Hamlet at The Barbican

Well, I’ve finally seen the Hamlet that everyone’s been talking about and I tend to agree with all that’s been said.  Benedict Cumberbatch is very, very good, whilst several of his fellow cast members are less so.  Having seen him in After The Dance and Frankenstein, both as monster and his creator, I am well aware that Cumberbatch is no flash in the pan, over-hyped actor.  There is so much more to him than a piece of “hot totty” lusted over by hordes of young girls.  And, although his beautifully spoken Hamlet is never in danger of going over the edge into madness or losing control, it is bestowed with an humaneness and sardonic sense of humour.  I’m not entirely sure why the Director Lyndsey Turner, has him dressed as a toy soldier, hiding away in a toy castle, when he is feigning madness, but it is a very funny moment. 

This being my first trip to The Barbican, I was astonished at the size of the stage, all the more so, when seeing it’s transformation into the dining hall (complete with “Gone With The Wind” stairs”) of a magnificent country mansion.  So luscious is Es Devlin’s design, that it runs the risk of being a show all on its own.  However it has its limitations.  Act I closes with a blizzard billowing huge amounts of grit through all the doors and windows.  Is this to highlight the devastation to come, or as means of portraying the outdoor scenes in Act II?  Possibly an amalgamation of the two, but it doesn’t really work; for me, anyway.  I wouldn’t think Sian Brooke’s Ophelia is that keen on the idea either, as her pre-suicidal departure is taken, barefoot up a steep grit encrusted slope …. Ouch!

It is this rather hit-and-miss feature that seems to highlight this production.  Everything works up to a point but there are several gaping holes, not least the inaudibility of many of the cast.  Even Ciaran Hinds as Claudius mumbles into his beard at times and I’m afraid I didn’t catch any of Horatio’s (Leo Bill) final speech.  Sian Brooke’s Ophelia may be frail throughout, but her descent into utter despair is as underwhelming as her rather reedy voice. The usually brilliant Anastasia Hille is also disappointing.  There is no chemistry whatsoever between her Gertrude and Claudius and no one would ever know she is Hamlet’s mother, so distant is her relationship to him.  It takes her realisation that Ophelia is in danger, to elicit anything resembling warmth of character.

This may all sound damning in the extreme but, thanks to our young Mr. Cumberbatch and the odd revelatory touch by Lyndsey Turner, this latest Hamlet is worth seeing.  I’m glad I didn’t miss his arresting performance and his athleticism when leaping up onto the huge banqueting table is worth the ticket price alone!!  Alas, not so the programme cost.  Eight pounds fifty for a souvenir brochure and no alternative programme, apart from a cast list, is way too steep.

Hangmen at The Royal Court

Hangmen at The Royal Court

Could this be the best new Comedy for 2015?  Well, it gets my vote.  Martin McDonagh has written some cracking plays, The Beauty Queen of Leenane and The Cripple of Inishmaan to name but two, and Hangmen is no exception.  He is a master of black comedy and there isn’t a speech in his latest offering that isn’t laugh out loud funny.  Add masses of dramatic tension and you have the recipe for an engrossing tale.

The title and opening scene of a bleakly tiled prison cell with a noose gently swaying in one corner, are, at first sight, not the most auspicious of starts for a comedy.  But the laughs soon come thick and fast and the playwright even provides humour, albeit the painful and uncomfortable sort, immediately after the hangman pulls the lever and the prisoner drops down through the stage floor.  The prisoner in question is called James Hennessy (Josef Davies in his professional stage debut), probably based on James Hanratty, and he is protesting his innocence right up to his shocking demise.  

Full marks, too, to Director Matthew Dunster and Designer Anna Fleischle for the magnificent way the scene then changes and we’re two years in the future.  Slowly but surely, the cell rises, eventually revealing a nicotine stained, dingy northern pub complete with landlord and an unintentionally hilarious crew of regulars.  It immediately becomes apparent that the landlord is Harry Wade (David Morrissey) the still be-suited hangman from Scene One.  Now lording it over his wife, “mopey” teenage daughter and Lancashire customers, rather than his work colleagues, Wade is bemoaning the fact that this is the day that hanging is abolished.  Ever the show-off, it is only when a journalist (James Dryden) is keen to get his thoughts on this momentous occasion ahead of those of his arch rival and number one, hangman, Pierrepoint (John Hodgkinson) that he decides that maybe it’s not such a bad day after all.

Wade may have a menacing air but it is the south London stranger, Mooney (Johnny Flynn) who is the more sinister.  Starting off a bit of a cocky, happy go lucky cockney geezer, with a pretentious manner, there is obviously more to him than the mocking hale fellow well met. Good looking he may be, especially when compared to the pub’s motley regulars, but he is out to cause trouble and the pub’s inhabitants soon become uneasy in the presence of this interloper from down south   It is only Wade’s shy and insecure daughter Alice (Sally Rogers) who is so astounded and flattered that this handsome stranger is paying her attention that she fails to notice anything untoward.

It’s not for me to reveal the various plot twists and revelations but, suffice it to say that the arrival of yet another non-pub regular is a catalyst for what eventually happens.  Syd (Reece Shearsmith) Wade’s former assistant, with a slightly prurient interest in “private” matters, has a few old scores to settle.  The trouble is that teaming up with Mooney isn’t necessarily the right way to go about it.

I cannot fault any performance, as this is the perfect ensemble piece where each performer enhances the other.  Johnny Flynn plays Mooney with just the right amount of creepiness to hint at something darker behind his wise cracking demeanor.  And his first flash of anger comes so out of the blue that it took me completely by surprise.  We’re not used to seeing David Morrissey as a loud nasty bastard, but he brilliantly capture’s Wade’s towering, bullying presence, whist hinting at a man who isn’t totally without feeling.  Reece Shearsmith is the perfect go to actor for an outsider with a nervous disposition, so is spot on in the role of Syd, the unworldly loner who gets completely out of his depth.  Also worth a mention are Ryan Pope as the less than bright Charlie who repeats conversations to his deaf mate, Arthur, played by Simon Rouse who, in turn always gets the wrong end of the stick. Charlie tells him “Inspector says, How old are ya, twelve?  Harry says, Five more like!” to which Arthur replies “Ha, ha, younger I get it”.

The great thing about Hangmen is that it’s being transferred to Wyndhams Theatre in the West End in December.  Thank you Playful Productions, Robert Fox & The Royal Court because it means I’ll be able to see this great production a second time.

Farinelli And The King at The Duke of York's Theatre

It is often said that an actor is made for a particular role.  Here at The Duke of York’s, Claire van Kempen has organised just that, by creating a part for her husband that fits him like a glove.  Farinelli And The King premiered at The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse earlier in the year and the actor in question is, of course, the superlative Mark Rylance.  He plays the 18^th century Spanish monarch, Philippe V, a kind of European equivalent to our King George III, except that the former’s affliction was more manic depression and deep melancholia rather than mental illness.

The Duke of York’s, cosily situated in St Martins Lane, is worlds away from the Globe’s candlelit indoor theatre but, thanks to Director John Dove and Designer Jonathan Fensom, the Playhouse has been lovingly re-created, at least internally.  From the wax dripping on-stage candles to the rearrangement of the seating and stage area, the intimate atmosphere is recaptured.

We first begin to suspect that all is not well with Phillip’s state of mind when we see him lounging, bedecked in a brocade dressing gown, talking to and then trying to capture with a rod and bait, a goldfish in a bowl.  Whimsical?  Certainly.  Funny?  Extremely.  And, as ever with Mark Rylance, his delivery is downplayed and hesitant as if he is struggling with what he wants to say.  In other words, what every actor is trying to do.  Make every sentence sound as if it’s the first time it has been uttered.  One of, no, actually, our best actor does it effortlessly.

But this King is not all languid capriciousness.  There is a sharp tongue lurking within this gentle soul and his wife, Isabella, is often on the receiving end.  Bearing all that’s thrown at her with a quiet dignity, this most patient of Queens eventually decides that something must be done to snap her husband out of his abject inertia.  To stop him exploiting his malady when it suits, just because he has had to endure a role he never desired, that of King of the realm.  Her solution is music, the therapeutic benefits of which have been known for thousands of years.  To this end, she seeks out Farinelli, the world famous castrato, persuades him to change the opera house for the court and thus ensure that Phillipe has beautiful music “on tap”.

We are privy to the beautiful sounds that soothed the depressed King thanks to counter-tenor Iestyn Davies, who alternates with the actor Sam Crane in the role of Farinelli.  Whilst Sam delivers the singer’s lines with a wonderful gravity, Iestyn delivers his music with an ethereal delicacy.  I’ve always maintained that opera isn’t for me, but hearing some of the loveliest arias of the 18^th century performed so beautifully, I think I may have to revise my opinion.

It’s not only Mr. Rylance and Mr. Davies who captivate.  Melody Grove as Isabella is also superb.  Her love and devotion to her mercurial husband is unmistakable and she radiates goodness and grace without ever being cloying.

But, as ever, it is the mesmerising Mark Rylance who is the draw in this pitch perfect production.  The man is a genius and I am more than a little in love with him; I and several hundred other women theatregoers!