Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - The Royal Ballet

Is there a better start to a performance than the sound of an orchestra tuning up? That single A note and then the rest of the instruments joining in… And then the conductor comes on and we all applaud and we’re off!

The Royal Ballet’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (at the Royal Opera House Dec 2014) has all the trappings of a traditional ballet, which it at once subverts and enjoys beautifully. The music and choreography feel as if they would fit in one of the classics, at times nodding to ballets such as Swan Lake in an affectionate pastiche.

The notorious multiple curtain calls of a ballet are also in some evidence here – but they are lampooned by the Queen of Hearts’ unashamed milking of the audience applause at the end of her solos.

It’s interesting that the Queen of Hearts (Zenaida Yanowsky) is the only one to break the fourth wall and acknowledge the audience’s presence mid-story. Twice, still perfectly in character, she encourages the audience to applaud more – and then signals when to stop. Perhaps inevitably, she’s the dancer who gets the biggest cheer of the night at the final curtain call.

But then who would have thought that a classical ballet could be so funny? The Queen of Hearts, in particular, is a great comic creation, but Alice (Sarah Lamb), the White Rabbit (Ricardo Cervera), and others all prompt laughs too. It’s all so perfectly choreographed and performed, it seems effortless in managing to be both funny and beautiful, traditional and new.

And it’s imaginatively put together besides the actual dancing and music too. The use of projections and puppetry in telling this dreamlike tale are incredibly effective, the floating Cheshire Cat is inspired, and the costumes (particularly the tutus in the shape of suits of cards) are very clever.

The story of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland has been adapted to fit a ballet style and structure in this production. So we have the usual characters and set pieces like the Mad Hatter’s tea party (in this ballet the Mad Hatter tap dances!), but we also have a framing narrative (or two) and a bit of a love story as well. We see roles being doubled up – along the lines of Hook/Mr Darling in Peter Pan, here we have Queen of Hearts/Mother – and the bringing of part of the story into the present day provides another fresh angle.

All of this draws on and feeds into the sense of Alice in Wonderland as a sort of modern myth or folk tale. Like Peter Pan, the story and characters are so well known that they can be shaped and pulled any which way and still feed back into the myth. The ‘original’ almost ceases to matter when a story has permeated the culture to such an extent. Alice is like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty now – she’s in a book, a Disney film, a ballet. A story that gets retold. Re-imagined. And surely that’s the best any story can hope for?

Bleak House - The Pantaloons

Full of fun, full of pathos, full of character. This adaptation of Dickens’ Bleak House by The Pantaloons (performed at Eastbourne’s Underground Theatre on 25^th October 2014) was a treat from start to finish.

In the vein of their comprehensive(ish) The Canterbury Tales, The Pantaloons promised to present all 67 chapters of the novel Bleak House on stage. And, although they sometimes forgot which chapter number they were up to, they did not disappoint. With some scenes lingered over and some chapters dispatched in a sentence, the cast of five swept us through the story and the multitude of characters with charm and flair.

I read Bleak House when I was at university, and I watched the BBC’s rather brilliant 2005 adaptation not long after reading the book, so I inevitably started the evening with that version in mind. But it didn’t take long for me to forget all about it.

Dickens’ larger than life characters suit The Pantaloons’ style perfectly – and we were treated to some classic performances in Bleak House. Ross Drury in the guise of Krook, Hortense or Guppy only had to walk on stage to get a laugh, and the Smallweed family were another characterful highlight.

But it wasn’t just the broader characters who made the evening so memorable. The quieter parts and more poignant moments were equally well played. As the deaths mounted and truths unravelled in the second half, the transitions between comedy and pathos were seamless.

The background music and songs helped build this atmosphere: sometimes haunting, sometimes used to comedic effect, and sometimes with self-referential lyrics telling us how many chapters until the interval. My favourite chapter from the book (the spontaneous combustion scene, obviously) was also a great moment on stage; the tension building – with help from the music and lighting – to a comedy-horror climax that ended the first half.

Finally, I really ought to give a mention to the audience, who – as always in a Pantaloons show – played a big part in making the evening an entertaining one. (It was very sweet of the cast to comment on as much at the end of the performance too – always nice to feel appreciated as an audience!).

The Pantaloons are experts at audience interaction and during the course of this performance of Bleak House they good-naturedly poked fun at two particular audience members: an ‘inebriated actor’ who had also been in the audience at their History of Britain in the summer, and a man called Owen. When the time came in the plot for a murderer to be revealed, a dramatic pause was left. With perfect timing, an unknown audience member called out: “It was Owen!”

I enjoyed that, and The Pantaloons seemed to as well. And the same goes for the whole of Bleak House. A treat from start to finish.


