Tag Archives: Andrew Keates

Steve

Steve

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Seven Dials Playhouse

Steve

Steve

Seven Dials Playhouse

Reviewed – 15th February 2022

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“unquestionably funny and also heartbreakingly sad”

 

We need to talk about β€œSteve”. Or rather Steven. And Stephen. And Esteban (the Spanish form of Stephen). There’s another Steve, too, in Mark Gerrard’s tragicomedy who lurks, unseen, offstage but just as instrumental in the unravelling of the tightly knitted relationships of his namesakes and their best buddies. Even the late Stephen Sondheim is ever present throughout this production, to whom it is dedicated; his music a constant undercurrent, and wisps of his lyrics reverently scattered over the dialogue. There is something elegiac about Gerrard’s bittersweet tale. A parable, almost. Self-aware and conscious of the passage of time.

The play opens with Steven celebrating his 47th birthday in a downtown New York bar. Although not in a fully-fledged midlife crisis, Steven is struggling with the transition into middle age. A stay-at-home Dad, he is also grappling with the notion that his long-term partner is having an affair with his best friend’s partner. Meanwhile his closest confidante, Carrie, is terminally ill. Fuelled by vodka stingers he inevitably spills out his emotions, upsetting his guests and the glasses on the table. But no matter, Argentine waiter Esteban is on hand to clear up the literal and figurative mess. So, too, is the rewind button which replays the scene avoiding the outburst and offering a smoother transition into the unfolding narrative that follows.

Andrew Keates’ spirited and passionate direction perfectly mixes a human story with a heightened, almost musical delivery from the characters. Whenever it becomes a touch absurdist we are pulled back into the nitty gritty of everyday life. Infidelity, parenthood, monogamy, mortality, impending death, lost opportunities. We all know the score. We may have heard it before, but Gerrard manages to make it fresher by putting it in the context of same sex relationships. But even that concept, like the play’s protagonists, is reaching a certain age, and Gerrard is cleverly questioning whether the gay community itself might be having a midlife crisis. β€˜Where do we go from here?’ he seems to be asking. While celebrating the huge progress made over the decades, there is a whole new set of questions now. Inspired by the passing of the New York marriage bill, Gerrard is reflecting on the double-edged nature of the milestone. β€œOh my god, now we can get married. What are we supposed to do with that?”

This is definitely not a β€˜be careful what you wish for’ scenario, however. Nor is it a caricature of the gay American Dream. The writing is too sharp for that and at times the sexuality is irrelevant. It speaks to everyone. It is fundamentally about relationships and friendships and how we look out for and after each other. It is unquestionably funny and also heartbreakingly sad. Keates makes us care deeply about the personalities laid bare before us, aided by his impressive cast.

David Ames holds the fort as Steven, hilariously abrasive and camp but deeply caring and easily wounded. Jenna Russell gives an absolutely glowing performance as Carrie, the bold and brazen lesbian confronting her terminal illness with more strength than all the men around her put together. All the performances are exceptional; strongly twisting the dialogue – wringing out the laughs and the tears in equal measure. The highs and lows are mirrored by Ben Papworth at the piano, echoing the emotions with his dynamic and varied accompaniment.

The phrase β€˜Once Upon A Time’ is a leitmotif throughout the show that reminds us that this is a New York Fairy Tale – in many senses of the word. But it also reminds us that the happy endings promised are more elusive than we once thought. We have come a long way, Gerrard seems to be saying, but there’s still further to go. But, hey, forget the psychobabble – β€œSteve” is in essence a hugely entertaining tragicomedy. Sharper than most that cover similar ground, it cuts through societal and sexual divides and then unwittingly sews them together. It appeals to all of us – and is a β€˜must see’.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by The Other Richard

 


Steve

Seven Dials Playhouse until 19th March

 

Previously reviewed by Jonathan this year:
Freud’s Last Session | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | King’s Head Theatre | January 2022
A Level Playing Field | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Riverside Studios | February 2022
The Devil’s in the Chair | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Riverside Studios | February 2022
An Evening Without Kate Bush | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Soho Theatre | February 2022
Us | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | White Bear Theatre | February 2022

 

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Dark Sublime
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Trafalgar Studios

Dark Sublime

 

Dark Sublime

Trafalgar Studios

Reviewed – 28th June 2019

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“as the story unfolds, the main thread becomes a little tangled and indefinite”

 

There is a touch of Michael Keaton’s β€˜Birdman’ as Marina Sirtis, best known for her role as Deanna Troi in β€˜Star Trek’, takes to the stage to play a hard-working actress who, years on, can’t seem to shake the shadow of her biggest role.Β 

An eager twenty one year-old fan (Kwaku Mills) turns up at the door of a jaded, middle-aged actress (Sirtis) to interview her about a cult sci-fi programme that she starred in decades before, and they strike up an unlikely friendship.

The main narrative is spliced with scenes from an unaired episode of β€˜Dark Sublime’. Living room furniture doubles up as hammy spaceship tech as Simon Thorp darts about, speaking to his chatty computer (Mark Gatiss) via his wrist with great urgency. The switch between ordinary life and sci-fi sets us up for a fun paralleling of plotlines – presumably β€˜reality’ will eventually dovetail with β€˜fantasy.’
However, as the story unfolds, the main thread becomes a little tangled and indefinite, combining multiple subplots of unrequited love, professional frustration, generational differences, as well as the tie between the LGBTQ community and sci-fi. It’s a bit much to have all of this going on simultaneously.

Writer Michael Dennis was clearly trying to interlace plot points as much as possible, but it thins out the audience’s focus. Marianne’s unrequited love of her best friend Kate (Jacqueline King), for example, partially overshadows the crux of the story, and gives cause for an ill-fitting scene of somewhat cloying sentiment between Kate and her girlfriend Suzanne (Sophie Ward). This scene then gives way to another snippet of β€˜Dark Sublime’, but the clash of genre is now slightly bizarre and distracting.

Similarly, the effective use of living room furniture as futuristic hi-tech is diluted when the living room also doubles up as a hotel conference or a park, with no prop changes beside the TV screen showing either a picture of Alexandra Palace or a conference logo (Tim McQuillen-Wright).

Andrew Keates’ direction places a particular emphasis on Oli’s initial draw to β€˜Dark Sublime’ as a gay teenager in a small town looking for a necessary escape: the few times it’s mentioned, Oli is bathed in red light (Neil Brinkworth) and stands to deliver a short but dramatic homily. But there isn’t that much stress on this particular point within the script, so it seems a little out of sync.

Whilst there are a few quippy lines, there is often a sense that you have to be β€˜in’ on the joke, which, I presume, I wasn’t. On the whole, Keates and Dennis have been overly ambitious and tried to squeeze far too much in. There are a lot of interesting aspects touched upon – the idea of fandom in relation to an actor’s reality for example, or the tie between the LGBTQ community and sci-fi – but I think they would be best served if they didn’t have to fight so much for focus and stage time.

 

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Scott Rylander

 


Dark Sublime

Trafalgar Studios until 3rd August

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Dust | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2018
A Guide for the Homesick | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2018
Hot Gay Time Machine | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
Coming Clean | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Black Is The Color Of My Voice | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Soul Sessions | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
A Hundred Words For Snow | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Admissions | β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Scary Bikers | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2019
Vincent River | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2019

 

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