★★★★

“Seager and White give astonishingly convincing performances, both fearless in displaying emotions most of us would like to keep buried”

A little bit of trivia: “Fly Me to the Moon”, the popular standard made famous by Frank Sinatra in the 1960s, was originally titled “In Other Words”. In turn, the refrain has been fittingly adopted as the title for Matthew Seager’s play, which is as far away from ‘trivia’ as can be imagined. While the song may be bland melodic wallpaper in many people’s lives, this production tears it apart to reveal the bare bricks of the shattered lives of a married couple. The song brought Arthur and Jane together, and in their later years, it becomes the sole, delicate anchor that makes life bearable as they cope with the effects of Arthur’s Alzheimer’s.

Arthur (Seager) meets Jane (Lydia White) at a bar. He spills red wine down her white blouse. Not a great start but by the end of the evening they have enjoyed their first kiss. We are told this in flashback, then shown it in real time, and back again. The milestones of their relationship are dished up like a kind of memory game. Seager’s supple writing, enhanced by Andy Routledge’s sharp staging, play with the chronology – making time as unreliable and fragmented as the protagonist’s mind. Our emotions are similarly tugged in opposing directions. One moment we are disturbed and unsettled, the next we are thrown a line that wrenches a guilty laugh from our hearts. But most of the time our heart is breaking. Or melting. Seager and White give astonishingly convincing performances, both fearless in displaying emotions most of us would like to keep buried.

From that first kiss we are guided towards the teasing, middle years of a conventional love story. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ has become a leitmotif used to defuse arguments. The couple talk to the audience as much as to each other, making us accomplices as well as witnesses to their story. The first indications of Arthur’s dementia are a fleeting shadow in the corner of the eye. He goes out to buy milk but forgets what he’s gone for by the time he reaches the shop. We’ve all done it, as Jane points out, and they both initially brush it aside. White’s portrayal of the guilt at not seeing the signs early enough is authentically heartbreaking. They both cover it up until it is too late. Seager’s later mood swings are brutally believable, and we are no longer merely onlookers as Iida Hägglund’s echoing sound design and Will Alder’s flashing lights draw us right into Arthur’s mind.

The inevitable cannot be avoided, and the poignancy with which the actors take us there is unsettlingly real; fear, denial, paranoia, anger and ultimately acceptance all having their moment to shine. Listening to, and enjoying music, is a universal experience that even the most damaged minds are not excluded from. Arthur and Jane discover the healing and comforting effects of their shared song. It is a sedative, yet it also awakens past memories which adds further comfort to the unhealing wounds. While the play shows us the effects, it rarely digs much deeper. Emotion is all, and insight takes a back seat. We are denied any real explanation – but ultimately, being spared the science becomes one of the show’s strengths. We do have, however, a vague questioning of the purpose of the piece. Despite the force of its ability to inform, entertain and uplift, we are still left with a sense of hopelessness.

Originally staged at the Hope Theatre in 2017, the play has since been translated into French by Thierry Lopez and Marie-Julie Baup (“Oublie Moi”) and has since been a fixture in Parisian theatres, winning four Molière awards. Being brought back to its London roots in the simple yet effective setting of the Arcola reminds us of the power of fringe theatre. We are gripped throughout by the pair’s outstanding portrayal. While all else sinks and disappears into the illness, we are left with the crackle of Frank Sinatra’s voice heard through Arthur’s earphones, and as Jane watches on, helplessly yet adoringly it is a heart-rending moment. Seager has taken on a delicate topic but is unafraid to handle it with an honesty that breaks it apart to reveal the heart of the matter.

‘In other words, please be true’ croons Ol’ Blue Eyes. This play certainly answers his plea. A truly evocative piece of theatre.

MARIE AND ROSETTA

Rose Theatre

★★★★★

“soul-stirring, celebratory and foot-tappingly uplifting”

It is sometimes extraordinary how a figure can fade into the back pages of history. Sister Rosetta Tharpe was a huge star in the 1930s and 40s, who struck a chord with a white electric guitar slung around her neck, that helped change the face of modern popular music. Yet somehow the gospel superstar ended up forgotten within her lifetime. George Brant’s impressive yet intimate portrayal will surely redress that injustice. Avoiding the epic, Brant focuses on a particular part of her life – her partnership with Gospel and R&B singer Marie Knight – and celebrates the legacy in a glorious play with music. It is a remarkable achievement in that, by pinpointing a moment in time, he still manages to give a concise and precise insight into the culture, history and background that shaped the characters. And then, of course, there is the music!