The Pantaloons are currently on tour with Bleak House - visit their website www.thepantaloons.co.uk for more info.

Doctor Scroggy's War - Shakespeare's Globe

Well this was all pretty timely.

2014 is the hundredth anniversary of the outbreak of World War One. I have recently been re-reading Pat Barker’s Regeneration – a novel about shell-shocked patients in a WW1 psychiatric hospital. And the day before I went to see Doctor Scroggy’s War at the Globe (which I saw on 27th September 2014), the Commons voted in favour of military intervention in Iraq.

So let’s take those one by one, shall we?

It’s a century since WW1 started. The Great War looms large in our culture at the best of times, but this year it’s everywhere. I imagine that’s why the Globe put Doctor Scroggy’s War on this summer.

The anniversary also means that we’re looking back and evaluating the events of a hundred years ago. There’s recently been a backlash in certain quarters against the widely held view of the war as a futile tragedy of epic proportions. Some are trying to claim it as a shining example of what makes Britain great. (And this is when I can’t help turning into one of the History Boys: “You can’t explain away the poetry”, I cry!).

Doctor Scroggy’s War recognises both perspectives. One of the play’s main characters, a soldier named Twigg, wants to return to the war after being injured – he enjoys the frontline action. And though other characters disagree with him and find it incomprehensible, his attitude is recognised as existing, alongside other responses.

That’s something the play has in common with Regeneration. A complex look at the motivations and responses of those involved in war – and, especially, those injured in war.

Doctor Scroggy’s War is concerned with physical injury, but emphasises the role of psychological healing as well. It looks at the real-life Dr Gillies’ pioneering facial reconstruction techniques alongside his alter ego Dr Scroggy’s important sense of fun. Regeneration, meanwhile, looks at the pioneering psychological therapy of the real-life Dr Rivers, and examines how psychological scarring can produce physical symptoms. Both pieces deal with the crossover between the psychological and the physical.

Both Doctor Scroggy’s War and Regeneration also mix fact and fiction in their storytelling, with real-life characters interacting with fictional ones. It’s a thought-provoking mix when you’re navigating your way through competing narratives about the war. That blur between ‘true’ and ‘made up’ and whether things are any less true for being made up.

And that brings us to current world events, where it sometimes feels like WW3 is happening on the sly. The competing narratives, the debate over what is true or not – these don’t ever go away. We might wonder how we can learn from the past (and there were certainly some mutterings amongst the Globe audience about how we don’t seem to).

But what I feel I’ve learnt from these plays, books, poems and other recollections of the First World War is that there is no single past. There is no standalone truth or one story that makes sense of it all.

In Doctor Scroggy’s War, themes of national identity, class politics, and gender inequality were also touched upon. More viewpoints to consider; more clashes and crossovers between different truths. And, as befits the Globe space, various characters addressed the audience directly at times, giving their individual perspective on events.

My favourite moment was when Twigg said to the audience: “You all know what’s going to happen to me.” It was a brave recognition that we all know the drill – we’ve seen the films and read the stories – and we, as an audience, know how these narratives play out.

But just acknowledging that challenged us to recognise the very ‘story-ness’ that most stories want you to ignore.

We were in a theatre, watching a play. There was a jig at the end. The play may have featured real people and real events, but it was a story nonetheless. One story amongst many. A narrative. A response. A truth?

The Tempest - The Pantaloons

With their trademark audience interaction, ad libbing, music, and, of course, Shakespeare, The Pantaloons took us to Prospero’s Isle of Wonder on Sunday 24^th August 2014, for The Tempest.

The evening was hosted by a very hard-working Ariel (Elliot Quinn), who stepped in and out of the action – playing the part of Ariel within the play, but also chatting to the audience, providing the music, and even reading out the stage directions. Would it more accurately have been named ‘Ariel’s Isle of Wonder’?

But while Ariel worked hard, it was clearly Prospero (Martin Gibbons) who held the power. There was a scene at the end where puppets were used to represent some of the characters. This was explained by Ariel as being a way of getting round the problem of having a small cast, but it also showed how the characters were puppets that Prospero had been manipulating throughout the piece.

There was also a great moment, probably only at this particular venue (Smallhythe Place), where Prospero’s words echoed magnificently back around the space. It felt as though the isle full of noises was reverberating with the power of Prospero’s speech.

And speaking of the isle full of noises, that famous speech was brought vividly to life by Thomas Judd’s Caliban. And of course a reference to its use in the Olympic opening ceremony was thrown in for good measure.

You can always rely on The Pantaloons to pick up on the cultural reference points that an audience brings with them. It might be a direct allusion to other interpretations of The Tempest – or it might be a reference to the vineyard down the road from the venue, or an ad lib about how a biologist in the audience looks like Steve Irwin. (Both of these featured in the performance at Smallhythe Place).

The bit that probably made me chuckle the most was not really Shakespeare at all: Stefano (Nicky Diss) tells Trinculo (Martin Gibbons) to be quiet – or, in Shakespearian language, ‘mum’ – and Trinculo responds with the ready retort ‘Your mum’.

That deliberate clash of the archaic and the up-to-date is one of the things that makes The Pantaloons so much fun. It was the same in their History of Britain, which I saw earlier in the summer, and which revelled in mixing the historical with the contemporary. And I dare say it will be the same in their take on Bleak House, which I am very much looking forward to seeing in the autumn.

Macbeth et son ouvrier - Ecole dramatique de Yajlou (Iran) at Espace Charles Trenet, Tain / Tournon

This was a very multilingual experience. While I was on holiday in France, I saw an adaptation of Macbeth performed by an Iranian company. It was performed, according to the programme, in Azerbaijani Turkish, with a few simple words of French thrown in here and there.

So the largely French audience on Tuesday 29^th July in Tain didn’t understand the words any more than I did. Quite a unifying experience, in a way.

As with the Globe’s multilingual season a year or two ago in London (see my reviews of the Georgian As You Like It and South African Venus and Adonis), this production had to use something other than words to communicate with the audience.

A live musical soundtrack provided by three musicians on the side of the stage helped to convey what was going on in the plot. Shadow puppetry, costume and props also combined to create a sort of symbolic visual language for the audience to interpret, and it was a very physical piece.

Although this was clearly not Shakespeare’s play in translation (it was a 45 minute piece set on a construction site), it probably did help to know already how the story of Macbeth unfolds. I think, in fact, that the few English people in the audience may have understood more than the French, simply because most of us had studied Macbeth at school.

So when Lady Macbeth started furiously rubbing her hands, we knew that this was the ‘Out damned spot’ bit. And when the three actors (for there were only three in the cast) became a sort of three-headed tangle of bodies and speech, we knew without needing words that they were representing the witches.

But for me, it wasn’t just the adaptation, the language and the physicality that made this an interesting piece. It was also interesting because of the cast.

As I said, there were only three actors. Two of these were women.

Now, I don’t know a great deal about Iranian culture (although Persepolis opened my eyes a little), but from what I’ve heard I rather gather that women on stage might be frowned upon by the authorities. So it was interesting to see the roles of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth performed by women in that context.

Was it significant that as Lady Macbeth went mad her headscarf worked its way loose and finally came off? Did I only notice that because it was an Iranian company performing in France, where there have been particular controversies over the wearing of headscarves? As neither French nor Iranian, do I interpret the piece differently from either of those audiences would? Or perhaps my gender has a bigger impact on my reading of the production?

These were questions I came away with, and I do like to leave the theatre with questions.

A very interesting evening.

Sherlock Holmes - The Pantaloons

I’ve written before about The Pantaloons. And I’ve written before about the Devonshire Park Theatre in my home town of Eastbourne. So to write about them together is something of a joy.

I saw The Pantaloons’ Sherlock Holmes at the DPT on Wednesday 16^th April 2014 (at the evening performance). I’d seen their Sherlock Holmes early on in last year’s run, but this year’s version – now indoors and with a slightly tweaked cast – is an even slicker, funnier and more confident production.

All the cast are seasoned Pantaloons now. Three of the cast were in the previous tour – although last year’s Watson is now Holmes (Edward Ferrow, faintly Cumberbatch-like in this role) – and the new Watson (Christopher Smart, a gleefully wicked improviser) has been in various other shows with The Pantaloons. They all know exactly how to work an audience: how to interact with them and improvise around them; how to milk a laugh.

And the gags are just as silly as last year. The variations on ‘Elementary, my dear Watson’ are still groan-worthily funny, and I’m not sure I’d ever get tired of the Circle Line joke.

Like Gary, the audience member who had been at both the matinee and the evening performance that day, I have yet to see the alternative version of this production, where the stories and roles are different. Both this time and last time I saw it, the audience chose to see the story of The League of Red Headed Men – meaning, as a consequence, that I’ve seen cast member Isaac Leafe twice now as Moriarty, but never Elliot Quinn.

But even with the same rendering of the play on offer (and how many companies would give you an option, anyway?), no two performances by The Pantaloons are ever exactly the same.


