Sandy Pritchard-Gordon

Sandy Pritchard-Gordon
Theatre Blog

Tuesday 28 November 2017

Network at The Lyttleton



Bryan Cranston has gone from Breaking Bad to Breaking Mad in Lee Hall’s adaptation of Paddy Chayefsky’s movie, Network, now showing at The Lyttleton Theatre.  Except that Cranston brings an integrity to his troubled newsreader, Howard Beale, that shows that even during his rages, we’re witnessing someone who is perfectly sane rather than deranged.  For his frequent anguished cry of “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it any more”, read “angry as hell”.  Cranston’s nuanced performance ensures that his seventies prophet (the movie was made in 1976 and remains in this era here) has the audience in his thrall from the start.

Lee Hall’s adaptation of this Oscar winning satire is pretty much true to the original, apart from the toning down of the terrorist subplot and the affair between Beale’s colleague, Max Schumacher (Douglas Henshall) and the overly ambitious TV executive Diana Christensen (Michelle Dockery).  He has made Beale the total focus and with such a strong actor in the title role, this is no bad thing at all.  News anchor-man, Beale, a coiled spring, thanks to falling ratings and his own inner turmoil, finally breaks on air.  Looking straight to camera, he announces that everything is “bullshit” and that he plans to kill himself live on air, in a week’s time.

It seems the viewing public love nothing more than a disaster happening on live TV, so that, combined with the collective view that something is rotten within the heart of America (no change there then) ensures that falling ratings start to rise.  The suicide doesn’t happen; instead Beale’s popularity reaches epic proportions, which the News Network exploit to the full.  They see a way to revive their flagging programme; why not make news more show bizzy even if it is at the expense of one man’s near descent into a nervous  breakdown.

Ivo van Hove directs with his usual panache and uses his “techy” skills to accomplished effect in this production.  The huge Lyttleton stage is transformed into a hyperactive TV studio complete with huge backstage screen that at times shows multiple videos at once (slightly distracting until one gets used to it, but then I guess that’s the idea).   Cranston and various other members of the cast are often shown on screen as if we’re viewing them on television.  Up close and personal, the craggy, slightly battered image of this great American actor leaves us in no doubt that he is perfect in the role, perfect even before he opens his mouth!  Slightly strangely, situated stage left are several theatregoers enjoying dinner (all included in their ticket prices).  I say strangely but actually it works, giving as it does, a visible audience to whom Cranston can direct many of his speeches.

Choreographing this “mayhem” on stage must have been a logistical headache, but it works like clockwork, even on a preview night when I went.  The only sticking point for me is that I couldn’t quite believe in Michelle Dochery’s character, Diana.  She shows perfectly well that this is one very pushy, ambitious young woman, but it is all so one dimensional and the real-time filmed walk outside between her and Max feels gimmicky and artificial.  Let’s hope it has improved now previews are over.  

This, however, is a minor fault which is more than overshadowed by the overall production and in particular, Bryan Cranston’s masterclass performance.  Please don’t let it be too long before he returns to the London stage; I will be first in the booking queue.

Tuesday 21 November 2017

Young Marx at the Bridge Theatre




If you go to Young Marx expecting the laugh bombardment you got at One Man Two Guvnors, you could be disappointed.  But go with an open mind and the realisation is that Richard Bean and Clive Coleman have crafted a play with very witty and clever dialogue that provides, if not belly laughs, then certainly entertainment.

This being the first production at a brand-new London theatre situated south of the river, it would be remiss of me not to air my thoughts and I have to say that I have no reservations whatsoever.  The Bridge Theatre (the love child of Nicholas Hytner and Nick Starr) is a triumph.  Its situation, river side and overlooking Tower Bridge is perfect and, as is to be expected from two theatrical stalwarts, its flexible configuration is not only excellent, but aesthetically pleasing.  Plus, and it’s a big plus, there are many more female loos than we women are used to in a theatre - hurrah!  Oh, and I must not forget to mention the leather trimmed seats, which are comfy and provide masses of leg room.  We theatre goers visiting this big, bright space are definitely travelling first class rather than economy.  Let’s hope and pray that the unsubsidised The London Theatre Company (the theatre’s resident company) manage to realise all their plans to open more theatres and transfer productions far and wide.

Nick Hytner directs Young Marx and has assembled a great cast led by Rory Kinnear, Oliver Chris and Nancy Carroll.  The play is a farce set in Soho in 1850 highlighting the shenanigans of the young, newly arrived refugee, Karl Marx (Kinnear) who is a bit of a lad, to put it mildly.  Work shy and prone to boozing far too much, Marx leads his long- suffering wife, Jenny (Carroll), a not so merry dance.  There is no doubt that he loves her and adores his sickly young son, Guido and musical daughter, Jenny Caroline but this doesn’t stop him straying into the arms of the family’s maid, Helene (Laura Elphinstone).  Marx’s side-kick and “brother-in-arms” is the wealthy and, it has to be said, lascivious Friedrich Engels (Oliver Chris) who is often called upon to bail out his cash stricken, co-author of the Communist Manifesto.

