Haunted

Haunted
Written by Jon Claydon & Tim Lawler
Directed by Paul Jepson
Arts Theatre
May 21st – June 14th 2008



Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for The British Theatre Guide
Wednesday 28th May, 2008

I am easily scared. In fact during the recent one minute earthquake that struck London, I lay in bed, deadly still, petrified under my duvet. My first thought was that there was a ghost in my room, vibrating my bed. Yes, that’s right. Not a person, not even a natural disaster entered my head. My first and only logical conclusion was that some kind of poltergeist had come to torment me.

I do myself no favours though as I am a sucker for a good ghost story, so I was very excited (if a little scared) at the prospect of another Woman in Black(esque) horror in the West End.

Inspired by the Faustus legend and his fascination with the dark side, Haunted plays with the notion of possession. Five old friends gather together at Alex’s (Jesse Wallace) new flat, but the building has a past, just as the friends do and as the evening progresses it’s each man for himself.

A promising start, although it soon becomes clear that this plot is far more suited to screen than stage. The casual gathering of friends with sinister undertones initially works well with the exception of some embarrassing dialogue comparing the preparation of a salad dressing to the blossoming romance between old friends Alex and Daniel (Gary McDonald).

However a crucial component in the success of a horror film is the soundtrack. Yes this production has the eerie clanking of pipes and whispering walls but the warning music that lets you know when something terrible is about to happen, or that lulls you into a false sense of security is missing. As a result the play lacks suspense. In fact it becomes rather shambolic as the audience struggle to follow who was after who.

Jesse Wallace heads up this established cast and is charming as the ever so middle class Alex. Despite the often lame script she is thoroughly convincing as a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Although I have to admit when the spirits take over and she turns to face the audience in full cockney glory, you can’t help but think, “YES!” Kat Slater's back! Sadly that is not the case. It just seems that all spirit/devil/poltergeist incarnations come from East London as another character also adopts this accent when possessed.

As the plot spins out of control, so does the staging as cleavers, cling-film and other household objects are used in attack. Who knew a bottle of fairy liquid could be so deadly? Almost impossible to follow who or what is to blame and with its abrupt conclusion, Haunted feels less sophisticated horror and more Scooby-Doo Caper.

Gone Too Far

Gone Too Far!
By Bola Agbaje

Directed by Sheibani
Royal Court
Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for The British Theatre Guide
Monday 28th July, 2008

After a successful run at the Royal Court last February Bola Agbaje play Gone Too Far has returned for a second run and it couldn’t be more topical with its exploration of violence amongst youngsters.

However whilst a prevalent theme it is not the main focus of Agbaje’s urban drama which is more concerned with observing identity in our multi cultural society.

Two Brothers; Yemi (Tobu Bakare) and Ikudayisi (Tunki Lucas), one raised in London the other in Nigeria are reunited forcing them to confront questions about their identity. Are they defined by what’s in their blood or by where they were raised? As they walk the streets it soon becomes clear that they are not the only ones struggling to identify with who they are.

It seems we can’t open a newspaper these days without reading about another violent crime amongst teenagers with particular emphasis on “black on black” war fare. However what does that mean? “black on black”? Agbaje observes the divides within this culture which seems to have conveniently been defined by white people as one group. Some West Indians have problems with Nigerians and vice versa but then some Nigerians have problems with themselves; feeling forced to identify with a country that they have never been to. Or those that are fiercely proud to be Jamaican and claim knowledge of this country when they rarely leave their estate, let alone get on a plane.

Prejudices and ignorance are highlighted in Gone Too Far as many characters make assumptions on others based on stereotypes and at times this message is laid on a bit thick as scene after scene portrays characters jumping to conclusions on others, particularly when two white police officers question the brothers. However Bijan Sheibani’s hip production is pumping with the energy of youth in its realistic depiction of teens and their interaction with each other today. The rhythm of the dialogue is akin to a drum and base beat with the body language of those on stage moving in time. Set on a bare stage with nothing to distract from the immediate action this young cast is pumping with vibrancy, particularly Zawe Ashton as Armani who buzzes with attitude with her “in yer face” manner, talking a good talk with little to back it up.