After seeing Filter’s Twelfth Night at the DPT recently, it’s great to see another fresh, slightly anarchic production again there so soon. I love the Devonshire Park as a theatre, and it’s fantastic to see more of the kind of theatre I enjoy being put on at the Devonshire Park.


The Pantaloons are on tour with Sherlock Holmes until the end of April. Full tour details can be found on their website.

If you want to know how my review of the 2014 Sherlock Holmes compares to last year’s, you can find my thoughts from 2013 here.

Twelfth Night - Filter

One of those happy things in life: I’ve never seen a bad production of Twelfth Night. And Filter’s version (which I saw at Eastbourne’s Devonshire Park Theatre on 25^th March 2014) is no exception.

Anarchic, energetic, and with a definite sense of ‘licence’, Filter’s Twelfth Night offered just the refreshment I needed after a dull Tuesday in the office. (And no, I’m not referring to the pizza and tequila on offer from the cast!)

This production was less concerned with the romantic entanglements of the twins, and more interested in the foolish and drunken antics of the other characters. The notion of misrule wasn’t just acted out in front of us and contained on the stage – it was running right through the whole production.

The way the usually central plot was secondary to the revelry of Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek. The way Shakespeare’s script was almost abandoned for large swathes of the evening while we did things like throw velcro balls at the stage. The way the audience was invited on to the stage in a conga line. Even Malvolio, in this version, was a wannabe rock star who was only too willing to throw off the shackles of convention (and most of his clothes).

I’ve seen a fair few of these elements elsewhere: throwing things at the stage (Bristol Old Vic’s Swallows and Amazons); Shakespeare mixed with audience interaction (The Pantaloons); getting the audience to join in the party (Kneehigh’s Midnight’s Pumpkin – and even Once had a functioning bar on stage). But seeing it at the Devonshire Park Theatre, with its proscenium arch and orchestra pit, just enhanced that sense of misrule.

A middle-aged Eastbourne gentleman near me muttered to his wife half way through: “Well I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And that summed up the evening for me. This stage, which has seen so many Agatha Christies, was overrun by a sort of joyous anarchy. We all joined Filter’s party and helped them turn the play and the theatre upside down for a little while.

And then we went back to work the next day, as if nothing had ever happened. The twins married the right people, and order was restored.

 

The Outsider by Albert Camus

This is going to be a short one - but then, I suppose it is quite a short book.

I recently read The Outsider by Camus (L'Etranger in the original French, sometimes translated as The Stranger). The original book, first published in 1942, was clearly written as a demonstration of a philosophical viewpoint - existentialism or a variation on it - but I couldn't help thinking that, looked at today, the hero of the book would probably be diagnosed with Asperger's or something along those lines.

I was talking with a friend who had also recently read The Outsider, and we both agreed that it reminded us slightly of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

An interesting thought, that's all.

Richard II - RSC at The Barbican

I have a work colleague who is a bit of a coffee connoisseur. One lunchtime, she left the office declaring that she was going to try the free coffee being offered to loyalty card holders at a nearby supermarket.

When she came back, we asked her what she thought of the coffee.

“Well,” she said, somewhat unenthusiastically, “There was nothing really wrong with it.”

I laughed at the time, but actually I came out of the RSC’s Richard II at the Barbican on Saturday 18^th January feeling the same way.

There was nothing really wrong with the production. But there was nothing particularly inspiring about it either.

David Tennant put in a good performance as the androgynous Richard. Oliver Ford Davies livened things up with his Duke of York. But somehow the production never quite elevated itself above ‘perfectly alright’.

I found myself comparing it throughout to the BBC’s version of the play, which formed part of The Hollow Crown series a year or two ago. I remember watching that version and raving about it afterwards – how beautifully it played with your sympathies and made you uncertain of where your loyalties should lie. How one moment you thought Bolingbroke entirely in the right, and the next you were won over by Richard.

In the BBC version, Rory Kinnear played Bolingbroke as a reasonable, likeable man. In this RSC production, Bolingbroke was a bloodthirsty brute. Both interpretations make sense dramatically, but Bolingbroke never for a moment had my sympathy in this production. But then, nor did Richard for very long.

The programme for the RSC production told us what a risky play this was for Shakespeare to write and to put on. Intellectually, I appreciated that. But there was little in this production that had a similar sense of risk.

One thing I was more inspired by, though, was the Barbican itself. Despite the fact that it’s a hugely confusing building, you can see how carefully designed the whole complex must have been. From the unusual auditorium (with an individual door into each row), to the surrounding estate (a sort of 1960s utopia, hewn from concrete) – the whole construction is a perfect example of its kind.

There are probably all sorts of things wrong with the place, but somehow it’s all exactly right. I just wish Richard II had been a bit more like that.