Coraline - Barbican Theatre

Button with needle and thread

Even though I knew this was a Royal Opera production, for some reason I wasn't expecting it to be a proper opera - I'd envisaged it more as a musical. Perhaps because it's a children's story? But it was a proper opera. And it was weird to hear very ordinary lines such as 'I'm bored' sung operatically.

Based on Neil Gaiman's book of the same name, Coraline is an original, fantastical story about a girl who moves house and soon discovers a passage that takes her to a mirror version of the house, inhabited by a set of identical parents (that is, identical to Coraline's real parents, not to each other) with buttons for eyes. It's a disturbing story and my eight-year-old self might have found the opera too scary. Especially the bit with the disembodied hand. The idea of having one's eyes replaced by buttons is also highly discomforting. For me, even just the idea of being alone in a big new house at night is quite scary.

Before the show started we were informed that Kitty Whately, who was playing Coraline's mother/Other Mother, was recovering from illness. I was nervous lest this would become apparent in her performance, but it didn't. She made a creepy, beguiling, terrifying Other Mother and was the most captivating character in the show. It took a while to get used to an adult (Mary Bevan) playing Coraline, but once you did she was relatable and enjoyable to watch.

Coraline was extremely engaging and I was on tenterhooks throughout, despite knowing what happens, having watched the film and listened to the audiobook. I wasn't that keen on the actual music, though - I doubt I'd enjoy listening to it outside the context of the opera - there was no strong melody that I was able to remember afterwards. I found the music didn't vary much from scene to scene, with the slight exception of the scenes with the eccentric neighbours.

One of my favourite scenes was that in which Coraline is kicked out of the house and meets the former child inhabitants of the house and victims of the Other Mother. It was simultaneously moving and funny. I liked that the former child inhabitants were from different eras - Georgian, Victorian and 1970s. The 1970s child's interpretation of the events leading to his entrapment was amusing.

Next: I don't know. Globe?

Satyagraha - London Coliseum

Gandhi-ish figure

There are three elements one can reliably expect from a Philip Glass opera:

1. Repetition

2. Extreme slowness of movement

3. Unpredictability (in areas other than 1. and 2.)

Satyagraha did not disappoint in any of the above, although I admit to feeling a little restless during the last 15 minutes of the 3.5 hour performance when the main motif of the final song was entering its fiftieth repetition. 

Philip Glass operas lull me into a deep meditative, mesmeric state, such that it doesn't hugely matter how much I understand of what's going on. Which was just as well with this one, given that my Sanskrit comprehension is non-existent and we didn't have a programme (they were sold out).

When I say they lull me into a meditative state, I don't mean that my mind is blank, unaffected by the story and music. I found Satyagraha very moving and beautiful, as I did Akhnaten. You can understand the emotions conveyed by the actors and songs even if you can't understand the words.

Satyagraha portrayed Gandhi’s early years in South Africa, tracing the progress of his concept of non-violent protest as a positive force for change. There were a few other visionary characters depicted, including the back of Martin Luther King, who, using very slow, repetitive movements, acted out speaking to an imaginary crowd for about half an hour at the end while Gandhi sang.

One of the visual motifs used throughout was newspapers...words and pictures beamed onto held up newspapers, people reading newspapers, people throwing newspapers, people writhing among newspapers. My favourite scene featured a line of stereotypically Celtic-looking men with fake beards reading newspapers before proceeding to scrunch them up and pelt Gandhi with them, leading to a European woman coming to his defence. And there were amazing papier-mâché giants of different shapes and sizes that came stalking out at one point. Wonderful!

The person who impressed me most was Karen Kamensek, the conductor. The fact that it's humanly possible to successfully conduct a Philip Glass opera - retaining concentration for that length of time, on music with that level of repetitiveness - blows my mind.

Next: Surprise!

Austentatious - Piccadilly Theatre

Pride and Prejudice painted on some form of block

I was expecting to really enjoy this. I mean,

1) I love Jane Austen and am familiar with her works. 

2) I love the concept of a comedic, full-length improvised play in the style of Austen based on a humorous, bastardised Austen book title suggested by an audience member.

3) I have a sense of humour.

So...why didn't I like it?

