If you are looking for a fun family show for Christmas this upbeat and hilarious reworking of the Snow Queen story is for you. Writer Charles Way has adapted the Hans Christian Anderson favourite into a lively and engaging romp of an adventure, following Gerda on her quest to free Cei from the wicked Snow Queen. On the way she grows in courage and strength, finding herself as well as her friend. Christopher James Ash’s joyful musical mash-ups had the children in the audience on their feet, dancing along, caught in the atmosphere and loving it.
Ayesha Casely-Hayford is a sweet and charming Gerda, initially prone to panic attacks, and becoming resourceful and brave as her journey progresses. Esmonde Cole’s Cei is a teenager messing up at school and looking for more in life. Their friendship felt real, and like something worth fighting for when Gerda’s father forbids them to see each other. The father is played by Justin Brett, who also plays Daffodil and Bae the reindeer. His preening and beautifully camp Daffodil was definitely one of the comedy highlights of the show, and he brings the reindeer, a beautiful and magical creature of the forest, ably to life. The snow queen enters with a powerful soprano outburst as Frances Marshall revels in her evil character, and the other three cast members, Matt Cavendish, Paula James and Sarah-Louise Young, play their multiple roles with gusto. James’ Princess Frederica and her sidekick played by Young were a TOWIE delight and Cavendish danced and bashed people with gay abandon in the forest.
All this activity took place in Gregor Donnelly’s imaginative set and Richard Williamson’s lighting that showed us stars, the northern lights and the passing of the seasons, with added atmosphere from James Nicholson’s sound design. Abigail Anderson, the director, has worked with her company to make a little bit of magic and a whole lot of fun.
“Conversations meander helplessly. The dialogue is clunky and rarely meaningful; emotions remain unstirred and the characters one dimensional”
Stray Dogs is based on the lives of three fascinating individuals: poet Anna Akhmatova, Soviet leader Joseph Stalin, and philosopher Isaiah Berlin. Akhmatova, once banned by the Soviet Union, agrees to use her writing to spread Stalinist ideology in exchange for the freedom of Lev, her imprisoned son. Stalin is not only a powerful dictator, but a frustrated poet who knows that the manipulation of the written word can secure his power better than any force or action could. Berlin, now living in Britain, visits Akhmatova in secret and pleas with her to leave Russia and claim her personal and literary freedom.
Unfortunately, Stray Dogs does not portray these events in a fascinating manner. Heavy and overly ponderous, this two hour show would benefit from an extensive edit, restructure, and refocus. Despite the speeches and poems that hang from the ceiling and the papers that are stuffed into Stalin’s desk drawers, the word does not have the power that it should. Conversations meander helplessly. The dialogue is clunky and rarely meaningful; emotions remain unstirred and the characters one dimensional. The brightest moments are when Akhmatova’s poetry is read aloud. These alone give us a glimpse of what Stalin must have seen to recruit her for such a task.
Of the three, it is Stalin – and I never thought I’d say this – that comes across as the most human. This is thanks to a strong performance from Ian Redford, who nails humorous and horrifying moments alike. He, of all the actors, inhabits his role most fully, and is convincing throughout. Olivia Olsen, playing Anna, feels very much at odds with her role. Her acting style does not quite gel with that of her co-stars, lending the scenes an awkward, jittery rhythm that do not elevate them above their static nature. Ben Porter is not given much to do as Isaiah Berlin, but his warmth does act as a nice contrast to the fury of Redford’s Stalin. And yet he, like Olsen, gives a performance that lacks emotional honesty. Even when receiving news about her imprisoned son, Olsen’s hysterical reaction does not convince – nor does Porter’s tearful insistence that Anna leave Russia or die. From a historical standpoint the stakes could not be higher. The Great Purge and World War Two both coincide with and determine the plot of this play, but as events in themselves they feel about as real and as tangible as the words that Anna cannot bring herself to write.
Above all, this play feels like a missed opportunity to tell a pertinent story about the power of language and art in a time of crisis. With a firm edit this piece could have potential, but as it stands it is difficult to understand, engage with, or enjoy.
