“The audience are kept on the edge of their seats with plenty of will-they-won’t-they moments in the script”
Michael Aleen (Gwithian Evans) is a young man who communicates best when he’s sharing facts about elephants. He’s also institutionalised and is smarter than anyone in the entire hospital. At least, that’s how Nurse Peterson describes him.
The Elephant Song is a poignant three-hander about perception, humanity and trauma, deftly handled by the cast with a lightness of touch that allows the heavier bits to sit just long enough, but which are then expertly transformed into levity thanks to the cast’s and director (Jason Moore’s) impeccable comic timing.
Dr Greenberg (Jon Osbaldeston) is the hospital’s director – on the hunt for missing Dr Lawrence who has disappeared from the psychiatric ward. Michael was the last person to see him alive. The two prowl around the stage together – Michael, playing games with the director, while Dr Greenberg struggles with containing his frustration and bubbling anger. At times it seems as though he might attack Michael and give him a good shake, but Michael is always one step ahead, and this cat and mouse play is perfectly brought together by Moore’s direction.
The constant presence of Nurse Peterson (Louise Faulkner) with her no-nonsense advice to Dr Greenberg is a reassuring one – Faulkner plays her in a matronly way, which is the perfect antidote to the unpredictability of the two men. It’s times with Nurse Peterson that Michael seems most relaxed and the way the cast change their pitch and delivery as frequently as Michael’s mood changes is fascinating to watch.
The audience are kept on the edge of their seats with plenty of will-they-won’t-they moments in the script, written in 2002 by Nicolas Billon. We become part of the same game Michael is orchestrating and at times, the tension is so finely curated by the cast and crew that the air in the theatre appears to freeze, before relaxing each moment finger by finger so the audience is released back to play the game again. Michael really likes playing games, Nurse Peterson tells Dr Greenberg when he arrives.
The set, designed by Ian Nicholas, was pared back enough to allow the dialogue to take centre stage, but there were some nice design touches that were incorporated into the play. The Newton’s Cradle was used to create audible tension, while the ticking metronome played its part when Michael asked Dr Greenberg about his wife’s biological clock. I especially enjoyed the range of psychiatry pictures on the back wall, including a framed print of the Rorschach Test.
If there’s one weak point, it’s that some parts of the script haven’t aged well. There are some slightly uncomfortable fat-shaming jokes and use of the C-word that may have been more acceptable when the script was written, but now feel like unnecessary additions. Of course this is out of the hands of the brilliant actors and director – but perhaps just an interesting reminder that the world is changing quickly, and theatre is an interesting place to see that happen in real time.
Most people are familiar with the Brothers Grimm tale ‘Rumpelstiltskin’. If you’re one of those who isn’t (what sort of childhood did you have?) then the Park Theatre this Christmas is not the place to enlighten you. You’ll come away none the wiser. Unless you concentrate on the opening number of the show, the lyrics of which give a potted summary of the story. After which the plot is dispensed with entirely while ‘Charles Court Opera’ take you on a mad, magical, journey into what they call ‘Storyland’. One would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when they were concocting this year’s pantomime. What were they thinking? What were they drinking? Whatever the answer, if they had as much fun as the audience do witnessing the result, it’s confirmation that theatre is the best job in the world.
In the States, John Savournin’s script would be titled; “Rumpelstiltskin II”. We’ve had the backstory. Now what happens? Rumpelstiltskin is still a bit of a bad Goblin. Some people never learn! He still grants wishes. But at a price. “What’s the point if you get nothing in return?”. His logic is pretty convincing, except that it is clear he’s not very popular. And because everybody always manages to guess his name, he one day fatefully wishes he didn’t have one. Be careful what you wish for! Cue the Dreamcatcher. She grants the wish. Rumpelstiltskin’s name is erased. But so is ‘Fairyland’. It might be worth pointing out here that the Dreamcatcher has already previously banished the ‘Storyteller’ to a giant castle in the sky at the top of the beanstalk. Come on – keep up! Without the Storyteller there are no stories. Devoid of his name (now just referred to as the Goblin), Rumpelstiltskin makes it his mission to rescue the storyteller – along with all our hopes and dreams that come with the magic of storytelling.
Cue Daisy the Cow, three blind mice, a mischief of rats, the Genie of the Lamp, Captain Hook, Peter Pan, a flying carpet, Jack (and his Beanstalk), a poisoned apple, Larry the Downing Street cat (don’t ask), the Stone Guardians (I said don’t ask), an ex-prime minister, a Cockney copper… where do we stop? Not forgetting the many other references brilliantly and bizarrely crammed into the chaos. To start on the locations would take me way over my word count. And to explain how all the characters, locations and plot twists are linked would be a bit like trying to untangle last year’s Christmas tree lights. You’re better off reading Kant’s ‘Critique of Pure Reason’ – the chapter on explaining the inexplicable.
It is crazy. But in the best way possible. This show is the best way to warm you up on these cold nights. And amongst the lunacy is lucidity. Beneath the craziness is a very fine message indeed – and the balance is just right. Storytelling is threatened. It can be saved if there is enough belief in its power. The four performers are working on two levels. There is enough for us jaded adults, but they are aware that for many in the audience, this show might be their first experience of live theatre. Part of the pleasure of pantomime is watching the expressions of the younger audience members. It’s safe to say that these guys are now hooked. Job done! Much of the credit goes to Philip Lee who plays the eponymous Rumpelstiltskin throughout, while Emily Cairns, Tamoy Phipps and Lucy Whitney breathlessly take on everyone, and everything, else. If it’s chaotic onstage, what is it like backstage – among the crates of costume, props, accents and personalities that the cast have to sift through at breakneck speed.
David Eaton’s compositions are a mixture of pastiche and sheer originality. A touch of rap, a whiff of steampunk, electronica and delightfully catchy indie-pop. Sometimes it’s as if the Blockheads had met The Shamen at a hen party. I know that makes no sense but surely you’ve got the drift by now. Sondheim gave us ‘Into the Woods’. Eaton gives us ‘are we out of the woods yet?’.
The answer is beside the point. We want to stay in this world as long as we can. It is fantastic and fantastical. When Rumpelstiltskin meets the King and becomes our new prime minister (look – I’ve told you already… don’t ask) we are reminded that, despite everything, there is hope for a better world. Charles Court Opera give us a fairly schmaltzy finale. The ‘Storyteller’ is rescued. The future of stories and dreams is safe once again. As the company sing us out with heart-warming positivity something tugs within us. And we look once more to the young faces in the audience. Yes – there is hope. Charles Court Opera’s “Rumpelstiltskin” should definitely be on your Santa List.
