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.

Once - The Phoenix Theatre

All these productions requiring actor-musicians; one wonders how actors who don’t play an instrument find any work at all...!

Once is not your average musical. There are no show tunes. No jazz hands. It’s not full of noise and spectacle. If you came to this expecting a Hairspray or a Wicked, you might go away feeling a little disappointed. Or you might go away unexpectedly delighted, depending on your musical tastes.

I had some idea of what to expect, as I’d seen the film of Once (before it was turned into a musical). I knew it was a very understated film – and it has been translated into a very understated musical. I liked it – but I know a few musical theatre fans who would probably not enjoy it so much.

The music is all slightly folky, slightly indie. I was reminded of Damien Rice: the lead actor’s delivery was similar; the female harmonies layered on top were reminiscent of his tracks; and the songs themselves had the same kind of low-key, bittersweet, melancholy kind of feel. I can imagine this musical attracting quite a different audience from a lot of West End shows.

But whoever the audience was, at the end of the matinee performance I saw on 16^th November 2013, they gave the cast a substantial standing ovation at the end of the show.

I heard people commenting on how much like real life it was (not something you’d associate with most musical theatre). And, for all its theatricality, it did feel like Once was striving for a sense of authenticity.

On the incoming, audience members bought drinks from the onstage bar. They milled about in their coats on the stage as the cast started playing in a folk jam session, well-choreographed to appear spontaneous. As the audience members were gradually ushered to their seats, the jam session seamlessly turned into the start of the play. The lights went down only after we’d all already fallen silent, and the bar remained the set for the whole piece, regardless of where the action was supposed to be taking place.

Somehow this acknowledgement of its own artifice – this very lack of fourth wall-style realism in the set – this somehow added to that sense of authenticity. As if, just like the audience, the characters were real people treading those boards and in that same bar.

That the actors were playing instruments on stage helped too. When several strings on the lead actor’s guitar went during a song, it felt raw and powerful and real.

Of course, Once is every bit as scripted, sculpted and choreographed as any other musical – but it does feel different. The story, the music, the performances, the set – Once seems to speak in a different language from most musicals. In some ways, you could see it as doing something similar to what The Beggar’s Opera did a few hundred years ago: putting recognisable characters from the here and now on stage and telling their stories with music from the here and now.

A folk opera for our times, perhaps. Or an indie musical. Either way, it’s quite a trick to pull off.