‘The Fantasticks’ (Bedlam: 9 – 12 Oct ’13)

Posted in Bedlam, Rated: Unrated, Theatre by Richard Stamp

Image by Louise Spence

“Performed in New York almost continuously since 1960, The Fantasticks is a curiously-constructed musical. The first act is cutesy – sometimes to a fault – telling the knowingly-ridiculous tale of a forbidden teenage romance, and of two fathers’ efforts to control their love-struck offspring.”

“Try to remember the kind of September / When life was slow, and oh, so mellow,” exhorts The Fantasticks’ famed opening song. Well, they’ve missed September by a week or two, but in every other respect Edinburgh University Theatre Company have fulfilled that brief: this is a warm-hearted, uncomplicated production, which gently lulls you backwards into an agreeably nostalgic haze. Sadly, however, the lyric also foretells this production’s main weakness. It’s all just a little bit slow.

Performed in New York almost continuously since 1960, The Fantasticks is a curiously-constructed musical. The first act is cutesy – sometimes to a fault – telling the knowingly-ridiculous tale of a forbidden teenage romance, and of two fathers’ efforts to control their love-struck offspring. But after the interval, the scenes grow dream-like and altogether darker, in a dislocating transition which this particular production never quite pulled off. It doesn’t help that the original boy-meets-girl plot is wrapped up by the end of Act One, leaving the second half to lumber away from an awkward standing start.

But we can’t blame EUTC for the plot’s idiosyncrasies, and they’ve certainly had fun responding to its old-style American charm. Jordan Robert-Laverty neatly captures the clean-cut naivety of a 1950’s college boy, while Claire Saunders excels as his swooning 16-year-old paramour, milking the comedy of her role without ever quite crossing the line into over-acting. Saunders’ voice lends her songs an almost operatic tone, and contrasts nicely with the more natural style of Alexandre Poole – who brings an understated authority to his multi-faceted role as both villain and narrator.

Muscially, however, the performance suffered from frustrating inconsistency, with almost all the actors delivering showstopping performances for some songs while clearly struggling with others. The surprising exceptions were Daniel Harris and Thomas Ware, playing the two teenagers’ warring fathers; their characters seem at first to be formulaic comedy chumps, but soon prove to be far more. Harris and Ware both have fine, comforting voices, and their harmonising duets proved a thoroughly unexpected highlight – enhanced by some genuinely witty, if slightly methodical, dance.

Indeed, the whole production demonstrates a playful sense of physicality, with an impressive swordfight (and gloriously extended death scene) raising the stakes just before the interval. But whenever the pace wasn’t being dictated by the music, the energy ebbed away.

So EUTC’s production isn’t quite fantastic – but it’s an enjoyable, stylish, and life-affirming version of a cosily charming musical. Credit must also go to pianist Dan Glover and harpist (yes, harpist) Sam MacAdam, whose position at the side of the stage brings them very much into the heart of the performance. It’s a show I’ll be sure to remember.

9Oct2013

Dan Lentell in Conversation with Toby Park re. ‘Oedipussy’

Posted in Interviews, Previews, Theatre, Traverse by Dan Lentell

On the afternoon of 9 October ’13 Edinburgh49‘s Dan Lentell met up with Toby Park, artistic director of Spymonkey productions to talk about their unconventional take on an old classic.

https://getyourcoatson.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/listen-to-our-interview-with-toby-park.mp3

Listen to our interview with Toby Park

Visit Oedipussy homepage here.

Read Alan Brown’s review of the show (forthcoming).

4Oct2013

‘Educating Ronnie’ (Traverse: 2 – 5 Oct ’13)

Posted in Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre, Traverse by Alan Brown

“The money Joe sent would have provided the deposit on a house in a northern industrial town, or in more personal terms an engagement ring.”

Editorial Rating: Nae Bad

It is a touching story. It touched Joe Douglas for near on £19,300. By the end of the show, at the end of their story, Joe calculates exactly what it cost him over ten years to educate a young Ugandan, Ronnie.

It is a true morality tale that begins in 2002 with Joe, an 18 year old out of Stockport, enjoying a six week gap-year trip to Uganda, whose sights and sounds hit him ‘like a pop-up book’. It is not long after returning home that Ronnie ask Joe for help.

We never meet Ronnie but read and hear his emails and txts. They are pretty short, spell out how much money he needs to keep his education going and – later – how much to compensate the family of a fatal road traffic accident; how much to pay the hospital for his dying mother. The emails present on a video screen of a blackboard and then, diminished, pile up into an on-going reminder of Ronnie’s situation. There are beer mugs up there too, a nice calculation in student terms of how many pints can be bought for the £20 regularly sent to Ronnie by Western Union money transfer.

Joe introduces his story with the lights up. He is not a trained actor (the programme notes make clear his credentials as a director) and he would apologise for that. No need really; his one-man performance starts as he talks fondly to the seat reserved for his aunt Maria in the front row, for it is his auntie who looked after him in Uganda, and who interestingly did not take to Ronnie.

The money Joe sent would have provided the deposit on a house in a northern industrial town, or in more personal terms an engagement ring. He does actually take a ring out of his pocket and smiles, remarking that his parents paid for the wedding. And Ronnie? The BBC World Service went looking for him when this story was first staged at the Fringe in 2012. He has a FaceBook page apparently and does not want a copy of the script.

This work, a co-production by Macrobert and Utter, is smooth. Its careful technicals are well-rehearsed, the soundtrack is appropriate without sentimentality, Joe Douglas’s performance is characterful and honest. His story asks you to risk a leap of faith. I’m glad I did.

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Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 2 October)

Visit Educating Ronnie homepage here.

