★★★★

“A disturbing experience but a pleasure to witness the stagecraft”

There are some stories that shock because of their subject matter and some that are disturbing due to the knowledge that they are true. Claudio Macor’s one-act play, “Savage”, has both of those qualities. And more. One minute we feel as though we are in a horror fantasy spoof (the psychotic doctor injecting monkey testosterone into an innocent victim’s testicles), the next we are watching a searingly tender love story.

There are further layers added – some explored with deeper insight than others – as we are transported back to 1940s Denmark during the Nazi German occupation. Macor takes us beyond the stolen kisses in darkened doorways into what was really going on behind those doors. And although a screen shields the operating table, we can clearly see the vicious cogs that powered this savage regime. Danish born Nikolai Bergsen (Kerill Kelly) and American Zack Travis (Matthew Hartley) meet at the notorious Corner Light Club in Copenhagen, a place under constant watch by the Schutzstaffel (Hitler’s paramilitary police) for evidence of the “disease” of homosexuality. Late one night, Nikolai is picked up, beaten up and dragged into Nazi sympathiser Dr Vaernet’s surgery for the so-called corrective treatment that will cure him of his ‘sickness’. It is a Kafkaesque scenario that beggars belief – the temptation to storm the stage and intervene is strong, such is the authenticity of the performances.

Both Kelly and Hartley capture the mix of passion and danger inherent in their love affair with enough realism to suggest that it might not survive the forces that oppose it. Mark Kitto’s Dr Vaernet cuts a gruesomely sadistic figure made more horrific by his detached coolness and willingness to kowtow to the SS. His assistant nurse, Ilse (played with a potent stillness by Claire-Monique Martin), is all subservience on the outside, but inside the fire of resistance burns passionately below the skin. Meanwhile Tom Everatt is the symbol of oppression in the form of Obergruppenführer General Heinrich von Aeschelman – a nasty piece of work. Reflecting Macor’s writing, Everatt’s performance borders on comedy, strengthening the cynical, satirical parody that is warranted.

There are dark secrets – that I won’t spoil for you. Jonathon Nielsen-Keen is a striking presence as drag cabaret artist Georg Jensen, who rises above victimhood to expose the hypocrisy and deadly double standards of the authorities. Rounding off the impressive ensemble is Simon Chappell’s Major Hemingway whose late appearance in the story in no way undermines his importance.

Macor beautifully marries the tenderness with the savagery, and the skill of the writing is in the detail. Callous asides speak volumes. “The cure will make more space for the Jews” is the appallingly sickening justification for the rush to free up the camps. Lines like these are simultaneously easy yet impossible to miss in the dialogue that is finely researched. Last staged in London ten years ago, Macor has shortened his script into a finely honed drama, condensing the action into one act. It is an important and frightening piece of history that, in this team’s hands, doesn’t come across as a documentary. Director Robert McWhir’s simple staging allows the emotion to shine without overshadowing the brutal reality of the events. Aaron Clingham’s music provides an authentic sense of the period while Richard Lambert’s minimal lighting enhances the stark atmosphere – although the use of two small, flat-screen monitors to pinpoint the various settings is unnecessary, and anachronistically out of place.

Perhaps a little too much pruning has taken place. There are times when we feel the characters could be explored even further. But on balance, Macor has pretty much hit the spot. A succinct epilogue reminds us of the cold fact that this is a true story. A disturbing experience but a pleasure to witness the stagecraft. Heart-breaking and savage, it would be a crime to overlook.

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN at the Stage Door Theatre

★★★★

“Pilcher magnificently captures Haines’ free spirit and rebelliousness”

In 1930, William Haines was listed as the top box-office attraction in Hollywood. Just three years later, however, having made the successful transition to ‘talkies’, Haines’ contract was torn up by studio chief at MGM – Louis B. Mayer – and he was thrown out of the studio. Haines had lived the Bohemian lifestyle of Tinseltown, relying on the studio ‘fixers’ and his PR men to buy the silence of the press. When that eventually failed, the studio bosses sought to silence Haines instead. Almost overnight his name was removed from history and all his movies were withdrawn and locked in a vault where they stayed, unseen, for over sixty years. Why?

