There are dozens of shows on in London at any one time yet it is rare for many of these to belong to a broad category of new writing. West End producers, given the sky high level of theatre rents and other costs associated with mounting a production, tend to play safe circulating and recirculating tried and trusted formulae (cf. the juke box musical), putting on revivals of classics (Shakespeare, et al) or populating their production with television “names” (just about any panto you care to point at). There seems to be little room for productions without an immediately obvious pedigree and it has become harder for anything new to get a foothold. If new writing is scarcer than the proverbial hen’s teeth then new writing by a new writer is even less likely to be discovered – at least in the commercial sector of the capital’s theatre. Thus the addition of Natasha Gordon to the roster of new writers is a welcome addition. Her first play Nine Night has just opened in London; here’s my review.
Following its successful run at The National Theatre last spring, Natasha Gordon’s play Nine Night about the Jamaican way of death comes to the Trafalgar Studios in a well-deserved transfer. Lauded as the first West End play by a living, black female writer it is, no doubt of it, a highly accomplished piece of work that asks important questions about the legacy afforded to the Windrush generation – the scandal that broke earlier this year ran concurrently with the play’s premiere.
Gloria, the family matriarch, arrived in Britain as part of that generation leaving behind her life in Jamaica as well as her young daughter Trudy. Since that momentous decision she has built a new life, acquired two more children (Lorraine and Robert) and a house in North London; as the play begins she lies dying upstairs. Her demise is followed by the traditional Caribbean nine night wake. Neither Gloria nor the wake are ever seen but the influence of both is keenly felt as the family and various visitors gather, drink, reminisce consider their futures, dance, argue and eventually fight in the wonderfully detailed kitchen with fully working appliances – hats off to designer Rajha Shakiry.
Central to the action is Gloria’s second daughter Lorraine who has housed and cared for her dying mother, brought up her own daughter Anita and who is now a grandmother to nine month old Rosa – unseen. Lorraine has basically sacrificed her own life to care for and support others. She is heartbroken by her loss but stoically plods on, hosting the wake, organising the funeral arrangements and dealing with the family angst. That this family is a matriarchy is left in little doubt. This is emphasised by the arrival of Aunt Maggie a woman with an opinion on anything and everything (and who undoubtedly has all the best stinging one liners) and a later appearance by abandoned daughter Trudy who flies in with a suitcase full of Jamaican goodies and a heart full of resentment which eventually boils over into overt rage. The men, by contrast, are somewhat less forthright in the persons of feckless brother Robert and kindly laid back Uncle Vince.
The cast does not have a weak link and integrate so well that they are fully believable as a family unit. Author Natasha Gordon herself plays Lorraine (a change from the NT production) and as such she does so with an outstanding sense of empathy for her character’s various predicaments. A growing sense of anger and resentment towards the other family members culminates in a strong final scene where Lorraine grabs a kitchen knife and looks set to do some permanent damage. Sister in law Sophie tries to calm her with yoga at one point but it is clearly not working. Hattie Ladbury’s performance as Sophie, the only white member of the cast and the family’s outsider (a neat reversal of stereotypes), was very engaging. Sophie is eager to immerse herself in a culture of which she can never truly be a part but clearly has her own demons – especially when she announces that she is pregnant at the age of 45. The plum role, however, belongs to Aunt Maggie and Cecilia Noble has received rave reviews for her portrayal of the domineering old lady; at the performance I saw the part was taken by understudy Jade Hackett. She acquitted herself extremely well, moving around with a sense of increasing age and weariness and delivering her lines with an acute sense of timing; several of her opinionated remarks brought the house down. I notice that Hackett is also understudying both Lorraine and Trudy so she truly has her work cut out. Michelle Greenidge as Trudy was a real “force of nature” performance. Her first sudden appearance momentarily has the audience believing that she is the ghost of the departed Gloria but she is clearly entirely her own woman. The character’s arrival forces the crisis at the climax of the play and the consequent possession of Aunt Maggie by Gloria’s departed spirit.
