★★★

“Director Michael Grandage moves the action swiftly along, although there are no real obstacles in the script that is fast flowing and fresh”

Lila Raicek’s “My Master Builder” is not a translation of Ibsen’s ‘The Master Builder’. Nor is it an adaptation. But it is in no way a new play either even though it has its own, very contemporary feel to it. It’s a play about the dynamics of power, and Raicek successfully brings the female characters out of the shadows that Ibsen originally cast them in. Elena, the wife (an assured and seductively fiery Kate Fleetwood), is very much the co-star alongside architect Ewan McGregor’s starry status as the architect Henry. All the characters are on an equal footing in the story of a fractured marriage. A couple that, on the surface, have it all – but beneath the glossy surface grief at the loss of their son appears to be the only foundation holding them together. Played out in real time, it is July 4th, in the present day. Henry is unveiling his latest architectural triumph while his wife is getting the party in full swing. The arrival of former student Mathilde (Elizabeth Debicki) triggers memories, stirs up past desires and sets the wheels of tragedy in motion. By interval the blue touch paper is well and truly lit. The second act will provide the fireworks.

Henry – the successful and eminent architect – is the architect of his own fate, and of those around him. But this interpretation shifts the weight onto the women. Feminine power is the keynote, yet it strikes a little out of tune here, not quite finding its pitch. The vitriol that Fleetwood invests in Elena’s anger lacks justification. We would be on her side more if we could see the grief more than the righteousness. In fact, with all the characters, there is a sense of it being ‘all about me’, and it is hard to warm to these selfish personalities. The exceptions are David Ajala, as Henry’s protégé Ragnar and Mirren Mack’s Kaia. The couple share a humility that the others should definitely take note of.

Director Michael Grandage moves the action swiftly along, although there are no real obstacles in the script that is fast flowing and fresh. The central theme of the older man’s infatuation with a younger woman is not so fresh, however, and the handling is clumsy. Debicki’s Mathilde is a striking figure, but we are in constant confusion as to where her loyalties lie. We share Henry’s sentiment when he repeatedly declares her to be too beautiful to be real, but McGregor’s words are just as unreal. We just cannot believe most of what he says. Whilst the acting can’t be faulted, the mood swings and the shifts from realism to histrionics hinder the delivery.

Richard Kent’s set evokes the modernism of Henry’s visionary architecture, peeling it back to reveal the watery backdrop of the Hamptons in New York. The shoehorned references to Henry’s vertigo are vivid signposts to the tragic finale, even to those unfamiliar with the Ibsen original. Raicek’s play stands alone, though, so no familiarity is needed. Apparently semi-autobiographical, it is easy to follow, with just enough twists to satisfy. Set within the confines of a party there are nods to Thomas Vinterberg’s ‘Festen’, or Moira Buffini’s ‘Dinner’, but without much of the darkness and the suspense. Things fall apart too quickly, and the manipulations of the subplots are lost in the cascade. More could be made of Elena’s threat of making or breaking Mathilde’s debut novel, depending on whether she becomes an ally or remains a rival for her husband’s love. The punch of Raicek’s narrative is too often softened by platitudes. ‘Men do so little to be worshipped’ complains Elena, ‘while women have to do so much just to succeed’.

There is much talk of the master bedroom, and the master guest room in which past, present and potential lovers can retreat; but the play falls short of being a masterpiece. “My Master Builder” does have the power, though, to keep us gripped. What stands out more is its portrayal of the sense of loss. These are characters that have achieved much and gained more than they could want, but the losses – of love and of life – topple the lives they have built for themselves. We just wish we could care more, and sympathise with the sense of self-destruction built into them, but the piece needs a stronger foundation to truly hold it together.

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

The first thing you notice about the new musical, “Stiletto”, is the opulence of Ceci Calf’s set. Dimly lit in the pre-show, it depicts not so much a Venetian palazzo but something more subterranean. You almost expect ripples of light, cast from the canal waters, to dapple from above. It is moody, portentous and atmospheric. The musical itself follows suit. Consistently soul-stirring, grandiose and lush, it looks and sounds exceptional. A balcony circles the stage behind its proscenium arch, like a minstrel’s gallery. In the shadows we can make out the silhouettes of the fifteen-piece orchestra. A cast of seventeen grace the stage, yet Chris Baldock’s musical staging never makes it appear crowded. From the opening dramatic bars of music, we know we are in for something grand. There is a danger that the show might take itself too seriously. A feeling, however, which soon dissipates under David Gilmore’s pacey and fresh direction.

We are in Venice in the early part of the eighteenth century. Marco Borroni (Jack Chambers) is on the cusp of stardom. He is a ‘castrato’, which means he was castrated before puberty to preserve his soprano voice. Apparently, the process not only keeps the vocals skills intact, but it also in no way diminishes his pleasure-giving prowess – as his siren-like patron, the Contessa Azurra (Kelly Hampson), seductively points out. Meanwhile Marco meets feisty Gioia (Jewelle Hutchinson), a slave’s daughter, in the market square. His lust is turned into sheer wonder when he hears her sing, and he vows to sweep her up from the gutter into his own impending rise to fame and fortune. Of course, there are snags. In this case an accidental death, an ensuing scapegoat bound for the hangman’s noose (i.e. Gioia – that’s no spoiler by the way), a corrupt judicial system, and the predictable battle between good and bad – the underdog and the powerful. Tim Luscombe’s book follows a formulaic narrative, but there is a quirkiness and modernism to the dialogue, much of which swings effortlessly in time to the musical preludes.

The plot may be a touch thin, but Matthew Wilder’s score is as ripe and succulent as they come. Wilder generously gives each major character a solo moment in the spotlight, but he also allows the full ensemble to shine throughout. This could almost be a sung-through musical and often has that feel – the underscore subtly echoing the songs. Simon Nathan’s orchestrations highlight the variations; from a quiet harp-accompanied ballad through to the full pageantry of sweeping ensemble numbers. There are many musical highlights and just as many performance highlights. Chambers, as Marco, has a natural flair, mixing innocence with passion, carnality with self-righteousness. And a voice to match – particularly when standing alone, closing the first act with a gorgeously delivered ‘The Wanting’, or lamenting the tragic figure of his tutor Faustino (a rich-toned Greg Barnett). Jennie Jacobs stands in as a masked mezzo soprano whenever Marco is called upon to demonstrate the ‘castrato’ voice. Kelly Hampson’s Contessa Azurra is a force to be reckoned with, standing up to her corrupt yet camp husband, Pietro (a wonderful Douglas Hansell). Hampson’s solo number, ‘Amore Mio’ has a bond-theme quality, but with more interesting time signatures and shifts in tone.

There are surprises, too. When Connor Wood, as the mute Niccolo, finds his voice at a crucial moment in the story we are quite taken aback by his singing voice during ‘No Words’; and Sam Barrett’s down-trodden Luigi blossoms as he turns saviour and vocal raconteur extraordinaire with his solo number ‘Go Along’. But the one to watch out for is Jewelle Hutchinson, stealing the show whenever she walks on stage as Gioia. Spirited and ballsy (ironic given her paramour’s deficiency in that department), Hutchinson lets Gioia’s vulnerability cut through as well. And all the while her rich, wide-ranged vocals pierce our hearts.

The performances bring a heightened energy to the stage that befits the setting and the storyline. Cementing the sense of period are Anna Kelsey’s glorious and flamboyant costumes. Passion is the key word for this show. And drama. Sometimes melodrama slips in which, if you’re not paying attention, can hide the flaws in the narrative. It does feel as though a trick or two is missed, and certain themes are underexplored while the finale comes a little too quickly and too forced. That frustration aside, this is a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstrings. Full of light and shade, musically as well as visually, it might not penetrate quite as deeply or cleanly as a stiletto, but it certainly gets under your skin.

MY MASTER BUILDER

Wyndham’s Theatre

★★★

“Director Michael Grandage moves the action swiftly along, although there are no real obstacles in the script that is fast flowing and fresh”

MY MASTER BUILDER

Wyndham’s Theatre

Reviewed on 30th April 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MY MASTER BUILDER

MY MASTER BUILDER

MY MASTER BUILDER

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STILETTO

STILETTO

STILETTO