 1970s, has recently died leaving Nina the love letters she wrote to her husband when he was a political prisoner. Apparently these relics of a past era, sought after by academics and fans alike, are now worth a fortune and Kenyatta is desperate to get his hands on them.

Nina wants nothing to do with her father. She deeply resents Kenyatta for deserting her mother and blames him for the drug addiction that eventually killed her. Impoverished, Nina was forced to leave college and make her own way. She now makes a living by hustling with her boyfriend Damon (Chu Omambala), dealing in drugs and armed robbery. Damon, desperate to make enough money to get them “up-out-the-hood”, tries to exploit Kenyatta but Nina has her own ideas.

SUNSET BABY, the final production in Christopher Haydon’s inaugural season about rebels and revolutionaries, is less overtly political than the preceding two plays. With more of a domestic focus, the real drama lies in the explosive relationship between father and daughter. Running at 110-minutes, without an interval, Charlotte Westenra’s assured and well-paced direction does not stop this from feeling overlong. However, the performances are top notch, Morisseau has a fine ear for dialogue and the final confrontation scene between Nina and her father will have you on the edge of your seat.

Originally published by Theatreworld

Theatre review – The Prophet

Egypt is at a crossroads. Having experienced its first democratic presidential election, the nation remains riven by conflict with both the military and the Islamists struggling for power. So Hassan Abdulrazzak’s theatrical response to last year’s popular uprising, beautifully realised by Christopher Haydon, is particularly timely.

Hisham (Nitzan Sharron) is working on his second novel but has writer’s block. He is obsessed with getting his work translated into English. His wife Layla (Sasha Behar) is concerned that their sex life is suffering as a consequence. Meanwhile, in sharp contrast to these domestic concerns, thousands of protestors are on the streets calling for the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak.

Although Hisham is a dissident, writing about revolution, he prefers to meet his smooth-talking literary agent, Suzanne (Melanie Jessop), than support the demonstrators. Layla works as an engineer for Vodafone and is horrified when her boss, Hani (Silas Carson), instructs her to shut down the network. She joins the protests and reaches an important decision about her stagnant marriage. At the same time, Hisham is forced to face a past betrayal and undergoes a profound experience that is to change his life for ever.

Abdulrazzak covers a lot of ground in just 100-minutes, touching on the differing attitudes towards political change in Egypt, the struggle to unite opposing forces, and how this affects ordinary citizens. In Hisham’s desire to reach a western audience by being published abroad, Abdulrazzak suggests an admiration for the freedoms of the West that sits uncomfortably with a wider distrust of outside influence. Then there are concerns for what change will bring. Hani fears that either the military will fill the vacuum left by Mubarak or that the Muslim Brotherhood will come to power: “And where will that leave us. Me a Christian Coptic and you a liberated woman, who doesn’t even wear the hijab?” he asks Layla.

The clash between the personal and political comes to a head in the horrific scenes of torture, central to the play, suggesting that the fallout from Mubarak’s brutal suppression of dissidents may remain for some time to come.

Haydon’s electrifying production is beautifully acted by the four-strong cast and Dick Straker’s video projection of the protests adds a gritty realism to the piece.

The Gate has made a name for itself as the home of international theatre so it is heartening to see Haydon building on this reputation and producing provocative, political theatre. THE PROPHET is the second play in the Gate admirable “Resist” season, which aims to explore themes of rebellion and revolution.

Originally published by Theatreworld

Theatre review – The Kreutzer Sonata

 

The Kreutzer Sonata

By Leo Tolstoy Adapted by Nancy Harris

Directed by Natalie Abrahami

Gate Theatre, running until 18 February 2012

 

Nancy Harris’s wonderful adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s novella, THE KREUTZER SONATA, is given a welcome revival at the Gate.

Pozdynyshev, a smartly dressed, middle-aged man sits alone in a train carriage. “I am not a music lover” he tells us before likening an evening of music to visiting a brothel: “you pay your money, you perspire – there is a vague sense of release”. The reason he hates music, we discover, is because of his conviction that his wife, an accomplished pianist, was having an affair with his childhood friend, Trukhachevski, a professional violinist, Trukhachevski.

When Trukhachevski calls on his old friend he is evidently taken with his wife: Pozdynyshev recalls their first meeting with venom: “Had they been beasts in a forest there is nothing surer than they would have been rutting right there.” They share a love of music and begin rehearsing together, with Pozdynyshev’s encouragement, for a private concert. But Pozdynyshev’s suspicions of infidelity quickly become an obsession and we learn that he is recently released from prison after being acquitted of murder.

Hilton McRae gives a convincing portrait of a cold, calculating man who hides his rabid jealousy behind a veneer of solicitous courtesy. He is, by turn, repelled and erotically fixated by his wife. His monologue reveals a deep rooted distrust and hatred of women – before he married he led a life of dissolution – “women understand money” he opines. Later, he describes them as “playthings for men’s pleasure…slaves who think their shackles are bracelets.”

As Pozdynyshev recounts his story, and the events that led him to his violent crime of passion, we are given glimpses of his wife (Sophie Scott) and Trukhachevski (Tobias Beer) behind a transparent screen, playing Beethoven’s sonata. This is interspersed with film by Dan Stafford Clark.

