★★★★

“It is the sharp wit and intelligence of the language that sustains the piece and cushions it from the risk of being labelled dated”

Oliver Goldsmith’s period comedy, “She Stoops to Conquer”, was first performed in London a quarter of a millennium ago, but is still very much alive among today’s canon of revivals. Initially titled ‘Mistakes of a Night’ it is indeed a comedy of errors. Goldsmith himself dubbed it a ‘laughing comedy’ while others referred to it as a ‘comedy of manners’ or a ‘romantic comedy’. The stress is repeatedly on the word ‘comedy’ – as the laughs from the audience at Tom Littler’s festive revival testify.

It is the sharp wit and intelligence of the language that sustains the piece and cushions it from the risk of being labelled dated. Littler’s production shifts it from the eighteenth century into a 1930s country manor deep in the heart of P. G. Wodehouse land. Tucked away in the English countryside we find Mr and Mrs Hardcastle; the former relishing the quiet, old-fashioned lifestyle while his wife longs to untuck herself and see the new things happening up in the big city. Instead, the city comes to them in the form of two raffish slickers – Charles Marlow and George Hastings. Marlow has been invited as a prospective match for the Hardcastle’s daughter, Kate, while Hastings is in tow to pursue Kate’s cousin Constance, who in turn is being reluctantly matched by Mrs Hardcastle to her prankster son Tony. Courtesy of Tony’s mischievousness, the two gents arrive mistaking the country house for an inn.

The main butt of the satire is class divide, emphasised by the way the characters treat one another depending on the (often mistaken) perception of their social standing. The text calls for a heightened degree of acting, which the formidable cast deliver without ever overdoing it. Greta Scacchi pitches just the right amount of affectation into her flame haired Mrs Hardcastle, as gaudy as the baubles with which she adorns the Christmas tree. Scacchi manages to parody and show off her privilege simultaneously, with a cut glass accent in need of a good polishing. David Horovitch is the perfect foil as her bumbling crank of a husband, delightfully and playfully outraged at the slightest threat to his authority and standing. Tanya Reynolds, as Kate, effectively has a dual role, spending much of the time pretending to be the lowly barmaid she is mistaken for. A comic talent, showcased in a glorious scene where she tries on various accents for her alter ego. Guy Hughes is a real find as Tony, the one who instigates all the misunderstandings. His veil of bumpkin buffoonery shields an intelligent rascal, but one with a good heart.

But the one everybody is looking out for is Freddie Fox. One moment eloquently flirtatious, the next a nervous, tongue-tied wreck. A lithe performance, Fox effortlessly switches between the two sides of Marlow, eking out the hypocrisy of the class system but – more strikingly – drawing out the laughs from an audience that hangs on his every word and nuance. Robert Mountford’s Hastings and Sabrina Bartlett’s Constance add a delightful extra layer of farce as the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ couple. Bartlett, in particular, lighting up the stage with her presence.

The performances and, of course, Goldsmith’s script are what drive this comedy through what would otherwise be a fairly safe revival. Anett Black and Neil Irish’s setting has the comfortable warmth of a well-heeled family Christmas, transforming not entirely successfully into the local pub. And we get the feeling sometimes that the sense of privilege is enjoyed too much rather than lampooned. But these sentiments are quickly knocked aside by the stream of laughs. Sometimes gentle, sometimes farcical. The festive setting might be a touch opportunist, but it is bang on target, and we leave the auditorium uplifted and ready to embrace the joys of Christmas.

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

★★★★★

“its scale is epic, almost biblical”

Apparently, “The Mongol Khan” is a milestone for Mongolian theatre. It marks the first time that a play has been exported outside of the country. To say that it is an eye opener is an understatement. For one, Mongolia itself is still a bit of a closed book to most Londoners, let alone what it has to offer culturally. Written in the late nineties by national playwright Lkhagvasuren Bavuu, “The Mongol Khan” packs in millennia of tradition into three thousand lines of verse. On completion, Bavuu stated that ‘when I die, I will look back and appreciate this play as the zenith of my literary career’. In this respect, his friend and acclaimed director Hero Bataar has done him proud with his revival after the writer’s passing in 2019.

A soft rain falls onto a crowded St Martin’s Lane outside the London Coliseum. But up close, the showers part in an almost celestial way. Silk clad horsemen stand on ceremony while strikingly dressed performers wander through the crowds. A sense of occasion hangs in the air. The UK is the first port of call as the show sweeps into the Western World, having been banned from Inner Mongolia – a province of China – by the Beijing authorities.

Hero Bataar describes it as a ‘tragedy drama’. In my mind that is a modest account. Yes, it is tragic and dramatic, but its scale is epic, almost biblical. Yet throughout, its execution is microscopic and meticulous in its detail. A seventy strong ensemble complement the seven core players. It is essentially a dance piece. But also a kind of spoken-word opera. Translated by John Man and adapted for the London stage by Timberlake Wertenbaker, it is presented in its native language with surtitles. The text is rhythmic and metered, like a libretto waiting for the skilled hand of a master composer. Here, though, the music, composed by Birvaa Myagmar and Odbayar Battogtokh, underscores the pauses, the movement, the very breath and lifeblood of the heightened emotions.

“The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times”

The play is set two thousand years ago in central Asia at the beginning of the Hunnic Empire. Loosely based on Genghis Kahn, it follows the fictional Archug Kahn (Erdenebileg Ganbold) and his two wives – Tsetser, the Queen (Uranchimeg Urtnasan) and Gerel, the Queen Consort (Dulguun Odkhuu). Both women bear sons at the same time. Whilst Khan accepts Gerel’s son as his own, doubts hang over his paternity of the Queen’s son – their relationship has not been physical for quite some time. His trusted chancellor, Egereg (Bold-Erdene Sugar) is revealed to be the true father but he tries, unsuccessfully, to convince the Khan otherwise. The Khan avoids doubt and chooses Gerel’s son to be his heir. Desperate to secure his own son’s position as the future Khan, Egereg plots to secretly switch the babies and corrupt the royal bloodline. What ensues is a story of betrayals, struggles, battles, deceit, sacrifice, and above all vengeance. With a body count that might even make Shakespeare take stock, bloodstains (figurative and literal) colour most of the action, words, thoughts and motives.

Central to the production is the visual impact. The creative team is too vast to single any one out, and the collaboration probably stretches way beyond the programme notes anyway. Bold Ochirjantsan’s costumes are the result of a two-year alliance with historians, archaeologists, artists and craftsmen. Consequently, we are immersed in centuries of the Hunnic world and dazzled by the jaw-dropping array and spectacle. A panoramic window to the Mongol spirit, thrown open wider still to reveal its culture in the choreography. But throw all intellectual aspirations aside and just marvel in the spectacle. The aesthetics merge as one – dance, movement, music, poetry, sound and light; and art in all its glory. Backstage must be mayhem. But that is not our concern; the magic happens onstage. The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times – you refocus your eyes to see things you couldn’t see initially.

The lead performers are outstanding – particularly Urtnasan as the Queen whose maternal instincts gut wrenchingly vie with regal loyalty. Ganbold’s sonorous authority holds court as the Khan, battered by deception, mutiny and dissatisfaction. This is a burning production – passionate and thirsty – where the choreography is metaphor and symbolism carving through it like a sabre, gouging out its fateful finale. It simply must be seen. If you don’t want to listen to me, just prick up your ears and hear the thunderous applause coming from the Coliseum.

“The Mongol Khan” is a spectacular event. An extravaganza where Shakespeare meets Verdi. The curtain went up late. “We apologise for the delay” came the announcement, “this is due to unprecedented queues at the box office”. May these queues continue. We get the feeling they will, and you’ll do well to secure your place in them.

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER at the Orange Tree Theatre

★★★★

“It is the sharp wit and intelligence of the language that sustains the piece and cushions it from the risk of being labelled dated”

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER at the Orange Tree Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd November 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

She Stoops to Conquer

She Stoops to Conquer

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

★★★★★

“its scale is epic, almost biblical”

“The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times”

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

Reviewed on 20th November 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Katja Ogrin

More shows reviewed by Jonathan:

The Mongol Khan

The Mongol Khan