Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

TATTOOER

★★★

Charing Cross Theatre

TATTOOER at the Charing Cross Theatre

★★★

“an authentic taste of Japanese theatre and art that Hoaglund’s translation respects”

At first there is silence. A slowly revolving set, plain white but daubed with an insect caught in a web of vivid brush strokes. The characters will gradually get lured into the web too over the next hour and a half. Many metaphors too; enough of them to feed the hungriest black widow. Lanterns hover above, vibrating like moths around a flame, or like the early tremors of an impending earthquake. Another metaphor? Who really knows? Takuya Kaneshima’s play, “Tattooer”, is inscrutable enough to withhold the answers, but open enough to leave us hanging on in the vain hope that we might find them.

Based on, or rather inspired by, the short story – ‘Shisei’ – by renowned Japanese author Jun’ichirō Tanizaki, it centres on Seikichi (Leo Ashizawa), a tattoo artist of high repute whose longtime wish is to ‘carve his soul’ into the skin of a beautiful woman. We never really understand his motives; whether it is merely to create a masterpiece or whether there is something more ominous going on. Seikichi relishes the pain of the tattoo too much. There are explicit undertones of sado-masochism, and there is something sinister and lecherous about him. Coercive even. Far from erotic, it renders Seikichi a wholeheartedly unlikeable character.

Before we meet him, we are introduced to the tattooer’s muse (is ‘tattooee’ a word?). She is Kazuyo, initially frightened but her compliance roots her to her fate. We are plunged into further obscurity by the fact that Kazuyo is split into two characters. Mao Aono is ‘Kazuyo A’ while Aki Nakagawa is ‘Kazuyo B’. The pair give wonderfully restrained and haunting performances. Their movements are sculptured, like ivory netsukes that slot into each other’s bodies and personalities. But like the play itself, our minds are filled with questions that never find their answers. Linda Hoaglund’s translation is as sparse as the original text’s intention, leaving us to rely on the almost mime-like spectacle – at times beautiful, at other times grotesque. Are they two sides of the same woman, are they sisters? Are they body and soul separated? Does Aono represent the pre-tattoo Kazuyo while Nakagawa depicts the aftermath? Are they representations of death and life?

Seikichi drugs Kazuyo A into submission. Kazuyo B wakes up transformed. Nakagawa deftly demonstrates a triumphant cruelty as the roles are reversed and the tattooer seems now to be the victim. But this is where our understanding becomes buried under the weight of allegory. Seikichi blinds himself. A twisted moment but gripping, courtesy of Rob Halliday’s lighting and Hogara Kawai’s direction. Black blood splatters through a crimson haze.

It is a short piece, and we are invited to stay in the auditorium at interval to watch the ink-brush painter Gaku Azuma paint the back of a newly arrived male model. By the second act he has created a work of art that covers the entire playing space (at the end of the run these should be put up for auction). The newcomer is Nozomi de Lencquesaing, an Englishman who has crossed the oceans to find the ‘legend’ that is Seikichi. A touch superfluous, it nevertheless brings the differing cultures closer together. But even without it, the evening is an authentic taste of Japanese theatre and art that Hoaglund’s translation respects. It may be an acquired taste for many, but it is sharp and refreshing. And mystifying. Kazuyo asks of the now blind tattooer; “Am I in the world I see, or the world you see?” We, too, are never entirely sure whose world we are seeing here. Yet it is an intriguing one. Picturesque and alluring, but too much of an enigma that never really gets under the skin.


