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Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts

Monday, 26 October 2015

At the National Theatre

'THREE DAYS IN THE COUNTRY'
By R.J. Chellel
PJ Theatre Critic
[WC News Service]
LONDON
Three Days In the Country, 'a version' of the Turgenov play by Patrick Marber who also directed. Cast included John Simm (outstanding as Rakitin), Mark Gatiss (as the melancholic, sarcastic doctor, Shpigelsky), John Light (with a big beard and oddly macho as the landowner, Arkady), Amanda Drew (as his bored and sexually frustrated wife), Royce Pierreson (the heart-throb student, Belyaev), Lily Sacofsky (the seventeen year-old Vera), and Nigel Betts (the foolish, fat, rich neighbour, Bolshintsov.) Also Debra Gillett, Gawn Grainger and Cherrelle Skeete.

I try to keep a record of the plays I've seen, usually writing down my impressions in a sort of review -- as  kind of aide memoire.  As I've been to nearly sixty plays this year alone, this amounts to quite a few pages, even if I don't get around to reviewing every production.  
I tend to avoid the big West End theatres. But I do go to the National Theatre fairly often. There are three auditoriums there:  the two huge ones (the Lyttelton and the Olivier), and the smaller studio theatre, now called the Dorfman in honour of the big cheese of the TravelEx money-changing company who has donated zillions to the NT.  

Obviously producers at the National have enormous (state-subsidised) budgets to work with, sums fringe companies can only dream about.  Whether the money necessarily buys quality is an interesting question.

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Theatre Review: Valhalla at Theatre503



VALHALLA
By Paul Murphy|Directed by Jo McInnes|To 24 October at Theatre503, 503 Battersea Road, London SW11                                                                          

As violence sweeps the city, an exhausted couple seek refuge in an isolated Nordic research centre. They are on the brink of discovering the cure for a devastating global disease when cracks in their marriage start to appear. Suddenly they find themselves forced to choose between conflicting allegiances to love and science. Conceived against the backdrop of a bewitching volcanic landscape, this extraordinary play questions the ethics of medical research, genetics and the endurance of human love.

NORSE-IATING

By R.J. CHELLEL, PJ Theatre Critic

LONDON [WC News Service]- After attending VaIhalla at Theatre503 the other night, I read that wretched play on the way home, and it's as bad on the page as it was on the stage.


I remembered those flashed-up Icelandic titles at the beginning of each act.  I looked them up, and they, all four of them, relate to Norse mythology.  So, for example, Nastrond  (sorry, I don't know how to do diacriticals on the computer) at the start of Act III means 'Corpse Shore', the place in the afterlife where Nithoggr lives and chews on the bodies of those guilty of murder, adultery and oath-breaking -- which Norsemen considered the worse possible crime.

Two questions arise:  (1) how is anyone in the audience (apart from the odd Viking) supposed to know this?  And (2) what has it got to do with the play?  The melange of mythology, magic and science never made much sense to me. 

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Theatre

This Lady was only Fair
By VICTORIA ORDIN
[Special to Writers Clearinghouse News Service]
Santa Barbara, California
Let me preface this mixed review of My Fair Lady by saying I loved being at the Granada watching my (and Dad’s) favorite musical on Father’s Day and that my dinner at Maggie’s was typically sublime.  I have not felt such affection for a restaurant in all my years in Santa Barbara. For more on Maggie’s, see my On Maggie\’s and my Non-Helicopter Parents.
 
The show, however, was on several levels a disappointment, first and foremost because something was wrong with the sound and Jonathan Pryce’s singing and speech were both garbled. Gregory Jbara (Pickering) was all but unintelligible and it pains me to say this of such a great star, but his voice is gone. I mean totally gone.

Sunday, 4 January 2009

Joey Makes it Big! Headlines on Broadway!

Pal Joey Morphs to Bud Joey

New York
By Richard Carreño
I've never seen original stage production of Pal Joey. Nor, have I seen the 1957 film with Rita Hayworth (top billing, by the way), Frank Sinatra, and Kim Novak. (It's now in my Netflix queue). But I do have the vinyl soundtrack of the cinema production, and I so I know what the lyrics of the original are all about. The Roundabout Theatre Company's revival, er 'rivisal,' of Pal Joey at Studio 54, which I saw yesterday, is not exactly about the same thing.


Joey Evans, everyone's lovable pal with, at plumb, a heart of fool's gold (an alchemist's dream) is now, in today's parlance, everyone's favourite 'bud.' Forget, stud.

Things change. And, yes, it makes sense to transition Joey from a 30s ChiTown sharpie into a newer version -- say, a 60s Vegas entertainment hustler, something on the order of Joey Bishop, or Sammy Davis, Jr. You know, one of those lesser lights in the Rat Pack, emphasis on rat. (New book by Richard Greenberg).

Still, some of the changes in the current offering are seemingly needless. I know I'm a bit deaf (a real hazard if you're supposed to be reviewing musicals), but for the life of me I can't remember the less-than-memorable Matthew Risch as Joey (no Gene Kelly of the original, nor Sinatra, he) singing The Lady is a Tramp. (Please, tell me it ain't true). Tramp, of course, in a louche finger-snapping version, became one of Sinatra's signature tunes.

Zip also got updated. Reminds me of when some genius told Cole Porter that he should change the lyrics in Anything Goes (?) from 'the Louvre Museum' to 'the Field Museum' because middle-America wouldn't get it. At least, Bewitched stays in!

Incidentally, Stockard Channing is no knockout in this production, as well. Her pipes are adequate. But her delivery is limited. Belting out a tune -- ah, for the days of Ethel Merman! -- is not part of her range. Also, Stockard, what's up with the the Locust Valley lockjaw? George Plimpton in drag, maybe? (Stockard, remember your name is only a vowel away from 'Stockyard'). At least her, voice hasn't devolved into a Katherine Hepburn cackle. Yet.

Is this the Joey that flowed from the Master's pen? Obviously not. Would O'Hara be outraged, Of course. (But, then again, he was pretty much outraged by everything that contradicted his first draft of craft).

Incidentally, among my collection of the Pal Joey stories is a 1999 Prion edition (£4.99). This part of the London publishers' 'Film Ink' series. 'For copyright reasons,' we're told, this edition, with a new introduction by the late, great Matthew Bruccoli, (and its edition of BUtterfield 8, as well) are not available in the United States. Huh? I'd love someone to explain why O'Hara's works in their purist forms -- some of them, at least -- are tied in copyright knots, while 'rivisals' like the new Joey get a pass. Of course, this being America, I suppose it's about money. But whose pocket is getting lined?

Also, I have five extra copies of this production's Playbill. If you want one, let me know. They're free -- except I'll need $1.50 in postage and handling. Query me for details.

(This article originally appeared on the website of the John O'Hara Society via http://www.oharasociety.blogspot.com/. Richard Carreño is the Society's Corresponding Secretary).