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Preludes

Southwark Playhouse

Reviewed – 11th September 2019

★★★★

“It’s warped and weird; intriguingly surreal”

Sergei Rachmaninoff was just beginning his career as one of Russia’s most promising composers when he was struck with crippling depression. For three years he was unable to write music and eventually began seeing a hypnotherapist to overcome his creative block. Dave Malloy’s Preludes, originally produced off-Broadway in 2015, reimagines these years. Filled with Rachmaninoff’s music, and framed as a series of hypnotherapy sessions, the story follows the young musician’s journey back from the brink. Alex Sutton directs the London premier.

Described as “a musical fantasia set in the hypnotised mind of Sergei Rachmaninoff”, the show fits the bill. It’s warped and weird; intriguingly surreal. A blend of present and past, the world is a dreamlike confusion of modern-day New York City and 1890s Moscow. Rach and his friends take the subway to meet Tolstoy, and he must ask permission from the Czar to marry. Malloy reinforces this alternate universe with modern adaptations of Rachmaninoff’s compositions. The grand piano on stage is flanked by two keyboards (Jordan Li-Smith and Billy Bullivant).

The hybrid music is a successful experiment. Although Malloy’s lyrics can feel simple and uninspired at times, the cast’s strong vocal performances are a treat. Georgia Louise stands out in particular, and Norton James and Rebecca Caine’s operatic voices nicely contribute to the show’s clash between modern musical and nineteenth century opera.

Preludes’ setting is impossibly tricky: it’s Russia and America; 2019 and late 1890s; it mostly takes place inside a character’s mind. But set and costume designer Rebecca Brower has risen to the challenge. Rach (Keith Ramsay) wears a long overcoat, black combat boots, and eyeliner. He has the double-headed eagle insignia of the Russian Empire tattooed on his back. Natalya (Georgia Louise) wears a blouse, a long taffeta skirt, and Superga trainers. Brower’s set frames the stage in concentric rectangular shapes which light up with the music, invoking an EDM concert as well as a trance-inducing illusion: a canny reminder that the scenes are figments of a hypnotised mind – that we should be prepared for the distorted and the unreal. It all comes together to create an uneasy yet appealing aesthetic.

Like Rach’s psyche, the show divides the artist in two: there’s the tortured young man (Ramsay), and his music (Tom Noyes). Cleverly, the two manifestations occasionally acknowledge or disrupt each other. Ramsay is ideal as the troubled genius. His hunched shoulders and wide eyes give him a haunted air. He’s the sensitive, uncertain artist, wounded by the world, and at the same time the defiant punk Malloy believes the composer was at heart – deliberately wanting his music to upset his teachers, to blow the walls off tradition with his big, loud, chaotic scores. Noyes is at the piano throughout, and his performance is a delight. Steven Serlin brings much of the comedy with his characters (Chekov, Tolstoy, the Czar). He plays nicely off Ramsay’s insecurity and gloominess.

While Preludes is smart, imaginative, and greatly enjoyable, there are moments where it falters. The beginning takes a while to get going. The wedding scene, which begins compelling and funny with Serlin’s Czar, runs on and becomes saccharine with discussion of where God can be found. The painfully long guided hypnotism near the end will test your patience.

But as a whole, the show’s strengths outweigh its flaws. Inventive and enticingly strange, Preludes is a fantastical celebration of music. It’s playful and irreverent with a deep love of its subject at its heart. Malloy and Sutton seem to be arguing Rachmaninoff would have appreciated the audacity. They might be right.

Reviewed by Addison Waite

Photography by Scott Rylander

Preludes

Southwark Playhouse until 12th October

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

All In A Row | ★★ | February 2019

Billy Bishop Goes To War | ★★★ | March 2019

The Rubenstein Kiss | ★★★★★ | March 2019

Other People’s Money | ★★★ | April 2019

The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button | ★★★★★ | May 2019

Once On This Island | ★★★ | August 2019

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★★★

“It may be a bit rough around the edges, but Jurman’s show is audacious and ultimately loveable”

With her thirtieth birthday approaching and fed up with being single, Judith embarks on a last-ditch effort to make herself lovable by reading women’s advice magazines from the 1950s. This solo clown show by Carly Jurman is clever and frequently very funny, though it hasn’t quite found its stride.

Jurman plays two characters: Judith the clown, and Judith’s more rational friend, reluctantly helping her try to achieve 1950s housewife perfection. Accompanied by a nostalgic 50s soundtrack, Judith does her best while her friend narrates and advises via voiceover. Jurman is delightfully entertaining as the mostly silent Judith. With skilled, high-energy physical comedy, a couple of costume changes, and effective use of props, she creates a whirlwind of barely controlled chaos. The performance takes brazen turns from sweet and silly into the genuinely gross. A scene involving a shaving accident is not for the squeamish, and a bit with a real, whole supermarket chicken is not for the vegan. Judith’s pouting or muttered protests in response to the voiceover are an excellent stroke, proving to be some of the funniest lines in the show.

The voiceover provides a good format. Judith is doll-like – ditzy, largely without speech, suggestible, and occasionally rebellious – as she makes a mess of following instructions. However, the recording itself is a weak point in the production. A bit awkward and stilted, the audio jokes don’t land nearly as well as the ones Jurman performs live. There’s a funny moment when Judith eats marshmallows off the floor. It works well as visual comedy. Jurman’s voiceover comment, “What are you? A human hoover?” isn’t necessary, and falls flat. Regular iterations of “ugh, Judith!” and “Judith, no!” come across tinny – it feels very much like listening to a recording rather than the present voice of a convincing second character.

The opening of the show has a similar problem. Jurman enters and announces she’s looking for Judith. The ordeal she makes of ‘looking’ and her repetitive lines, “Judith! Where are you! There are people waiting!”, feel wooden. The bit goes on for a little while too long. Following this, the scenario of Judith’s friend being locked in the closet doesn’t really make sense – are we meant to understand she’s talking to Judith from the closet throughout? A bit more development regarding this setup, who the friend/narrator is and her place in the story, could benefit the show.

Throughout the story, there’s a loose thread questioning whether modern society has progressed all that much from the ‘dark ages’ of 50s housewife magazines. Are our Groupons for spa treatments and plastic surgeries any better than the ads back then? This idea needs focusing. It isn’t coming through strongly enough for what is probably the show’s main argument.

Although it could use further development, Unlovable is wild and bold. Jurman proves herself a formidable performer as well as a proficient writer, couching some of the most important feminist questions in the craziest comedy. It may be a bit rough around the edges, but Jurman’s show is audacious and ultimately loveable.

Reviewed by Addison Waite

Photography by Taylor Burton

Southwark Playhouse

Reviewed – 11th September 2019

★★★★

“It’s warped and weird; intriguingly surreal”

Reviewed by Addison Waite

Photography by Scott Rylander

Preludes

Southwark Playhouse until 12th October

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Etcetera Theatre

Reviewed – 22nd August 2019

★★★

“It may be a bit rough around the edges, but Jurman’s show is audacious and ultimately loveable”

Reviewed by Addison Waite

Photography by Taylor Burton

Unlovable

Etcetera Theatre until 25th August as part of Camden Fringe 2019

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue: