Mother Courage and her Children, The National Theatre - Health Wellbeing

Deborah Warner's stunning new production of Mother Courage and her Children brings to Brecht's tragedy of war a stark contemporary resonance; the cyclical presence of war permeates the minds of the audience just as it does the lives and narratives of the characters from the outset. Before the performance begins in earnest, distorted speeches of twentieth century leaders including Churchill and Bush are played over sounds of artillery fire and battle chaos; surely an explicit demonstration from the get-go that Mother Courage has equal resonance today as it did when Brecht wrote it in 1939.

Brecht's 'Verfremdungseffekt' (or distancing effect) whereby the audience are not to become immersed in the action presented on stage and remain active, critical observers is accomplished in this performance through a number of strategies. The most tangible is the use of signs and captions; locations are non-naturalistic in their representation, and are demonstrated through language, not mimetic replication. An officer's tent is demonstrated by a sign reading 'An Officer's Tent' hoisted above the action, serving to strip away all artifice. Use of signs as indicators of location also serve to make the action feel elongated; although we are told (through Gore Vidal's narration of the scene headings) that Courage and her wagon move across Europe, we consistently see them stuck in the same sparse environment. With the exception of Courage, her children and the wagon, everything else on an aesthetic level is muted and indistinguishable, including the armies fighting each other, further demonstrating the repetitive and dangerously confusing nature of war. The production (and indeed Brecht's original text) is not about a specific war, be it the Thirty Years War, the Second World War or any conflict of the twenty first century, it concerns war and the commoditisation of conflict across epochs.

Throughout the performance, backstage processes are put on stage as a further means through which the artifice of performance can be deconstructed by the audience. Elements of the production process which remain hidden in many contemporary performances are present in Warner's 'Mother Courage'; from a group of stage managers dancing along to one of Duke Special's raucous compositions, to the visible scene transitions, we are actively reminded that we are watching a theatrical construction, not a slice of real life.

However, despite the prevalence of Brecht's distancing techniques in the production, we are nevertheless constantly engaged with the characters. Fiona Shaw's commanding performance in the title role demonstrates the sheer range that is required to play a character as seemingly contradictory and relentless as Courage. She lurches from the effervescent (when bartering with The Cook over the price of a chicken: "It's practically a turkey") to the tragic when she loses each of her adopted children in succession as a result of her failure to separate the role of profiteer from the role of mother. Shaw truly makes the role her own from the moment she arrives on stage serenading the audience perched atop her beloved wagon, and her confident physicality cements Courage's status as earth-mother come shrewd business woman who is rarely intimidated. On the occasions where the language of buying and selling fails her and she loses control of situations (the death of Swiss Cheese), we become all the more empathetic towards her as a result of Shaw's capacity as a performer. To her testament, she does not seem at all overwhelmed by the magnitude and expectation associated with taking on such an iconic part, once famously played by Brecht's second wife, Helen Weigel. Shaw interacts with and feeds off of the audience as much as she does her fellow performers and fills the vast space of the Olivier with an energy which enlivens the entire performance. Clifford Samuel, Harry Melling and Sophie Stone also prove themselves more than capable in their roles as Eilif, Swiss Cheese and Kattrin respectively.

Original musical compositions by Irish singer/songwriter/musician Duke Special (accompanied by his band) bring texture and vibrancy to the performance; the songs he has composed (particularly in their lyrical content) simultaneously evoke a spontaneous, gig-like atmosphere as well as heightening the emotional significance and underlying themes of the piece. The music is infectious and poignantly guides the narrative through to denouement; the final sung line of the piece ('Unless the war goes on in hell...') accompanied by the image of a now lone Mother Courage relentlessly pulling the wagon along behind her into a flood of bright yellow light at the back of the stage demonstrates more than ever the futility of war and poetically brings the tragedy of Courage to a close. Only by losing Eilif, Swiss Cheese and eventually Kattrin does Mother Courage begin to fully count the true cost of war, apart from the price of goods and bargaining.