At this point the play becomes a slice of magic realism and this is suitably aided by moody lighting designed by Paule Constable and an insistent thrumming soundtrack from sound designer George Dennis. As with all the other elements in the play (costumes, props, etc.), these serve to highlight the outstanding nature of the piece all brought together under the excellent direction of Roy Alexander Weise – a still young director on whom it would be sensible to keep an eye. Sensibly played through without an interval the play is by turns truthful, well plotted, hilarious, demanding and draining. Natasha Gordon’s debut is going to be a hard act for her to follow but already it is keenly anticipated.*
I would add to the above that the audience for the play was noticeably different in composition from that at the average West End performance. Encouraging new writers and opening out the dramatic experience to a wider range of people can only benefit all theatre goers encouraging diversity and experimentation and helping to keep ticket prices affordable. It makes good business sense and with West End gross box office revenue in 2017 reaching £705,000,000 (source: The Stage) there is a big prize to strive for. Let’s hope that this trend continues into 2019.
*This review first appeared on the website of Sardines Magazine.
Perhaps the most truly noticeable equitable casting ratio was demonstrated back in September in Tower Theatre’s Henry V. Traditionally this has been a play with very few opportunities for actresses – just brief appearances for Mistress Quickly and a couple of scenes for Princess Katherine and her handmaid, Alice. In the main though it is known as one of Shakepeare’s most male dominated plays. However, in this production the cast of 14 was split exactly between male and female performers and in truth after a minute or two of the performance it wasn’t something that even caused the slightest misgivings. For the company too it was an excellent way to demonstrate a commitment to equality in its inaugural production in its new home. For a fuller review click 
Though not quite as full on, the current season of Pinter “shorts” has also taken the opportunity to mix things up a little. In Pinter One the brief sketch Precisely featured Maggie Steed and Kate O’Flynn as a couple of well- heeled businessmen and this was balanced by Pinter Three’s equally brief That’s All featuring Lee Evans, Keith Allen and Tom Edden as a gossiping trio of ladies. I think there was a degree of gender political comment in these choices (especially the former) though the pieces were so swiftly gone that any deeper meanings were essentially lost in translation. More thoughts on the Pinter shorts can be found 
In late November I took in the live broadcast of Alan Bennett’s The Madness of George III being performed in Nottingham. I fully expected this to be cast along traditional lines which would have meant few female contributions. However, the decision had been taken to cast most of the king’s doctors as female (playing men) and this served to show them as a united tribe scrabbling for supremacy with their various crackpot theories. However, it was noticeable that the main medical role (and, ultimately the king’s saviour) still went to a male performer, though I guess if a regional theatre has the ever dependable Adrian Scarborough on board then it is going to ensure it uses his talents fully. So, in all, an interesting idea that perhaps didn’t go quite far enough. As an aside the central role, as performed by Mark Gatiss was superbly done.
Perhaps the most radical reshaping of a piece I’ve seen recently has been the much lauded production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company – another directorial triumph for Marianne Elliot (following, among others, War Horse and The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Nighttime). In this reworking the central character, male Bobby, has become female Bobbie, his various girlfriends have become her various boyfriends and neurotic, just-about-to-be-wed Amy has become neurotic just-about-to-be-wed Jamie. I’d previously seen this show done “traditionally” in a production by Sam Mendes and had thought it would be impossible for it to be bettered. However, this latest incarnation knocked that earlier one into the proverbial cocked hat and in truth I now can’t imagine it being done any other way. The central gender change makes perfect sense and, indeed, the pressure on the main character to marry and reproduce becomes far more telling. The only slight misgiving I felt was that it removes one of the showstopper numbers “Not Getting Married” from a female performer but this was a small price to pay to achieve the greater aim of reworking this classic musical for the 21st century.
My most recent dramatic foray was to the Barbican for the RSC’s latest version for the Merry Wives of Windsor. The RSC has clear policies about expanding the number of roles for women (“increasing representation in acting companies and creative teams, without imposing hard and fast restrictions, and taking action on gender pay gaps in any given team”) so it came as no surprise that some changes had taken place. Of course (and unusually for Shakespeare) as two of the central roles are already female there was less action to be taken. As the titular wives Rebecca Lacey and Beth Cordingly rightly dominated, running rings round a massive David Troughton as Falstaff. In the supporting team the once male Host of the Garter has become a leopard-print clad female hostess. Although the gender change would have been one I would happily have instituted myself and made perfect sense I have to admit I found Katy Brittain’s performance somewhat aggravating. Making less sense was the transposition of the quite obviously male character of Bardolph into a female barmaid (Charlotte Josephine). However, the character has rather minimal appearances so it did not make all that much difference.
