Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

★★

OSO Arts Centre

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PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

OSO Arts Centre

★★

“doesn’t dig deep enough and as a result is unaffecting, lacking light and shade”

“I’m practically perfect in every way” sings Julie Andrews in the 1964 Disney version of “Mary Poppins”. It becomes her signature phrase in the film, describing her impeccable nature. It isn’t the self-aggrandising boast it appears to be. The character goes on to sing that “if I had a fault, it would never dare to show…” which suggests that the ‘perfection’ is only skin deep. Writer Clare Norburn has stripped away any pretence with the title of her new play, “Practically Imperfect”, which features Mary Poppins interacting with her creator, PL Travers. Mary Poppins herself is far from the spit-spot, uncanny nanny portrayed on the silver screen, but it is her author’s imperfections and complexities that are under the spotlight.

It is a fascinating premise. PL Travers (Lottie Walker) has returned to her Chelsea home from Boston, jet lagged and struggling with the fifth book of her Mary Poppins series. She is in a state of disillusionment and still bristling from the Disney treatment of her creation. Enter Mary Poppins (Joanna Brown) with the intent to put her to rights. She appears to have a rather hefty chip on her shoulder though, and there is a hint that we could be in revenge thriller territory, but the benevolence of each character prevails in what is a very light-hearted, thinly veiled biography of Travers. “I have no backstory” bemoans Poppins as she starts to turn the tables and write a book about her author. Cue a potted biography of PL Travers.

It all takes place in her study. The audience are invited in, too – both actors frequently breaking away from the dialogue to acknowledge us. Directed by Nicholas Renton, they appear to be a touch unsure about how much interaction is welcome, however, and we remain uncomfortably on the doorstep, equally unsure how far the fourth wall has come down. The same timidity has been applied to deconstructing the characters of Poppins and Travers; the latter particularly lacking depth. We get many facts but very little sense of the extraordinary woman. Brown fares better as a kind of whistleblower, uncovering the kind of life you wouldn’t expect from the writer of ‘Mary Poppins’. Her accent is spot on (practically perfect…) and it is refreshing to see a touch of menace under the porcelain exterior. Brown is a chameleon, frequently slipping into other roles – Walt Disney, mystic George Gurdjieff, diarist and longstanding friend Jessie Orage and Travers’ quasi-Irish father – among others.

PL Travers famously despised Disney’s treatment of her stories, and disliked the songs (the film, ‘Saving Mr. Banks’, covers that ground and to Norburn’s credit she steers away from repeating the narrative here). “Practically Imperfect” is underscored with the Edwardian style music hall that Travers would have preferred. With just Brown’s accordion accompaniment, the songs are thin and inconsequential, giving a sense of neither period nor mood.

There is so much that this play wants to explore: the difficult childhood that Travers obscured by changing her name, her intriguing adult life, complex romances and thorny relationship with her adoptive son. It doesn’t dig deep enough and as a result is unaffecting, lacking light and shade. There is a fair bit of fun to be gained from watching Travers spar with her own creation and there are some neat references to the novels. As the ‘West Wind’ blows, we know that it is time for Mary Poppins to depart, but the resolve is blurred and we are uncertain of the affect the experience has had on PL Travers. We are equally unsure of the impact that the play has had on us.



PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

OSO Arts Centre

Reviewed on 10th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Robert Piwko


 

 

 

 

PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

PRACTICALLY IMPERFECT

MILES

★★★★

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviews, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

MILES

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“a heartfelt tribute to one of the greats”

Biographical dramas are not uncommon on the theatre scene, and in the wrong hands they can become quite dull affairs. Oliver Kaderbhai’s exploration of the jazz genius Miles Davies is, without a doubt, in the right hands (in fact co-star Jay Phelps often plays the trumpet with just his right hand, leaving his left to knock out some modular chords on the piano). Kaderbhai doesn’t just pull back the curtain on Miles Davies himself, but he manages to get some way inside his head and convey the creative process of his work – in particular ‘Kind of Blue’ – the 1959 studio album recorded in two sessions with a band of the most acclaimed musicians of the time. With only rough sketches as guidelines, the tracks were laid down in one take. No score – just vague chord structures (this is modal jazz, after all). Almost wholly improvised.

“Miles” retains that improvised feel. But it is intentional, and similarly dazzlingly polished. At its core is an imagined conversation between Miles Davies (Benjamin Akintuyosi) and trumpeter Jay Phelps, but the exchange extends to a tête-à-tête between the man and his music. We are drawn into the life of Davies, reliving the experiences that shaped his art. The racism, segregation, the newfound freedom of Paris. The defiance, the hardships and the battles with addiction.

On entering the space, we feel we are wandering into a basement studio. A grand piano is centre stage, with a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Draped across the piano is a figure, motionless – until the houselights fade, when the resurrections begins. Phelps, who came up with the concept, plays a modern-day jazz musician, struggling to compose an album under pressure from his record company to meet a deadline. Akintuyosi is Miles – not just a ghostly incarnation but a fully-formed mentor and conscience to Phelps. The air is as hazy as Miles’ chain-smoking habit, but the depiction of the characters cuts through like crystal. Akintuyosi perfectly captures the ragged and raspy voice and no-nonsense directness of Miles. “Why are you playing so many notes?” are his first words to Phelps. He guides with a hard hand, but we also see the inner struggles, and the moments of self-doubt that geniuses are often pray to. It is a stylish and stylised performance, demonstrating his physical dexterity too.

Phelps is a virtuoso trumpeter in his own right. He is learning from Miles, but soaks up the same self-doubt. There is no need for his diffidence, we think, as we are treated to his musicianship, playing along to recorded backing tracks of the music from ‘Kind of Blue’. The atmosphere is electric. Alex Lewer’s lighting enhances the mood while Colin J Smith’s video projections introduce other musical giants of the era: Charlie parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Bill Evans, John Coltrane. The story telling is peppered with musical flourishes and stylistic overtones. Peripheral characters are represented by costumes on their hangers; a newborn baby is a puppet in a boxing glove. And the depiction of Miles spiralling into cold turkey is quite shocking, with Akintuyosi clinging onto the piano as it spins out of control. Fragments of his trumpet crash to the floor.

The pieces are left on the ground, but the story is picked up again with renewed energy and an irresistible optimism. As Phelps finds his own voice, the need for Miles fades, yet the legacy is by now firmly embedded. Left alone centre stage, he launches into Thelonious Monk’s ‘Round Midnight’ with a contemporary looped rhythm accompaniment. The mix of the old and the new is mesmerising as the notes float into the air.

Jazz fans will no doubt reap the most satisfaction from this show, but it in no way alienates the wider audience. Everybody who sees it will come away wanting to listen to ‘Kind of Blue’, and then hopefully branch out to discover more of Miles Davies’ output. This isn’t a history lesson; it is a heartfelt tribute to one of the greats.



MILES

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 9th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Colin J Smith


 

 

 

 

Miles

Miles

Miles