Although the fact that the audience feels such empathy for Courage, her children and their plight seems contradictory to Brecht's requirement that the spectator remains objective, I would argue that the more we engage with the characters, the more protracted our incomprehension and interrogation of war becomes. By relentlessly throwing tragic event after tragic event at Courage, Brecht in his narrative engages us with her fate, and Fiona Shaw's performance demonstrates a depth of feeling and love for her adopted children which makes her loss of them all the more harrowing. As we become so involved with the fates of Courage, Eilif, Swiss Cheese and Kattrin through both Brecht's dramaturgy and the performances of the actors portraying them, we see the faces of thousands of mothers who have lost sons and daughters as a result of war and thus question how any act of warfare that decimates lives and families in such a way can be called just and carried out in our name, surely accomplishing Brecht's objective of creating an active spectator who sees resonances of the drama they watch in society.

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An Inspector Calls, Novello Theatre - Health Wellbeing

An Inspector Calls, written by J.B Priestley and set in 1912, premiered in the UK after the end of the Second World War in 1946. Over sixty years later, Stephen Daldry's revival has returned to the West End, following its hugely successful inception at the National Theatre in the early 1990's. Telling the tale of the tragic demise of a seemingly anonymous young woman, Priestley's narrative is a parable of social responsibility, pitting the middle-class Birling family against the perplexing, authoritarian figure of Inspector Goole, who quite literally demolishes the foundations upon which the Birlings have built their artificial lives.

The most striking thing about this production is the breathtaking set design, which brings an affluent Edwardian neighbourhood into the theatre, complete with rain, cobbled streets, working streetlamps and an imposingly opulent house, belonging, of course, to the Birling family. The interior of the set is breathtakingly elaborate, demonstrating the disingenuous and narcissistic nature of each of the protagonists within Priestley's narrative. Ian MacNeil's scenography (complemented fantastically by Rick Fisher's lighting design) effectively brings the audience into the world of the Birling family; we at first encounter them from afar and feel almost as if we are spying on them through the windows of their house, isolated from their world of parlour games and platitudes.

As Inspector Goole arrives however, the house physically unfolds as the secrets and lies of the family are systematically revealed by their interrogator; the characters and their shameful deeds no longer have anywhere to hide on stage. The director also ensures that the audience feels an affinity with Inspector Goole from the outset of the performance, by having him make his first entrance through the auditorium, breaking down the parameters which usually exist between the fictional world represented on stage and the real world of the audience. Here the Inspector is the representative of the audience; he poses the questions which we want answered, and holds the characters to account for their appalling behaviour as they each reveal their complicity in the death of their voiceless victim, Eva Smith.

The strongest performances of the cast come from Nicholas Woodeson as Inspector Goole and Marianne Oldham as Sheila Birling. Woodeson brings nuances of his own to a character which has to find the right balance between otherworldliness and authority, and his portrayal of the Inspector as a somewhat unpredictable force echoes the many twists within Priestley's script. Oldham is suitably sensitive as Sheila, and is the only character which I felt underwent a completely earnest reversal of attitude as a result of the interrogation. Although David Roper and Sandra Duncan as Mr and Mrs Birling are adequately irritable, I didn't feel that their performances were pitched at the right level; the hysterical laughter they engage in upon realising that the Inspector isn't all he seems somehow makes a mockery of the sentiment of Priestley's writing and undermines the revelation which is made at the end of the play. Robin Whiting as Eric Birling attempts to bring a level of pathos to the conclusion, but his histrionics do little to evoke any level of empathy with the audience in view of the demonic joy exhibited by both of the older Birlings and Gerald Croft (Timothy Watson) when they believe that they have been exonerated after Goole departs.

Overall, a production which I found more engaging on a technical level than a performative one. In order to have any emotional resonance with the audience, this piece needs to evoke a semblance of realism, something which was attempted but undermined by the archaic and almost pantomime style of acting on the part of Roper and Duncan. Although sound, scenography and lighting all served to evoke a strong atmosphere, sadly I feel the performance was let down by a style of acting which diluted and detracted from the over-arching theme of collective social consciousness which Priestly endeavoured to convey when the play was first written.