Sensitively directed by Natalie Abrahami, beautifully designed by Chloe Lamford – an elegant  19^th century train carriage partially shattered – with atmospheric lighting by Mark Howland, sound by Carolyn Downing and musical direction by Tom Mills this gem of a piece assails all the senses.

Originally published by Theatreworld

 

Theatre review – Yerma

By Federico García Lorca in a new version by Anthony Weigh

I’ve seen a number of versions of Federico García Lorca’s YERMA over the years, but this co-production by the Gate and Hull Truck, must be one of the best. This is largely down to Anthony Weigh’s pared-down adaptation of Lorca’s classic and Natalie Abrahami’s beautiful staging.

Fifteen-year-old Yerma, newly married to Juan, arrives in her husband’s village determined to be the model wife. But as the seasons pass, and she fails to conceive, Juan begins to spend more and more time tending his sheep and Yerma seeks help from a local soothsayer with tragic consequences.

In the title role, Ty Glaser, initially a little over-breathy and earnest, soon settles in and conveys Yerma’s childlike naivety about sex, about conceiving and bearing children, about her husband and, later, her acceptance that she must be at fault, with an intensity that is heartbreaking to watch. She is well matched by Hasan Dixon as Yerma’s intransient, controlling husband who, Weigh suggests, is conflicted by an unresolved passion for another man.

YERMA, set in rural Spain and originally conceived as a tragic poem, is not an easy work to adapt for a contemporary audience, but Weigh succeeds in drawing out plenty of modern resonances. He concentrates on the damaging isolation of Yerma’s obsession, intensified by the pity of her friend Maria (Alison O’Donnell) who has babies “gushing” out of her”, as well as Juan’s ambivalence and the manipulative way in which he tries to deflect blame from himself.

Ruth Sutcliffe’s impressive sea of sand evokes a barren landscape, suggesting heat and aridity, at the same time as reflecting Yerma’s passionate nature laid waste by her despair.

Skilled performances, sensitive direction and an accessible text combine to make this YERMA a triumph. A wonderful evening of spellbinding theatre.

Originally published by Theatreworld

Theatre review – Dream Story

DREAM STORY By Arthur Schnitzler

Adapted and Directed by Anna Ledwich

Gate Theatre, London, Running until 16 July 2011

Anna Ledwich’s stunning adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler’s 1926 novella opens and ends with a confession, suggesting that we are to be the judge and jury of this Freudian analysis of fidelity and betrayal, jealousy, and guilt.

Ledwich remains faithful to the book’s setting – Vienna, in the early 20^th century. Albertine (Leah Muller) and Fridolin (Luke Neal), a successful doctor, appear to be happily married with a six-year-old daughter, but over the course of one long night their insecurities take hold and they are plunged into a hallucinatory state where reality and imagination collide.

It all starts when they try to articulate their sexual desires by confessing to their recent erotic fantasies while on holiday in Denmark. Fridolin had been struck by a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl he encountered on the beach, and Albertine had enjoyed a flirtation with a Danish military officer. But before they can reconcile themselves to their previously unspoken desires, Fridolin has to leave abruptly to tend to a dying man. Whilst Albertine slumbers and dreams of her husband’s violent death, Fridolin is plunged into a nightmarish odyssey through the streets of Vienna.

First, it is implied that Fridolin is having a passionate affair with his patient’s daughter. Fleeing this potential betrayal, he is then tempted by a prostitute but cannot act on his desires. Finally, he ends up, disguised in a mask and costume, at a private sex club, where a young woman later dies, apparently poisoned.

There are many states of existence, both real and imagined. Schnitzler, like Freud, was fascinated by our sexual obsessions, repressed desires, fantasies, and destructive impulses. In DREAM STORY, the lines are deliberately blurred as to whether this is a journey through Fridolin’s own psyche or whether the events actually take place. It doesn’t really matter because as the couple admit to one another at the end – “no dream is entirely a dream”.

The play is impeccably acted by a four-strong cast. Helen Goddard’s striking design has a movable double-bed centre stage, and Matt Haskins’ atmospheric lighting renders the cast iron partition into both a bedstead and the bars of a prison, underlining how our repressed desires can hold us hostage.

Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation, EYES WIDE SHUT, introduced Schnitzler to mainstream cinema audiences, so here’s hoping Ledwich’s vibrant production achieves similar success with London’s theatre goers.

 

 

Theatre review – Electra

Sophocles’ ELECTRA

In a new version by Nick Payne

Directed by Carrie Cracknell

Gate Theatre, Running until 14 May 2011

When Electra’s father King Agamemnon is forced to sacrifice his eldest daughter, Iphigenia, it sets in motion a bloody trail of retribution. On Agamemnon’s return from the Trojan War, he is murdered by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus. Fearing for the life of her younger brother, Orestes, Electra leads him away into the safety of exile but returns herself to live with her mother and step-father.

Ten years on, Electra still cannot forgive her mother and, dreaming of vengeance, eagerly awaits her brother’s return.

