Method in Madness

Mark Gatiss as King George and Debra Gillett as Queen Charlotte, with the company. Photo (c) Manuel Harlan

 

The Madness of George III, Nottingham Playhouse via NT Live

 You’d have to say a big ‘well done’ to whoever at Nottingham Playhouse persuaded Mark Gatiss to make the trek out of London for this production. Before you get up in arms about any implied slight to regional theatre in that statement, I should point out that I work in regional theatre.

You would also have to say a big thanks to NT Live, for broadcasting this. It has been suggested – although this was swiftly denied by Nottingham Playhouse – that the prospect of a live broadcast may have swayed Gatiss’ decision to join the production. Whatever the details in this case, broadcasting productions from regional theatres has got to help balance out this London-centric industry.

 Of course, it also gives those of us who don’t live in Nottingham a chance to see an excellent production with a great lead performance. Gatiss’ George is not the most likeable figure to begin with, being too majestic, and too cruel to his sons (deeply annoying and disappointing though those sons undoubtedly are), but this makes his descent into madness all the more distressing and moving to watch. He makes the final scene of act one, when George is strapped into a chair for the first time, in a parody of a coronation, genuinely difficult to watch.

 Perhaps due to the presence of Gatiss’ the supporting cast is also very strong. Stand outs for me were Debra Gillett as the Queen, Nadia Albina as the slippery Captain Fitzroy, Jack Holden as Greville the loyal equerry and Harry Kershaw’s turn as a beautifully stupid Duke of York.

 Bennett’s script is, of course, wonderful. Although centred around one man’s illness, Bennett also has some sharp things to say about the differences between government and opposition – the latter is described as all “nag, nag nag” – and the cruel nature of hereditary monarchy: The Prince of Wales says, “To be heir to the throne is not a position but a predicament.”

 Add this cast and this script to a clever, highly adaptable set, and Nottingham Playhouse are on to a winner. Let’s hope that other regional theatres can follow their ambitious lead.

https://www.nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk/

 

Beware Greeks

Amber James (Cressida), Oliver Ford Davies (Pandarus) and Gavin Fowler (Troilus). Photo by Helen Maybanks (c) RSC

 

Troilus and Cressida, Royal Shakespeare Company Live From Stratford

A confession to begin this with: this is actually a review of half the play, as I left my local cinema at the interval. Allow me to explain…

This production has a lot going for it: it’s directed by RSC supremo Greg Doran, who is usually one of the most reliable directors of Shakespeare, well-known for the clarity he brings to his productions. It has some great performances, from RSC veteran Oliver Ford Davies as Pandarus, and Gavin Fowler and Amber James as the titular lovers.

But. The whole play is just too long and too slow. In between the scenes with Pandarus and the lovers, there are long, dull, confusing scenes, where the Greeks talk a lot, to very little purpose. Or, for a small amount of variety, occasionally we get the Trojans sitting around discussing something.  To anybody who doesn’t know their Greek mythology in detail, these must be incomprehensible.

Worst of all, lots of these scenes slipped into ‘striding around the stage gesticulating’ mode, which felt to me like the sign of a director who hasn’t quite got a handle on the scene. With a running time (including interval) of well over three hours, why on earth couldn’t some of these scenes have been cut down, or possibly even cut altogether? I’m all in favour of not dumbing down, but sometimes these plays are just too long. I suspect the RSC in particular feels it has a duty to perform the plays in their entirety or something close to it, but sometimes that just doesn’t work, and no amount of handsome shirtless men (Andy Apollo’s Achilles) or fancy business with motorbikes makes up for having to sit through too many turgid scenes.

Ah, yes, the motorbikes… This production is set in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max-esque future. After the National’s Macbeth earlier this year, this felt a bit here-we-go-again. In the latter case, it felt like the concept overwhelmed the play, here it simply didn’t seem to add anything, apart from the chance for the aforementioned messing around on motorbikes, which for me didn’t seem worth the effort. Perhaps they come into their own in the second half, which of course I didn’t stay for. In addition, there seems to be a lack of logic in having motor bike riding warriors who apparently fight with swords, as it seems highly unlikely that the (presumably petrol-fuelled) internal combustion engine would have come through the apocalypse, but not firearms, which are a much older and simpler technology. This is the kind of thing that goes through my head when I am bored by a production, and once you start thinking thoughts like that, the whole house of card of suspended disbelief collapses.

I wanted to like this, I really did – as I said, I’ve really liked lots of Greg Doran’s work. And there were a couple of scenes where he had me. But after a long day at work, by the interval, I just couldn’t face another hour and a half of dullness. Sorry Greg. Better luck next time.

Heart of weirdness

Johnetta Eula’Mae Ackles as Marjory. Photo by Manuel Harlan.

A Very Very Very Dark Matter, The Bridge, London

What the f**k did I just see?  That was my first thought as I emerged into the Bridge’s foyer at the end of Martin McDonagh’s new play. The play runs at just ninety minutes without an interval, but manages to take in colonial brutality, time travel, a supposedly haunted accordion, two dead Belgians and the state of Charles Dickens’ marriage. Among other things.

Let me back up, and try and make as much sense of this as I can. The play’s central conceit is that the beloved author of fairy-tales, Hans Christian Andersen, did not write his own stories. In McDonagh’s vision, they were in fact written by a one-legged Congolese pygmy woman, whom he kept in a mahogany box in his attic. Marjory – as Andersen names her, because he can’t pronounce her real name – is a time-traveller, pursued from the near future by two Belgians she killed, in revenge for them murdering her family. Are you with me so far? By the way, Marjory’s sister is in England, performing a similar function for Charles Dickens.

I suppose McDonagh is making a point about how the oppressed, the ‘other’, are erased from history and culture. Perhaps. To be honest, this is such a whirlwind of a show that I’m not sure. To be equally honest, this is not a play which stands up well to detailed analysis – the whole complicated house of cards is liable to collapse under any kind of scrutiny. But if you go with the flow, and allow yourself to be swept along, it’s quite a ride (perhaps this is why it’s played without an interval, despite there being a very obvious point to have one).

All of this madness is anchored by two stunning central performances:  Jim Broadbent, resisting National Treasure status as the mostly loathsome and deeply irritating Andersen, and Johnetta Eula’Mae Ackles as Marjory, who commands the stage whenever she is on it. I also loved Phil Daniels as a foul-mouthed Charles Dickens (I’ve always suspected Dickens was a bit of a git, so the characterisation of him as a man shagging everything that moves whilst someone else does all the work pleased me enormously) and Elizabeth Berrington as his wife.

The – very funny – scenes at the Dickens’ house operate like a play within in play, a respite from the majority of the scenes, which play out in Andersen’s attic. Here, a bloody denouement awaits: although probably not the one you’re expecting.

It’s not without its flaws, but overall I’d say this play is very much worth a hour and a half of your time. Although you might want to have a stiff drink first.

A Very Very Very Dark Matter is at The Bridge until 6^th January.
https://bridgetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/a-very-very-very-dark-matter/