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As You Like It, Shakespeare's Globe - Health Wellbeing

Yesterday the weather in London was truly dismal; torrential rain persisted throughout the day, and as I battled my way to Bankside through the deluge, I found myself thankful that I wasn't standing for that afternoon's performance of As You Like It. Directed by Thea Sharrock, the play centres on the characters of Rosalind and Orlando, who fall in love at first sight against a backdrop of political posturing and corruption, as Rosalind's father, Duke Senior, is banished by her uncle, the usurping Duke Frederick. Orlando, the youngest son of the recently deceased Sir Rowland de Boys has been much maligned by his older brother Oliver throughout his young life:

After fighting with his brother, Orlando is ordered to flee his home, escaping to the magical Forest of Arden where the exiled Duke has found safety and enjoys an idyllic lifestyle under the boughs of the lofty trees which populate the forest. Back at court, Rosalind, still enchanted by Orlando, is also banished by her uncle as he considers her popularity too much of a threat to his recently attained power. Despite the protestations of his daughter, Celia, Frederick refuses to renege on his decision. Celia decides to flee to Arden with Rosalind, professing that she shall die if she is out of her company. In the guises of the youthful boy Ganymede and his 'sister' Aliena, Rosalind and Celia, accompanied by the jester Touchstone, quit court for the forest. The fates of Rosalind and Orlando are now more intertwined than ever, and as she counsels him on the art of wooing in the guise of a young boy, the effervescent joy and comedy of Shakespeare's piece envelops both the characters and audience alike.

This production is marked by some outstanding performances. Jack Laskey is a youthful and determined Orlando, and brings tremendous energy to the character. Although Laskey's Orlando may not be as physically imposing as some other members of the cast (indeed when pitted against Charles the Wrestler in Act One Scene Two, the audience doubts whether Orlando will escape with his life, never mind defeat the Duke's prize fighter), his wiry physicality allows him clamber across the stage and through the auditorium with ease. His wide eyed declarations of love elicit many a collective 'aaaah' from the audience, and Laskey seems to understand the comedy of the character extremely well, recognising how the subtlest of looks or particular emphasis on a word can transform the meaning of Shakespeare's writing and alter the dynamics of Orlando's relationships with other characters; this is most evident in the banter he shares with former libertine Jaques, played by Tim McMullan.

Naomi Frederick's Rosalind strikes the perfect balance between romantic sentiment and steely resolve, and she seems to relish the challenge of playing Rosalind's alter-ego, Ganymede, using the opportunity of playing a man to create some lovely comic moments which are not immediately evidence on the page. For instance, when she first speaks to Corin as Ganymede, Frederick coughs and then proceeds to deepen her voice, demonstrating her intrinsic understanding of the character as she assumes the masculine traits which disguise her to the point that she becomes almost unrecognisable when compared to the fanciful 'princess' of the first act. Rosalind's relationship with her cousin Celia is completely believable and endearing, demonstrating that Frederick and Laura Rogers, who plays Celia, must have devoted a good deal of time in the rehearsal process to forging a bond which transposes seamlessly to the stage. Rogers, who was enchanting as Helena in the Globe's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream last year, is as equally assured as Frederick in her performance, and she brings a contemporary feel to the character by incorporating modern gestures and inflections into her execution of Celia.

Perhaps the most memorable performance of the piece comes from Dominic Rowan as Touchstone. The character has some of the most simultaneously baffling and hilarious lines of the play, and Rowan relishes in them. His self-assured physicality demonstrates Touchstone's outlandish confidence and his interactions with the groundlings have the audience in stitches throughout. Rowan too, is a gifted actor who has the ability to utilise improvisation to enhance his characterisation; at one moment, a pigeon flew into the theatre, startling both audience and actors alike. Rowan proceeded to shriek when he saw the aforementioned bird, and later incorporated a line about dive-bombing pigeons into a subsequent monologue. In another instance, he produced a small rain hat for one of his puppets, providing a moment of incidental comedy which would not have unfolded had the weather not been so awful. Tim McMullan as Jaques also took advantage of the rain, making his first entrance through the pit complete with an umbrella before proceeding to ask the audience about 'soaking up the atmosphere'. Indeed, all of the lines in the play about 'rough weather' took on a new resonance, particularly for the groundlings who steadfastly remained exposed to the unrelenting elements for the duration of the performance. McMullan and Rowan are two actors who I think were born to perform at the Globe, and have an inherent understanding of what makes it so magical for performers and spectators alike, McMullan in particular demonstrated this when delivering perhaps the most famous speech in Shakespeare's repertoire:

The design of the production also deserves much commendation; costumes feel organic, earthy and cohesive, creating a unified aesthetic which I felt was lacking in the Globe's earlier production of 'Romeo and Juliet'. Dick Bird's design seeks to further include the audience into the piece, through incorporating two platforms onto the end of the stage which extend well into the pit and propel the world of the play quite literally into the laps of the audience. As black material is removed from the set to reveal oak stained wooden beams, the audience find themselves in the forest as suddenly as Orlando, Rosalind, Celia and Touchstone are ejected from court, in a masterstroke of design which takes the audience completely by surprise. The decision to clothe Orlando and a disguised Rosalind in identical brown leather costumes is also a clear demonstration of their compatibility, and Touchstone's costumes are as elaborate and ostentatious as the character deserves. Stephen Warbeck's musical compositions are wonderfully successful in setting the joyous tone of the piece, and Fin Walker's choreography as demonstrated in the closing jig further encapsulates the vitality and spirit of a production which even the foul London weather failed to dampen.

A simply enchanting production, not to be missed. Try and catch it at the Globe before it finishes on October 10th 2009.

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Second trip to see Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare's Globe - Health Wellbeing

When I first went to see Romeo and Juliet at Shakespeare's Globe, I must confess I found the production disappointing, as my initial review here demonstrates. However, after seeing the final performance of the production on Sunday, I have to say I found it much more enjoyable and engaging a second time around. The actors seemed to have settled into their roles and far from being overwhelmed, they seemed to relish in their final performance.

I always try and make a point of going to the Globe to see the last night of a performance, and last year even the rain that pelted the groundlings (myself included) failed to quell the energetic atmosphere that arises from enjoying Shakespeare as the sun sets on Bankside. Thoroughly enjoyable, and I now find myself regretting that the production has come to an end!

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Phèdre, The National Theatre - Health Wellbeing

The National Theatre's much anticipated production of Jean Racine's tragedy Phèdre (in a version translated by Ted Hughes) more than lives up to expectation. Starring Oscar-winner Helen Mirren as Phèdre, queen consort to Theseus (Stanley Townsend), it was always certain to attract attention, and the praise that has been heaped upon Nicholas Hytner's production thus far has been unanimously complementary and deserved.

The narrative centres around Phèdre's tragic and shameful love for her stepson, Hippolytus (Dominic Cooper), whom she has banished for fear of acting upon her strong desire for him. When word reaches the kingdom of Troezen of the supposed death of Phèdre's husband (and Hippolytus' father) Theseus (Stanley Townsend), Phèdre is encouraged by her nurse Oenone (Margaret Tyzack) to confess her affection for Hippolytus to him. According to her, any incestual implications of a relationship between Phèdre and her stepson are negated by Theseus' death. However, as Phèdre confesses her shameful feelings to Hippolytus, his revulsion is plain. Her shocking revelation combined with Hippolytus falling in love with the princess Aricia (who possesses an ancient claim to the Athenian crown) and the re-appearance of a living Theseus sends the kingdom of Troezen and the lives of the characters into turmoil.

Aesthetically, the most striking thing about this production is the sparse set, designed by Bob Crowley. The proscenium-arch stage is a recreation of a Greek beach, incorporating cliff walls and a sand beach, which extends onto the forestage, bringing the performers (and by default the drama they are enacting) as close to the front row as possible. There are no scene changes in this production, which serves to enhance the claustrophobic feel of the piece, where the lives of the characters teeter on the edge of a cliff and at the mercy of the omnipresent and ever-fearful Gods. Combined with Paule Constable's subtle lighting design, which transforms from bright, almost blinding sunlight at the exposition phase to dark, melancholic shadow as the tragedy unfolds and the characters (specifically Phèdre) tread the thin line between metaphorical light and darkness.

The cast deliver some impressive performances against Racine's tragic backdrop. Helen Mirren is powerful and tormented in the title role, and seeing her perform live reveals her true strength as an actress; she is dynamic and in control throughout and commands the stage with the wealth of experience she has attained throughout her glittering career in the theatre. Dominic Cooper is mature and commanding in the role of Hippolytus, who seethes with anger and passion in equal measure. Cooper paces the stage like a coiled spring and potently demonstrates Hippolytus' inner conflict when he reveals his love for Aricia; the love he feels for her simultaneously consumes and scares him, given that he has seen so many great men become fallible at the hands of a succession of women. Ruth Negga is paradoxically vulnerable and strong as Aricia, and proves the power of a subtle look and stillness can be infinitely more powerful than melodramatic hysteria. John Shrapnel is also excellent is Théramène; both he and Cooper, perhaps even more so than Mirren, relish in their delivery of Ted Hughes' gritty translation of Racine's poetic French text, which, despite its ancient context, feels contemporary and urgent as the audience are confronted with scenes of familial strife, political intrigue and untimely death whilst the piece hurtles at breakneck speed to its tragic conclusion.

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Brief Reviews - Health Wellbeing

Back in April I went to see War Horse and England People Very Nice, but in the midst of exam revision and a busy summer term neglected to write reviews at the time. Nearly three months have passed since I saw these performances and needless to say my terrible memory isn't really up to writing an in-depth review of either, so for now I'll just rate each along with a brief comment.

England People Very Nice, The National Theatre, 16.04.2009, 2pm.
**** (4 stars).

Although dogged by controversy (on stage protests anyone?) regarding the so called 'racist' content of Richard Bean's script, England People Very Nice is an innovative and hilarious look at the waves of immigration to hit the East End of London (specifically Bethnal Green). Bean's script is witty, fast moving and seeks not to demonise immigrants but rather the reaction of the English to them; the French Huguenots, so maligned by the 'native' English when they first arrived in London go on to profess that the influx of Irish immigrants a generation later will destroy their homes and livelihoods. To call the play 'racist' is a simplistic dismissal of a piece which addresses not only issues of cultural identity but also national pride and patriotism, whilst remaining topical and engaging throughout.

War Horse, The New London Theatre, 18.04.2009, 2.30pm.
***** (5 stars).

The biggest recommendation I can offer this performance is simply that I would go and see it again, multiple times. Heartrending and visually enchanting, this has to be the best piece of theatre I have seen. Words simply cannot do it justice.

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All's Well That Ends Well, The National Theatre - Health Wellbeing

This production of one of Shakespeare's lesser known works under the direction of Marianne Elliott turns the fairytale 'happily ever after' ending on its head. The story centres on Helena, a lowly maid who serves the Countess of Rossillion whilst harbouring a secret love for her mistress' son, Bertram. In order to win Betram's affection, Helena is set a series of seemingly impossible tasks, which even if accomplished, will be no guarantee of his love. The odds seem stacked against our heroine from the start, but her resourcefulness, fortitude and spirit see her healing an ailing monarch, confronting class and generation divides and following her 'husband' to the frontline of battle.

The aesthetic of the piece has the feel of a gothic fairytale, further illustrating that in the world created on stage nothing is as it seems. It is to the credit of Rae Smith's stage design that the audience is seamlessly transported from the extravagance of the court of the King of France to the forests of Italy. Set and lighting are especially impressive, and the use of backscreen projection is both innovative and comic, particularly when Parolles (Conleth Hill) is pursued by a wolf into the forest. The return of the triumphant forces led by Betram to The Widow's refuge for pilgrims is also very well executed, as the scene moves from slow motion to normal speed, illuminating the actions of certain characters, and directing us to observe Helena's reaction to Bertram after being apart from him for so long.

Michelle Terry excels as Helena in this performance and presents the vulnerability and determination of her character with energy and pathos. Her diction is excellent and she seems to really understand the language she delivers, and is acutely aware of how the whole meaning of a line can be changed if she delivers it in a different way. George Rainsford is appropriately arrogant as Bertram, and his facial expressions upon discovering his bethrothal to Helena say more than words ever could. Conleth Hill is excellent as Parolles, as are Elliot Levey and Tony Jayawardena as the 1st and 2nd Lords Dumaine respectively, providing moments of laughter in a performance which although considered a comedy, has a wholly bittersweet conclusion as the fates of the newlyweds Bertram and Helena remain ambiguous to the audience.

