Tag Archives: Nancy Allsop

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

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Harold Pinter Theatre

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

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“It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between.”

Jez Butterworth’s highly anticipated new play, β€œThe Hills of California” is a wondrously slow-burning affair that raises the question, among others, of explaining why people are what they are. As the layers are gradually peeled back the prize at the heart condenses, but it is the twists and turns of the lead-up that keep us in thrall. Despite running at just over three hours, Butterworth seems to have chosen every word with a mosaic artist’s care.

It is the sweltering summer of 1976, and we are in the cluttered parlour of a Blackpool guesthouse, where the cracked piano is off-key. β€œThrough neglect and time” according to the piano tuner – the first (one of many) metaphor that applies to each character. Three sisters are reuniting during the dying moments of their mother who is lying in bed, unseen, upstairs. A fourth sister’s presence is uneasily promised, though not expected. Jill (Helena Wilson) is already on the scene. She still lives with her mother, caring for her, nervously spraying air-freshener to stop her cigarette smoke drifting up the stairs towards her. Enter feisty, witty, no-nonsense Ruby (Ophelia Lovibond) lugging her panic attacks and slapping them down on the table. Then Gloria (Leanne Best), bitter and blunt, sagging under the weight of chips on her shoulder. The dynamic is quickly established as sibling rivalries and affections simmer away, while unreliable memories stew.

We are transported back to the source of their memories. To the 1950s when the dreams were still flourishing, the guesthouse breathed with life, and their mother, Veronica (Laura Donnelly), ruled the roost with a regimental and fierce ambition for her daughters. Determined to see them become the next β€˜Andrews Sisters’ she is remorseless in her control over them. Donnelly gives a star turn performance, mistakenly believing her steely command is maternal care, unaware of the damage she is causing. When a predatory theatrical agent comes dangling a carrot, we witness the harsh, defining moment that severs the family, and the future scenes make sense.

Slipping back and forth between the fifties and the seventies is the plays major strength. Each decade sheds light on the other and we see how events shape our protagonists; and how memories of those events can cloud their perceptions of reality. The performances are superb across the board. And if the characters’ memories are off pitch, their singing voices are gorgeously harmonious, especially the younger cast who play the sisters as teenagers.

“Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time.”

As the questions tentatively find their answers, the bleakness is constantly relieved by the humour that runs through the writing. Comedy that is accentuated by the fine ensemble acting. Shaun Dooley and Bryan Dick are an astute double-act as Gloria and Ruby’s husbands respectively. Dick also doubles as the resident end-of-the-pier jokesmith, Jack Larkin, forever behind on the rent but upfront with loyalty and cringe-worthy quips. There is no cameo role, even if one or two characters appear transient. Each has their place.

Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time. There may be one or two movements that could be shortened – or even cut. But like taking out a single part within a harmony, it would leave the others out of kilter. There are many undulations in β€œThe Hills of California”. We are aware of them up close. Stand back and we see the panoramic, yet intimate, view of a family picked apart skilfully by Butterworth.

The sense of disorientation is enhanced by Rob Howell’s impressive set. Homely yet disarranged, it sweeps upwards with its imposingly gothic staircases like a giant Escher woodcut. The sinister is never far away from the everyday. And the trivial minutiae are forever rubbing shoulders with universal truths.

It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between. Like the piano – that becomes a central role in the piece – those relationships can go discordantly off-key – β€œthrough neglect and time” – as the piano tuner says. Before reminding us: β€œa piano must be played”.


THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Reviewed on 8th February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Douet

 

 

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CRUEL INTENTIONS: THE 90s MUSICAL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | The Other Palace | January 2024
THE BEAUTIFUL FUTURE IS COMING | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Jermyn Street Theatre | January 2024

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

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THE FEVER SYNDROME

The Fever Syndrome

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Hampstead Theatre

THE FEVER SYNDROME

The Fever Syndrome

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed – 5th April 2022

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“there isn’t a weak performance in the whole cast”

 

Alexis Zegerman’s new play, The Fever Syndrome, set in New York, is about a driven, intellectual family dealing with life changing illness. Front and centre in the drama is patriarch Richard Myers, living with the last stages of Parkinson’s. His only grandchild, Lily, suffers from a mysterious genetic disease characterized by high fevers. In both cases, though in very different ways, both grandfather and grandchild are afflicted by diseases that are literally attacking their chances at life. It turns out that their family, rife with internecine rivalry, is also attacking people’s chances at life, despite the display of liberal politics and cutting edge business ideas. Zegerman’s play does capture much of the authenticity of American family life, at least in New York City, but many Americans may feel that it takes more than a dogged commitment to the Mets baseball team to make Richard Myers a truly sympathetic character. The Fever Syndrome is disappointing, ultimately, since it is unclear who we are supposed to be rooting for.

The Fever Syndrome is a long play. Unnecessarily long. It’s the sort of drama that Netflix would divide into several episodes, and we’d all be grateful for the break between the intense scenes that characterize unfinished business between father and children. Scenes that draw in partners β€” both established, and new to the family dynamics β€” and all the children, past and present, that present in flickering movements, both real and surreal. In the constant upheaval, it’s easy to lose track of the event that has gathered the family together, and which marks the starting point for this sprawling plot. Richard Myers has been awarded the equivalent of a Nobel Prize for his work in IVF (which produced the so called β€œtest tube babies”) allowing infertile couples to have children of their own. In the living room of Richard’s New York brownstone is a space dedicated to all the families he has helped to create. It is ironic, therefore, that his own family is constantly on the brink of disintegration. The Fever Syndrome is, at its heart, about a groundbreaking scientist who brought all these children into the world but couldn’t raise his own. And despite the scientific gloss β€” the references to RIchard’s work, and later, the diseases that are systematically and relentlessly destroying his life and Lily, his granddaughter’s life β€”this is what the play is about. Another American family, rent from within by toxic parent child relationships, and playing out psycho-logical dramas that hint at Sophoclean proportions, on their living room floors. This is overly familiar territory, despite all the contemporary trimmings.

Director Roxana Silbert has assembled a cast brimming with talent, and a terrific design team for The Fever Syndrome. Robert Lindsay, as Richard, does, like the character he plays, award worthy work. Lindsay plays the fractious father and Parkinson’s sufferer so well that it is easy to forget that he manages comedy, and musicals, just as effortlessly. He is well matched by Alexandra Gilbreath, playing Richard’s third wife, Megan. Both actors are completely in command of the layered, complex characters that Zegerman has created. But then, there isn’t a weak performance in the whole cast. The adult children, Dot (Lisa Dillon), Thomas (Alex Waldmann) and Anthony (Sam Marks) play out their rivalries in ways that shift the audience’s sympathies from one to the other like watching an intense tennis match. Their partners Nate (Bo Poraj) and Philip (Jake Fairbrother) watch from the sidelines until they can take no more. And at the still centre of the family storm is teenager Lily (Nancy Allsop) and, from time to time, the mysterious young Dot (Charlotte Pourret Wythe) who can only be seen by Richard. The set, designed by Lizzie Clachan, is also award worthy, making the most of the Hampstead Theatre’s stage to create a fitting backdrop to this complicated family’s dynamics. There is much to admire in this production, despite its length, and the lack of a satisfying ending.

 

Reviewed by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Ellie Kurttz

 


The Fever Syndrome

Hampstead Theatre until 30th April

 

Recently reviewed at this venue:
Big Big Sky | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2021
Night Mother | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021
The Two Character Play | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2021
The Forest | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2022

 

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