29Sep2013

‘Dark Road’ (Lyceum: 25 Sept – 19 Oct ’13)

Posted in Rated: Unrated, The Lyceum, Theatre by madeleinekeash

Image by Douglas McBride

“The production is a mixed bag in most regards.”

Editorial Rating: Unrated

Ian Rankin is no stranger to Edinburgh’s criminal underworld –fictionally, of course. Inspector Rebus, Rankin’s most famous literary creation, is known to millions as the slightly off-beat but loveable curmudgeon, for whom this city’s cobbled streets are home. Perhaps it is no surprise, then, that his theatrical debut (in collaboration with the Lyceum’s own Mark Thomson) is firmly rooted in this world.

It is twenty five years since the conviction of Alfred Chalmers for the murder and mutilation of four young Edinburgh women (there are definite comparisons to be made with the BBC’s hit series The Fall). This, combined with her thirtieth anniversary of being on the force, provokes Superintendent Isobel McArthur (Maureen Beattie) to reflect on what proved a land mark case in her career; or, more specifically, on a nagging doubt she has harboured since that day. Dredging up the past, however, reveals a well of raw emotions in both her closest work colleagues and her only daughter, Alexandra.

The production is a mixed bag in most regards. On the one hand, much of the writing is disappointingly predictable – not simply in terms of the plot, but also the inclusion of well-worn topics such as sexism in the police, the role of a policeman’s ‘hunch’ in conviction, and the bureaucratic barrier of paperwork that stands between policemen and ‘real police work’; a commentary that fails to really add any new angles on these issues. On the other, some of the writing is delicious – finding its strongest moments in scenes of quippy character interaction.

Similarly, a handful of characters were intensely believable – Philip Whitchurch’s portrayal of Alfred Chalmers was magnetic, managing to baffle the audience and leave us in a confused state, somewhere between terror and sympathy. But, at the other end of the spectrum, Sara Vickers (Alexandra) was lumped with a caricature of a teenage girl, whose mood swings between being angsty and angry, and as horny as a bitch in heat, leave her little room for development.

An area of no doubt, however, was staging – which was certainly the production’s strongest suit. The three room revolve worked incredibly well, particularly with the addition of corridors which provided both a realistic edge and an extra dimension to the performance. Furthermore, the soundtrack, ranging from a lamenting violin to Psycho inspired string segments, did much to add dramatic tension in scenes and maintain atmosphere between them; combining well with projections that slowly built a visual backstory for the audience.

Dark Road has the beginnings of a good production, but there is work to be done. It would benefit from some trimming – particularly in the first half, where certain scenes and ideas dragged on too long – and a more careful concealment of the plot to avoid the predictability that currently plagues it. As it stands, Dark Road is middle of the road.

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Reviewer: Madeleine Ash (Seen 28 September)

Visit Dark Road homepage here.

29Sep2013

‘The Baroness: Karen Blixen’s Final Affair’ (Traverse; 27-28 Sept ’13)

Posted in Rated: Unrated, Theatre, Traverse by Dan Lentell

Image by Leila Angus

“Among Denmark’s literary superstars few are more fascinating than Karen Blixen, pen name Isak Dinesen (1883-1962). The Baroness is the story of her final affair: a platonic entanglement with a much younger poet.”

Editorial Rating: Unrated

For a country where summer temperatures struggle to exceed 20°C, in terms of cultural exports, Denmark and all things Danish are surprisingly hot right now. Successes such as The Killing and Borgen have rocketed outside awareness and interest. Among Denmark’s literary superstars few are more fascinating than Karen Blixen, pen name Isak Dinesen (1883-1962). The Baroness is the story of her final affair: a platonic entanglement with a much younger poet.

We enter to find two harp-shaped window frames with fewer right angles than the Goetheanum. In one hangs a tribal mask intended to conjure images of Blitzen’s years as a coffee planter in Africa (I think it resembles Norman Tebbit). An eclectic harmony of furniture perfectly captures the sense that we are looking into the dwelling place of a mind born for the Belle Époque. Her young companion is evidently much less at home. He belongs instead to that new generation which Kennedy’s Danish-American speechwriter would describe a year before Blixen’s death as “tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace.”

The friendship of Blixen and Thorkild Bjørnvig is a matter of historical record. At times the script creeps into the realm of docudrama. When Blixen encourages her protégée to abandon his wife, child and work in order to compel the flow of his artistic creativity, she laments that Denmark is “flat as a duck pond”. Similarly, the muted script gives little sense of a tempest brewing in, or subsequently howling through, the hearts of the protagonists.

Roberta Taylor as Blixen and Ewan Donald as Bjørnvig provide well-rounded individual character sketches. There are flashes of real insight, such as Donald’s steadily improving posture, but there is little shared fascination. Blixen is portrayed at the centre of a social and cultural web in which she occultishly snares young bloods with which to feed her imagination.

Several of the techniques deployed to fill a stylized frame with stylish content are over hesitant. The dramatic function of the mutual friend (played charmingly by Romana Abercromby), for example, is uncertain – diverting more than developing the over-lengthy central narrative. By the interval I think I’ve got the point. Other than the brightly conceived set transition from Blixen’s home to Bjørnvig’s northern hideaway, not much more is said or done.

Pace was a problem throughout. Far from crisp efficiency, the frequent scene changes are slow (although composer Aiden O’Rourke’s bold, introspective score make this less of a negative). Projection was a problem too, I did not feel played to in the steeply tiered back row of Traverse One.

Dogstar Theatre squeezed hard and a good amount of zesty juice was delivered into the glass. If their future endeavours maintain the very high standards set by The Baroness for smart, funny staging of deep, moody drama then we can expect great things from them in the coming years.

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Reviewer: Dan Lentell (Seen 28 September)

Visit The Baroness homepage here.

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