“the verse reading of Michael Pennington in this space is inspiring”
How can a venue as intimate as the Jermyn Street Theatre manage a production of The Tempest? Director Tom Littler pulls it off with an ensemble of just eight players and the mighty Michael Pennington as Prospero. The set (Set & Costume Design by Neil Irish & Anett Black) hints at a desert island existence: bits of boat, an oar, sheeting that could be old sail, seashells. Wavy shelves line the walls, Prospero’s all-important books lying this way and that. An island soundscape pervades the space (Composer & Sound Design by Max Pappenheim), waves roll along the beach, exotic birds tweet.
Prospero, using a model boat as an aid, conjures up a storm and we see a group of mariners behind a gauze fearing for their lives. Pennington possesses a calm authority which emphasises the frailty of the enchanter. The honey tone of his speaking voice is pleasing to the ear but, with book in hand throughout, he is limited in his movement. Communication with the audience is not as intense as it could be in this miniature space but when he does glance up with a whimsical smile and a twinkle in his eyes, we see a master actor at work.
The success of this production lies with the superlative actors’ skills in doubling roles. Richard Derrington and Peter Bramhill have two double acts. Firstly, as Antonio and Sebastian, in silk dressing gowns, they are snide and condescending towards the King’s advisor Gonzalo (Lynn Farleigh) and then menacingly circle the sleeping King (Jim Findley), knives in hands, plotting murder. Some moments later and they are back as Stephano in a thermal onesie, and Trinculo in tails and bowler hat – the comic relief, breaking the fourth wall with their drunken jests. Tam Williams has no easy task doubling Caliban – half naked, bruised and scarred, a cowl covering his head, at his best when whispering the pathos of the creature – and a rather wet-behind-the-ears Prince Ferdinand in striped pyjamas.
Whitney Kehinde’s Ariel holds everything together. Harnessing her inner Puck, she weaves around the stage, arms whirling. Two of her songs stand out – Full Fathom Five and Where the Bee Sucks – in which the verse becomes part of her magical incantation emphasised by haunting electronic effects.
Rachel Pickup’s Miranda lights up the stage. Her love-at-first-sight scene is delightful although this Ferdinand is less convincing in showing that the attraction is mutual. And Miranda’s wide-eyed amazement at seeing more humans for the first time drew many smiles behind the masks of this audience.
This is an effective but low-key Tempest. Prospero’s valedictory speech in which he intends to break his staff and drown his book is deliberately underplayed and the Gauguin-inspired wedding masque does not convince. But the verse reading of Michael Pennington in this space is inspiring. The Jermyn Street Theatre’s auditorium, in which you can hear every nuance of every word, is as much the star of the show as the actors upon the stage.
“Crane rules the roost, a joyously commanding performance, scarily swinging between sympathy and oppression”
A decade ago, Greenpeace International added yellowfin tuna to its seafood red list. Although not yet extinct their population, through unsustainable fishing methods, is dangerously depleted. In a global context this imbalance in nature helps destroy the human ecosystem. Take the concept a few steps further and the effects are catastrophic. Marek Horn’s new play delves into a (not too distant) future when not only the Yellowfin have disappeared, but also all of the world’s fish. And much of the world’s population. England is under water; drowning the English. Nonetheless, Horn’s outlandish dystopian satire brushes that minor inconvenience aside to focus on the piscatorial annihilation. There were fish. And then there weren’t fish. Simple as that.
Well. Not quite. A man called Calantini (Joshua James) is being questioned by three senators in a committee room on Capitol Hill. Calantini swears he abandoned the black-market years ago. His interrogators aren’t so sure. We are in Kafka territory, with more humour. The dialogue is playful and deliberately obscure. A Russian contamination conspiracy is thrown into the mix. Catalina’s complicity is thrown into question. There’s no proof of his innocence or guilt except for the loaded preconceptions of the cross-examiners. Part documentary, part courtroom drama and part absurdism, the piece invites us also to playfully question the power of the decision makers of the world.
The term ‘post-truth’ is resonant throughout. The characters brandish their words to create their own reality. There is an Orwellian tendency to refashion past events. It can be frightening but the cast’s understanding of the comedic value lightens the mood. Yet at the same time the fun they have with it paradoxically darkens the situation, intensifying its relevance.
Nancy Crane is Marianne, the Senator, full of authoritative disdain – not just for James’ Calantini but for the ‘Other’ Senators on the bench. Crane rules the roost, a joyously commanding performance, scarily swinging between sympathy and oppression. To her left is Nicholas Day as Roy, the elder statesman whose wisdom seems to have disappeared with the fish, replaced with a bumbling benevolence and some hilarious non-sequiturs. Beruce Khan’s Stephen is ambitious and officious but no match for Marianne. The trio embody an audacious caricature of the Senate while James’ character mockingly toys with their tenuous power.
Anisha Fields’ simple but austere set frames the action, the flags and Seals of Office serves to add gravity to the absurdity. And there is a seriousness to Horn’s writing that surfaces. A social commentary that swims alongside the skit. It is innovative, sometimes sketchy and sometimes drawn out, with touches of Ionesco too. It is a refreshing take on the world we live in, but occasionally feels as though it is taking on too much without fully resolving anything in particular. Climate change, fake news, Senate hearings, influencing, manipulation, are all undercurrents – threatening to pull us under instead of allowing us to tread water in the entertainment of the performances. And there’s nothing fishy about the fact that this is a hugely entertaining and engrossing show. A real catch.