TATTOOER at the Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 17th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 

 


 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ONE SMALL STEP | ★★ | October 2024
MARIE CURIE | ★★★ | June 2024
BRONCO BILLY – THE MUSICAL | ★★★ | January 2024
SLEEPING BEAUTY TAKES A PRICK! | ★★★★ | November 2023
REBECCA | ★★★★ | September 2023
GEORGE TAKEI’S ALLEGIANCE | ★★★★ | January 2023
FROM HERE TO ETERNITY | ★★★★ | November 2022
THE MILK TRAIN DOESN’T STOP HERE ANYMORE | ★★★ | October 2022
RIDE | ★★★★★ | August 2022
VANYA AND SONIA AND MASHA AND SPIKE | ★★★ | November 2021

TATTOOER

TATTOOER

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FILUMENA

★★★★

UK Tour

FILUMENA at the Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★★

“There are complex emotions and issues on show here, that are delivered with warmth and humour – and at times with quite a punch”

The opening of Eduardo De Filippo’s “Filumena” finds the title character on her deathbed with Domenico, her partner of twenty-five years, gallantly agreeing to marry her before she gasps her last breath. However, we never see this – it all happens before curtain-up, in another room of Domenico’s opulent Neapolitan villa. What we do witness, though, is the aftermath when Filumena miraculously springs back to life and the ruse is revealed.

Matthew Kelly, as Domenico, is in his element as he wails to the heavens at the injustices of finding himself duped. Not only is his pride wounded, but his plans of marrying the much younger Diana are annihilated. Felicity Kendal’s Filumena is no fool. A pocket-rocket of passion she gives as good as she gets, and we soon learn that her motives are far more honourable than mere vengeance. The couple have lived together for a quarter of a century, ever since the wealthy Domenico lured Filumena away from her life of prostitution and, although that particular career path is a thing of the past, there are three things that have followed her into her dotage. Namely three sons – now strapping lads in their mid-twenties. Filumena wants the wedding ring on her finger to legitimise them. Domenico is having none of that; so cue the lawyers, tantrums, buried grievances, hidden mistresses, histrionics and De Filippo’s gorgeous, if lengthy, dialogue. The two protagonists have much to get their teeth into, and they do so with abandoned relish.

The Italian fervour is slightly sanded down in Keith Waterhouse and Willis Hall’s translation, but it still retains a potent mix of acidity and affection. Kendal transforms her character from that of a calculated schemer to a woman with a deep inner strength, warmth and hard-won resolve. Kelly’s sense of privilege is challenged, not just by his mistress, but by an awakening empathy and brooding responsibility. It is no spoiler to tell you that one of Filumena’s sons turns out to be Domenico’s too. But which one? The second act opens with a delicious scene in which Domenico steers the seemingly casual conversation to try and detect in the young men any genetic similarities to himself.

But it is far from a two-hander. The supporting cast are excellent. Gavin Fowler, Fabrizio Santino and George Banks each have a chance to share the spotlight. It is perhaps a little odd that they are so accepting of their new circumstances, having only recently discovered who their mother is. We presume, too, that they have each been brought up independently, although the sibling dynamic is strong. Sarah Twomey’s Lucia, the maid, is loving the family upheaval. Flirtatious and vivacious, Twomey lights up the stage at every opportunity.

Morgan Large’s lush drawing room set gives us a real sense of grandeur although less of a feel of the period and the Neapolitan, sun-kissed location. Yet it sits well with the timeless nature of the action. There might have been more resonance when Filippo wrote the play in the immediate aftermath of the second world war, but the more contemporary backdrop translates well, sometimes making the wavering Italian accents seem unnecessary.

Sean Mathias’ slick direction vividly animates the static setting. It is a very wordy play, but at least there are as many moments of humour as well as insight and wisdom that Mathias brings to the fore. And the lead performers’ energy refuse to allow any dull moments to slip in. There are complex emotions and issues on show here, that are delivered with warmth and humour – and at times with quite a punch. When Filumena finally learns how to cry, we feel her tears too, yet the journey there has also been filled with plenty of laughter.


FILUMENA at the Theatre Royal Windsor followed by UK Tour

Reviewed on 9th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Jack Merriman

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE GATES OF KYIV | ★★★★ | September 2024
ACCOLADE | ★★★½ | June 2024
OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR | ★★★★ | April 2024
CLOSURE | ★★★★ | February 2024
THE GREAT GATSBY | ★★★ | February 2024
ALONE TOGETHER | ★★★★ | August 2023
BLOOD BROTHERS | ★★★★★ | January 2022
THE CHERRY ORCHARD | ★★★★ | October 2021

FILUMENA

FILUMENA

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page