However, the main visitors to the Marx’s family hovel are the peelers or bailiffs, who at one point strip the sitting room/kitchen almost bare.  Not that Marx is always privy to their visits, hiding as he often does in the cupboard for fear that he might be marched off to the local nick.  Mark Thompson’s revolving set evokes the grittiness of this Dean Street dwelling, both inside and out and I love the way the set allows the actors to chase each other over the rooftops.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rory Kinnear give an undiminished performance and the same is true here.  His bearded, grubby Marx, who suffers from boils on his bottom, is forever in the zone, whether he be casually lambasting Jenny with verbal cruelty, getting into a punch up in the British Library, chatting up Helene or boisterously playing with his children.  He is also able to depict Marx’s many contradictions with ease.  He may be a political visionary but is also a blatant scrounger who is constantly daydreaming and trying to hide his self-doubt.  Oliver Chris is equally affecting and, along with Kinnear, brings to life the two men’s friendship, whether it be as one half of a Victorian Flanders & Swan double act, or the permanent human cash point machine.  He is a more sympathetic character than Marx but with no hint of saccharine.  Everyone else in the case provides top notch support, especially Nancy Carroll and Laura Elphinstone.

The play isn’t overly concerned with portraying Marx’s obviously brilliant mind, concentrating instead on trying to demystify him.  We are given a hint that he was a brilliant analyst in a powerful scene that allows Kinnear to momentarily take a breather from all his toing and froing, but this is not the main thrust of the play.  We just have to believe what Engels says, “You’re an alpha, a bona fide genius, you prick!”  All I can say is that what Young Marx does do is humanise the man in a very humorous way.

Friday 3 November 2017

Beginning at The Dorfman








It‘s such a treat to be privy to a new play that is more than worth the ticket price.  Beginning, now playing at The Dorfman, is one such production.  Written by David Eldridge, Beginning is a two-hander charting the possible start of a new relationship.  Whilst the majority of friendships/’sexships’ nowadays begin on-line, what happens when two mid-lifers are faced with getting to know one another face to face?

Set in Managing Director Laura’s new Crouch End flat, where she has been holding a party to celebrate her new acquisition, everyone has gone home apart from East Ender Danny.  The couple haven’t met before and who knows if they will ever meet again. 
Our first glimpse of Danny is his back view and we’re immediately aware of his discomfort, which is enhanced as soon as he turns round. This action is a taster of Polly Findlay’s exquisite direction.  She, with the help of Justine Mitchell and Sam Troughton ensure that this funny, touching and droll insight into the loneliness often felt by today’s singletons caught up in dating apps and phony postings on social media, delights from start to finish.

Justine Mitchell’s Laura initially seems to be the one who is more in control and it’s credit to her brilliant portrayal that, despite the outward appearances, we soon become aware that she has as many hang-ups as Sam Troughton’s Danny.  Being successful at work, with enough income to own her own property doesn’t guarantee that her weekends aren’t spent alone.  Danny, too, isn’t happy.  Divorced and separated from his seven-year-old daughter, who he hasn’t seen since she was three, he has been forced to move back home to his mum and nan.  He has been desperately hurt and is guarded about committing to any type of relationship, especially the one on Laura’s agenda.  His initial laddish behaviour hides a sincere and gentle man, anxious not to make the same mistake twice.

The two of them spend the one hour and forty minutes running time getting to know one another.  There are glaring gaffes, truthful admissions and the hint of a mutual attraction, and Findlay has no fear in allowing prolonged awkward silences whilst the couple take on board what’s been said.  Initially any attempt by Laura to get physically closer to Danny is met with evasive and delaying tactics.  One particularly amusing attempt at keeping the predatory Laura at bay is for him to suggest a preliminary flat clean up.  She watches in disbelief as he shakes out a bin bag and proceeds to fill it with the party detritus, whilst periodically placing yet another empty beer bottle neatly on a shelf.  Later on, when his nervousness is beginning to ebb, the two start to dance, until Danny, gradually digesting what Laura is suggesting, comes to a near stand-still.  Nothing is said and doesn’t need to be; the unintended metaphoric slap in the face for Laura and her plan is painfully obvious.

There isn’t a dud note in the whole production.  Designer Fly Davis realistically portrays the after party scene of empty bottles, Pringle packets and drooping streamers.  In fact realism and truth is the name of the game, from David Eldrige’s pitch perfect dialogue, Polly Findlay’s expert choreography and Justine Mitchell and Sam Troughton’s immersion into Laura and Danny. 

From Beginning to end, this play is an absolute joy.