Tag Archives: Park Theatre

TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

★★★★

Park Theatre

TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

Park Theatre

★★★★

“a fascinating memoir”

The late Sir Alec Guinness once said of himself that “essentially, I’m a small-part actor who’s been lucky enough to play leading roles for most of my life”. This modest observation is typical of his unostentatious approach to his career and to his personality. In Mark Burgess’ one-man show, “Two Halves of Guinness”, Zeb Soanes impeccably reflects the essence of Alec Guinness in a role that sees him as the lead man, while undertaking a huge variety of small roles (over thirty, in fact) in the space of two hours.

Soanes doesn’t attempt any physical resemblance, but he manages to cut through the surface while capturing the tone and quality of the voice. Little else is needed. A few simple props maybe, such as when a tan leather brogue becomes a telephone handset, and a fair bit of inventive mime; and a battered travelling trunk. By curtain call, that trunk has been well used, having accompanied Soanes on the cradle to grave story – a journey that highlights not just the landmarks of a career with subtle self-deprecating humour, but pivotal personal moments that poignantly attempt to show what forces shaped his life. On the note of ‘forces’ – Soanes delivers a wonderful scenario in which Guinness corrects a ‘Star Wars’ fan (Obi-Wan Kenobi never said, ‘may the force be with you’ but ‘the force will be with you, always’. Apparently.)

It is a common side effect of the profession – that of being remembered chiefly for one particular iconic role that eclipses a varied career that precedes it. It was a chip on Guiness’ shoulder that he carried light-heartedly, but at one point Soanes asks the audience if they can mention other roles that he could be remembered for. There are no shortage of answers from the floor – an episode that highlights, perhaps, that the play isn’t revealing anything particularly new. But although we are whisked through the headlines, we are slowed down when the writing starts delving between the lines. We all know about the Ealing Comedies, ‘Great Expectations’, ‘The Ladykillers’, ‘Doctor Zhivago’, ‘Star Wars’… but did we know that Guiness based his unsteady walk in ‘The Bridge on the River Kwai’ on his eleven-year-old son who was suffering from polio at the time? Or how David lean, sometimes cruelly, brought out the best performances from his cast? We also catch behind the scenes moments that tease out hidden sides to other major players in Guinness’ life, such as John Gielgud, Laurence Olivier, Omar Sharif, Peter O’Toole (Soanes is also a great mimic).

Guinness was always seeking his own voice. Whether it was a direct consequence, Burgess makes much of the fact that Guinness never discovered the identity of his father, constantly seeking approval from a man he never knew. It is an engaging leitmotif throughout the show, but more resonant are the quiet moments when he recollects the time that his alcoholic mother abandoned him while going off on her many drinking sprees. Guinness was a complex and private soul, and together Burgess and Soanes bring out this side to his character with respect, pathos and, when needed, a little laughter. Director Selina Cadell casts a gentle hand over the narrative allowing the words to do the story telling. Burgess has clearly done his research, although those of us less familiar with Guinness’ life and works will reap more reward from the play – Burgess digs deep but doesn’t discover anything particularly new to the aficionados.

“Two Halves of Guinness” is a fascinating memoir, revealing layers of doubt beneath the assured persona. There is no doubting, however, Soanes’ assured and richly voiced portrayal of the double-Oscar-winning star of over seventy films. After a distinguished career as one of Britain’s greatest actors, Guinness feared that he would only be remembered as a Jedi knight. This play will go a long way to redressing the balance. You could argue that it doesn’t need to, but it is a truly entertaining way of finding out.



TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd April 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Danny Kaan


 

 

 

 

TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

TWO HALVES OF GUINNESS

AFTER MISS JULIE

★★★

Park Theatre

AFTER MISS JULIE

Park Theatre

★★★

“full of wonderful dialogue and astute observation”

In the original 1888 play, “Miss Julie”, by August Strindberg, the three hander is supplemented by the offstage presence of a fourth character – Miss Julie’s father – whose unseen authority is felt throughout and is a reminder of the dying aristocracy from which Julie is trying to escape. In Patrick Marber’s adaptation he is still there, but his influence is reduced to conversational asides. The focus is on the tragic love triangle and the dynamics between people on opposite sides of the class divide. Marber has updated the action to 1945 on the eve of Labour’s historic election victory. Julie, the daughter of an MP, seems to have little interest in the politics of the time beyond asking her father’s chauffer, John, whether he voted Labour or not. But we soon learn she has other, more pressing concerns on her mind.

The play opens with Christine, the household maid, preparing her fiancé John’s dinner. From upstairs we hear the muffled strains of a big band going through the Glen Miller repertoire. The party is in full swing, but for Christine and John the evening is coming to its end. Until Julie bursts in, crossing a divide she pretends isn’t there. And there’s the crux. The mask she wears doesn’t convince. When she claims to be ‘just a simple country girl’, we are supposed to believe that society is changing. But we don’t, and it isn’t. Liz Francis, as Julie, is a vivacious presence with her Lady Di accent and devil-may-care tipsiness. A Sloane Ranger thirty years before the phrase was coined. Intent on subverting the system, she insists on taking John upstairs to the party to dance with her. ‘It’s not an order, it’s an invitation’. This confuses Tom Varey’s John – a stickler for tradition. He’d rather obey an order than accept a flirtation.

Director Dadiow Lin is not afraid of the pauses. The actors often tiptoe around the silences, lighting cigarettes invariably half smoked. They are the eye before the storm, and when the dance is over and Christine (Charlene Boyd) has gone off to bed, the true drama begins and the sexual tension between John and Julie surfaces. The passion is all too artificial, however. We cannot see much beyond the game they are playing and are left struggling to believe the impending and implied tragedy. Varey gives a strong performance as John, baring the unpredictability of a dangerous dog. In all the toing and froing, we never quite grasp, however, what causes his moods to turn so rapidly. He is at his most caustic after discovering that Julie’s money is tied up in a trust, thereby quashing his dreams of fleeing to New York with her, but we had hoped his motives were less mercenary.

When the party is over, and they’ve had their midnight tryst (offstage), Charlene Boyd, as Christine, re-emerges from her sleepless night and is given her moment to shine. Having spotted her fiancé in flagrante, her reaction is beautifully balanced. Gritty and nuanced, Boyd’s performance has the restraint of deadly silence. When she smells John’s unwashed fingers, the moment is moving and symbolic. The ensuing slap is quite a shock.

Unfortunately, Christine is dispensed with too quickly and we are again left with the emotional battles between the other two. Motives and intentions become more blurred as dawn approaches. But as an exploration of the social mores of the time, the lens is in sharp focus. The basement kitchen, authentically represented by Eleanour Wintour’s in-the-round set, is a microcosm of that society. The play is full of wonderful dialogue and astute observation, but the stakes never reach the bar that has been set. Ed Lewis’ sound design weaves in a gentle crescendo of a drone that suggests more of a climax than the one delivered. The lead up is nevertheless enthralling, with fine performances from the trio. The best of Strindberg is left intact while Marber introduces pertinent modernisms. Its inconclusive coda reminds us, too, that nothing has really changed – and eighty years on from Marber’s setting, the same struggles apply, although in different forms maybe. We are all torn between dreaming and surviving, and “After Miss Julie” captures that contradiction.

 



AFTER MISS JULIE

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 13th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Teddy Cavendish


 

 

 

 

AFTER MISS JULIE

AFTER MISS JULIE

AFTER MISS JULIE