As I started to write my latest play review I began to reflect on just why so many writers tackled the subject of the business of putting on a piece of drama. Inevitably writers will gravitate to the world they most often inhabit and about which they can speak with a degree of authority whether that be professionally, publically or privately (sci-fi is perhaps an honourable exception which proves the general rule). I soon had a shortlist of such plays buzzing round my head – see below – and to which, after further consideration, I would now add Ayckbourn’s A Chorus of Disapproval, Stoppard’s The Real Inspector Hound, Bennett’s The Habit of Art and Sheridan’s The Critic. Now apart from being all about the theatrical world, the other thing all the examples have in common is that they have been big successes. So I guess that just goes to prove the adage that good writers tend to write best about something they know or have experienced. Anyway, here’s the review:
A play about the writing and staging of a play has always been part of a popular genre – Hamlet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Producers, A Chorus Line, The Dresser, All About Eve and (granddaddy of them all) Noises Off all visit this territory. So is there room for another? On the evidence of Alexis Michalik’s Edmond de Bergerac, currently playing at the Richmond Theatre, there certainly is.
Michalik’s play tells the tale of the gestation and first production of Edmond Rostand’s classic Cyrano de Bergerac in the last decade of the nineteenth century. It was written under intense pressure, rehearsed under less than ideal conditions and performed, against all the odds triumphantly on its opening night, and consistently ever since. Like Rostand’s original play, Michalik’s, in translation by Jeremy Sams, uses high comedy, low farce, pathos and real drama to tell its tale, though the emphasis is firmly on the former rather than the latter pair. The penurious poet Edmond Rostand (Freddie Fox) finds inspiration for his creation in the real life situations in which he finds himself – principally that of wooing Jeanne (Gina Bramhill) by proxy for his best friend Léo (Robin Morrissey). As Cyrano does with Roxanne, so Edmond falls for Jeanne – art imitates real life and the two begin to blur – hence the mash up of the play’s title.
As the harassed Rostand, Freddie Fox couldn’t have been better at conveying the nervous energy, the moments of penniless despair and, ultimately, the triumphant debut of his creation. Like the central figure of any good farce, events kept conspiring to undermine him and Fox’s reactions were a pleasure to watch. There were a couple of brief moments where his, otherwise, impeccable comic timing seemed to elude him, but his was generally a performance to savour.
No such accusation could be levelled at Henry Goodman playing the renowned French actor and creator of the role of Cyrano, “Cocky” Coquelin. His comic timing and reactions were a pure masterclass and driven by his own desperations (money troubles, the compulsion to perform) Coquelin was comprehensively bought to life. Goodman is an actor who seems to be able to turn his hand to anything and never gives a poor performance. He was in his element here, especially towards the finale of the play when recreating some of the key moments of Cyrano. As far as I can see from the programme notes Goodman has not played the hero of Rostand’s play – he really should…casting directors take note!
Josie Lawrence’s turn as theatrical legend of the day, Sarah Bernhardt, was appropriately magisterial. She also played several other minor characters; these were carried out with comprehensive skill but in general I felt the production seriously underused her considerable talents. Chizzy Akudolu, however, was very good value as diva Maria who gets her comeuppance in a heavily telegraphed fall from grace allowing for that standard showbiz cliché of the understudy going on stage and winning the day.
The ensemble was universally excellent playing a multitude of roles and pulling them off with aplomb. A special mention goes to Simon Gregor variously and hilariously playing a gangsterish financial backer, an extremely camp wardrobe master and best of all an outrageously “French” (shades of Clouseau) hotel receptionist. This latter scene, which started the second half, was one of the best as the action descended into pure door-slamming, trouser-dropping farce reminiscent of Feydeau; appropriate really as the master farceur himself turned up as a hotel guest. This was one of the incidental joys of the piece as various real life figures found themselves immersed in the action. Aside from the aforementioned, Bernhardt, Coquelin and Feydeau there were also appearances by Ravel, Lumière, Mèliès and even Anton Chekov.
Director Roxana Silbert, movement director Liam Steel and fight director John Sandeman kept the action cracking along at a swift pace. The whole piece used many physical theatre techniques which retained interest; particularly clever was the recreation of a Parisian steam train. There were lots of short scenes, changes of location and cutting reminiscent of film editing, necessitating a set which could be used fluidly and changed swiftly. Designer Robert Innes Hopkins comprehensively provided this, aided and abetted by excellent lighting and sound design (Rick Fisher and Dan Hoole respectively) and the inventive foley effects conjured up by Ruth Sullivan.
This was a solid well-paced production, perhaps a little overlong and in the closing stages rather too reliant on the Rostand original. That aside it was lively, never less than engaging and a more than worthy addition to the genre of works about “the business we call show”. My only real surprise was that one essential element did not appear until about twenty minutes before the end – surely Cyrano’s (in)famous nose should have featured more prominently (!!)*
Maybe the other reason that plays about plays tend to be successful is because the cast and creatives can have such wonderful fun at the expense of their colleagues and this coveys itself to the audience. If as an actor you have met an overbearing director or a divaish actor or a misanthropic stage manager it must be hugely satisfying to take some revenge by portraying their foibles for all the world to see – even if you are actually the only one that knows what you are up to. I have to confess at this stage that some aspects of my Bottom from a few years ago were based on other amateur actors I had encountered over the years. Yes, it can now be told, the attention seeking desire to play all the roles, the refusal to accept direction, the bombastic delivery, the upstaging, the mugging – they were all somebody else – not me at all!
Originally created for the Lake District attraction The World of Beatrix Potter, this hour long piece somewhat betrays its origins in its Disneyworld like staging. That said the set is based on Potter’s own drawings and is beautifully realised in 3D by deviser/designer Roger Glossop. A cast of six bring the yarns to life with help from voice overs by Miriam Margolyes and Griff Rhys Jones (both ideal). The show is knitted together by Potter herself (Joanna Brown) a prim yet twinkly young woman who quickly got the audience onside – even if one small child vocally confused her with Mary Poppins.
But it is the puupetry and, indeed, the puppets themselves which steal the show. Here are Jemima Puddleduck, Tommy Brock, Jeremy Fisher, Mr Tod, and a number of other famous characters bought to life by their handlers who also supply the voices and they do this superbly. The puppets are a combination of full body puppets, as I believe they are known, and rod puppets – the handlers feet are attached to the puppets’ feet so they move simultaneously. This works extremely well so that the actors can remain in full view and yet soon it is as if they are not there. One of the most ingenious creations is Lucie – the little girl who meets the hedgehog laundress Mrs Tiggywinkle. It is one thing to convince us that bits of material are animals but a living child takes it to quite another dimension altogether.
As far as I could tell/remember the tales seemed pretty complete – they evoke, of course, a world of long gone simplicity. These days rather than spending all day long angling for a fish with which to entertain his friends to supper, Jeremy Fisher would now be on his smartphone to Deliveroo. It struck me that although the most famous tale is that of Peter Rabbit’s it is actually less dramatic than some of the others – he’s really just a bit naughty but I suppose that’s why children identify with him. Peter’s nemesis and villain of the piece (if something as gentle as Potter can be said to have a villain) is nasty Mr McGregor who at one stage, and slightly confusingly, morphed into multiple clones of himself with wheelbarrows full of tasty vegetable treats – I wonder if there were any subliminal messages here about getting our kids to eat their greens.
It’s difficult to say what age range is being targeted and the theatre website is rather coy on this point saying it is “aimed at families with children age 3+ who we feel are old enough to enjoy, understand and appreciate the production”. There was a bit of restlessness in the quieter passages but the joyful audience reaction to Peter’s eventual and perhaps rather over delayed appearance and the spontaneous clap along to the last song suggested that it had gone down well. However, the show does perhaps lack an element of audience participation/interaction which might have been expected in one aimed at a young audience. I guess it will all depend on when and, indeed, whether, youngsters are familiar with the tales. Even if full understanding is not there, there is still plenty to divert the eye and ear. This show can be summed up in one single word: charming.
And so the play finds millennials and long-time partners Rachel and Ben in their tiny one bedroom flat which overlooks the Shard (well, it does if you stand in just the right position at the window and angle yourself just so) struggling to make ends meet. They are doing reasonably well paid responsible jobs in the public sector, saving every penny they can to scape enough together for a deposit on something better. They have the, apparently, bright but illegal idea of moving in friends Mel and Sam for a year. He’s a doctor and she works in advertising so they have a bit more disposable income but are also struggling to save for their joint future. The plan is that Mel and Sam will camp out on the sofa bed in the living room, split the household bills and more importantly share the rent with their hosts, ensuring that all four can save for the futures they earnestly desire.
I was quite taken by the highly appropriate set designed by Laurence Tuerk. Instead of walls we had the necessarily paper thin billboards from estate agents and the floor was cleverly laid out as the sort of scheme one might see on an agency spec. The kitchen area seemed a little cramped but was not in play very often so this scarcely mattered – anyway the fact that it was cramped may well have been intentional in showing the rabbit hutch nature of the property. At the back was a video screen ticking off the days on an animated calendar. A nice touch but I wish it had been rather more stable as movement behind the backing curtains caused it to “ripple” repeatedly which was a bit of a distraction. The lighting of Alan Wilkinson was a good complement to the design and Sheila Burbidge’s costumes caught the mood of the age very well.
The four actors had a strong command of the material and performed their roles with conviction and a great degree of empathy – though I sincerely hope none of them find themselves in the situation within the play. Chloe Ledger as Rachel was a convincing central character, at first trying to keep the peace but gradually coming to realise that it was every woman for herself. Ultimately she revealed a calculating even ruthless streak to her character and although I wasn’t totally convinced by the writing here, Ledger made a more than creditable job of the change in persona. As her rather more flighty and extrovert best friend Mel, Sims Witherspoon was a good contrast yet at the same time it was easy to believe the two young women had been good friends. Her partner Sam, played by Iskander Javid making his Tower debut, was a nice study in passive-aggressiveness. The most impressive of the four was Adam Hampton-Matthews who graduated his character Ben from an almost naïve everyman type to someone far more hardnosed as life (and his friends) repeatedly seemed to let him down. In one particular speech towards the end of the first half all of Ben’s frustrations came bubbling through in a Meldrewesque stream of complaints and this was masterfully done – perhaps turning 30 (unthinkable!) marked the end of the age of innocence.
The play itself had many merits and deserved its revival. However, I think the company had rather a hard sell on its hands as the audience at the performance I saw (self included) was largely outside the age range and thus the experience of the generation under this particular microscope. I felt that although I could sympathise I couldn’t really empathise and I hope that the rest of the run draws in a slightly younger age range who will appreciate more fully the many nuances the piece contains. Originally the choice of Penny Tuerk, the play was performed as a fitting tribute to the memory of one who gave Tower Theatre unstintingly of her time and talents – I think she would have been pleased with the end result.
It is a seemingly slow and tedious experience on the surface; the play starts with a three minute pause during which the audience sits and stares at a bare stage – Pinter would be proud. However the piece’s title is, of course, totally misleading. Actually the hour’s playing time is stuffed with more challenging ideas than the average adult drama. Theatrical notions about character, conflict, detail, entrances and exits, props, costumes, technical aspects and so on are rigorously yet hilariously examined. Repeatedly the audience are wrong footed and although it is difficult to describe what takes place, in the spirit of the show I’ll give it a whirl…
Meanwhile Riad is having an existential crisis as he mourns the passing of a dead “moment” and searches vainly for other key dramatic “moments”; one of these is also portrayed by Nigel (as I keep on saying, don’t ask). At this point the play develops a bizarre logic all of its own as matters spiral out of control and a “Groundhog Day” type scenario is repeatedly played out. We also get an interminably slow version of “The Flea Waltz” (yes, you DO know it) on a piano keyboard which ultimately falls apart, a mysteriously balanced pot plant, lessons in lettuce chewing, the use of power tools, trickery with lights and sound and a delightful procession of small paper mannequins (the “happenings”) with accompanying commentary. All of this is played out on an appropriately bare plywood covered stage with minimal props but high levels of imagination. The piece is clearly heavily influenced by the clowning tradition at which the Europeans are so good and which in the wrong hands can be very unfunny and even deathly – here it is anything but.
POSTSCRIPT In case you’re wondering what the title of this post has to do with anything, let me explain. This entry marks my 42nd post on this blog but also it is, of course, the answer to the ultimate existential question of life, the universe and everything.
