Tag Archives: Gwyneth Keyworth

AN OAK TREE

★★★½

The Other Palace

AN OAK TREE

The Other Palace

★★★½

“It leaves you uplifted and engaged and frustrated. It is beautiful and ugly”

My oak tree will be different to yours. Mine was autumnal and mournful. Yours might be lop-sided and comical.

But they will have plenty in common too.

One constant is writer-director-svengali Tim Crouch, who has been running these events for so long he is more forest ranger than actor these days. Since 2005, he has been collecting A-listers to accompany him on stage. This time he has lined up a roster that includes Juliet Stevenson, Olivia Williams and Suranne Jones. 

He burns through his Rolodex because each actor can play the part only once.

For those feeling queasy about improv spontaneity, it’s worth running through the rules. The actors know nothing about the part they are to play. They are fed lines and directions by Tim. He tells them what to do or gives them slabs of script.

The set-up is this: Crouch plays The Hypnotist. This night, our night, we’re in a pub for his latest show. He’s all sequinned jackets and end-of-pier gags, but the performance is decidedly sub-optimal. He’s lost his mojo.

The reason being, three months ago, he hit a young girl with his car. She’s dead. In comes Andy, 42, who volunteers as one of his stooges. Andy, it turns out, is the girl’s father – and he has questions.

Wowser. Great premise. Cling to that. It’s an anchor.

Andy, in our case, is Gwyneth Keyworth, the Welsh actor known for TV work like Death Valley and, on stage, To Kill a Mockingbird.

At the beginning she knows as much about Andy as we do and she has to create him as she goes along while we all gawp. She deserves every plaudit because it is a thrilling examination of her craft.

Now we’re leaving the land of rules and conventions and entering the world of deconstructed performance. Into the woods we go…

Because you’re never far from a reminder that this is not business as usual. This is not The Mousetrap or Hamlet where the play is the thing.

Example: As an aside, Gwyneth might be telling Tim how she’s doing, whether she’s comfortable with the experiment or not – but she’s reading her reaction from a script. So he’s not really asking her and she’s not really telling him. And it’s not really an aside.

That kind of thing.

There are many layers: there’s Gwyneth, the actor, and Tim, the director; there’s Gwyneth and Tim, the scripted versions of themselves; and there’s The Hypnotist and Andy, the parts they play. Sometimes they are all three at once.

Look up “meta” in the dictionary and it might read: We give up, go and watch An Oak Tree and figure it out for yourself.

Instinct wants you, the audience, to make the tragedy into a seamless sequence of consequences and outcomes. You’re grabbing, hand outstretched, at a nub of drama through a thicket of barbed wire, each scratch a jolt back to reality. Instead of the suspension of disbelief there is theatre and script and actor and performance.

And that’s the paradox. The more fascinating the theatrical experiment becomes, the harder it is to engage with the human story at its centre.

Surprisingly little gets done in terms of confrontation, exploration and catharsis. The interplay between killer and parent is underplayed and underwritten. Partly because Andy isn’t quite himself. He’s Gwyneth, obviously, but he’s also a man under hypnosis, creating someone else entirely.

So, in the end we have this Lloyd’s Building of a performance, all the internals on the outside: the ducts, the sewage pipes, the scaffolding. It leaves you uplifted and engaged and frustrated. It is beautiful and ugly.

Crouch shows us how the whole thing comes together. The price is that we stop being an audience and instead become mechanics, watching the works and looking for leaks



AN OAK TREE

The Other Palace

Reviewed on 7th October 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Pamela Raith

 

For the full list of actors performing, please visit theotherpalace.co.uk/an-oak-tree

 

 

 

 

 

 

AN OAK TREE REVIEW

AN OAK TREE

AN OAK TREE

AN OAK TREE

TWELFTH NIGHT

★★★★

Barbican

TWELFTH NIGHT

Barbican

★★★★

“There are many moments of light and silliness in this production”

When Feste – the fool attached to Olivia’s household – hangs upside down from the rafters, crooning as though in an after-hours jazz club; while Orsino is draped across a grand piano ten feet below him, you know you’re in for a “Twelfth Night” with a difference. Feste is less the sword of Damocles, but more Cupid’s arrow, if only he wouldn’t spend so much time clowning around. Played by Michael Grady-Hall, he weaves himself in and out of each of the play’s storylines as though he’s at the circus. Even during the interval, he plays Catch with the audience.

Yet he stops short of making this the ‘Feste Show’. Directed by Prasanna Puwanarajah, this eccentrically stylised production reveals how strong an ensemble piece it is. While Feste feels the need to fix everyone’s problems, they all seem to be getting on with it fine anyway. And relishing the opportunity. The sense of mourning and melancholy that introduces the story is reliant on the music more than the characters. Whether it is composer Matt Maltese’s jazzy piano accompaniments or the imposing pipe organ that periodically dominates James Cotterill’s outlandish sets, the tunes and refrains are what trigger the emotions. Ragtime accompanies the boisterous, boozy, behind-the-scenes shenanigans of Sir Toby and company. The same melody, slowed down for the organ, reflects the themes of lost and confused love that the protagonists are grappling with.

Daniel Monks’ Orsino is a velvet-clad playboy. A bachelor who prefers others to do his lustful bidding for him. Continually rejected by Olivia, his heart’s desire, he conveys a parallel growing affection for Cesario, his newly acquired manservant (the shipwrecked Viola in disguise). The same homoeroticism is more than hinted at between Olivia and Cesario/Viola. Gwyneth Keyworth embraces Olivia’s contradictions: resilient and practical yet vulnerable and easily infatuated. Continually dropping hints that he/she isn’t who she really is, Olivia pursues him/her anyway, perhaps not really caring too much about the gender. Freema Agyeman is a striking and versatile Olivia. Forcefully charismatic and sultry, and also playfully swinging between offended gravitas and excited sensuality.

Samuel West shines as Malvolio, austere one moment until duped into shaking his tail feathers for Olivia. Hilarious in his stockings, garters and broad smile. Yet when the game is up, his final exit is ultimately moving. Joplin Sibtain’s Sir Toby Belch is like an untrained hound while Danielle Henry’s Maria is his handler. As Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Demetri Goritsas is an all-shook-up, Americanised mix of Stan Laurel and Hugh Laurie.

Puwanarajah’s playful approach often detracts from the true emotion, but our attention never wanders and, among the mix of styles, small details are mischievously slipped in – like “Chekhov’s tramp”. A wandering vagrant or police officer may cross the stage for no apparent reason. A painter and decorator will be seen working away on nobody-knows-what. There are many moments of light and silliness in this production. It is a play that sets out amid grief, mourning and tragedy on its stylish journey towards celebration and unity, with some unexpected steps on the way. Occasional ad-libbing, along with scripted anachronisms, reference the festive season. We leave the theatre with a warm spring in our step. A joyous and heart-tugging production.



TWELFTH NIGHT

Barbican

Reviewed on 16th December 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Murray


 

 

 

 

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT