Peter Pan Goes Wrong - Mischief Theatre

Laughter is a funny thing. (Pun intended). I can spend all day laughing at little things – but go into a theatre to watch something that’s designed to make people laugh and my laughter becomes something different. Suddenly it’s a reward I can choose to bestow or not. It’s an effort. It’s something that has to be cajoled out of me.

Or at least, that’s how it felt while watching Mischief Theatre’s Peter Pan Goes Wrong at the Devonshire Park Theatre, Eastbourne, on 24^th March 2015.

People around me were in hysterics. I found some bits quite amusing. I suppose it’s all personal taste.

This play comes from the same people as The Play that Goes Wrong, which by all accounts is very funny indeed. So I went into Peter Pan Goes Wrong ready and expecting to be entertained.

The conceit of the play is that a small amateur dramatics society is putting on a Christmas production of Peter Pan. For me – while they squeezed the mileage out of the am dram bit – they could have made more of the Peter Pan bit.

The original Peter Pan (without anything going wrong) is a playful, mischievous text. It’s full of knowing winks to the audience and doesn’t shy away from the fact that it creates an imaginary world where fantastical, ridiculous things happen. I can’t help but feel that if Mischief Theatre could have found a way to tease this out in Peter Pan Goes Wrong then they would have had a much funnier play on their hands.

But they weren’t really interested in Peter Pan. Their main focus was the am dram aspect of it all, which they played well. They were completely committed to the world they created for the amateur theatre company.

The programme on sale had biographies for the characters within the play who were the cast of Peter Pan. There were fake adverts in the programme which related to the world of the play. In the interval, Christmas music was played – as Peter Pan was supposed to be the amateur company’s Christmas production.

We, the audience, were very much cast as the audience at the amateur company’s performance. When the cast addressed us as the audience, they were in character as the amateur actors addressing their own local audience. They played it straight in this respect.

There was no suggestion of the third layer – that we were an audience at the Devonshire Park Theatre watching a professional company pretending to be amateurs. There was no knowing wink to the audience, nor any acknowledgement that they were creating an imaginary world where ridiculous things happen.

Any why should there be? Judging by the laughter around me, this wasn’t a problem for most of the audience. But I found it a tricky position to be in. I was being asked to suspend my disbelief – and yet I was also being asked to laugh. If I really did buy into the world of the play, then the evening was not funny but painful. Lord knows I’ve seen enough not-very-good amateur productions in my time.

Despite these reservations, there were moments that made me laugh out loud. And there were moments that I recognised with amusement from real productions I’d seen. I just felt that it could have been much funnier if only Mischief Theatre’s writing and direction had been a little more mischievous.

Farinelli and the King - Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, Shakespeare's Globe

I went to see the last performance of Farinelli and the King at the Globe’s Sam Wanamaker Playhouse on Sunday 8^th March 2015, and I haven’t had much time to write about it since. So sorry this is rather short!

This was a strange, sad little play – both humorous and melancholy. Musing on the relationship between dreams and reality, madness and reason, the physical and the metaphysical, the court and the forest, private and public.

The dual casting of Farinelli – singer (William Purefoy) and actor (Sam Crane) playing the same role – only heightened this sense of duality. The voice as separate from the man.

And surely the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse is the ideal setting for this play. Close, candlelit, intimate, but with obscured sightlines meaning you could only ever see part of the action. A wonderful acoustic, too – important for the music.

It was my first visit to the Globe’s indoor theatre and it felt a little strange coming to the Globe and not worrying about the weather. It’s another magical space, though. And it’s always a pleasure to see Mark Rylance do his thing. Especially here.

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.