Set in a funeral parlour, a coffin laid out beneath a large wooden crucifix upstage, we are in Mississippi in 1946. “There’s rules” explains ‘Sister’ Rosetta (Beverley Knight) as she prepares her protégé and singing partner Marie Knight (Ntombizodwa Ndlovu) for their tour of the segregated Southern States (the unusual setting was the only venue that allowed the pair to rehearse). It starts out as a kind of audition for Marie, but her vocal style rapidly wins over the already established Rosetta. What ensues is the rehearsal which this show encompasses. The musical numbers slot beautifully and organically into the dialogue, sometimes stopping and starting again. The show is a conversation, a confession; a heart-to-heart that slickly builds up in momentum and passion. Like a musical ‘soul stew’ – a device coined by the late bandleader King Curtis in which a song will introduce one instrument at a time over a cycle of twelve bars until the full force bubbles into waves of musical bliss. Writer George Brant has followed a similar recipe, introducing rich details and pinches of backstory at crucial points into the dialogue. Knight and Ndlovu give faultless performances with their easy onstage rapport. When they launch into song, however, the production soars – whether the whole band accompanies, or if it is just the bluesy riffs of Liam Godwin’s piano or musical director Shirley Tetteh on guitar.

Rosetta Tharpe was renowned for her guitar playing. Decades ahead of her time she became known as the ‘Godmother of Rock and Roll’ whose influence touched countless stars including Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Little Richard. Marie was a formidable piano player as well as a singer. Neither Knight nor Ndlovu play the instruments, but director Monique Touko gets around this with clever stage craft. Ndlovu doesn’t mime but uses her whole body to evoke the inbuilt rhythm and soul of a pianist, while Knight opens a guitar case to let the notes fly out into the air. Through the staging, we get a full sense of the real-life character’s influence as she changed the face of music back in the forties, leading gospel into the world of rhythm and blues and soul. Shunned by the straitlaced church for performing in nightclubs, she persuades the ingénue Marie to follow suit. Her mission was to “put a bit of club into the church, and some church into the club” as she swung between chapel in the morning and New York’s Cotton Club at night.

The writing avoids preaching. The natural dialogue touches on personal tragedy and adversity but is steeped in humour too. Rosetta’s chipping away at Marie’s saintly exterior offers moments of biting comedy as she shapes the latter’s high church voice into the smoky jazz vibe needed for their subversive success. The song list is plucked from Rosetta’s impressive repertoire, and the combination of Knight’s and Ndlovu’s voices is gold dust that rises to the rafters. ‘This Train’, the rocking ‘Rock Me’, ‘Sit Down’, ‘I Want a Tall Skinny Papa’, ‘Strange Things are Happening Everyday’ are highlights among highlights, the glory of which is shared by the two singers. There is no competition (as in the reality), but it is a union borne of generosity and joy – and this love of the music is all too clear in the harmonies.

The poignancy of the setting (designer Lily Arnold’s shrine like funeral parlour) is emphasised in the twilight moments of the show. We slip forward in time in an ingeniously surreal twist in the narrative that derails our cosy expectations and plunges us into a moving epilogue, the emotion matched by haunting a Capella vocals. “Marie and Rosetta” is soul-stirring, celebratory and foot-tappingly uplifting. When asked about her music and its influence, Rosetta Tharpe is reported to have replied “Oh, these kids and rock and roll – this is just sped up rhythm and blues. I’ve been doing that forever”. I’m sure this show will enjoy the same longevity.

IN OTHER WORDS

Arcola Theatre

★★★★

“Seager and White give astonishingly convincing performances, both fearless in displaying emotions most of us would like to keep buried”

IN OTHER WORDS

Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 19th May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Tom Dixon

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

IN OTHER WORDS

IN OTHER WORDS

IN OTHER WORDS

MARIE AND ROSETTA

Rose Theatre

★★★★★

“soul-stirring, celebratory and foot-tappingly uplifting”