First, I'll pay tribute to the set and costumes, which were excellent. The set started off as a wooden crate, which fell open when the title for the play had been decided upon, to reveal an impressive Regency drawing room interior. The costumes were all that one could wish for in a Regency-era play. The music, played by two musicians (violin and piano?) was also fitting and added to the humour.

The chosen title for the play was 'Seasoning and Seasonality', and began with one of the gentlemen adding seasoning to a meal. The improvisation was very clever - the cast's ability to craft a multi-layered storyline while constantly coming up with witticisms was impressive.

However, I didn't like it because I'd been expecting it to be set completely in the Regency era, and draw more from Austen novels trope-wise. I'd thought that was the point of it: to perform a comedic, parodic, ridiculous Austen-esque story - set at the time at which Austen's books are set. I'd imagined that was part of the challenge, and would be one of the main sources of humour.

Instead, they did an improvisation in Regency garb, loosely set during the Regency period, with a ton of modern references. Several of the scenes took place in a Lidl supermarket. One of the characters played a cashier. Aldi was also mentioned. There were parts that I found genuinely funny, like the  confusion over the boundaries of the indoor fire, the 'spectacular', and the flashback (all of which would've worked in a more authentically Austen-esque improvisation), but overall, the constant modern references rendered it less creative and clever to me than if they'd stuck to what I'd imagined was the brief. And less funny. But most of the audience seemed to find it hilarious, so I accept I'm an outlier.

Next: Satyagraha

photo credit: steeljam bb Pride and Prejudice Bloomsbury 9497 Back via photopin (license)

Top Hat - Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Fred Astaire, who played Jerry in the film Top Hat

Upstairs at the Gatehouse's front of house nearly refused me entrance. There was some problem with their system, which meant that my name wasn't appearing on their records. I showed them the e-mailed ticket receipt on my phone, but they were determined to find the actual record on their system (which they never found), and insisted that I waited while they checked other peoples' tickets first. As UatG's seating arrangements operate on a first come first served basis, this was irritating. I was finally allowed in, sans apology, and managed to bag a good seat in spite of front of house's best efforts.

Seeing high energy, uber extroverted productions within the close confines of UatG is like watching a musical in your bedroom. You can see (and, in some cases, feel) every bead of sweat, every drop of spittle, every strip of tape holding mics in place on perspiring foreheads. You can't help constantly catching the actors' eyes, so you have to make sure you're always smiling in enjoyment...which generally isn't difficult to do.

This was another show set in the 1930s - 1935, to be precise - complete with art deco set designs. I seem to have seen a lot of 1930s productions at UatG, and will never tire of the costumes and sets. The storyline was simple and highly P.G. Woodhouse-esque, based around a misunderstanding over the identity of the male protagonist, Jerry Travers, on the part of the female protagonist, Dale Tremont, and involving a butler who adopted a number of different disguises. Dale thought Jerry was Horace, the husband of her friend Madge, leading to genuinely laugh out loud moments when Madge appeared to be encouraging Dale to pursue her husband romantically. Joshua Lay, who, incidentally, resembled a younger Daniel Craig, successfully captured the indefatigable exuberance and irritating overconfidence of Jerry Travers. Joanne Clifton, of Strictly Come Dancing fame, was suitably aloof (and rightly so, with Jerry), perplexed and glamorous as Dale. She had some beautiful costumes, including the white swooshy skirt one with (fake?) fur (or was it feathers?).

The humour was quite 'of its era', let me say - apart from the Woodhousian plot/s and wordplay, which were fine, the Madge/Horace plotline involved a lot of somewhat tedious 'isn't marriage awful' banter, and domestic violence against a man was played for laughs...which was discomforting.

The tap dancing was wonderful - I hardly ever see tap, so it was Top Hat's main draw for me. However, while I like seeing these kinds of productions at UatG, I thought, on this occasion, that some of the dancing would've looked better from a distance rather than up close. It amazes me that the front rows of audience manage to walk out without multiple facial injuries every night. Song-wise: it was good to hear familiar songs such as 'Puttin' on the Ritz' and 'Let's Face the Music and Dance' in the context of a show. Not so keen on the yodel-y 'I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket', though (not the actors' fault - just don't like the song). The finale/curtain call was one of the best I've ever seen, if not THE best. They did a medley and dance, and the members of the ensemble actually changed outfits JUST FOR THE FINALE. 

