Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

MEMORIAM

★★★

Southwark Playhouse Borough

MEMORIAM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“intriguing and thought provoking”

Noga Flaishon’s “Memoriam” is being sold as a science fiction. In fact, Flaishon herself goes one step further by calling it a “Jewish science fiction… now, there’s a genre you don’t see every day!”. She is half right. Her somewhat bleak but frequently humorous one-act play explores a deep part of Jewish culture, but its context is closer to science fact than fiction. Set in the near future, the themes and morals it throws up are decidedly current.

The tech company ‘Memoriam’ is able to extract human memories, digitalise them and sell them on as virtual reality experiences to subscribers who pay quite a large premium. The original intention may have been honourable, but commercialism and commodification has crept in. Those who provide their own memories sign away their rights, allowing the company to edit and sanitise them for the mass market. A bit like an author selling the film rights to a personal memoir, only to be horrified at the resulting schmaltzy blockbuster that butchers their private sense of identity and history. This dilemma is magnified when the subject covers global atrocities and genocide. The timing of this play is quite pertinent, at a disturbing time when history and living memory are becoming increasingly distorted (depending on what statistics you believe, apparently 60% of young people today cannot differentiate between fact and misinformation.)

Company employee Rachel (Rachel Barry) is under pressure to meet targets. Having secured the memories of Becky’s (Jimena Larraguivel) troubled pregnancy and labour, she is encouraged by her boss Chris (Ben Wiggins) to turn her attention to her grandmother, Rivka (Beverley Klein): the last living survivor of the Holocaust. Her brother David (Ashley Margolis) is, for dramatic purposes, vehemently against the idea, ostensibly to fuel the domestic conflicts that are inherent and central to the narrative.

Played in the round we reap the advantages and disadvantages of this choice. Ellie Wintour’s stark set gives the feel that we are looking through a cracked shell into these characters’ lives. Along with Jonathan Chan’s clinical lighting and Sarah Spencer’s cyber-infused sound design and music, we could well imagine that we are witnessing some sort of virtual reality itself. But, unable to address all of the people all of the time, many lines are lost as backs are turned and arguments spiral. An opening monologue is particularly indecipherable.

Once we are in the thick of it, we are given much food for thought. Barry’s Rachel is initially nervy and a bit geeky until her cooler pragmatic side shines through. She doesn’t question her own morals so much as to shy away from approaching the formidable figure of Rivka with the proposition. Klein’s performance of Rivka holds the piece together with a genuine and touching portrayal of the matriarch; stern and principled, yet loving and still haunted by the atrocities she has witnessed. She also comes equipped with some of the best lines.

The issues are dealt with smartly and quite astutely, even if the writing never probes too deeply. Should Rivka’s memories of the Holocaust be used for commercial gain? And, more importantly, should the company be allowed to manipulate them to make them more viewer friendly? Rivka will only consider the deal with the stipulation that they “leave them ugly”. Daniel Goldman’s direction skilfully weaves the polemic into a warm-hearted family saga, but ultimately both are a little compromised. The real impact comes when the technology is set aside and Rivka opens up to Rachel face to face. The virtual reality experience induces what Flaishon describes as “pain shock” (clumsily reenacted on the stage with dubious physicality); but a good old tête-a-tête creates the warmth, pathos, understanding and connection that is in danger of being lost forever.

“Memoriam” is intriguing and thought provoking; the satire not always hitting home, but a chilling insight into what could feasibly be just around the corner. That it is softened by placing it in a domestic setting is part of its charm. The other part is Klein’s performance, which harks back to the fine art of storytelling. There is no ‘virtual’ about the reality of that.


