Tag Archives: James Bradwell

The Garden of Words

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Park Theatre

THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

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The Garden of Words

“There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production”

 

It is a brave undertaking to lure London audiences into the theatre this summer with the promise of a show that features an awful lot of rain. It is also a brave undertaking to adapt a Makoto Shinkai film. Shinkai – animator, filmmaker, author and graphic artist – is responsible for some of the highest-grossing Japanese films of all time with his idiosyncratic and recognisable animations. But both are challenges that β€˜Whole Hog Theatre’, specialists in Anglo-Japanese theatre, are not shying away from with the premier of β€œThe Garden of Words”.

It focuses on Takao Akizuki (Hiroki Berrecloth), an aspiring teenage shoemaker and Yukari Yukino (Aki Nakagawa), a mysterious older woman he keeps meeting in the public gardens of Shinjuku City. It is the rainy season, beautifully evoked by the video projections, lighting, sound and stylised movement of the actors. There are echoes of Jacques Demy (it could almost be dubbed β€˜The Umbrellas of Tokyo’), and traces of David Lean’s β€˜Brief Encounter’ when the couple meet – courtesy of Mark Choi’s soaring piano soundtrack. But the overall sensation is of being drawn into a Japanese β€˜anime’ art film. The merging of styles creates a profoundly hypnotic atmosphere, but one that clouds the emotional connection we would have liked to have had with these characters.

It is a simple, soft love story that subtly touches on the taboo. Takao is still a teenager while Yukari is a teacher from his school. Although their meetings are accidental and innocent. At least initially. They only meet when it rains. A literal and metaphoric ingredient for the blossoming of their friendship. They are both isolated in their own way. Back home, Takao’s divorced mother (a bubbling and eccentric Susan Momoko Hingley) is more concerned with her love life than her family, while his brother (James Bradwell) is fleeing the nest in pursuit of actress girlfriend Rika (Iniki Mariano). Like Takao, Yukari is also skipping school, having been hounded by false accusations from her students, the prime culprit being Shoko (a very watchable Shoko Aizawa). Trying to appease all parties is gym teacher Soichiro (Mark Takeshi Ota).

There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production (who co-adapted with Susan Momoko Hingley). But also, some superfluous moments of repeated movement that, although eye-catching, could be pruned. In the first act it occasionally loses its balance, like riding a bicycle too slowly. In contrast, the second act rushes to its epilogue as if an afterthought, and the interval was an unscheduled mistake. The enchantment would have kept its flavour better if concentrated in a one act performance. Otherwise, the essence of the anime art form remains as true as it can be. It recognises its limitations, and doesn’t try to overstep the small-scale setting with its vivid, slightly surreal and delicate combination of creative expertise.

KENNY’s video graphic projections work hand in hand with Cindy Lin’s set. The Japanese Garden almost origami like, comprising fringes of paper that depict both the city’s skyline and the weeping leaves of the trees. In turn they become the rain, then the tears of these lost souls who β€œfeel they may die from the agony of love”: one of many quotations projected overhead. Passages from β€˜The Man’yōshū’, a compilation of Classical Japanese poetry from the eighth century, are a recurring motif that informs the narrative, and assists the audience. Like the rain.

In fact, the rain is quite relentless. A leitmotif that adopts many shades and meanings. In the world that these characters inhabit, rain is something that people who suffer from social isolation can prefer more than the sun. β€œThe Garden of Words” exposes the fragility of emotions born of loneliness and longing, yet just falls short of gripping the heart. The other senses are left basking in the downpour though. It is a treat to watch, even if we don’t quite connect. It is an apt synchronicity that while the characters onstage are β€˜praying for the rain’, we most certainly aren’t. Especially this summer.

 


THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

Reviewed on 15th August 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Piers Foley


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Bones | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2023
Paper Cut | β˜…β˜…Β½ | June 2023
Leaves of Glass | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2023
Winner’s Curse | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
The Beach House | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
The Elephant Song | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
Rumpelstiltskin | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
Wickies | β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
Pickle | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2022
A Single Man | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2022

The Garden of Words

The Garden of Words

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My Night With Reg

My Night With Reg

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The Turbine Theatre

My Night With Reg

My Night With Reg

The Turbine Theatre

Reviewed – 29th July 2021

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“The writing is timeless and the acting faultless”

 

When β€œMy Night With Reg” premiered at the Royal Court in 1994, Kevin Elyot’s depiction of the ups and downs of a circle of gay friends was seen to be ground-breaking and dissenting. A smash hit, it was considered to be the first gay play in which being gay wasn’t an issue. To revive it today there is the risk of it passing by unnoticed. The novelty value is obviously going to be diluted, if not dissolved completely, awash in a scene where much of London’s theatreland is championing the gay community. Yet it is the beauty of Elyot’s writing: his wit, compassion and insight, that make the task much easier. The writing will stand up at any point in history. Like his first play, β€œComing Clean”, which tackles similar issues but when AIDS was still just a rumour in Britain, it doesn’t wave any flags or thrust articles of faith into our hands. It is a play about friendships and about how to keep those friendships alive; about lying and cheating and the subsequent costs of deception. It is about how we hold onto each other amid the barrage of adversity that is thrown at us.

And that is what comes across in Matt Ryan’s revival at the Turbine Theatre. It doesn’t try to replicate the storm that swept it onto the stage nearly three decades ago. Instead, it relies on a company of exceptional actors knocking back wonderful moments of nostalgia with their whisky chasers. Each cast member savours the language, embellishing it with their body language, mannerisms and silences that flesh out their characters.

Guy (Paul Keating) is nervously welcoming his university pal John (Edward M Corrie) into his flat warming party. The awkwardness stems from the unspoken and unrequited love that Guy feels for John. From the off we relish the realism that Keating brings to the shy Guy, fawning and fumbling in the face of Corrie’s cool composure. There’s a crackle in the air that is soon blown away when Gerard McCarthy’s Daniel storms in, buzzing with irreverence. The dialogue is swift and seemingly inconsequential, yet it skilfully establishes the relationships and connections between the ensemble. In the background is Eric (James Bradwell), Guy’s young decorator; initially an outsider but who very quickly wrangles a place centre stage. Alan Turkington and Stephen K Amos join the party as the bickering odd couple Bernie and Benny.

Never seen, but always present is the eponymous Reg. Reg is the one who binds them and can potentially drive them apart. It is no spoiler to reveal that each character onstage has had their β€˜night with Reg’ at some point or other. It is the aftermath, the secrets and duplicity, the heartache, sorrow and dangers they each face after Reg has died that are the revelations in this skilfully constructed production. Lee Newby’s design, with its scattering of vinyl records and house plants, wonderfully mirrors the play’s mix of nostalgia and concurrence; concord and discord. The big picture is in the detail. And likewise, the big moments are found in the small gestures.

It seems irrelevant to harp on about the relevance of β€œMy Night With Reg”. The writing is timeless and the acting faultless. The themes are shadowed by death, loss, grief, fear and sorrow but the strength of the personalities, not just of the characters but of the actors themselves, light up the darkest corners of the space, revealing the untidy dust balls of hope and optimism and the need to hang on to the delicacy of friendship that we can all relate to. AIDS is another central character, but the fact that it is never mentioned in the script, without diminishing its pertinence, enhances the play’s longevity and universality. And this heartfelt homage to Elyot will ensure the continued success and interest in his work.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 


My Night With Reg

The Turbine Theatre until 21st August

 

Previously reviewed at this venue in 2021:
My Son’s A Queer But What Can You Do | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | The Turbine Theatre | June 2021

 

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