Carrie Cracknell’s visually striking production opens with a series of stunning tableaux, highlighting the emotional forces that propel the play to its tragic conclusion.

Nick Payne’s visceral and supple version, running at just 70-minutes, concentrates on the personal rather than the political. Electra’s passionate desire for justice dominates the proceedings but this is tempered somewhat by the clever decision to reinvent the chorus as Electra’s younger self – the child who witnessed her father’s bloody end.

It is an intense play performed by a pitch-perfect cast of six. Cath Whitefield perfectly captures the debilitating, often frenzied grief of Electra. There is an extraordinary scene in which Electra literally digs up her father’s grave and lies in the earth. Madeleine Potter is a poised Queen, cold, rational and tantalisingly ambivalent in her love for her children, and the mother-daughter confrontation is one of the most memorable scenes in the play. Natasha Broomfield offers the perfect counterpoint to Electra as her sister Chrysothemis and Alex Price is a fervid but resolute Orestes.

All the senses are assailed in this supremely theatrical production. Holly Waddington’s imaginative tomb-like tile design also recalls the bathroom in which Agamemnon was murdered. When part of this is dug up you can smell the fresh soil underneath. Guy Hoare provides atmospheric lighting and Tom Mills’ soundscape ratchets up the tension.

A vibrant new interpretation of Sophocles’ classic. Not to be missed.

Originally published in Theatreworld

Theatre review – Fatherland

Gate Theatre and ATC present

FATHERLAND

By Tom Holloway

Gate Theatre

Running until 12 March 2011

A father and daughter settle down for an evening in together. Angela helps her father, Mark, set up a giant path of dominoes. She is playful, joshing with him, calling him a “loser nerd”. He gently admonishes her for playing music too loud. As they plan a night of pizza and DVDs, their relationship appears perfectly ordinary.

But the love Mark feels for his daughter is not as innocent as it first seems. It is an obsessive, all-consuming passion that threatens to destroy them both. The fragile edifice of dominoes they build represents the precariousness of their own relationship — you know that by the end both will have collapsed. The cracks begin to show when he denies her the opportunity to visit friends.

In Tom Holloway’s carefully constructed play, what is left unspoken is often as important as his characters’ dialogue. Angela’s mother is entirely absent and there is no mention of a maternal figure. FATHERLAND is broken down into scenes that are meant to represent the five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – although in the play’s 70-minute duration these connections are not as clear as they perhaps could have been.

Choosing a stylised approach, Caroline Steinbeis directs the actors with precision and is rewarded by two superb performances. Jonathan McGuinness perfectly captures a domineering, manipulative father and Angela Terence is equally convincing as his vulnerable, damaged daughter.

Designer Max Jones has created a claustrophobic room in disarray. Two red hearts (a balloon and Christmas bauble) serve as emblems of love’s fragility. Johanna Town’s subtle lighting gradually reveals the bars of a prison while Simon Slater’s imaginative soundscape helps ratchet up the tension.

Originally published in Theatreworld

Review – Lulu

By Frank Wedekind

Adapted and directed by Anna Ledwich

Gate Theatre until 10 July 2010

In Anna Ledwich’s brilliant reworking of Frank Wedekind’s 1894 play (originally split into two halves to avert censorship), Lulu is no femme fatale. She is an abused child, sexually exploited since the age of seven, who has learned to use her eroticism, sometimes clumsily, for her own ends.

Men are attracted to Lulu like bees to a honey pot but, somehow, they all end up destroyed by their passion for this child-woman or through their own insatiable lusts.

Lulu is defined by her relations to the men around her. They each call her different names and in this way lay claim to her. She is infantilised by her first husband, Dr Goll; serves as erotic muse for the artist Schwartz; is groomed by the older, controlling Schoning; and becomes sugar-mummy to his gambling son Alwa. As she says to Schoning, the man who has most moulded her: “I am what you made me, darling.”

Helen Goddard’s cluttered set is transformed from artist’s garret into peep show. At various times it feels like the stage of a Burlesque cabaret. What is clear is that Lulu is on display for the pleasure of these men and one woman, Countess Geschwitz. A giant blank canvas stretches across half the stage, suggesting that Lulu is a blank page – given colour and meaning by all those who try to possess her.

This Gate-Headlong creative collaboration is rewarded by some terrific performances. Sinead Matthews is wonderful as Lulu capturing the various nuances of her slippery character. She is a sexual tease with a virginal quality; both victim and abuser. Sean Campion is also superb as the coolly manipulative Schoning and his interpretation is in good contrast to Paul Copley, who plays Lulu’s father as a seedier, shadier monster.  On press night, Caroline Faber was injured, so the part of the Countess, perhaps the one character genuinely in love with Lulu, was seamlessly adopted by Ledwich herself.

Although this is predominantly a play about our darker instincts, there is unexpected humour to be found in the rantings of Michael Colgan’s neurotic artist and the adolescent proclivities of Jack Gordon’s gambler and in the moments when Lulu gets the better of her exploiters. Ultimately, though, what will stay with me is the savagery and tragedy of the play’s spine-tingling final moments.

Originally published in Theatreworld