MEMORIAM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 26th October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Flint

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MEMORIAM

MEMORIAM

MEMORIAM

MEMORIAM

THE PIANIST

★★★★

Park Theatre

THE PIANIST

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Beautifully melancholic and affecting”

The life of the composer, Wladyslaw Szpilman, was brought to the public consciousness by Roman Polanski’s 2002 film “The Pianist”. Himself a holocaust survivor who witnessed his parents being taken off to the concentration camps, Polanski exorcised some deep-seated scars with his harsh, objective portrayal of a man who survived against impossible odds. Despite sharing the title and also being based on Szpilman’s memoir, Thom Southerland’s new musical is not a dramatization of the epic feature film. Instead, it is a beautifully understated chronicle of the key elements of the life and music of a man who carried the guilt of survival on his slim shoulders. Early on, Daniel Krikler’s Szpilman tells the audience that “I don’t know how I survived”, as he paces the bare boards of Andrzej Goulding’s set; stark wooded slats that continue up the back wall. They slide apart to reveal the musicians and the music, only sometimes to be slammed shut again as Szpilman cries “no more songs!”. Yet we cannot escape the music; with the grand piano that pulls focus centre stage. A prop for Krikler, as he stands aside to let pianist and Musical Director Malcolm Forbes-Peckham recreate Szpilman’s compositions.

An intensely descriptive piece, it relies heavily on narration. Krikler depicts a soul at pains to get his story right, aware that memory is fallible, especially when wrought with trauma. Szpilman’s siblings and parents are on hand to fill in the gaps, and to correct occasionally, but not always reliable witnesses. His father (TJ Holmes) is initially in denial about the establishment of the Warsaw ghettos, while at the other end of the spectrum, his brother Henryk (Nitai Levi) is the prophet of doom. Sadly, the latter is closer to the truth as history has proved. Each family member, along with the many other pivotal characters that propel Szpilman’s journey, are also part of the onstage orchestra, who move and dance and sing, accompanying Forbes-Peckham at the piano. The piano itself dances too, spinning on its revolve, taking the spotlight when needed and retreating into the shadows whenever the music stops.

‘Where words leave off, music begins’ is a famous maxim that applies here. Unspoken thoughts are revealed through the songs, with new lyrics written by a band of lyricists, including Szpilman’s son, Andreas. There is dramatic irony in the opening number, ‘I Am Free’, a rousing choral ensemble. There are delicious 1930s pastiches such as ‘One More Time’ which sees the mother and father waltzing in the cafes. There is poignancy in ‘My Memories of You’ and ‘Forgotten Song’ while the later ‘Out of the Darkness’ tries to inject a very fragile optimism. There is the constant danger, however, that the beauty of the music will eclipse the horror of the story. ‘Without You’ is a misjudged ballad that closes the first act. Gloriously tender, it feels an incongruous accompaniment to the unimaginable terror of being wrenched from your family, watching as they disappear on the cattle trucks.

More in tune are a trio of piano instrumentals – ‘’The Life of the Machines’ – that mix spikes of danger into the melodies; almost a precursor to Stockhausen’s punctuated atonal technique, but still retaining flowing harmonies. It is fitting that these fall in the second act, in which the harsh realities of the story are more pronounced. Southerland’s pacing of the narrative is reflective of the acceleration of events. The dynamics of Szpilman’s family are well executed, particularly Levi’s portrayal of the indignantly righteous rebel, Henryk, illustrating the difficult relationship between the brothers. Melania Maggiore and Elżbieta Kalicka are the spirited but tragic sisters Halina and Regina. Rosalind Ford’s moving portrayal of the mother matches her evocative cello playing and vocals. In similar fine voice is Mischa Jardine as lifelong friend Janina.

All along the way, everybody seems to be on Szpilman’s side, ensuring his survival. But his music is the key. Being recognised as the famous composer frequently helped Szpilman too. Krikler embodies the incredulity of this advantage, even when death is staring him straight in the face. But saved by German officer, Hosenfeld, whose sense of shame is neatly portrayed by Oliver Grant, he lives to tell the tale. A tale that is quite exquisitely told in this musical, even though it does occasionally dip into sentimentality. Yet the staging has a restrained power that accentuates the importance of the music. A Chopin Nocturne bookends the piece, beautifully melancholic and affecting, particularly during the reprise as the ghosts of Szpilman’s family watch on in mute stillness.

“The Pianist” is assuredly moving, and never sets out to be brutal, harrowing or groundbreaking. It speaks of the importance of the music, and then lets the music speak for itself. Szpilman’s life and his music were one and the same. “The Pianist” is a poignant and enthralling reminder of that.


THE PIANIST

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Rich Southgate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PIANIST

THE PIANIST

THE PIANIST

THE PIANIST