James Anderton Archives - thespyinthestalls.com

★★★

“With enough spectacle, big chorus numbers and powerful performances, this show could be a contender”

The latest offering by the Southwark Playhouse is a musical adaptation of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, based on Goethe’s famous poem. It’s a story probably better known to audiences as a cartoon version starring Mickey Mouse in Disney’s Fantasia, where the young Mickey attempts to emulate his sorcerer boss by casting a magic spell, and rapidly gets in over his head. Dancing broomsticks and magical mayhem on screen are accompanied by composer Paul Dukas’ memorable score. Goethe’s poem, on the other hand, focuses firmly on more troublesome themes, such as lying, and pretending to be something you are not, and how good intentions will not save you from the consequences of your own arrogance and ignorance. In the Southwark Playhouse version, with book and lyrics by Richard Hough, and music by Ben Morales Frost, an attempt is made to update the story by making the young apprentice a daughter desperate for her magician father’s approval. She isn’t arrogant, but with a typical teenager’s desire for independence, decides to flex her magical muscles before she’s quite ready. And to be fair, she has an overprotective father who tries to push her in directions she knows won’t work for her. The story is placed firmly in the north (with northern English accents) but rather bewilderingly, the location is referred to as Midgard. Before you get excited, I have to warn you there isn’t a Norse god in sight.

Perhaps the biggest problem with Hough and Frost’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is that it tries too hard to be all things to everyone. It’s an unlikely mash up of magic versus science, northern belt and braces versus southern decadence, and capitalist exploitation of the working class. Add to that an environmental theme of human exploitation of natural resources, personified in the Aurora or Northern Lights that is somehow channeling its power through the magician and his child. In short, you have a plot that goes something like Ibsen’s Enemy of the People meets Mary Poppins. Goethe, this is not, even if there is a lively chorus of dancing broomsticks.

Nevertheless, this is a musical that has audience appeal. The diverse cast is charming, with particularly strong performances from Mary Moore as Eva, the Magician’s daughter, and David Thaxton, as her father, Johan. There is a heartwarming connection between these two on stage which is lovely to see, and it helps cement the drama that evolves as the two battle the evil capitalist forces of Fabian Lyddeker (Marc Pickering) and his strongwilled mother Lamia (Dawn Hope). Thaxton in particular, brings a nice intensity to his role of a man trying to keep his daughter safe from the powers that threaten to overwhelm them both. The strengths of this musical lie in the music and lyrics, and director Charlotte Westenra stages the action in such a way that gives the singers and dancers plenty of space (in a limited space) to shine. The musicians, under the direction of Alan Williams, do a great job with the score, and don’t overpower the voices. There are plenty of comic moments for the minor characters, and Yazdan Qafouri as Eva’s lovestruck young scientist suitor, plays his part with a sweet vulnerability that is sure to win fans. The costume and set design (Anna Kelsey) miss what few opportunities there are to be spectacular, but this is a musical staged on a small stage—not ideal for a show that involves the majesty of celestial phenomena and the pyrotechnics of exploding refineries.

This version of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice really belongs on a West End stage. With enough spectacle, big chorus numbers and powerful performances, this show could be a contender. But the plot needs work. Bring back Goethe’s tough mindedness. It won’t hurt The Sorcerer’s Apprentice a bit, and it would be great to get away from the sentimentality of the Disney adaptation. Why not think Wicked meets—just about any musical with complex, morally conflicted leading characters? In a world hurtling towards climate catastrophe and battling toxic capitalism, this could be a winner.

Reviewed by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Geraint Lewis

Persona

Riverside Studios

Reviewed – 28th January 2020

★★★★

“the best way to enjoy “Persona” is not to attempt to analyse, but just tuck into the multi-sensory and multi-dimensional feast”

A lot has changed at Riverside Studios in the past five years. Having closed its doors back in 2014 to undergo a huge renovation project, the venue now shines like a jewel on the banks of the Thames by Hammersmith Bridge, where once it felt almost lost down a back alley – almost secretive. It was always a bit ramshackle; but comfortable and with a wonderful atmosphere. A couple of years overdue, the transformed, state-of-the-art studio has lost none of the atmosphere while acquiring a sheen that brings it firmly into the digital age.

Always at the forefront of innovation, and famous for launching “Dr Who” into the world as the Daleks were filmed emerging from beneath Hammersmith Bridge, it quickly established itself as a full-blown arts centre showcasing film, television, music, theatre and visual art. A fitting choice, then, for the inaugural production, is “Persona” which blends film, music and theatre into one short burst of intriguing drama. Adapted by Paul Schoolman from Ingmar Bergman’s movie of the sixties, the story centres on a nurse and her patient: a successful actress who has suddenly stopped speaking.

Schoolman places himself into the piece as narrator and, by doing so, places Bergman there too; presenting the thoughts of the Swedish filmmaker, drawn from unpublished notes written in retrospect. In a slightly bewildering theatrical device Schoolman veers between informing the audience and then inhabiting the skins of characters within the piece. At times we are unsure whether we are in the original film, in the play, in the mind of Bergman or in the minds of the characters that inhabit Bergman’s imagination. But at least it keeps us on our toes and stops our own minds from wandering.

We are introduced to Alma, a nurse, played by Olivier Award winner Alice Krige, who is appointed to take care of well-known actress Elisabet Vogler (Nobuhle Mngcwengi) who has fallen silent. Has she lost the ability to speak, or merely the will? The two women move to a cottage by the sea when Alma decides the peace and isolation will be therapeutic for Elizabet. The deeper Elizabet descends into her silent world, the more Alma opens up. Freely knocking back the wine, Alma loosens words that used to be trapped inside her and soon she can’t stop them spilling out. Nobody has really listened to her before. Krige gently possesses the stage, but sometimes too quietly – her words often falling short of the rows part of the way up the auditorium. But it is an expertly controlled performance that rightly knocks the grandiose aspirations of the writing off its pedestal, giving a human touch to what could otherwise be seen as pretentiousness. Mngcwengi reacts silently, but seems to be the one in control, almost as though she is playing a game with her companion.

The two characters consume one another until it is difficult for them to distinguish each other. But the various themes explored in this piece threaten to consume each other too as they start dissolving into a soup of uncertainty. Bergman, and later Schoolman, are guilty of over seasoning as they investigate identity, sifting through aspects of the human condition such as truth, lies, parenthood, abortion, lesbian attraction, schizophrenia and consciousness. Bergman himself was always coy in his refusal to reveal what the story meant. He wanted the audience to draw its own conclusions. He hoped it would be felt rather than understood.

In the hands of these three actors, particularly Krige, it is certainly a show that speaks to the senses. And a fourth character, in the shape of William Close and his Earth Harp, certainly makes sure of that. Close, dynamically positioned at the harp’s resonating chamber, underscores with his semi-improvised compositions as the haunting melodies travel along the strings that stretch throughout the auditorium above our heads.

‘Persona’ originates from the Roman word that referred to a theatrical mask. The temptation is to try to see behind the mask, though the best way to enjoy “Persona” is not to attempt to analyse, but just tuck into the multi-sensory and multi-dimensional feast.

Online via stream.theatre

Reviewed – 25th February 2021

★★★

“With enough spectacle, big chorus numbers and powerful performances, this show could be a contender”

Reviewed by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Geraint Lewis

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

Online via stream.theatre

Recently reviewed by Dominica:

Riverside Studios

Reviewed – 28th January 2020

★★★★

“the best way to enjoy “Persona” is not to attempt to analyse, but just tuck into the multi-sensory and multi-dimensional feast”

‘Persona’ originates from the Roman word that referred to a theatrical mask. The temptation is to try to see behind the mask, though the best way to enjoy “Persona” is not to attempt to analyse, but just tuck into the multi-sensory and multi-dimensional feast.

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Persona

Riverside Studios until 23rd February

Last ten shows reviewed by Jonathan: