Tag Archives: Anna Short

The Least We Could Do

THE LEAST WE COULD DO

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The Hope Theatre

THE LEAST WE COULD DO at the Hope Theatre

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The Least We Could Do

“The trio of actors are incredibly strong, lifting the superb material even further”

This is a Greek tragedy set in the internet age. Three showbiz-adjacent characters Levi, Charlie and Kieran are pulled inevitably into a whirlpool or chaos from a chance meeting and a hubristic decision. Less Pandora’s box opened, more like Pandora’s phone.

The plot has obvious parallels with the devastating story of Caroline Flack, a presenter whose downfall coincided with aggressive press speculation about her private life. However writer Kath Haling skilfully uses this more as a tragic departure rather than a blueprint, which avoids any mawkishness. She has sensitively woven in other themes (there’s a big trigger warning for pregnancy loss) to create something new, asking deep questions about trust, integrity, and grift. Not only is it about the symbiotic relationship between fame and press, but also about the voyeuristic interest in the process from β€˜nobody’ people. Even the stage set up supports this, with scenes played out an arm’s length away from the front row of the audience that closes in claustrophobically around the performance area on three sides.

Designer Tallulah Caskey’s main set feature is a curved chain curtain that sweeps the stage. This acts as a semi-permeable barrier, a metaphorical and physical reminder of liminality and choices taken or not. Characters are occasionally lit to great effect translucently through the chains, before they are once again obscured (lighting design, Hector Murray). Ghostly conversations between people on both sides of the barrier are another nod to Greek drama, the challenging voices of conscience or a chorus of online voices. There are also three reflective blocks, used well by Director Katharine Farmer to offer different levels to the performance, and keep high energy and visual interest throughout.

The trio of actors are incredibly strong, lifting the superb material even further. Dan Wolff embodies blundering naivety as he stumbles into a situation above his head. Olivia Lindsay is magnetic as TV host Levi, with the perfect β€˜It’ girl vocal fry. She gets the balance just right between the approachable familiarity of a prime time presenter, steeliness, and then when she reveals her depths, there is a wanting vulnerability that leaves just enough edge to leave the audience questioning whether she has planned her trauma as an β€˜angle’. Melissa Saint completes the cast as Charlie, again utterly radiant, but with the potential for slipperiness hinted by her silk blouse. Everything appears so considered that I was left wondering whether the β€˜French tuck’ of her shirt was yet more symbolism, showing her half in and half out of the celebrity world, or conversely her marriage. Though that might be me getting ahead of myself, what is clear is that in many key moments, Saint’s incredibly expressive face works through complex emotions in real time, a joy to watch, even if there is little to celebrate in the plot.

Given the heavy themes, this show does an excellent job at avoiding preaching. There is enough grey area and ambiguity left to avoid painting by numbers apportioning of blame, again very Greek.

If there is any morality message to be extracted, it is the reminder to be kind, especially if you are too obscured by the internet. With that, I must leave this review on a solely positive note: this is an exceptionally well thought out production, rich with details that stay lodged in your brain long after the lights go down.


THE LEAST WE COULD DO at the Hope Theatre

Reviewed on 12th October 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Lidia Crisafulli

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Mind Full | β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2023
Hen | β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2022
100 Paintings | β˜…β˜… | May 2022
Fever Pitch | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2021

The Least We Could Do

The Least We Could Do

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The Straw Chair

The Straw Chair

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Finborough Theatre

The Straw Chair

The Straw Chair

Finborough Theatre

Reviewed – 21st April 2022

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“There is humanity and tragedy in the piece, but despite the magnificent performances, the emotional punch is too tender”

 

It is 1735, and life on St Kilda – in the far reaches of the Outer Hebrides – is pretty stark. And everything smells and tastes of fish. It is an abandoned isle, populated by abandoned people. A place where the crashing waves erode the shoreline and, if you let it, the spirit. But not so Lady Grange, the central figure of Sue Glover’s play based on the real-life wife of the eighteenth-century Lord Grange. A Shakespearean mix of King Lear and Miranda, she whips up her own storm that threatens to silence the unrelenting winds that sweep in from all sides of the island.

Lady Grange was exiled by her estranged husband to the Outer Hebrides, on the basis that she was hysterical, drunk, disorderly and uncivilised. In truth she knew too much about her husband; his Jacobite sympathies shrouded by hypocrisy and political pragmatism. Better she go and rage against the storm in isolation, rather than upset his veneered city life.

The turmoil is all internal and the interest promised by the historical facts doesn’t translate entirely successfully here. Anna Short’s sound design evokes the peace of the farmyard rather than the ravaged sentiments of the central character. The first act serves mainly to set the scene, into which Aneas, a bible-clutching minister and his new wife, Isabel come on a mission. Isabel, all innocence and compliance, is initially the antithesis of Lady Grange. What Glover’s writing cleverly reveals, however, is how the two women have more in common than we originally think. Along with Oona, Grange’s maid, the three women are all trapped in their own gender-defying roles of the time.

Siobhan Redmond is a force as the unhinged Grange – sexual and dangerous; one minute syrup and flirtation, the next acid and acrimony. Redmond portrays a Hamlet-like figure: mad at the world rather than mad within one’s head. Rori Hawthorn is equably believable as Isabel; an ember in the shadow of Finlay Bain’s surreptitiously domineering Aneas, yet Hawthorn reveals the flickers of a burning injustice. The flames fanned by Redmond’s powerful performance.

But it takes until the second act for the momentum to really take hold. Jenny Lee, wonderful as the no-nonsense Oona, is drawn into the fold and the play now belongs to the women. Polly Creed’s direction is finally allowed to flourish, particularly as the trio bond over shared whisky and dissatisfaction. Glover’s underlying comments on gender and power are unleashed as the tongues are loosened, while Bain takes a generous back step, yet without relinquishing his masterful portrayal of the steadfast missionary.

β€œThe Straw Chair” is a play that demands attention, although it does take a while to grab it. Its hold on us is tenuous, but if it lapses, we are soon lured back in, with the added help of some plaintive music. As well as commanding the stage, Hawthorn (with co-violinist, Elisabeth Flett) provides a lyrical, pre-recorded underscore. There is humanity and tragedy in the piece, but despite the magnificent performances, the emotional punch is too tender. We want to hear the waves crash, rather than lap, on the rocky Hebridean shoreline.

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Carla Joy Evans

 


The Straw Chair

Finborough Theatre until 14th May

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
The Sugar House | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2021

 

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