Sweeney Todd at The Adelphi

Musicals are not really my theatre of choice, but I make an exception with Sweeney Todd currently playing at The Adelphi Theatre.  This production is pure perfection, from the brilliantly inventive set designed by Anthony Ward to the superlative performances by Imelda Staunton and Michael Ball.  I thought Sweeney Todd the movie starring Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter was excellent but this stage version knocks that into a cocked hat.

I’ve always known that Imelda Staunton is a terrific actress but here she is a revelation as the woman who is totally and utterly obsessed with the demon barber.  She will and does do anything to please him, making us laugh all the way to her pie shop in the process, such is her superb comic timing.  Never mind that she is a real villain who thinks nothing of sacrificing a young boy she has befriended, her every entrance is a delight.
Michael Ball is totally unrecognisable as Sweeney and his fleshy, pallid face and lank dark forelock send a shiver down the most rigid of spines, especially when he switches from a man with a legitimate grievance into a deranged serial killer.

The inventive, if more than dark way he and his accomplice choose to dispose of their victims, is to turn them into the fillings for Mrs Lovett’s pies, thus providing a neat way to hide a steady build up of bodies, but also to boost the revenue from her pie shop.  What started out as inedible paltry, pasties, turn into tasty morsels that her clients can’t get enough of.  If only they knew the secret!

Jonathan Kent’s decision to stage this version of Sondheim’s musical in what looks like a dilapidated factory, is a master stroke, as it really heightens the shift of tone from the chilling prologue with its screams and factory whistles to the comic spectacle of Mrs Lovett making her pies.  This shift occurs throughout the evening;  we don’t relax, knowing that blood could flow at any time.

John Bowe’s self-flagellating judge and Peter Polycarpou’s sadistic henchman are excellent, as are Nicholas Skilbeck’s musical direction and Paul Groothuisi's sound design.

Sondheim’s superb lyrics, amongst them “shepherd’s pie peppered with actual shepherd on top”, along with this brilliant cast ensure a brilliant night at the theatre.  Don’t miss it.

Antigone at The Olivier

Polly Findlay’s production of Antigone at The Olivier makes the play accessible to modern audiences, thanks in no small measure to the designer Soutra Gilmour.  She has created a concrete bunker situated in an unspecified country which could be anywhere from an Eastern bloc state to somewhere in Westminster.  This version by Don Taylor swaps the Greek chorus for military officials and civil servants and at the beginning of the play they all gather around a screen to watch an attack on the city.

King Creon, with a strong northern accent by the excellent Christopher Eccleston, thinks on his feet.  As head of state he embodies all the certainty, arrogance and blinkered view of a politician who is “not for turning” and decides that Antigone’s  brother, Poyneices, as a traitor must not be buried.  Instead his corpse will be left to rot outside the city walls.  Meanwhile the other brother, Eteocles, who died defending Thebes is to be given a hero’s burial.  His soon to be daughter-in-law, Antigone, is outraged and makes up her mind to defy Creon by obeying the rules laid down by religion and burying Polyneices.

Jodie Whittaker’s Antigone is a determined young woman and totally believable.  When she is caught trying to bury her brother by a soldier and is dragged in front of Creon, her doggedness never waivers even when she learns of her fate to be buried alive.  Nothing will deter Creon and his authority is not to be questioned, despite the pleas to spare her from his beloved son, Haemon.  He has made his decision and his decision will stand even if it upsets public opinion.  Although we see this as a fatal flaw, in this production Creon doesn’t come across as evil, just a man wrestling with the burden of power.  When he realises his stupidity after the blind prophet Teiresias dares to label him a tyrant and he then learns that fate has taken its chilling course, we feel his pain.  The powerful autocrat is human after all.

The rest of the cast support the production unwaveringly, particularly Luke Norris as the truculent whistle blowing soldier, whilst the Music & Sound Designer, Dan Jones, helps to transport us into a powerful world run by a powerful man but which ultimately falls apart.

South Downs/The Browning Version at The Harold Pinter Theatre

The double bill of David Hare’s new play South Downs and Terence Rattigan’s The Browning Version currently playing at The Harold Pinter Theatre is a joy.  There isn’t a weak link in either play and I was entranced with both.

David Hare was commissioned to write the opening play as a companion piece to The
Browning Version to commemorate the 100^th birthday of Rattigan’s birth.  Both plays are set in public schools and both are centred around an act of kindness.  South Downs is obviously centred around Hare’s old school, Lancing, and evokes the atmosphere so brilliantly that anyone who attended such a school in the 60’s will be immediately transported back to their days there.  Nearly everyone will remember a teacher like the wonderfully sarky, Basil Spear, beautifully brought to life by Andrew Woodall.   

The kindness in this play is from the perspective of a pupil, superbly played by newcomer Alex Lawther who effortlessly manages to convey the social awkwardness of a teenage schoolboy who is poorer than his peers and is having great difficulty in fitting in.  It is only when he meets Anna Chancellor’s glamorous actress and mother of the prefect he hero worships, an excellent Jonathan Bailey, that he realises there is someone who understands his suffering.  David Hare is a master of dialogue and this dryly, witty play, excellently directed by Jeremy Herrin, is a gem.

Angus Jackson directs The Browning  Version with aplomb and, despite not being a particular fan of Rattigan, Nicholas Farrell as the about to be retired Andrew Crocker-Harris moved me to tears.  When his wife, brilliantly brought to life by Anna Chancellor twists her ever present knife to burst his bubble over the act of kindness bestowed on him by a pupil (an excellent Liam Morton) the gasp from the audience assures us that the continually put upon Classic's teacher has our entire sympathy.  Farrell manages to portray the meticulous man’s vulnerability, stoicism and bravery not only with the perfect delivery of what he has to say but in his entire demeanour when silent.   The play in the hand of this wonderful cast shows us so much about the human condition.  A production not to be missed.

The Physicists at The Donmar

The Physicists is a rather strange choice for The Donmar.  This absurdist drama by Friedrich Durrenmatt in a new version by Jack Thorne is an entertaining piece up to a point but ultimately rather dissatisfying.

The play is set in a Swiss sanatorium where to be a nurse is a dangerous occupation, as they are systematically being “bumped off”.  It turns out that the perpetrators are a couple of patients.  One who imagines (or does he?) that he is Sir Isaac Newton and the other pertaining to be Albert Einstein.  During the course of the play a third nurse bites the dust.  This time her murderer is a third inmate, a scientific genius by the name of Johann Wilhelm Mobius who thinks he is haunted by King Solomon.  Strangely, Mathilde von Zahnd, the Doctor in charge appears to be unperturbed by these goings on and Detective Inspector Richard Voss completely at sea. 

The action takes place against a backdrop of a wall of closed white doors;  as Alice would say, “curiouser and curiouser”.  It isn’t until the end of the play that we learn what these characters are really up to and, by then, I’m afraid it is rather too little, too late.  Not that there aren’t some fun moments, due in the main to Newton, campily brought to life by a very funny Justin Salinger and the always wonderful Sophie Thompson as the grotesque hunchback Doctor.   Meanwhile John Heffernan as Mobius breaks down very convincingly during a visit from his wife and two children and one almost becomes involved in what’s going on;  almost being the operative word.  Ultimately the one-dimensional characters fail to illicit much sympathy despite their valiant efforts.

I am an avid fan of the Donmar Warehouse and hate having to admit that this time Josie Rourke has directed what for me is a less than satisfying play.