Ultimately this is a play about being proud of yourself, whoever that may be and whilst the moral isn’t particularly subtle, the way things are going at the moment, perhaps it does need to be hammered home. Respect breeds respect – innit!

Girls and Dolls

Girls and Dolls
Old Red Lion
Running time – 90minutes approx
Running dates: 3rd February – 21st February


Two girls tell the same story, both reiterating and contradicting what the other says. The characters dialogue continuously overlaps with each other and there is constant repetition of words and phrases for dramatic emphasis.

All these theatrical devices are reminiscent of plays such as Charlotte Keatley’s My Mother Said I Never Should which are guaranteed to appeal to GCSE drama students but unfortunately lack much sophistication.

Two girls in their early twenties reflect upon their childhood, growing up in Belfast. Thick as thieves back then, but no longer in touch now, the memories come flooding back as they share the same stories with the audience and become the various influential figures from their youth.

Set against the backdrop of the strife in Northern Ireland in the 1980s, these young girls are wrapped up in their own world of stealing sweets to set up a shop and playing in their tree house. All the while, writer, Lisa McGee is hinting that all is not as idyllic as it seems.

The main flaw with this style of writing is that it never really delves beneath the surface. All the characters are one dimensional stereotypes, which although often funny, make absolutely no impact whatsoever. Niamh McGrady as Clare and Bronagh Taggart as Emma take on the roles of various characters from their neighbourhood as they reminisce: the older boy who sold them his tree house, the two local gossips, the local man who has been facially disfigured in a fire, both of their parents and Dervla – the beautiful single mum.

McGrady and Bronagh do the best they can with a fairly limited script. They slip between the various characters with ease, and bring out the comedy in the script. However the problem lies in the subtlety of the writing, which is about as subtle as an IRA attack. The constant hints that Clare is being abused by her father and suggestions that something awful is going to happen that will change their friendship forever are so incessant that by the time we reach that moment it is a complete anticlimax.

Girls and Dolls tries to include anything and everything and unfortunately achieves very little for its efforts. A cast of twenty played by two actors, the use of symbolic prop after symbolic prop and several references to The Wizard of Oz are thrown in.

If they had just kept things simple and not tried to be clever maybe they would have had far more chance of flying over that much discussed rainbow.

Fucking Men

Fucking Men

Written by: Joe DiPietro
Directed by Phil Wilmott & Sam Miller
The King’s Head Theatre
Running Dates: 7th January – 25th January, 2008
Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for the British Theatre Guide
9th December, 2008

Fucking Men is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who like their tea served by attractive gay men, it will go down very well.

After a run at the Finborough in 2008, Fucking Men is back in London at The King’s Head and if the enthusiastic audience is anything to go by, I’d say Soho has a bit of competition on its hands.

Ten gay men, from different walks of life, fall in love, fall out of love, connect and disconnect. Each have their own idea of what constitutes happiness and for some it works out, whilst others are still left searching. Sounds like real life, which is what writer Joe DiPietro sets out to achieve. Almost a reaction to the customary safe depiction of gay lifestyle portrayed on TV and theatre today, DiPietro wants to set the record straight. Not all gay men want to achieve the heterosexual ideal of a monogamous relationship. This may be somewhat disconcerting for those who don’t want to consider the promiscuous nature of some gay men; but as I said, this play won’t be for everyone.

At a first glance one may think some of the characters in Fucking Men are nothing more than stereotypes; the closeted movie star, the ridiculously camp college boy or the confident escort. Yet whilst stereotypical on the surface these characters have a heart and truth to them as they all struggle with various inner demons.

The escort John (Shai Matheson) who falls in love with Steve (Matthew Clancy) the tough army guy; who’s not gay; he just likes having sex with men. Leo (Timothy Lone) and Jack (Morgan James) who have been together for over ten years and love each other but continue to lie to each other as well as to themselves and of course the young idealistic porn star, Ryan (Adam Unze) who could have anyone and yet has fallen for “married” Jack. These stories are funny, touching and sad and are bought to life by a very strong ensemble. Dan Ford in particular is hilarious as the insecure writer Sammy who pours all his personal neurosis into his work.

The majority of the play provides a fascinating insight into the lives of gay males and an interesting reflection for those who are already familiar with this world. However towards the end it starts to feel a little like a “message” play as it hammers home the idea that everybody should be free to live their life however they feel fit. Despite this small criticism, Fucking Men is brave and audacious and of course sex is a predominant theme, but it’s smarter than that. It doesn’t shy away from the truth and while certain ideas may be a little hard for some to swallow (no pun intended) we are definitely ready to hear the facts about f**king men.

Frozen

Frozen
Written by Bryony Lavery
Directed by Sonia Fraser
Fresh Glory Productions
Riverside Theatre

30th June – 20th July, 2008

Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for Remotegoat

Wednesday 2nd July, 2008

Paedophilia is a sad but harsh reality that we are constantly faced with today.

Bryony Lavery’s play Frozen may have premiered back in 1998 with the Birmingham Rep but it could not be more topical and poignant in today’s current climate, particularly with the recent announcement that the Portuguese police have closed the case in the search for missing Madeleine McCann.

Lavery does anything but skirt around the issue as she delves in and goes straight for the jugular, in perhaps the most honest depiction of child abduction that I have seen on either screen or stage.

Three Loners stand on stage: the mother of an abducted child, a Paedophile and a criminal psychologist. They each tell their story as the play spans twenty years; considering the impact on the family left behind, the mind of the perpetrator and the reasons behind their crimes as Lavery explores the difference between mental illness and pure evil – if in fact there is a difference.

Director, Sonia Fraser, lets the narrative of this play speak for itself. With minimal set and props, she allows the story to simply be told by the immensely talented cast who bring these characters to life.

Dorothy Lawrence’s Nancy is both fragile and strong as a mother who has lost her youngest daughter in the cruellest of ways. Despite never physically seeing her family, they are conjured up on stage through the love and tenderness with which she describes them, making the disappearance of one of them all the more painful to endure.

There is a tangible feeling of empathy for Nancy amongst the audience which is matched with a feeling of loathing for Jack James’s remarkable performance as Ralph. Physically nervy, yet mentally calculated, James frighteningly brings to life the logistics of being a paedophile. His almost smug exterior with his darting eyes and fiddling fingers leaves one feeling extremely uncertain as he shares his exploits, sparing you no detail.

However, Frozen is not black and white. Lavery introduces many areas of grey as criminal psychologist Agnetha (Rosalind Cressy) uses Ralph as part of a study to examine the criminal mind; arguing that you are not born evil and that both physical and mental trauma at a young age can have astounding consequences. This concept is difficult to digest. We need someone or something to blame for the atrocities in life. To have someone’s behaviour explained; painting them as a victim also is difficult and painful to swallow but something that all the characters, as well as the audience are forced to consider.

Surprisingly, considering the subject matter, Frozen is not all doom and gloom. There is a thread of humour throughout the play, finding comedy in the darkest of moments, reminding us that things can’t stay frozen forever, eventually they must thaw.

Fragments

Fragments

Written by Samuel Beckett

Directed by Peter Brook

A C.IC.T/ Theatre des Bouffes du Nord and Young Vic Co-Production

Young Vic

27th August – 13th September, 2008

Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for the British Theatre Guide

Thursday 28th August, 2008

If only I had the writing ability of Samuel Beckett, this review of Fragments would be about ten words long and would describe this production with absolute accuracy; not a word wasted.

Sadly I am not Beckett and as you can probably tell, it is going to take me a few more words to convey my thoughts.

