The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, Minerva Theatre, CFT Chichester, July 2012

Bertolt Brecht wrote this play, parodying Hitler as Chicago mobster Arturo Ui, in less than a month in 1941 while awaiting his US visa in Helsinki. Other main characters represent various people Hitler either used or killed to get where he was. Its didacticism is intended for an American audience, and although the first act dragged a bit, the second proved to be far more riveting, and the acting was superb.

Nightclub musicians at the start, all images Manuel Harlan

Henry Goodman in the title role gave an extraordinary performance, showing a hunchback worthy of Richard III, and comic elements worthy of Peter Sellers. After a row among his accomplices when he says, “I want what’s best for you. And I know what’s best for you!”, he is left alone, and the scene with the piano was pure Inspector Clouseau. This is followed by a magnificent coup de theâtre brought on by the dramatic appearance of a 1930s car at night with headlights blazing.

Ui and right hand man Roma

William Gaunt gave a fine portrayal of the highly respected Dogsborough (Paul von Hindenburg), and some of the low-life Chicago accents were brilliant, particularly Michael Feast as Roma and Joe McGann as Giri (representing Ernst Röhm and Joseph Goebbels). Helpful notes in the programme tie the various scenes to historical facts from Hitler’s rise to power up until the Anschluss with Austria, represented here by the Chicago suburb of Cicero. In reality Cicero was ethnically Czech, but fiercely independent of Chicago, as Brecht doubtless knew. Lizzy McInnerny as the powerful lady of Cicero, wife of the murdered Dullfoot (Austrian Chancellor Dollfuss), made a welcome female addition to an mostly male cast, and her interactions with Hitler — I mean Ui — were carried off to perfection.

Ui on the way up

This excellent production by Jonathan Church ends with the dictator on a high podium, from which the cover is later torn off revealing the means by which he arrived there. In the meantime we have been treated to wonderful theatrical effects, well lit by Tim Mitchell, with very effective designs by Simon Higlett, and music by Matthew Scott that includes excerpts from Wagner: Siegfried’s funeral march in Act I, and the Pilgrims’ march from Tannhäuser just before the end.

The play was not staged until 1958, after Brecht’s death, but with the rise and fall of numerous dictators today — some comical like this one, some less so — productions are surely welcome. And finally the text allows Henry Goodman to remove his moustache and utter the ominous lines, “Do not rejoice in his defeat, you men. For though the world has stood up and stopped the bastard, the bitch that bore him is on heat again”.

Performances continue until July 28 — for details click here.

Uncle Vanya, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, April 2012

For mockery and a self-deprecating sense of humour, Roger Allam’s Vanya is hard to beat.

Roger Allam as Vanya, all images Johan Persson

From his first clumsy entrance onto stage, to his bumbled expostulation, “I could have been a Dostoevsky”, and his failure to shoot the brother-in-law he’s learned to detest, this was a Vanya fated to manage the estate as an also-ran. The brother-in-law, Professor Serebryakov is a clever narcissist, attractive to the ladies, and as portrayed by Timothy West an endearingly frail old fool.

Timothy West as Serebryakov

Both Vanya and Dr. Astrov, very engagingly portrayed here by Alexander Hanson, are enamoured of Serebryakov’s young (second) wife Yelena, played by Lara Pulver, but she lacked allure, and seemed overly neurotic. By contrast, Vanya’s niece, Sonya is supposed to be very plain, and Dervla Kirwan managed to make herself a rather dull fish, without being tiresome like Yelena. Maggie McCarthy and Anthony O’Donnell were a delight as the homely consciences of the house, providing earthy background against which Vanya could lose his head and his heart, and Astrov and Sonya just their hearts. But in this production by Jeremy Herrin, in a colloquial translation by Michael Frayn, the youthful anima of Yelena never gave them a reason to become so besotted.

I liked the sets by Peter McKintosh with the windows at the rear of the stage through which we see the outside world as in a mist, with rain dripping down when the storm comes exactly on cue with Vanya’s prediction. I liked the lighting by Chahine Yavroyan that gave that mistiness to the outer world, and I loved the two musicians setting the scene by playing wind and strings behind the windows.

Sonya and Uncle Vanya

This Chekhov play is a wonderful vehicle for taking an irreverent sweep at those nit-picking academics, in their fake-ivory hovels, who dissect the work of other more creative people. And Vanya’s pamphlet-reading mother, trying to understand the work of second-rate minds, is a harbinger of the later nonsense that was to engulf Russia, less than two decades after the author’s death. Yet the irritating narcissism of Vanya’s mother and the Professor were subdued in this production, and I wonder whether some of her lines were cut. The most irritating presence was the young wife Yelena, but in the end as she and her husband leave, Roger Allam’s Vanya is the focus of our attention in the slow dénouement. Will he blow his brains out, or accept his niece’s emotional support in doing the numbers and seeing that the point of life is life itself, as Dr. Chekhov well knew.

Performances continue until May 5 — for details click here.

The Syndicate, Chichester, Minerva Theatre, August 2011

A stylish 1960s Neapolitan Godfather who only bribes or uses force when “it’s in a good cause”, Don Antonio is still forceful at age 75, compelling immense obedience and respect. When asked to adjudicate things, he listens but he’s the one who poses the questions and persuades the two parties to a just solution.

Gavin Fowler centre, all photos Manuel Harlan

Ian McKellen

The author, Eduardo de Filippo (1900–84) was a son of Naples and a National Treasure, a celebrated playwright, and a brilliant actor famous for his pauses and light gestures. With such a remarkable actor behind the original creation, playing the main role in this drama must be a challenge, but Ian McKellen rose to it superbly. His portrayal was wonderfully sympathetic, his timing perfect.

Michael Pennington

Events start with barking dogs and noises off, after which Michael Pennington, as Don Antonio’s doctor and right hand man, appears to be the principal character, dealing efficiently with the ugly kerfuffle of a wounded man. Yet as Don Antonio enters it becomes clear who is in charge, and only at the end does Pennington take centre stage again. He was entirely convincing throughout, well aided by the other cast members who all owe allegiance to Don Antonio. Well, almost all, because one man decides to reject his well meant advice. This was Arturo, a friend from way back, well played by Oliver Cotton, showing initial strength that soon turns to narcissistic weakness and fear. Gavin Fowler gave a fine portrayal as his estranged son Rafiluccio, and Annie Hemingway showed utter plainness and emotional anguish as the son’s pregnant ‘woman’. By contrast, Cherie Lunghi as Don Antonio’s wife was pretty, charming and beautifully controlled.

The entire cast worked together in a way that allowed this drama to show what its author surely intended — a slice of life. The family is central to everything, and when Don Antonio’s attempt to reconcile father and son fails he decides to take matters into his own hands. The result is unexpected, and suddenly the play shows up the dissimulation of weak minds, who simply say what they think they’re supposed to.

As a playwright, Eduardo de Filippo insisted that the simplest means of production could produce the most impact, and is quoted as saying ‘Six meters of front stage, no more. I staged everything I wished in a few square metres like these’. This production by Sean Mathias in a new English version by Mike Poulton adheres admirably to this dictum. It’s simple and theatrically very effective — catch it now in its first performances with this wonderful cast.

Production images will be put up later, when available.

Performances at the Minerva Theatre in Chichester continue until August 20 — for details click here. It then goes on tour to: Malvern Festival Theatre, Aug 23–27; Cambridge Arts Theatre, Aug 29–Sept 3; Theatre Royal Bath, Sept 5–10; Milton Keynes Theatre, Sept 12–17.

The Master Builder, Chichester, Minerva Theatre, September 2010

“No, I can’t take it anymore” says Knut Brovik, an old architect who now works for Halvard Solness, the Master Builder. Brovik’s son Ragnar, and Ragnar’s finacée Kaia Fosli also work for Solness, and the world revolves around this highly successful, but very insecure man. He holds Ragnar down by refusing to approve his excellent drawings, and holds Ms. Fosli close to him, so we think we see the picture clearly — a man who appears to reject his dutiful wife, while keeping Ragnar down so he can enjoy the young man’s fiancée. Yet like many things in Ibsen it’s not that simple, and when a wild young woman, Hilda Wangel strides into the house all is lost.