Next: Austentatious

photo credit: twm1340 Fred Astaire via photopin (license)

Queen Anne - Theatre Royal Haymarket

Blenheim Palace, gifted to the Churchills by Queen Anne

OK, I know I said my next review would be of GBS classic Pygmalion, but I regret to say I never got round to it.

Unfortunately, I am a flawed human being. And you know who else was a flawed human being? Queen Anne. 

I've felt sympathetic towards Queen Anne for a long time. Whenever she's mentioned it's invariably either in the context of her appearance (omg she was FAT! She was buried in an almost square coffin because she was FAT!) or her seventeen pregnancies, none of which resulted in a child who lived to adulthood. She's treated either as a figure of a fun or a figure of abject tragedy; you rarely hear about her achievements, her views or her personality.

Queen Anne presented her as a multidimensional human (played by Emma Cunliffe), showing her development from an extremely fearful, naive princess, painfully lacking in self-confidence and relying completely on her best friend, the dominant Sarah Churchill (Romola Garai), to a considerably more self-assured, somewhat less naive and still kind and generous Queen. I enjoyed the portrayal of Anne's relationship with her husband. George of Denmark (Hywel Morgan) was depicted as a gentle, benign, simple character, who loved Anne and delighted in playing silly games with Sarah Churchill's young son. As a couple - especially towards the end of George's life, when they were both in ill health - Anne and George contrasted sharply with the glamorous, ambitious, able-bodied Churchills. I felt extremely sympathetic towards the royal couple, as they quietly and tenderly supported each other in their trials.

Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough: another flawed character. More flawed, arguably, than the titular queen. Despite Sarah's manipulative behaviour towards Anne, one couldn't help admiring her vivacity, quick-thinking and determination. And, despite Sarah's protestations to the contrary, one believed the Duke of Marlborough (Chu Omambala) when he insisted that, underneath her artful facade, she genuinely cared about Anne. The relationship between Anne and Sarah and its progression was fascinating and plausible. It was easy for Sarah to take Anne's friendship for granted when Anne was needy and vulnerable and Sarah was so much more capable physically, socially and, as she believed, intellectually. Sarah only realised the value of the friendship when it was too late. I found it refreshing to see a period play about women's friendship that wasn't focussed on women's inferior status in society. Not that there's anything wrong with that focus; it just struck me as unusual that this play didn't have it.

This was a relatively long play (three hours, including interval) but was engaging and thoroughly absorbing. The set was minimal but atmospheric. There were wood-panelled walls, multiple doors and what seemed to be real candles affixed to the walls. Other lighting was low. Costumes! Excellent. Perfect. Hairstyles? Ditto. Appearance of Jonathan Swift, satirist, essayist, political pamphleteer, poet and cleric? Check. Actor who played wise old financial adviser in Poldark? Yes, he was there too, in a vaguely similar role. I highly recommend this play.

Next: I don't know.

photo credit: Feathering the Nest Blenheim Palace via photopin (license)

An American in Paris - Dominion Theatre

Paris

As a big fan of George Gershwin, I was excited to finally see An American in Paris, fresh from Broadway. I listened to the orchestral composition 'An American in Paris' MANY times during my teenage years, along with 'Rhapsody in Blue'. [Yes, I was a cool teen. My Gershwin CD was, I think, the first CD I ever bought.] So it was interesting to experience this piece in the context of a musical.

Set in France immediately after the second world war, An American in Paris follows the fortunes of three artistically-inclined young men who become friends, and fall in love with the same woman, a talented ballet dancer. The plot wasn't hugely sophisticated, but it wasn't Julian Fellowes-level predictable, either. It was kind of like a more upbeat, less fantastical version of The Red Shoes - with songs. Both oeuvres being about a love of dance, following your dreams, and romance, and both containing a 'show within a show' ballet. [But yes, apart from that, they are completely different.]

An American in Paris was an extremely easy to watch, fluid, absorbing, uplifting, beautiful show. Flowing like a pure, calming, glittering stream, it was exuberant but somehow more restrained than most musicals - I suppose because of the style of music (the composition 'An American in Paris' plus Gershwin brothers' songs) and dancing (there was a lot of ballet). My favourite pieces were 'I Got Rhythm', 'I've Got Beginner's Luck', which included umbrella twirling and unbelievably rapid costume changes, and good old show tune 'I'll Build A Stairway to Paradise'. And of course, the climactic ballet number, which featured modernist costume and set designs. 

The sets were detailed and gorgeous - lots of impressive Parisian buildings, bohemian cafés and avant-garde 1940s interiors. One of the things I loved about this show was the graceful and creative way in which the performers themselves carried in the props and manoeuvred the sets into place; for example, someone twirling onstage carrying a chair above their head. The props team must have been very on-the-ball in this show, making sure everything was to hand. The costumes were wonderful and there were costume changes aplenty. Elegant New Look-style dresses abounded. Finally: I love the name Milo for a woman.

photo credit: Luc Mercelis Paris, Place Vendôme via photopin (license)

Next: Pygmalion

Kindertransport - Theatro Technis

Statue commemorating the children of the Kindertransport

I'm sorry for my lack of posting of late. I'm sure my followers have been perturbed by my absence, and I'm sorry to have disappointed the two of you. I know I said my next review would be of Timon of Athens but I'm afraid that ship has sailed. Too much time has elapsed. It was a well-performed play but not one of my favourites.

Kindertransport by Diane Samuels is an incredibly powerful, haunting, thought-provoking play, sensitively performed by the Tower Theatre Company. It tells the story of nine-year-old Eva, a Jewish girl who travels from Germany to Britain via the Kindertransport in 1938, leaving behind her beloved parents.

Based on real life experiences, the play added a new dimension to the way I'd always thought about the Kindertransport (the programme introduced by the British government in 1938 to give (mostly) Jewish children in Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia and Poland safe passage to the UK). My past thoughts about it had been predominantly rosy: how fortunate the children had been to have managed to avoid further persecution by getting out of increasingly anti-Semitic countries before the outbreak of war, and how wonderful it was that British people had been willing to take them in. Of course I knew it must have been terrible and psychologically scarring for the children to have had to leave their parents, but that paled in comparison to the horrors they would almost certainly have faced had they stayed - horrors that most of their parents did end up experiencing. The Kindertransport saved the lives of thousands of children, and it is important to celebrate that.

However, Kindertransport effectively shows the true complexity of the situation; that while the Kindertransport children were 'lucky', even those children placed with loving foster parents were not immune from complicated, severe, adverse psychological reactions from the experience - the ramifications of which would reverberate through generations. Set in 1938-1947 and the 1980s, switching seamlessly between time periods, Kindertransport deals with issues of identity and the loss thereof, and the harm and devastation that can come about through actions carried out with the best of intentions.

Eva was played engagingly and convincingly by Katrin Larissa Kasper - a difficult part involving the ability to speak German and portraying a character over the course of eight or nine years. At times, the actions of the characters Evelyn (Ruth Sullivan) and foster mother Lil (Amanda Waggott) made me angry and uncomfortable. When I first heard the play as a radio adaptation, I struggled to sympathise with Evelyn at all. But actually seeing Kindertransport made me see her in a more sympathetic light. All the female protagonists are sympathetic characters, trying to make the best choices in intensely difficult circumstances, and credit goes to the actors for evoking such strong feelings of sympathy and anger.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin 'Ratcatcher' figure lurking in the background and physically manifesting itself in the form of several grotesquely masked men (Paul Willcocks), all behaving in ways that Eva perceives as threatening, added an extra layer of sinister-ness, and gave one more of an understanding of Evelyn. The use of piano strings for the music was effective in a poignant and sinister way. Attention given to costumes and props was meticulous, as is customary for the Tower Theatre Company.

Kindertransport will be performed again by the Tower Theatre Company at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, on Saturday 24th - Sunday 25th June and Tuesday 27th June - Sunday 2nd July. I strongly recommend it!

photo credit: FarzanaL Kindertransport via photopin (license)

Next: Hopefully something equally good