Claudio Macor’s play, “The Tailor-Made Man”, charts his story. In today’s society it is unthinkable that Haines was treated the way he was, although there are sadly still remnants of the hypocrisy and double standards that litter the cutting room floors of Hollywood. Haines was openly gay (a dangerous thing to be one hundred years ago) and living with his lifelong partner Jimmie Shields. He refused to bow to the demands of Louis B. Mayer and give Shields up to marry the silent screen vamp Pola Negri, and he paid for it with his career.

Although that is the focus of the story, Macor places it within the wider context of Hollywood in the late twenties and early thirties, throwing light too on some of the more colourful characters that populated that world. In rose-tinted hindsight it is seen as a Golden Age, but Macor’s astute observations unveil the cruel mechanics beneath its glossy, silver-screened veneer. We first see Haines introduced to MGM having been spotted in a talent contest. A mannequin in the eyes of Mayer, naked, blank and ripe to be tailor-made into the next matinee idol. Hugo Pilcher, however, plays him as no dummy. Although initially wide eyed, Pilcher magnificently captures Haines’ free spirit and rebelliousness. Uninhibited and frank, he fearlessly does what he pleases, which is a blessing and a curse. Not always a sympathetic character, his circumstances and Pilcher’s portrayal ensure that we root for him to the end.

With him to the end is Jimmie Shields. Gwithian Evans successfully conveys the bond that keep them together. It is often stretched to breaking point, but Shields always manages to prevent it snapping. Evans shows us the deep frustration but also the devotion and loyalty that is strong enough to bear the Californian heat. Intermittently breaking out of character, Evans uses the transitions to narrate key elements of the story. Split into distinct chapters, the locations and context are beamed onto the back wall like silent movie captions. With Robert McWhir’s uncluttered direction, the story is as clear cut as the finest crystal champagne glass.

Dereck Walker’s depiction of a monstrous, homophobic Louis B. Mayer verges on caricature until we are struck by the frightening realisation that Walker’s interpretation might not be far from the truth at all. An imposing stage presence, that is matched by Peter Rae’s jittery PR guy – Howard Strickling. Sympathetic but obsequious his thankless task is to please everybody. And you know what happens when you do that. Rae, without any need for a physical makeover or visible costume change, brilliantly doubles as Hollywood hack, Victor Darrow, who yearns for the rain-drenched culture of English theatre, but cannot tear himself from the sun, and the sweaty sexuality of Haines and Shields that he likes to bathe in just as much.

The performances, and the writing, draw us into the fascinating story, made more poignant by the fact that this is a true story. But Macor never lets it get too serious. Shelley Rivers is a sunny delight as Marion Davies, even though probably the least researched character, but then again there isn’t the time or space to delve into Davies’ colourful and multi-faceted life. Olivia Ruggiero displays great versatility, as Mayer’s flirtatious secretary, but more significantly lampooning the great Pola Negri, yet still managing to inject a sadness into the character while she draws laughs from the audience.

This is a concise telling of an important slice of movie history. It focuses on some severe injustices, but the lens pans out to reveal a panorama. Evans slips back into narrator mode to deliver an epilogue that reinstates a sense of hope and survival. That to be yourself is, ultimately, a triumph. Similarly, this revival, in the recently opened Stage Door Theatre, above a Covent Garden pub, is also a triumph.

Tag Archives: Claudio Macor

SAVAGE

★★★★

White Bear Theatre

SAVAGE

White Bear Theatre

★★★★

“A disturbing experience but a pleasure to witness the stagecraft”

SAVAGE

White Bear Theatre

Reviewed on 27th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Savage

Savage

Savage

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN

★★★★

Stage Door Theatre

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN at the Stage Door Theatre

★★★★

“Pilcher magnificently captures Haines’ free spirit and rebelliousness”