Solness’s narcissism has finally found the perfect mirror, and his previous worries about being delusional are suddenly personified in this delusional young woman who claims he once kissed her and promised her a kingdom. Did she really meet him ten years ago and see this acrophobic man climb to the steeple on one of his own churches? He apparently believes it, so taken is he with her games, but she is the catalyst for his downfall, made reality by climbing the tower of one of his own creations. In the meantime she shows generosity to Ragnar by forcing Solness to validate his drawings, but it’s all too late for Ragnar’s father, who couldn’t take life any more.

Michael Pennington as Halvard Solness, photo by Manuel Harlan

Michael Pennington slowly brings out hidden complexities in the character of Solness, helping us understand his assertion that, “there are so many demons in the world”. His was a magnificent performance — a portrayal of great depth — and his wife was beautifully played by Maureen Beattie, allowing us to see her pain at the fire that once destroyed all her possessions. Those dolls — each one alive for her — all perished, and though she says the loss of her twin sons was God’s will, the nurseries are still kept ready for use, beds made up. Pip Donaghy was a sympathetic Dr. Herdal, and Solness’s ‘team’ — his secretary Kaja Fosli, the young architect Ragnar Borvik, and his father Knut — were all well played by Emily Wachter, Philip Cumbus, and John McEnery, as mere appendages to the great narcissist. Naomi Frederick played Hilda Wangel as an intense, slightly whacky yet surprisingly controlled young woman, though I would have preferred less volume at times.

Philip Franks’ direction gave us a drama that moved forward with energy, and this new version of Ibsen’s play by David Edgar — based on a literal translation by an expert — gave a text that flowed well and fitted the time of the drama. Costumes were all late nineteenth century, and the simple stage designs by Stephen Brimson Lewis, flipping interior to exterior, were excellent. The music by Matthew Scott gave a sense of mysterious forces at work, and the whole effect was well worth the trip from London.

Performances continue until October 9 — for details click here.

The Real Inspector Hound / The Critic, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, July 2010

Both these entertaining plays end rather suddenly after a few bangs and plenty of laughs. With a poor cast they could easily fail, but in these performances the stylish overacting kept the audience in suspense and drew out the humour without ever overdoing it.

Moon and Birdfoot

In The Real Inspector Hound, Tom Stoppard uses his intellectual gymnastics to create a spoof of the murder mystery in an isolated house, temporarily cut off from the world by the rising tide. But it’s more than that — it’s also a parody of The Mousetrap, with the inspector arriving not on skis but wearing ‘two inflatable — and inflated — pontoons with flat bottoms about two feet across’. Stoppard used the title The Critics in an early draft of the play, and its connection with Sheridan’s Critic in this double bill is that both plays involve critics taking part in the action. In Hound the critics Moon and Birdboot are played with understated panache, and in true 1960s style, by Richard McCabe and Nicholas Le Prevost. They were both utterly convincing, the one as a second rank theatre critic, and the other as a womaniser who takes advantage of his alleged ability to influence careers.

Hound, The Company

The other actors were equally superb, with Una Stubbs as Mrs Drudge, and Sophie Bould and Hermione Gulliford as the attractive ladies of the house, Felicity and Cynthia. Joe Dixon played a creepily foppish Simon, Derek Griffiths a suitably single-minded Inspector Hound, and Sean Foley provided excellent spice as the irascibly assertive Major Magnus, as well as collaborating with Jonathan Church in directing both plays. The audience sat on all four sides of the stage, with the small critics’ section replaced after the interval by a curtained stage for Sheridan’s play within a play.

Puff, Sneer and Dangle

In The Critic we had many of the same actors, with Nicholas Le Prevost now playing Mr. Dangle, a rather boring and unctuously sincere theatre critic of the late eighteenth century. Una Stubbs was his wife, showing ennui and wit in equal measure, and Derek Griffiths was the supposedly more professional critic Mr. Sneer. Sean Foley reappeared in the delightfully camp role of Sir Fretful Plagiary, giving a marvellous solo performance, and Richard McCabe was superb as the playwright and impresario Puff whose play The Spanish Armada is given a rehearsal in front of the critics.

