★★★★

“a brave and exciting revival that mixes gritty absurdism with precision-cut stylisation and outstanding performances”

When Sophie Treadwell’s “Machinal” premiered in 1928, the New York Times was so intrigued that it reviewed the production twice – calling it ‘a triumph of individual distinction, gleaming with intangible beauty… an illuminating, measured drama such as we are not likely to see again’. The Times described it as a play that ‘in a hundred years… should still be vital and vivid’. Well – here we are, almost a hundred years later and – yes – it is still vital, vivid; and individual. Richard Jones’ revival at The Old Vic will ensure that Treadwell’s legacy will survive another century at the very least.

The play is inspired by (rather than based on) the real-life case of Ruth Snyder who was executed in the electric chair for the murder of her husband. Treadwell’s narrative gives us a fictionalised backstory in nine distinct episodes which describes the chain of events that leads an anonymous woman to her fate. We are shown the different phases of her life and the people she comes into contact with. Rosie Sheehy barely leaves the stage during her extraordinary portrayal of this ordinary woman. A woman who never finds her place. Never finds peace. Driven to eccentricity; disturbed and constrained, but essentially tender and pliable while the life around her is hard and mechanised.

It is a highly impersonal world in which the characters have no names. As a result, they don’t attract much sympathy and while we are drawn into their expressionist world, we are not invited to have any emotional involvement. It is the rhythm of the piece that keeps us going along for the ride. Jones’ direction is as stylish and stylised as the writing, although he is just one cog in the machine. Benjamin Grant’s discordant, staccato soundscape chimes with Adam Silverman’s lighting that both punctuate and underscore the narrative. Sarah Fahie is credited as movement director, but choreographer is a more apt description. Even Hyemi Shin’s mustard-tinged, claustrophobic set seems to have rehearsed its movements in time to the clockwork dialogue and the pulse of the play.

Repetition informs the action, adding to the sense of unease and entrapment our protagonist feels. She quits her humdrum job by marrying the boss – a misogynist who regards his wife as a business acquisition, yet Tim Francis brilliantly manages to find a very likeable eccentricity to an otherwise despicably outdated personality. Unfortunately, she can’t seem to just ‘quit’ her marriage, which eventually leads her to the extreme measures of murder, having bizarrely got the idea from a chance remark made by her lover (Pierro Niel-Mee). The feminist message is somewhat sabotaged along the way. And we never quite understand her detachment, nor indeed her disproportionate, sadistic treatment of her nagging, potato-obsessed mother (a wonderfully colourful and funny Buffy Davis).

Although a few of the scenes are drawn out, the pace never drags. We might not sympathise, but we enjoy the absurdity immensely. It is another world but uncomfortably like our own. Although we can see Kafkaesque influences, it is almost impossible to believe that “Machinal” was written a century ago; and we are also reminded of those that Treadwell has influenced in turn. This is a brave and exciting revival that mixes gritty absurdism with precision-cut stylisation and outstanding performances.

PYGMALION at the Old Vic

★★★★

“Carvel is all stooping eccentricity with a touch of Reginald Perrin”

When George Bernard Shaw wrote “Pygmalion” in 1912, its West End premiere was delayed due to the leading lady’s nervous breakdown. Instead, the German translation opened in Vienna followed by the New York production where it was described as a ‘love story with brusque diffidence and a wealth of humour’. Richard Jones’ revival at the Old Vic retains the ‘wealth of humour’, has exchanged the diffidence for a bold confidence, but as for ‘love story’ – that’s gone completely out the window. There is a mechanical edge to it that, despite being well-oiled and finely tuned, partially obscures its beating heart.

It opens quite spectacularly, to the angular, staccato strains of Tony Gayle’s modernist jazz chords – perhaps a touch too modern for the already updated setting. Stewart Laing’s circuit board backdrops are a bit of a puzzle, unless you accept that this may be a clever twist on the phrase ‘Code-Switching’: the term applied to changing your voice and dialect to fit into a new social environment. Jones’ production fully takes on board the concept of Professor Henry Higgins’ social experiment, and exudes the same detachment as though we are watching a presentation through glass.

It does enable us to focus on the central, magnified performances. Led by Bertie Carvel’s Henry Higgins and Patsy Ferran’s Eliza Doolittle, they cannot be accused of shying away. Carvel is all stooping eccentricity with a touch of Reginald Perrin though less unwitting. Preoccupied and arrogant, Carvel eradicates everything that might be likeable about his character. A character that stretches the patience of those initially loyal to him. Penny Layden gives one of the more heartfelt performances as his housekeeper, Mrs Pearce, and Sylvestra Le Touzel captures the exasperation of Higgin’s mother. But we are frustrated by Carvel’s Higgins remaining so impervious to everyone and everything around him.

“The urge to update and radicalise is always going to compete with the option of playing it safe.”

Carvel’s performance would steal the show if it weren’t for Ferran’s spirited no-nonsense Eliza Doolittle. Aware from the start that she is a vehicle for the professor’s sport, she is pragmatic and steely enough to rise above it. Ferran never loses her grip on humility, however, which ultimately gives her the upper hand. Hers is the one true draught of passion that disturbs the otherwise emotionally static production.

The best illustrations of George Bernard’s Shaw satire come from the supporting roles. Times have changed since Shaw wrote his ground-breaking play. Class and social mobility are much more blurred and the way one speaks is no longer a definition of one’s status. But other observations stand out and ring true. John Marquez, as Eliza’s bin-man father who “can’t afford morals”, is a delight to watch and is a master at comic delivery.

It is a very familiar story, but ‘ay, there’s the rub’. The urge to update and radicalise is always going to compete with the option of playing it safe. This production falls somewhere between the two. Whether it’s a direct consequence or not, we are tempted to question the sincerity and authenticity. Yet it is still a hugely entertaining piece of theatre, dominated by commanding performances. Despite being a little confused as to what time period it is being set in, we are indeed reminded of the timeless nature of the play and that its appeal will never go away.

Tag Archives: Caroline Moroney

MACHINAL

★★★★

Old Vic

MACHINAL at the Old Vic

★★★★

“a brave and exciting revival that mixes gritty absurdism with precision-cut stylisation and outstanding performances”

MACHINAL at the Old Vic

Reviewed on 18th April 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

JUST FOR ONE DAY | ★★★★ | February 2024

A CHRISTMAS CAROL | ★★★★★ | November 2023

PYGMALION | ★★★★ | September 2023

Machinal

Machinal

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Pygmalion

★★★★

Old Vic

PYGMALION at the Old Vic

★★★★

“Carvel is all stooping eccentricity with a touch of Reginald Perrin”

“The urge to update and radicalise is always going to compete with the option of playing it safe.”