★★

“Occasionally it feels as though the actors, lost in their own underworld, are making it up as they go along”

“Orpheus was beginning to get very tired of sitting by his girlfriend on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice he had peeped into the book she was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Orpheus, ‘without pictures or conversation?’

Apart from the name changes, the opening line of Lewis Carroll’s ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ would slot neatly into the stage directions of Sarah Ruhl’s reimagining of “Eurydice”. There is an almost childlike absurdism to the language. A kind of existential nonsense.

Eurydice and Orpheus are at the seaside: a couple of awkward teenagers, looking at life in different ways, but not really looking at each other. She is into her books; he just cares for his music. A bit of an odd couple. They don’t come across as being madly in love with each other at all, so when Orpheus pops the question, it feels like another game.

Meanwhile, Eurydice’s dead father is preparing his wedding speech. He obviously can’t attend the wedding, so he drops the letter down to earth, only for it to be picked up by the bowler-hatted, interesting yet sinister Lord of the Underworld. He picks up the letter, then promptly picks up Eurydice as she escapes her wedding party for a breath of fresh air. Eurydice follows him to his high-rise apartment where things get a bit uncomfortable. Tragedy strikes, and while Eurydice trips on the stairs to her death, the show itself plunges further into a rabbit hole of surrealism.

Ruhl’s intention is to take the focus away from Orpheus and to tell the story through Eurydice’s perspective. She certainly gives her more stage time, but we remain somewhat confused as to whom we should be paying attention to. Eve Ponsonby reliably portrays Eurydice as a woman stuck between two different worlds, but the audience are lodged between differing viewpoints. She has crossed the River Lethe in the Underworld thereby forgetting her earthly existence, even her husband’s name. Her journey of love, loss and grief (although without the memory – what is there to grieve?) is one that she must take on her own, yet we cannot escape the prominence of the men. Especially her father, played with conviction by Dickon Tyrrell. Keaton Guimarães-Tolley’s Orpheus is less secure and lacking passion. Joe Wiltshire Smith, as the Lord of the Underworld, has the most fun. Described as a nasty, interesting man, he is by far the most interesting character onstage. Not so much nasty as sinisterly bonkers. A warped Jimmy Clitheroe through the looking glass.

The narrative is underscored with interjections from the ‘stones’, played with a Pythonesque inanity by Katy Brittain, Tom Morley and Leyon Stolz-Hunter. Bizarrely dressed like creepy nuns, they are not so much a chorus but an echoing backing vocal. The timing of their delivery is often out of kilter, lending further banality to their presence – which we had already begun to question.

Director Stella Powell-Jones bravely takes on all the idiosyncrasies of the script but, even at under an hour and a half, the story still drags – weighed down further by its inconsistencies. Occasionally it feels as though the actors, lost in their own underworld, are making it up as they go along. We do wonder what world Ruhl is creating, and while we admire the ideas that shape her interpretation of “Eurydice”, we are not truly inspired to dig deeper. Curiouser and curiouser we aren’t.

FRENCH TOAST at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“It mocks pretty much everything about the industry, but it is also a heartfelt love letter to the theatre”

The French actor, director and writer, Jean Poiret, is best known for his 1973 “La Cage aux Folles”. He is perhaps less well known as a theatre and film actor before, making some forty motion pictures over three decades. You have to dig deep into his biography to come across the 1979 comedy. “Féfé de Broadway”. Writer Sam Alexander has obviously done so, and we can only thank him for that. His adaptation, that follows the backstage shenanigans of an ill-conceived musical, is a wonderfully light-hearted, eccentric and witty hour-and-a-half of escapism – now titled “French Toast”. There are going to be obvious comparisons to Michael Frayn’s “Noises Off” which was conceived around the same time this side of the English Channel. There are contrasts too. Alexander’s take on Poiret’s story (co-adapted with director Marianne Badrichani) draws a lot from the culture clash between the French ‘glamour’ and the British ‘eccentricity’. “French Toast” is indeed guilty of cramming itself full of stereotypes and caricatures, but the audience are willing victims of the crime.

Set in 1977, it focuses on French diva, Jacqueline Brémont (Edith Vernes). Rich and successful in her native Paris, she has decided to branch out and conquer London’s West End but instead lands up in Basingstoke. Old flame Simon Monk (Ché Walker) is directing an ill-fated musical adaptation of Jean Racine’s ‘Phèdre’. He has no intention of casting Jacqueline in the lead role – she can’t sing and dance to save her life. But money talks. Without her there’s no investment. What ensues is a farcical entanglement of egos during a hilarious stop-start rehearsal process. Clichés are pulled out of the hat like a manic conjuror on speed, but so are many moments of wit, humour, quirkiness and sharp comic observation that bring a huge smile to our faces. It mocks pretty much everything about the industry, but it is also a heartfelt love letter to the theatre.

You need to be exceptionally good to convince at being a bad actor. And this company have the collective talent to ham it up to the histrionic hilt. Ché Walker brilliantly encompasses the authoritarian director who has suddenly lost all control. The show is being cast behind his back. Walker’s stunned expression on day one of rehearsals is an image that will imprint itself on the mind for a long time. But to shake things up a bit, Simon Monk enrols punk musician Nicky Butler. Monk thinks of himself as a bit of a ‘right-on’ radical. Reece Richardson gives a star turn as the bewildered muso caught up in a thespian nightmare. Love interest comes via Suzy Kohane’s stylish yet earnestly ‘New Age’ Kate Freeman. Kohane’s is a standout performance, particularly when she sidesteps Paul Hegarty’s vividly accurate, camp yet lecherous Etienne Grémine. We are reminded that the seventies were ‘different times, darling!’ but a modern sensitivity is layered onto the narrative without detracting from the authentically period setting.

There is some doubling up of the roles. Josie Benson shines as budding actress Faye Rose but also a delicious Madame Bouffard, the diva’s dour dresser. The whole company is having so much fun, and Edith Vernes is no exception as the central figure Jacqueline. Despite a slightly clunky opening few moments, the show swiftly warms up. Touches of Alan Bennett’s ‘Habeas Corpus’ take the style dangerously close to farce, as trousers start to go missing, but other influences pull it back. The mayhem of ‘The Young Ones’ is visible through rays of ‘Morecambe and Wise’. Tara Young’s choreography is spot on with her playful nods to Fosse while Sammy Dowson’s costumes let us know exactly which year, if not month, of the seventies we are in.

Crucial to the piece is Leo Elso’s music. The lush escapism of disco locks horns with the raw energy of punk. Like the text, it parodies and cherishes at the same time with an authenticity that pinpoints the era in which The Village People and Abba could share the world’s stage with The Clash and The Sex Pistols. The culture shocks resonate throughout, up until the upbeat finale in which virtuosity and humour make a perfect marriage.

The play is peopled by people from different backgrounds, yet the comedy of misunderstandings ultimately leads to unexpected reconciliations and a feelgood factor that tips the scales. Like it’s culinary counterpart, “French Toast” is crisp on the outside but fluffy and tender on the inside. At times a little bit eggy, but delicious. A toast can definitely be raised – in French or in English.

EURYDICE at Jermyn Street Theatre

★★

“Occasionally it feels as though the actors, lost in their own underworld, are making it up as they go along”

EURYDICE at Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 8th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Alex Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

EURYDICE

EURYDICE

FRENCH TOAST at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“It mocks pretty much everything about the industry, but it is also a heartfelt love letter to the theatre”