Mr. Puff's play

While the real Spanish Armada was of course in 1588, recent events in the summer of 1779, in which Britain found itself in a state of war with Spain, had inspired Mr. Puff to his creation, and this production of The Critic cleverly inserts some absolutely up-to-date remarks on politics during the preamble in Mr. Dangle’s drawing room. As to Mr. Puff’s play, which the actors had mercifully cut in places, the ham acting is very funny, yet the author of the text remains brilliantly in charge of his rehearsal, despite inconvenient questions and alterations. The entire ‘rehearsal’ cast worked wonderfully well together, with Joe Dixon delightful in overacting the part of Don Ferolo Whiskerandos. The final crash of part of the scenery was, at least to me, wholly unexpected and dramatic, and in case any audience member had got up to leave in proximity to the imminent event, an usher was ready to stop them. If the crash seemed dangerously real, it was, and along with other howlers it formed a glorious ending.

This wonderful double bill continues until 28^th August — for more details, click here. All photos by Manuel Harlan.

Bingo: Scenes of Money and Death, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, April 2010

Patrick Stewart as Shakespeare

The bizarre first word of the title, and lack of narrative drive in the text, was a striking contrast to the wonderful acting from a cast headed by Patrick Stewart as William Shakespeare. This 1974 play by Edward Bond, directed by Angus Jackson, is about Shakespeare’s last days. It deals primarily with his wish to protect the income from his landholdings, and secondly with a difficulty in his relationship with his younger daughter Judith. As a piece of fiction it is based on a few facts: Shakespeare did indeed favour a proposed land development by William Combe, played here by Jason Watkins, and he did change his will shortly before his death, leaving most of his estate to his elder daughter Susanna and her husband. An impression is given that Shakespeare cut his younger daughter Judith out of his will, though in fact her inheritance had provisions to protect it from her husband Thomas Quiney, of whose behaviour Shakespeare disapproved.

Patrick Stewart and Richard McCabe as Shakespeare and Ben Johnson

There are six scenes, each interesting enough in itself, but lacking overall momentum. The one I enjoyed most was the fourth, where Ben Johnson, entertainingly played by Richard McCabe, is the life and soul of an evening of heavy drinking with Shakespeare. While Johnson is cheerful and impecunious, Shakespeare is shown as a kindly but taciturn figure, ready to pay when others cannot. One of the talents Patrick Stewart brings to the part is an ability to portray Shakespeare’s long silences while others gaily rant on about things that concern them, but are of little interest to anyone else, including the audience.

The tenor of the times is brought out in the first scene, where Michelle Tate appears as a young woman, journeying without permission to alleged relatives in another part of the country. She needs money, which Shakespeare is happy to provide, but John McEnery, as a foolish and lecherous old retainer, gets her for himself, and she is later strung up on a scaffold for breaking the law in her illicit travels. This was a time in England when people were forbidden to travel without a permit, because of perceived threats by Roman Catholics. A time of casual brutality when executions were the norm, and family members might even pull on the legs of their hanging brethren to shorten the torture — none of the modern skill of calculating the length of rope according to the weight of the body so that dropping yields instant death, rather than a beheading. It was a time of bear baiting when starving dogs were set onto a chained bear, which might be blinded as additional entertainment. The script describes all this, with Shakespeare saying, “I am stupefied by the suffering I’ve seen”. This and the side story of the old retainer being attacked and eventually shot, possibly by his son, along with men running around armed with cudgels, gives the impression of a history lesson — interesting, but lacking in dramatic tension.

The old retainer’s wife, who gently tolerates her nutty husband, was very sympathetically portrayed by Ellie Haddington, and their anger-ridden son by Alex Prince. Catherine Cusack, as Shakespeare’s daughter Judith, showed fury mingled with care towards her father, but with the two of them saying, “I hate you” to one another, I was left with the feeling that while this fiction might be partly true, it might equally well be partly false. Some commentators refer to Lear-like aspects of this play, but I don’t find it remotely on the same level as Lear. What the playwright seems to have done is use Shakespeare as a vehicle for urging the audience to think about the crudity and unfairness of early seventeenth century England. His success would be greater if the play had more energy and drive, and I’m afraid even the presence of Patrick Stewart as the Bard, and fine acting by the rest of the cast, failed to grip me, nor presumably those who left after the interval.

Performances continue to May 22 — for more details click here.