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Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre - Health Wellbeing Magazine

Romeo and Juliet is perhaps Shakespeare's most famous play. Written in the same year as one of my personal favourites, A Midsummer Night's Dream, the narrative is universally known. This alone makes it a challenge for any director to maintain the interest of the audience throughout the many tedious (and lengthy) preambles to the tragic conclusion of the piece, and is something which it seems Dominic Dromgoole's production at Shakespeare's Globe suffers from.

The performance began promisingly enough, as members of the chorus and musicians performed dirges and poems from the 16th century, including a composition by Walter Raleigh, which cites life as a 'play of passion', an appropriate prelude to a narrative which is argued as the most romantic of all time. Unfortunately however, the interactions between Romeo and Juliet in this performance never reached the intensity required in order to maintain the interest of an audience through to the denouement.

The main problem I had with this performance was rooted in Ellie Kendrick's portrayal of Juliet. Although the character is weak by comparison to some of Shakespeare's feistier heroines (Katherina in The Taming of the Shrew, Portia in The Merchant of Venice) she is still gifted with some eloquent and powerful speeches. However, Kendrick's poor diction often means that the subtleties of Shakespeare's language are lost, and in her haste to deliver her lines (presumably before she forgets them) she makes the performing of Juliet feel laboured, when it should feel carefree and natural. Kendrick looks uncomfortable and overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the stage and I never got the feeling that any of the sentiment behind her Juliet was felt in earnest.

Adetomiwa Edun's Romeo is far better than Kendrick's Juliet, and he seems to relish the challenge of the character, delivering speeches emphatically and commanding the stage with gusto. However, his Romeo seems far older than Juliet, and the pairing feels unbalanced from the outset, something which makes Edun's task in portraying a lovesick young man even more difficult.

Particularly memorable performances in this rather stagnant production come from Philip Cumbus as the bawdy yet fiercely loyal Mercutio; indeed his famous death scene takes on a new comic dynamic as Mercutio tries to disguise his hurt from his fellows. Jack Farthing too portrays Benvolio with a youthful enthusiasm and offers a light-hearted and jovial interpretation of a character who is too often performed as middle aged and stern. Fergal Mcelherron is welcome comic relief in his multiple roles and performs with an energy which the performance as a whole is lacking.

The aesthetic of the piece also lacks cohesion; the costumes feel like they have been procured from the Globe's dress up box of breeches and dresses left from previous performances and the central staircase, far from being an interesting addition to the set, becomes irritating as actors labour up and down it with little energy. Overall a disappointing performance, which I only hope is not the benchmark for the 2009 season at the Globe.

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Death and the King's Horseman, The National Theatre - Health Wellbeing Magazine

Rufus Norris' new production of Wole Soyinka's rarely staged masterpiece was a vibrant if ultimately tragic journey into Yoruban culture. From the rich vibrancy of the communal market, to the symbolic all white ball thrown in honour of a visiting dignitary, the stage design, overseen by Katrina Lindsay was faultless, consistently leaving the audience breathless as bales of hay came to life and the ensemble danced with dummies.

Standout performances came from Lucian Msamati and Jenny Jules as Simon and Jane Pilkings respectively, performing the white colonisers in white face paint and with perfect cut-glass accents. Their first entrance, where they danced on to the stage dressed in traditional egungun costumes, engendered rapturous laughter from the audience, complemented by a member of the ensemble dressed as a lamp, which came to life when switched on and off.

Clare Benedict was equally warm and formidable as Iyaloja, the 'mother' of the market, and praise too must go to Kobna Holdbrook-Smith as Olunde, Elesin's son, who is gifted with perhaps the most striking dialogue of the play as he shatters the Pilkings' illusions about the world in which they live.Nonzo Anozie's portrayal of Elesin struck a different chord to the expected; on paper the Horseman is an honourable man and his failure in enacting his ritual suicide can be largely attributed to the intervention of Pilkings in a culture which he does not understand. However, by bravely playing Elesin as a smug, self assured and above all fallible character, Anozie encourages the audience, as well as the other characters to consider whether his godlike status is rightly deserved, especially in light of the tragic events which follow his failure to carry out his sacred duty to his King.

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