“The second act just gets sillier. And the sillier it gets the more we enjoy it.”
There’s a joke, in the form of a flowchart, currently doing the rounds of social media about how to work out if it’s Christmas. Is it November? Yes? Then it’s not Christmas. The folks down at the Watermill Theatre have obviously missed this as they seem fully intent on delivering a sleigh-load of festive cheer into the heart of the Newbury woodlands. For them, the season has started. It’s time to forget the dark nights, and the darker state of the nation, and embrace the innocent joy that has been locked away for too long.
Annie Siddons’ “Rapunzel” has something for all the family. But Disney it ain’t. It is not quite Grimm either as it strays somewhat from the original German fairy tale. But still managing to keep the central plotlines fairly intact. We are in the rolling hills of Tuscany – not really known for its dense woodland and trumpet-playing pigs, but you have to suspend disbelief to have any chance at all of keeping up with the story. A story told with heart-warming exuberance by the half dozen actor musicians.
Mother Gothel (Miiya Alexandra) is not so much the wicked witch, but an overprotective mother with good intentions. When she becomes aware that Rapunzel (Tilly-Mae Millbrook) is on the verge of pubescence, her innate, maternal fears kick in. Of course: lock her up to protect her. “Because I love you” she reasons to her bamboozled daughter, and Rapunzel meekly takes it.
Meanwhile – on the other side of the forest the Duchess (Miiya Alexandra again) is practically kicking her two sons (Roddy Lynch’s Paulo and Loris Scarpa’s Patrizio) out of the door. Time to seek adventure. Some sort of sexual stereotyping is going on here, but it’s all so tongue in cheek you grin and bear it. Actually, you grin like the Cheshire Cat. By this time, it’s all wonderfully absurd. You almost expect Graham Chapman to burst in with his Monty Python catchphrase; “Stop that, it’s silly”.
Prince Patrizio is the sensitive, musical, mandolin-strumming one who, having misplaced his brother, hears Rapunzel singing in her tower, discovers a way to climb up… you know how it pans out. He scares her, soothes her, kisses her and, ‘Hey Presto’, this is love. Knowing asides swoop over the kids’ heads to be lapped up by the adults’ more knowledgeable (debatable) and experienced (doubtful) minds.
The script dates back to 2006, when Kneehigh put their inimitable stamp on it. This company respect and replicate the spirit. A few topical references have been added – political, of course – relating to taxes, inflation, chancellors, recession and so forth. “Thank God we’re in a fairy tale and not real life”. The fourth wall, already crumbling now gets pulverised, mainly thanks to the wonderfully hilarious Emma Barclay with her wry delivery and comic flair. The second act just gets sillier. And the sillier it gets the more we enjoy it.
Isobel Nicolson’s set adds to the magic of the evening, cleverly creating the illusion of height on the relatively small stage. The fine ensemble cast weave themselves up, down, above and beneath the rickety spiral staircase. Greenery sprouts and retreats, musical instruments appear and disappear. There’s a fair bit for the performers to think about, and occasionally it gets messy, but it’s a delightful messiness that we are glad to be tangled in.
Like the princes in the forest, you may occasionally lose your way among the anarchic mayhem that is “Rapunzel”. Even the Brothers Grimm had two alternative endings to the tale. This show twists it in another direction still. It is an enchanting show. Oh, and did I say it was silly?
“The Watermill once again proves it deserves its long held reputation for inventive productions with this pacey and enchanting show”
The magic of theatre lives on at the second indoor show staged post-lockdown by the Watermill Theatre at Newbury. This socially distanced two-hander is another creative success for the celebrated theatre which is buried deep in the rustic Berkshire countryside.
This revival of Ade Morris’s affectionate tribute to the first woman to fly the Pacific alone is told as a series of entertaining vignettes taken from the life of the pioneering Hull-born aviatrix, played by Hannah Edwards with an engaging radiance. Her shining characterisation of the determined young flyer has a winning quality which is well-matched by the performance of Benedict Salter (billed just as ‘The Man’) who zippily takes on some nine or so supporting roles, including a head scarf-wearing landlady and Amy’s dashing husband Jim Mollison. He also plays a kind of painful threnody on the ‘cello which makes a bridge between the lighter episodes and the airborne unravelling which leads to her end.
Together the two performers give a fascinating portrayal of what it was to be the world’s first celebrity flying couple, who could expect crowds eight deep when they flew in after each new pioneering airborne achievement.
The prelude to Amy Johnson’s tragic end on a relatively mundane flight from Prestwick to Oxford in January 1941 forms the backbone of the show which benefits from a nicely nuanced stage and lighting design (Isobel Nicholson and Harry Armytage). The stage is not quite a black box but rather one of confining grey brick walls out of which Amy must climb to find her angels up in the sky. Amy’s aeroplane is evoked by a cleverly simple wheeled trolley which also serves as a typewriter carriage in a scene about her unhappy time in a typing pool.
A powerful soundtrack and some smart sound design (Jamie Kubisch-Wiles and Thom Townsend) both contribute to the success of the show.
As Director Lucy Betts comments in the programme, Amy Johnson was a beacon of hope, not just for the women that were able to follow her example but also for all who were inspired by her ability to pursue her dreams to the very end.
The Watermill once again proves it deserves its long held reputation for inventive productions with this pacey and enchanting show.
