Tag Archives: Giles Broadbent

THE SCORE

★★★ 1/2

Theatre Royal Haymarket

THE SCORE

Theatre Royal Haymarket

★★★1/2

“Cox, booming yet nuanced, is at a canter to reach the next cutting quip”

What’s The Score?

The sporting pun is not entirely misplaced. A major sequence in this uneven play of ideas sees the sycophantic court of Frederick the Great hosting a frantic wager with Carl, the son of composer Johann Sebastian Bach.

It’s a 1747 head-to-head between supreme monarch and ageing genius.

The king claims elderly Bach, freshly arrived from Leipzig, cannot improvise a three-part fugue based on Frederick’s own simple melody which has been worked into a knotty puzzle by his three stooge composers. It is, says one, “unfuguable”.

Carl says otherwise, betting his meagre funds and his standing in court on his father, who is sick, tired, unpredictable and cantankerous but still “the greatest composer in Europe”.

This showdown is typical of writer Oliver Cotton’s hodge-podge script. It is fun, elaborate in the set-up, and Brian Cox – who doesn’t just inhabit Bach but swallows him whole – lands the multiple pay-offs exquisitely.

But where does this fit into the play? Is it the highlight, a metaphor, or just some passing frippery? Does the play even know? The script roams freely across a number of topics – religion, morality, tyranny, creativity, inspiration – without really choosing a main course.

Its purpose, perhaps (and it is a grand and worthy one) is to provide a sufficiently gargantuan role for the operatic, rip-roaring Cox, who is on top form.

With his accented voice emerging like an eruption of lava from the depths, he leaps on the fluctuating states of Bach’s mind with an actor’s relish.

So much to choose from.

There’s indignant Bach, outraged by the king’s warmongering. There’s morose Bach, losing eyesight and significance. There’s courageous Bach, challenging the tyrannical king over his soldiers’ debauchery. There’s tormented Bach, everything coming from God but now troubled by doubt. Above all, there’s sitcom Bach – with his masterful pauses, hangdog putdowns and dry asides.

Cox, booming yet nuanced, is at a canter to reach the next cutting quip. Professional discipline dictates that he cannot yield to an obvious urge to eyeroll at the audience for another bite at the comedy cherry.

In his wake, the supporting cast do their best to keep up.

The expansionist king (Stephen Hagan) is affably dangerous, talking about Prussia First in terms that are disconcertingly relevant. His verbal duels with Bach, which anger the monarch but also give him a moment’s pause, represent the dramatic peak despite lacking real threat or menace.

A good show too from Jamie Wilkes as Carl, the son and foil, who does much of the thankless legwork supporting an ailing and disgruntled Bach. The brainless scheming of the three composers Christopher Staines, Toby Webster and Matthew Romain (as Quantz, Benda and Graun – “like a firm of bent solicitors”) is goofy in a Blackadderish way. And Peter De Jersey goes to town on French philosopher Voltaire playing him as Shrek’s Puss in Boots by way of ’Allo ’Allo.

Their court intrigue – all behind-the-hand whispers, elaborate bows and fake flattery – is aided considerably by Robert Jones’s sumptuous period costumes and stately sets in director Trevor Nunn’s easy-on-the-eye drama.

Curiously, and despite the title, music plays second fiddle here, with the cast miming unconvincingly at the harpsichord. But that is perhaps indicative of the production as a whole. Nearly, but not quite.



THE SCORE

Theatre Royal Haymarket

Reviewed on 27th February 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WAITING FOR GODOT | ★★★★ | September 2024
FARM HALL | ★★★★ | August 2024
HEATHERS | ★★★ | July 2021

THE SCORE

THE SCORE

THE SCORE

BACKSTROKE

★★★

Donmar Warehouse

BACKSTROKE

Donmar Warehouse

★★★

“Greig’s encapsulation of the sandwich generation – elderly parent to care for and young children too – is a masterclass in empathy and subtlety”

There’s a sign on the wall on the way into the Donmar theatre warning patrons about the use of herbal cigarettes in the production. There is no sign pre-figuring the far greater traumas the audience is about to experience: the indignity of death, the intrusions of humiliating healthcare, the cruel tricks of a failing brain.

Little wonder then that daughter Bo is keen on a swift departure for Beth, her mother, who has suffered dementia of late, and debilitating strokes.

Bo frets about everything, always has done, so she’s extra keen to convey to the nurses that her actions are merciful and not, as they occasionally hint, cruel and self-serving. Indeed, this was her mother’s repeated wish – pills, pillow over the face, nil by mouth etc.

She was a firecracker in her day, indomitable and difficult, full of life – not this half-inhabited skeleton.

Writer-director Anna Mackmin mines her own experiences to inform a difficult piece that leaps back and forth through time to capture scenes from a fractious mother-daughter relationship.

There are significant problems with the play, but the casting decisions mitigate many. Tamsin Greig as everywoman Bo and Celia Imrie as the feckless bohemian Beth paper over many a structural flaw. They are superb. Funny and touching and bracing. Greig’s encapsulation of the sandwich generation – elderly parent to care for and young children too – is a masterclass in empathy and subtlety.

Bo is dowdy, unkempt and frazzled, scratching out a life in the grout between vast slabs of thankless obligation. Her mother – a peacock in her day – has spent years pointing out her daughter’s shortcomings to the point where Bo has seemly embraced the criticisms in a grim homage. And yet, occasionally Beth (never “mum”) is an inspiration too, a source of joy and laughter.

Fittingly, designer Lez Brotherston’s stage has the operatic hospital bed on a raised stage, surrounded by medical paraphernalia and appearing more like a courtly throne. A step down and we’re in Beth’s ramshackle cottage, firmly frozen in the free-loving 1960s. Here she keeps her loom and her woven artworks. A vast black backdrop fills in some gaps with scratchy projections.

Unfortunately, the play – as baggy as Bo’s “Greenham Common” cardigan – has nowhere particularly to go with this set-up and offers few revelations beyond the Ab-Fab dynamic of selfish mother and attendant child.

There’s a certain shocking delight watching Celia Imrie swear like a trooper or provide a play-by-play recitation of her sexual antics, but this is always going to offer a diminishing return.

Director Anna Mackmin has failed to press writer Anna Mackmin on some key questions. Is it worth two hours? What do we learn? Does the play need another few minutes in the oven to be truly ready?

Her script captures scenes from their life when Bo is six, 18 and off to university (needy mum is desperate not to be left behind), in her 30s, 40s and so on, as though Beth’s failing brain is compiling a highlights reel. But once we have seen one flashback, we have seen them all, and the absence of progress ramps up the need for mawkish sentimentality as filler.

The saving grace is experiencing Tasmin Greig close up in the Donmar’s intimate space. She manages to find grandeur in the gruelling mundane and it is compensation enough.



BACKSTROKE

Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed on 21st February 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Johan Persson

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812 | ★★★★★ | December 2024
SKELETON CREW | ★★★★ | July 2024
THE HUMAN BODY | ★★★ | February 2024
LOVE AND OTHER ACTS OF VIOLENCE | ★★★★ | October 2021

BACKSTROKE

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