If there’s an overarching theme evident in the eleven pieces that make up section 3, it is that of communication problems. Lee Evans addresses an empty chair (substituting for a friend/rival) in the poignant Monologue, he and Meera Syal are all misunderstandings and confusion on the telephone in Apart From That, Tom Edden agonises over the contents of a cryptic note in Girls. Pinter examines the idea that words are used to both explain and conceal, that they cloak us in double meanings and cause misconceptions: “One way of looking at speech is to say it is a constant stratagem to cover nakedness”. 
Fortunately she had far more to do in the second half’s Night School where she and an equally impressive Brid Brennan play Milly and Annie, sisters, landladies and a comic double act in the vein of Meg (from Pinter’s own The Birthday Party). Forever feeding everyone cake and hilariously bickering about who should eavesdrop on their tenants they welcome back into the fold Al Weaver playing their nephew Walter (see Stanley – again from The Birthday Party) a petty criminal who has been inside. While away they have let his room to Sally (Jessica Barden) ice cool and detached and who may be a teacher or a cocktail hostess or possibly both. She is clearly a woman with a past – and indeed a present – and becomes the object of Walter’s infatuation while she herself remains distant and emotionally disconnected. The night school she attends “three nights a week” turns out to be a seedy nightclub and when her secret is about to be exposed by Solto (Glenister – ferocious again) she absconds.
It strikes me that, if anything, Night School is perhaps the more typically “Pinteresque” of the two pieces. The sense of domestic claustrophobia, the air of unstated menace, the enigmatic female, the inability to communicate are all tropes which appear in other early(ish) Pinter plays. That said it is played on a stage where the wings are fully displayed and the lighting design of Jon Clark is used to very good effect; both emphasize the inherent theatricality of the piece. That the play is akin to a sustained jazz riff is highlighted by having the action underscored with live drumming from Abbie Finn. Directed by the up and coming Ed Stambollouian it ultimately satisfies rather more than Moonlight or many of the pieces which make up Pinter 3. It will be intriguing to see where the final three sections of the season will take us.*
I’ve just spent two weeks playing the prosecuting counsel in a stage version of To Kill A Mockingbird so I’m no stranger to an adaptation. Harper Lee’s novel (one of the most famous novels ever written) spawned an equally famous film starring Gregory Peck. Further proposed adaptations are carefully scrutinised by the Harper Lee estate and only those deemed to be adhering closely to the original are allowed to proceed – fortunately Tower Theatre’s version was one of them. 70% of the performances sold out so it would seem that there is a healthy appetite for crossover material. Novels are serialised on TV (most things by Andrew Davies), musicals are formed from unlikely literary works (Les Mis anyone?), opera has regularly raided the classics for inspiration, films are incestuously recycled from previous versions (just how many versions of A Star Is Born are there?). It certainly used to be the norm that any big stage production eventually made it to the silver screen (Sound of Music, My Fair Lady etc.) but of late there have been many examples of doing things the other way round. Reproducing hit films on stage has become a growth industry typified by the version of the late 80’s biggie Rain Man which I saw last night. Here’s my review:
In many ways the play is an extended duologue between these two central figures. There is some interaction with other characters but most of these are, I’m afraid to say, largely forgettable. Although there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way other parts were played, indeed they were executed with an eye for detail, there was little that remained in the memory at the end of the evening. The late 1980s macho provenance meant there was particularly little for Elizabeth Carter and Mairi Barclay to work with – the girlfriend, the waitress, the secretary, the hooker. This clearly betrayed the origins of the piece as being stuck in a particular time and perhaps a few more liberties could have been taken with the original. The costumes and props (loved Charlie’s mobile phone brick) were bang on and there was some fun to be had with some “I remember those” moments. However, I’m not so sure that younger members of the audience might have fully understood some of the American culture references from thirty years ago.
Suitably braced I sat back to await the sensory onslaught. The play starts in relatively jovial mode. Two brothers, Elliott (Harvey Cole) and Darren (Joseph Potter), break into a sordid, rubbish strewn abandoned apartment which they plan to use as the venue for an organised party. Naz (Mirren Mack) from “next door” pops in and helps the siblings to tidy. They all banter with each other in a vein redolent of scenes and language in Trainspotting – this is reinforced by the copious references to drugs sold by Elliott from an old ice cream van. In Ridley’s world the drugs are live butterflies which cause hallucinations and/or amnesia. However, things take a more sinister turn in Naz’s heart rending yet strangely casual speech about her mother’s decapitation at the hands of a feral gang. It soon becomes apparent that the “party” is being held to satisfy the base instincts of the Party Goer (Oli Higginson) whose fantasy is to dress up as a Vietnam GI and then brutally torture the Party Piece (Ellis Howard) – a drugged child dressed as Elvis. Completing the picture are Lola (Brandon Howard), a transgender dresser (and Kinks’ tribute?) preparing the victim, vicious gang leader Spinx (Dominic Gilday) and his consort the blind and perpetually muddled Duchess (Isabella Brownson).
Ironically (intentionally so I’m sure) as the piece reached its climax it was at its most beautifully lit. The abandoned flat has no electricity and so the party organisers fall back on Naz’s stash of candles. As the horrors play out the stage is bathed in the sort of light found in the Wannamaker auditorium at the Globe. And that’s when it suddenly hit me. What I was watching was a modern day equivalent of a Jacobean revenge tragedy such as Webster’s Malfi. The amoral world, the hapless brothers, the entire cast covered in blood; there’s even a character called The Duchess!
So, in the last few days the new Tower Theatre in Stoke Newington has launched its very first production – Henry V of which more anon. The company has had a long wait to find a new permanent home but I think it has been worth it. In previous incarnations the building (formerly known as Sunstone House) has been a Methodist Chapel, a synagogue and a women’s only gym so there has been extensive work done to fit it out as a theatre space. The building has 
When I arrived on Wednesday evening it was with a sense of anticipation but, as a relatively new member (since 2012) it can have been as nothing to the excitement of those who had been with the company for a much longer time. I had arrived early to help with a vox pops video capturing the first night for posterity and I was surprised and delighted to discover that I had the “honour” of being the first customer to collect their ticket from the new box office. And then it was up the stairs and into the theatre for the main event. Here’s my review of the play.
The Chorus of the play reminds us that we are watching a representation rather than a real event and returns repeatedly to guide us through the action. Penny Tuerk (deservedly taking the honours of uttering the first words in the new venue) made a splendid job of the linking speeches and her remarkably clear diction fully demonstrated the acoustic possibilities of the new space. If not quite the designated wooden O the octagonal shape had clearly provided some of the director John McSpadyen’s inspiration.
The production opted for a band of just fourteen players (We few, we happy few) and employed gender neutral casting to present a gamut of characters from royalty to low life and with many of the performers getting to play both English and French participants. Preeminent among these was the Henry of Dan Draper. The character, of course, has some of the most rousing speeches in the whole Shakespeare canon and Draper did them full justice. Most memorable was Once more unto the breach where we could really believe that his soldiers would follow him into any hazardous situation. We also got to see the lighter side of the character in the late scene where Henry woos the French princess Katherine – a delightful performance by Ailsa Dann.
Rather earthier wooing was to be found in the scenes between Mistress Quickly (Anna Dimdore) and Pistol, a wonderfully coarse Ian Hoare. His interaction with his partners in crime Bardolph and Nym (Sangita Modgil and Ed Malcolmson) provided much of the black humour of the early scenes which took a chilling turn just before the interval. I also enjoyed Malcolmson’s supercilious turn as the Constable of France and the even more supercilious Dauphin of Luke Owen. Simon Vaughan’s doubling of Fluellen (channelling Windsor Davies) and Alice (channelling…well, I’m not quite sure) was another highlight. Other doubled and carefully differentiated roles were taken by Katherine Kennet, Sara Nowe, John Morton, Rosanna Preston and Andrew Plaistowe. I was afraid that, with such furious doubling, at some stage one of the players might have to end up fighting with her/himself but as is the way in most of Shakespeare’s history plays the actual battles take place offstage. The Chorus even deliberately deflates the audience’s expectations by pointing out that they will have to make do with four or five most vile and ragged foils. A little harsh on the cast, I thought.
