#188 - "What a treat and what a cast" - Theatre review, All My Sons 08/05/19

Old Vic

What a treat and what a cast. Jeremy Herrin’s majestic revival of Arthur Miller’s study of guilt pairs Hollywood royalty with vibrant British talent to deeply affecting effect. Bill Pullman is beguiling and Sally Field wrenching as the older couple dealing with a lost son; but Colin Morgan and Jenna Colman match them as the surviving brother and sweetheart trying to build something new from wartime capitalism’s wreckage. Though subtle and superior, All My Sons suffers slightly from the prolixity and overemphasis that dogs Miller’s work, but this revival is as near to definitive as I can imagine

#187 - "Glittering, throaty style over substance" - Sweet Charity 07/05/19

Donmar Warehouse

Anne-Marie Duff brings throaty, careworn pathos to the role of the taxi dancer with an untarnished heart in Josie Rourke’s farewell production as Donmar boss. It’s no criticism to say Rourke’s glittering, Factory-inspired staging favour’s style over substance: Neil Simon’s puny story was only ever a frame for Cy Coleman’s songs and Dorothy Fields’ scintillating lyrics. Numbers like Hey Big Spender and Rhythm of Life – performed by an ensemble in Fosse fishnets and (once, brilliantly) Warhol drag – do not disappoint, and even though the gender politics are from another age, the tough broads of the Fandango ballroom stand out more vividly than the men.

#186 - "Fantastically detailed, fantastically indolent" - theatre review, Three Sisters

Almeida

At over three hours, Rebecca Frecknall’s production of Chekhov’s play is fantastically detailed and fantastically indolent. In a rootless ne wversion by Cordelia Lynn it drifts, like its thwarted heroines. The performances are rich but also oddly unfocussed, as if the figures on stage are sporadically acting alone. Patsy Ferran, so revelatory for Frecknall in Summer and Smoke at this theatre, makes a watchful, understated Olga beside Pearl Chanda’s simmering Masha and Ria Zmitrowicz’s uninhibited Irina. There is much to enjoy here but the final, remorseless grinding out of all hope at the end feels not only indulgent, but overextended to the point of cruelty.

#185 - "A physical and emotional tour de force" - theatre review, Grief is the Thing with Feathers 10/04/19

Barbican

Goodness me, but Enda Walsh likes to put Cillian Murphy through the wringer. Here the writer-director demands of his friend and collaborator a physical and emotional tour-de-force, inspired by Max Porter's novel. Murphy plays a bereaved dad whose grief manifests as an alter ego, the rutting, pecking, hectoring crow of Ted Hughes’s poetry. Clad in a bathrobe and chewing on a microphone, Murphy hops and clatters around the set, across which Walsh’s words scrawl themselves. The first hour flew by faster than anything I’ve seen; the rest lapses into repetition.  But this remains an extraordinary piece of total theatre, and total actorly commitment.

#184 - "Pina Bausch is the absolute standout" - dance review, She Persisted 04/04/19

Sadler's Wells

In English National Ballet’s triple-bill of works by female choreographers, Pina Bausch’s The Rite of Spring is the absolute standout. Lissom nymphs in shifts and taut-torsoed fauns in linen pants writhe and rut on an earth-covered stage. The piece pulses with energy, passion and despair. Good job it comes last. The first work, Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Broken Wings, is a visually dazzling but rather silly piece about Frieda Kahlo, full of skeletons shouting “Tequila!”; the second, the world premiere of Stina Quagebeur’s Nora – inspired by Ibsen’s Doll’s House – is excitingly dramatic and swooningly danced but unfocused. Full marks to ENB director Tamara Rojo, though, for making the point.

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