Fragments, directed by Peter Brook returns to the Young Vic after its sell out run last year. Five short pieces, all with their own individual stories, yet still very much one whole piece is essentially an exploration of human nature.

As you would expect from a Beckett play directed by Brook, the stage is virtually bare; after all that is what our imagination is for. Fragments, like much of Beckett’s other work, is all about the words and yet simultaneously it is not. His frugal use of dialogue reveals the significance of every word. This is particularly true of the second piece “Rockaby” where the same few sentences are repeated continuously by the extremely talented Kathryn Hunter. With each repetition comes a different and completely new interpretation, identifying the flexibility and contradictions of language.

Juxtaposed with “Rockaby” comes “Act Without Words II” in which Marcello Magni and Khalifa Natour clown about and words are redundant. Reminiscent of “Laurel & Hardy”, although never slapstick, two men react in very different ways to their bizarre circumstances. Aside from the occasional moment of playing for laughs, there is truthfulness to these bizarre characters and as with the other pieces, the action whilst nonsensical somehow makes complete sense.

At a quick glance Fragments is about nothing and yet it is about everything. Beckett skilfully communicates what it would take another playwright three acts and a cast of twenty to say. Beckett’s observations of mankind are taken a step further by Brook’s direction. Another director may have been tempted to over complicate things, afraid to keep things simple. Brook has the courage to do just that and through this production’s simplicity, the absurdity of Beckett’s writing rings incredibly true.

One can very easily fall into the trap of taking an academic approach to Beckett’s work, over analysing every moment, considering its intentions and ironically in doing this miss the very essence of what he is trying to say. Life is absurd; can it ever be fully understood?

Forever Plaid

Forever Plaid

Written by Stuart Ross

Directed by John Plews

Upstairs at the Gatehouse

24th May – 22nd June, 2008

Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for The British Theatre Guide

Saturday 31st May, 2008

With all the new extravaganza musicals that are taking over the West End it is a refreshing change to see something that is without spectacle, without a cast of fifty and simply goes back to basics but still leaves you feeling that you’ve just seen something special.

Forever Plaid is exactly that; a musical about four all American, wholesome, clean cut guys who together are “Forever Plaid” a male harmony group who (in their opinion) are destined for success. However tragedy hits and we join them in a sort of juke box limbo where they finally perform the show they dreamed of, back in 1964.

When Forever Plaid originally opened in the West End at the Apollo Theatre in 1993 it closed after just a few months, whereas in America it continues to play all over the country to this very day. Perhaps this is due to Britain’s affection for dirty rock ‘n’ roll over cheesy barbershop quartets, or perhaps it was simply the venue as this show works perfectly in the intimate space at Upstairs at the Gatehouse.

This is not by any means a character driven musical; it is more of a revue of both renowned songs from the fifties and also some unfamiliar ones. Graham Weaver, Anthony Williamson, Joe Allen and Steven Craven are “sweet as apple pie” as Frankie, Smudge, Sparky and Jinx. They perform in perfect harmony together, not only vocally but also the way in which they interact with one another. Each has their own quirky mannerisms; Joe Allen in particular is adorable as the cheeky and slightly goofy Sparky. However none outshine the other, rather they balance each other out and there is a genuine rapport amongst them.

Performing a show like Forever Plaid in today’s cynical society lends itself to a cheap send up. Whilst John’s Plews’s production is certainly tongue in cheek he resists the temptation to litter it with tawdry gags. Racky Plews’s choreography must also me commented on. It is slick and simple and beautifully kitsch.

With a title like Forever Plaid you can imagine that it attracts an audience of a certain age, and they undoubtedly seem to enjoy being taken on a trip down memory lane. However I am far from drawing my pension, and whilst I’ve always had an appreciation for a good tune, this musical will appeal to a much wider audience than the purple rinse brigade (as appreciative as they are).

This is an intimate show so whilst I don’t think a West End transfer is on the cards (although the show is jetting off to Malaysia for a short run) it certainly gives those Jersey Boys a run for their money.