★★★★★

“It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between.”

Jez Butterworth’s highly anticipated new play, “The Hills of California” is a wondrously slow-burning affair that raises the question, among others, of explaining why people are what they are. As the layers are gradually peeled back the prize at the heart condenses, but it is the twists and turns of the lead-up that keep us in thrall. Despite running at just over three hours, Butterworth seems to have chosen every word with a mosaic artist’s care.

It is the sweltering summer of 1976, and we are in the cluttered parlour of a Blackpool guesthouse, where the cracked piano is off-key. “Through neglect and time” according to the piano tuner – the first (one of many) metaphor that applies to each character. Three sisters are reuniting during the dying moments of their mother who is lying in bed, unseen, upstairs. A fourth sister’s presence is uneasily promised, though not expected. Jill (Helena Wilson) is already on the scene. She still lives with her mother, caring for her, nervously spraying air-freshener to stop her cigarette smoke drifting up the stairs towards her. Enter feisty, witty, no-nonsense Ruby (Ophelia Lovibond) lugging her panic attacks and slapping them down on the table. Then Gloria (Leanne Best), bitter and blunt, sagging under the weight of chips on her shoulder. The dynamic is quickly established as sibling rivalries and affections simmer away, while unreliable memories stew.

We are transported back to the source of their memories. To the 1950s when the dreams were still flourishing, the guesthouse breathed with life, and their mother, Veronica (Laura Donnelly), ruled the roost with a regimental and fierce ambition for her daughters. Determined to see them become the next ‘Andrews Sisters’ she is remorseless in her control over them. Donnelly gives a star turn performance, mistakenly believing her steely command is maternal care, unaware of the damage she is causing. When a predatory theatrical agent comes dangling a carrot, we witness the harsh, defining moment that severs the family, and the future scenes make sense.

Slipping back and forth between the fifties and the seventies is the plays major strength. Each decade sheds light on the other and we see how events shape our protagonists; and how memories of those events can cloud their perceptions of reality. The performances are superb across the board. And if the characters’ memories are off pitch, their singing voices are gorgeously harmonious, especially the younger cast who play the sisters as teenagers.

“Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time.”

As the questions tentatively find their answers, the bleakness is constantly relieved by the humour that runs through the writing. Comedy that is accentuated by the fine ensemble acting. Shaun Dooley and Bryan Dick are an astute double-act as Gloria and Ruby’s husbands respectively. Dick also doubles as the resident end-of-the-pier jokesmith, Jack Larkin, forever behind on the rent but upfront with loyalty and cringe-worthy quips. There is no cameo role, even if one or two characters appear transient. Each has their place.

Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time. There may be one or two movements that could be shortened – or even cut. But like taking out a single part within a harmony, it would leave the others out of kilter. There are many undulations in “The Hills of California”. We are aware of them up close. Stand back and we see the panoramic, yet intimate, view of a family picked apart skilfully by Butterworth.

The sense of disorientation is enhanced by Rob Howell’s impressive set. Homely yet disarranged, it sweeps upwards with its imposingly gothic staircases like a giant Escher woodcut. The sinister is never far away from the everyday. And the trivial minutiae are forever rubbing shoulders with universal truths.

It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between. Like the piano – that becomes a central role in the piece – those relationships can go discordantly off-key – “through neglect and time” – as the piano tuner says. Before reminding us: “a piano must be played”.

CRUEL INTENTIONS at The Other Palace

★★★★

“an evening of unadulterated fun and escapism, with a fabulous soundtrack delivered with passion, right up to its climax”

With a core cast of eight triple-threats, bolstered by an equally talented ensemble, “Cruel Intentions: The ‘90s Musical” bursts onto the stage at The Other Palace in a glorious blaze of fun and virtuosity. However cruel the protagonists may be, the true intentions of this talented troupe are to entertain and send us home with our heads full of ‘poptastic’ tunes and a smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. Ay, there’s the rub – the toxic treachery is let off too lightly. Based on the 1999 teen romantic drama, in turn based on the eighteenth-century French morality tale ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’, the wages of sin are just a token penalty. Yet to their credit, Jordan Ross, Lindsey Rosin and Roger Kumble – the creators of this memorable musical – inject some of the behaviour of the characters with a modern-day sensibility to redress the balance.

But such conjecture misses the point and is ill-suited to a show that thrives on not taking itself seriously. Jonathan O’Boyle’s racy and pacey production dishes out the story and the jokes in delightful, digestible bitesize scenes with brilliantly choice hit songs for punchlines. Which is where the ingenuity really shines, for it never feels like a juke-box musical. Even in the most abrupt jolt from dialogue to song, the transition is smooth, natural, uncannily appropriate, and often very, very funny.

It is a winning formula, proven by its Off-Broadway debut seven years ago which was extended three times back in 2017. Even if the London revival is somewhat emotionally disengaging, we are drawn into the protagonists’ world as we follow the sociopathic stepsiblings’ shenanigans. The charming but devilish couple place a bet. Kathryn (Rhianne-Louise McCaulsky) wagers on whether Sebastian (Daniel Bravo) can deflower their high school headmaster’s daughter, Annette (Abbie Budden). As the couple set out to destroy the innocent girl, they find themselves in a dangerous game of revenge and malice. Kathryn is equally intent on corrupting new girl Cecile (Rose Galbraith) using Sebastian as a pawn – among others including music teacher Ronald (Nickcolia King-N’Da), gay couple Blaine (Josh Barnett) and Greg (Barney Wilkinson), and Cecile’s nouveau-riche mother, Bunny Caldwell (Jess Buckby).

“Gary Lloyd’s power-driven and energised choreography is devilishly divine”

Each cast member has ample opportunity to showcase their outstanding vocal abilities as they soar through the musical numbers, giving a whole new slant on the original lyrics. It will be difficult to disassociate, now, Ace of Base’s ‘The Sign’ from Cecile’s first orgasm, or TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ from Bunny’s innate racism. Elsewhere a real poignancy pours from Jewel’s ‘Foolish Games’, courtesy of Abbie Budden’s heartfelt portrayal of the prim Annette. Reaping the biggest applause is Rhianne-Louise McCaulsky’s Kathryn whose outstanding solos almost make you forgive her character’s maleficence. The Counting Crows ‘Colourblind’ is a gorgeous duet for Daniel Bravo and Budden, before the ensemble kicks in with spine-tingling harmonies.

There is little time to do so, but between songs the performers manage to flesh out personality onto the skeletal bones of their personas. Rose Galbraith is at once raunchy and kittenish as the ingénue Cecile, while Budden’s virginal Annette bewitches with sex appeal and sassiness despite the prim exterior. Daniel Bravo’s amoral coolness melts along the path of redemption, whereas McCaulsky remains as cold as ice: the self-confessed mistress of self-absorption. Her performance is indeed a highlight, although generously allowing the stars surrounding her to shine as bright.

There are inevitably moments of implausibility. And for all its salaciousness and profanity, the show is somehow not very shocking. There is a clean gloss that renders the scandalous a touch scandal-free. It is all about sex, but is sometimes sexless as though the intimacy directors are on overtime. But let’s not single them out – it seems the rest of the creative team are on overtime too. Gary Lloyd’s power-driven and energised choreography is devilishly divine. Chris Whybrow’s sound is crisp and perfectly balanced to pinpoint each vocal and each note from the four-piece band, led by musical director Denise Crowley.

Slick, snappy and sometimes sensational, “Cruel Intentions” pokes fun at its source material and itself. Who cares about its intentions – cruel or otherwise? The result is an evening of unadulterated fun and escapism, with a fabulous soundtrack delivered with passion, right up to its climax.

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

★★★★★

“It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between.”

“Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time.”

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Reviewed on 8th February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Douet

Top rated shows in January 2024:

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

CRUEL INTENTIONS at The Other Palace

★★★★

“an evening of unadulterated fun and escapism, with a fabulous soundtrack delivered with passion, right up to its climax”

“Gary Lloyd’s power-driven and energised choreography is devilishly divine”

CRUEL INTENTIONS at The Other Palace

Reviewed on 30th January 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Previously reviewed at this venue:

CRUEL INTENTIONS

CRUEL INTENTIONS