Tag Archives: Angus Cooper

ARCADIA

★★★★★

Old Vic

ARCADIA

Old Vic

★★★★★

“extremely intelligent, stimulating, challenging and fun”

It is rare in the theatre when the question about why jam cannot be ‘unstirred’ from a bowl of rice pudding sets our thoughts on a mind-boggling tangent about the universe. But it epitomises the skill and the beauty of the writing in Tom Stoppard’s “Arcadia”. It is the ‘ordinary-sized stuff which is in our lives, the things people write about – clouds, daffodils, waterfalls, what happens in a cup of coffee when the cream goes in – these things are full of mystery’. Carrie Cracknell’s revival of the 1993 stage play is, indeed, full of mystery. Like a detective story with an abundance of clues that, once in the hands of the protagonists, don’t really lead to the solution they are looking for. Mainly because there is always a counter argument.

The age-old conflicts between science and art, intellect and romance, certainty and poetry, truth and fiction, are explored with beautiful eloquence. Stoppard picks away at our own beliefs, and by setting the play in two parallel eras (the early nineteenth and the late twentieth centuries) he picks away at the fabric of time itself. Many of the issues soar way over our heads as dollops of theories are added to the metaphoric rice pudding. Postulations of quantum mechanics, entropy, chaos theory and Newtonianism, for example, rub shoulders with bawdy humour and ‘carnal embraces’ (aka sex). The subject matter collides like tiny atoms, but far from being chaotic the result is a glorious three hours of theatrical bliss. And a gorgeous tribute to the playwright who died barely ten weeks ago.

The outstanding cast goes a long way in ensuring the watchability of the drama. The play opens in 1809 with the precocious and privileged Thomasina Coverly (Isis Hainsworth) in a light-hearted but deep conversation with her tutor Septimus Hodge (Seamus Dillane). The quality of the performances is established from the outset – both playful and serious at the same time. The dynamics are flirtatious, a touch dubious but somehow chaste. Dillane wears a guilty conscience like a made-to-measure second skin while Hainsworth faultlessly displays a mix of playful childishness, genius and sassiness. In storms the bumbling, wannabe poet Ezra Chater (Matthew Steer on brilliant form) challenging Septimius to a duel in the belief that he is carrying on with his wife (he is). He is also ‘carrying on’ with Thomasina’s mother – we are led to believe. Oh, what a tangled web we weave… Fiona Button wonderfully displays coquettishness and playful attraction despite ruling the manor – and her daughter – with an iron fist.

Cut to 1993 and we are in the same location. The ghosts of the historical characters are hanging in the air as academic Hannah Jarvis (Leila Farzad) is locked in debate with Bernard Nightingale (Prasanna Puwanarajah) over what happened nearly two centuries ago in the very same room. Puwanarajah has some of the best monologues of the play as he charismatically extrapolates his theories; often proved wrong by Farzad’s cool Hannah. Links to the past are provided by the present-day Chloë Coverly (Holly Godliman) and her brother Valentine (Angus Cooper) who seems to be wrestling with the scientific predictions of his forebear Thomasina, but with considerably less ease.

Alex Eales’ design places the action in the round on a slowly moving revolve which mirrors the passage of time – perceptible but simultaneously unnoticed. In this way, the connections between the two time periods are highlighted, aided by Cracknell’s slick, overlapping transitions from one to the other which eventually fuse into a searingly poignant final act as the two merge together in a dreamy waltz. What is revealed ultimately is that, despite the breakthroughs of science, and despite the changing philosophies and beliefs over time; human connection never alters. There is much talk of loss in the dialogue. The loss of belief, of meaning and also of the material artefacts that define us – the books and the architecture of life. What do we look for then?

Yes, “Arcadia” is like a detective story with an abundance of clues that, once in the hands of the protagonists, don’t really lead to the solution they are looking for. Perhaps because what they are really looking for is love. Stoppard dresses it all up in a very wordy but extremely intelligent, stimulating, challenging and fun play. His spirit lives on and, with productions of his work like this one, we can be sure of its longevity.



ARCADIA

Old Vic

Reviewed on 6th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

ARCADIA

ARCADIA

ARCADIA

1536

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

1536

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting is striking”

1536 is definitely innovative: it uses the backdrop of Anne Boleyn’s defamation and execution to demonstrate the impossibility of existing as a woman and the power imbalance exploited by men. Ava Pickett’s debut play, directed by Lyndsey Turner, is a triumph.

We open on an atmosphere of sticky heat in an unspectacular field somewhere in Essex. There is a hazy unreality cultivated through this trope: the kind of dizzying heat that encourages libidinous frenzy. We see it here, as three young women meet to gossip and philosophise, and occasionally, to fornicate.

1536, the year Boleyn was beheaded, uses her engineered fall from grace – though a distant event for the women of the piece – to eloquently illustrate a world engineered for men at the expense of women. With frightening speed, Boleyn is transformed from the coveted woman Henry VIII left the Catholic Church for, to a treasonous, witchy ‘whore’. It’s telling. And what it tells is that men all too quickly will vilify women to vindicate and validate themselves. It’s Simone de Beauvoir all over: men will wreak power over women in all respects, in order to rationalise their sense and need for superiority. And crucially, 1536 argues, no woman is safe; there is no protective status. Not even the Queen of England is immune. Nor is the ‘good’ and pious wife. Nor is the mistress who operates outside martial confines. It argues that women are trapped from all sides and threatened on a very real level by the imbalance of power that stems from the unchecked violence and physical power of men over women – an aspect that feels all too relevant.

The cast is wonderful, especially Liv Hill as ‘pious’ Jane, and Siena Kelly as Anna, the ferocious ‘whore’ to Jane’s ‘angel’ (an anachronistic dichotomy but only in technicality). Tanya Reynolds as the sensible but quietly suffering midwife Mariella is also very watchable, and the two supporting men (Adam Hugill and Angus Cooper) are equally strong.

All the action takes place in this singular outdoor space: a dry landscape, overwhelmed by tall reeds, and a solitary blasted tree. Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting (Jack Knowles) is striking. This pressure cooker could be monotonous, but instead, it draws attention to the geographical smallness of life for people, and especially women, in 16th Century England; it’s an excellent demonstration of the staticity of their lives.

There is one ostensibly minor, but jarring flaw. The modern vernacular works well, and is a fabulous vehicle for comedy. The swearing, however, is not. The number of expletives were obscene, with little drama or effect. They were merely staples of the dialogue. But they were arresting without power, cheapening the quality of the otherwise agile dialogue. It’s a trend emergent in much period theatre at the moment, and it always seems tacky.

Also, please, can we all agree to bring back the interval?

But these are small problems. 1536 navigates much, all whilst being hilarious. It’s also nuanced: whilst exploring gender politics, it examines how women can leverage their own power through sex, and yet (!!) this is the most easily weaponised facet, unifying men and women alike against the more sexually voracious woman. The world has visibly changed in 500 years, but 1536 questions just how much.



1536

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 14th May 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

RHINOCEROS | ★★★★ | April 2025
OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025
WOMEN, BEWARE THE DEVIL | ★★★★ | February 2023

 

 

1536

1536

1536