Tag Archives: Hildegard Bechtler

MANHUNT

★★★★

Royal Court

MANHUNT

Royal Court

★★★★

“Samuel Edward-Cook’s performance is a tour-de-force”

Behind a metallic, gauze curtain a figure paces back and forth. Shaven headed. His shadow follows him across the vertical wall of the translucent screen – a projected alter ego pursuing its prey, fuelling the claustrophobic motions of the man’s repetitive circuit. His behaviour is erratic yet painfully routine. It’s like watching a captive animal through the bars of a zoo’s enclosure.

A flash of brilliant white light releases him to tell his story. It’s a story that dominated the front pages and caught the public imagination during the summer of 2010. That of the major police operation across Tyne and Wear – the manhunt for fugitive Raoul Moat. The ex-prisoner was on the run for nearly a week after a killing spree, ending with a six-hour standoff with armed police and Moat’s suicide. It was a story that landed in the lap of journalist Andrew Hankinson whose subsequent book inspired Robert Icke’s brutal and challenging one-act play. The overriding word on our lips is ‘why?’

“Manhunt” doesn’t offer any answers, but it poses the question from every angle, looking at the horrific events through the eyes of the victims and the perpetrator, often begging us to ask which is which. Icke’s writing and direction steer the narrative in a cyclical fashion, swinging between flashbacks and the present. It is often Kafkaesque in its approach as Moat fights a system he believes has been against him since birth. Whether we are supposed to be or not, we are drawn into Moat’s own tragedy as much as his victim’s which is unsettling to say the least. Samuel Edward-Cook’s performance is a tour-de-force that reinforces this with a warped honesty as he tries to justify himself. All the while he is surrounded by figures from his past and present: the judges and juries that accuse him of hitting his daughter; the ex-partner; his childhood self, locked in his room by his unstable mother; the father he never knew; social workers; friends, accomplices and detractors, and most importantly his victims. A poignant extended blackout heightens a first-hand account from a police officer he randomly shot and blinded in a cold-hearted act of revenge.

The supporting cast who play the multiple roles are as equally compelling as Edward-Cook, if not as frightening. This could well have been a one man show along the lines of the recent ‘Kenrex’, which follows similar themes, but the ensemble here fleshes out the account and adds a distinct and welcome light and shade. There is occasional confusion during moments when we are unsure that what we are witnessing is in Moat’s mind or in reality. Hallucinations overlap real life too often, yet it all adds to the unease, and we are constantly left unsure who to believe. So rather than collude with anybody we end up trusting no one. An unsatisfactory and dangerous position to be in, but one that maybe Icke is trying to spotlight.

Danger is an undercurrent that bursts to the surface constantly. Edward-Cook’s manic, wild-eyed stare cements this. He is a drowning man watching his life flash before him. Azusa Ono’s lighting evokes the episodes with haunting atmosphere, from the coldness of a prison cell to the campfire warmth of his last hiding place in the Northumbrian countryside. Here Moat talks to fellow Geordie, Paul Gascoigne before confronting his estranged father and being consoled by a doting grandmother. It is all unreal, but it helps him unearth the truth of his nature. There is only one conclusion. Justice takes a back seat while cause and effect – action and reaction – take centre stage.

At the time, Moat was famously labelled a ‘callous murderer… end of story’. Which is arguably the case. This play appears to challenge that assumption, but Icke’s writing is as ambiguous as the history as he tries to dig deeper. But there is no avoiding the fact that Moat was a big, strong man who used violence against those who were weaker than him. He lied, he lacked control, and he tried to justify his actions that ruined and ended lives. It is not a good story. However, Icke turns it into a breath-taking piece of theatre. We might wonder why he chose to do so, but we are enthralled and disturbed by the experience, and the performances will stick in our minds for quite a while. A gripping production. End of story.

MANHUNT

Royal Court

Reviewed on 8th April 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

A GOOD HOUSE | ★★★★ | January 2025
THE BOUNDS | ★★★ | June 2024
LIE LOW | ★★★★ | May 2024
BLUETS | ★★★ | May 2024
GUNTER | ★★★★ | April 2024
COWBOIS | ★★★★★ | January 2024
MATES IN CHELSEA | ★★★ | November 2023
CUCKOO | ★★½ | July 2023
BLACK SUPERHERO | ★★★★ | March 2023
FOR BLACK BOYS … | ★★★★★ | April 2022

MANHUNT

MANHUNT

MANHUNT

DR. STRANGELOVE

★★★½

 Noël Coward Theatre

DR. STRANGELOVE at the  Noël Coward Theatre

★★★½

“part broad farce, part skewering satire, a little bit of ’Allo ’Allo, some Airplane, some Partridge”

You have to laugh, don’t you, faced with this confluence of existential crises. War in Europe and the Americans tempted by the charms of a bloviated strongman. Meanwhile the Reds, if not exactly under in our beds, then loitering on our phones, messing with our minds.

Perfect time then for that whip-smart agitator Armando Iannucci, arch chronicler of political chaos, to revive and adapt director Stanley Kubrick’s classic ode to Cold War lunacy, Dr Strangelove.

A great decision and elevated to genius with Steve Coogan who is in harness for not one but four roles – the headliner’s quick change act a marvel in itself.

A reminder: it’s the early 1960s. We’re in the Cold War, everyone’s on edge, there are Commies everywhere, paranoia is rife and cigar chomping General Jack Ripper (a very Trumpian John Hopkins) has gone rogue, sending his pilots to drop a big wing of H-bombs on the Ruskies.

The next two hours of this soaring, mile-a-minute, yet strangely stodgy comedy sees bumbling War Room generals trying to mitigate and resolve one world-ending disaster after another, not helped by a disabling patriotism that won’t let them back down.

There’s a grab-bag of comedy influences on show – part broad farce, part skewering satire, a little bit of ’Allo ’Allo, some Airplane, some Partridge (inevitably) as well as dollops of that Pythonesque love of institutional silliness.

But mostly we’re living in Coogan’s world. He is the lynchpin of director Sean Foley’s ambitious production that attempts – by means of audacious staging, filmed backdrops, crashes, bangs and shoot-outs – to emulate Kubrick’s 1964 silver screen satire.

All eyes are on Coogan as he embodies, in turn, marble mouthed Brit Lionel Mandrake (channelling King Charles); frazzled plot device President Merkin Muffley; bombastic, bombtastic pilot Major TJ Kong; and the eponymous Dr Strangelove, the sinister Nazi (‘as American as apple strudel’) with the Andy Warhol wig and the alien robot arm that has a tendency to heil Hitler. Coogan is at his peak here, whizzing about in a wheelchair in a blizzard of tics, finding layers of comedy in his camp German inflections.

When he is on, he is truly on, when he is off – changing wigs and suits – we hanker for his return.

Coogan makes the most of his audacious bid to match, and perhaps surpass, Peter Sellers – the film’s original star – as the country’s most admirable comic actor. Coogan gives it everything, seemingly understanding the weight of the comparison, even taking on a fourth role to top Sellers by one.

The production is not entirely successful. The convolutions of plot and language occasionally fall for their own complexity meaning the comedy sags. Too many jokes are aimless and dated. And the febrile pacing – one note, full pelt farce, major scene changes, and non-stop calamity – is sometimes too much and not enough at the same time, the cinematic ambition leaving the theatricals stuttering.

But the ensemble cast is uniformly strong. Booming Giles Terera as General Turgidson takes on Coogan blow-for-blow in the War Room set pieces. Mark Hadfield sprinkles baffled fun on proceedings as Paceman, and Tony Jayawardena gives Russian Ambassador Bakov some comedic heft.

The sets (by Hildegard Bechtler) are jaw dropping, the energy phenomenal and the laugh rate about as high as a B-52 over Moscow.

If Armageddon’s this much fun, bring on the bombs.


DR. STRANGELOVE at the  Noël Coward Theatre

TReviewed on 29th October 2024

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE MOTIVE AND THE CUE | ★★★★★ | December 2023
THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE | ★★★★★ | October 2023
THE GREAT BRITISH BAKE OFF MUSICAL | ★★★ | March 2023

DR. STRANGELOVE

DR. STRANGELOVE

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page