#77 - "Hilarious theatrical gold" - theatre review, Young Frankenstein 12/10/17

Garrick Theatre

At 91, Mel Brooks strikes theatrical gold. His horror spoof musical, reworked since its disappointing Broadway run, enhances its cinematic source. You don’t have to know the film to enjoy the show, but all the gags and set pieces are securely in place, just given a jolt of electricity by Brooks’s wittily intricate but reassuringly bawdy Vaudevillian songs and exuberant dance routines. The intimacy of the Garrick preserves the raucous, cultish feel of the show and its sources. The madcap, charismatic Hadley Fraser, an uninhibited Summer Strallen and a gurning Ross Noble are exceedingly well cast as Frankenstein (“that’s Fron-kon-steen”), Inga and Igor, but Lesley Joseph steals the show from under them as Frau Blucher (*horses whinny*). Hilarious.

#76 - "Like listening to poetry during a firework display" - theatre review, Wings 11/10/17

Young Vic

Arthur Kopit’s play is less than the sum of its virtuosic parts. Juliet Stevenson is Emily Stilson, a pilot and wing-walker scrambled by a stroke. Her speech and perception garbled, she is suspended from a stage-flying harness as a metaphor for her confusion. Stevenson handles Emily’s synaptically misfiring language with aplomb, as well as physical moves that would challenge seasoned (or younger) circus performers. The faltering steps of Emily’s improvement are painstakingly delineated. But it’s like listening to poetry during a firework display – sensory overload. Kudos to Kopit for addressing a condition so common and terrifying in such dashing fashion, though, and to Stevenson for tackling it with such brio.

#75 - "Defeating" - theatre review, Victory Condition 10/10/17

Royal Court Theatre

This isn’t really a play, more a pair of interspliced monologues that bear no relation to the domestic setup of the man and woman relating them. The couple come home, change clothes, drink wine, eat pizza, play videogames: throughout this, he talks about shooting someone in a square – an act of political assassination or terror – while she details an office scene, a seizure and then a series of snapshots around the world, as if accessing random drone images. At its best Chris Thorpe’s detailed writing recalls Nicholson Baker but this 50-minute piece is frustratingly opaque and Vicky Featherstone’s production inert. Defeating.

#74 - "An expression of a futuristic dystopia?", dance review, Autobiography 05/10/17

Sadler's Wells

What an intriguing and oddly confrontational evening this is. Wayne McGregor has created 23 choreographic slices of life inspired by memory, art, music, science: a selection is chosen and ordered each night by an algorithm based on his DNA sequence. Unsurprisingly there is no through line, a solo of rubbery languor segueing (for instance) into one of jerky anguish. Prisms, part set and part lighting rig, ascend and descend while the audience is strafed by spotlights and battered by Jlin’s discordant music. Rather than an autobiography, this feels like an expression of a futuristic dystopia. McGregor’s dancers move through it with rigour and dash, but it feels like the audience is held at arm’s length.

#73 - "Explosive denouement can't arrive soon enough" - theatre review, B 04/10/17

Royal Court

The absurdist wit of Chilean playwright Guillermo Calderon’s play about protest and violence wears quickly thin. It takes the form of a showdown in a plywood room between two women who want to make a statement on behalf of the aggrieved and oppressed, and an older man who believes bombs should kill. There is amusement in the contortions the trio make to evade their nosy neighbour and identification (wearing masks, referring to explosives as “the Cow” and “the cheese”), and in their squeamishness. But the arch acting style and increasing use of fractured, declamatory speeches mean the predictably explosive denouement can’t arrive soon enough.

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