Tag Archives: Paul Hunter

RHINOCEROS

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

RHINOCEROS

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“an appeal to the senses, an experience as peculiar and nonsensical as a fit of the giggles”

Director Omar Elerian’s electrifying interpretation of the absurdist classic Rhinoceros is as much about theatre as it is about marauding pachyderms.

In his vision of French Romanian writer Eugene Ionesco’s 1959 fable, Elerian meticulously parodies the conventions of theatre and presents them back to the audience with a knowing wink.

In this case, theatre becomes a series of artificial and disconnected moments that meld alchemically into a kaleidoscopic whole.

People don’t so much talk to each other as engage in the mechanics of dialogue, delivering nonsensical retorts and ever spiralling repetitions. No-one listens. Communication is impossible. Extended riffs on, say, the number of horns on the eponymous rhinoceros rise into a dizzying tumult of words, sometimes pin sharp, then losing focus, only to return to a semblance of meaning measured by weight alone.

The audience is puzzled, bored, irritated, mesmerised, intrigued, amused – often within the same minute.

In an overlong and sometimes grating production, the story features a provincial French village – perhaps something out of a Wes Anderson movie – with a cast of deadpan pedants and eccentrics. A rhinoceros charges through the village square causing chaos. Then another, which tramples a cat. Soon it emerges that the villagers themselves are becoming the beasts.

Political writer Ionescu was, perhaps, thinking of the spread of fascism in pre-war France, making points about conformity and appeasement to the monstrous.

Elerian, wisely, veers away from heavy-handed politics and leans into the comedy. In his own translation, he updates the gags to include references to Covid, Wallace and Gromit and Severance. He gathers about him a troupe of actors superbly adept at the challenge of farce.

John Biddle, Hayley Carmichael, Paul Hunter, Joshua McGuire, Anoushka Lucas, Sophie Steer, and Alan Williams – in suitable white coats against a box-of-tricks white stage – are put through their paces in a series of scenarios, like an improv troupe picking suggestions out of a top hat.

Elerian creates a grandiose, meta-flecked circus – complete with clowns, kazoos and funny wigs. His message appears to be that laughter creates community when meaning fails.

In the most effective sequence McGuire, as Jean, battles with the agonies of transformation, a rousing set piece that exemplifies the thrilling choreography that is a highlight of the production.

Like Jean, the villagers succumb one by one to the plague until the hero of the piece, flustered slob and everyman Berenger (Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù), is left on his own, making a stand against the onslaught.

At this point, anti-theatre becomes theatre again. Rhinoceros finally relies on the tropes of storytelling to make a connection – but too late. Without the groundwork, this burst of coherent humanity feels unearned.

Never mind. Rhinoceros is an appeal to the senses, an experience as peculiar and nonsensical as a fit of the giggles.



RHINOCEROS

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 1st April 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

 

 


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025
WOMEN, BEWARE THE DEVIL | ★★★★ | February 2023

 

 

RHINOCEROS

RHINOCEROS

RHINOCEROS

🎭 A TOP SHOW IN JANUARY 2024 🎭

COWBOIS

★★★★★

Royal Court

COWBOIS at the Royal Court

★★★★★

“The trans and queer characters are self assured heroes who inspire awe and universal swoons from cast and audience alike”

The transfer of Charlie Josephine’s Cowbois from the RSC’s base in Stratford-Upon-Avon to London has been hotly anticipated and much trailed and it’s easy to see why.

In a town 100 miles from anywhere, ostensibly on the American frontier, a group of women, children, and a perpetually drunk sheriff, have been left behind by their male townsfolk who have gone off to join the gold rush. A wood panelled bar and four leather bar stools, backed with a sign of ‘no guns, no politics’ is all that’s needed to take the audience to this familiar setting. We’re introduced to each of the women through a prolonged discussion about how the ladies take their grits, with sugar or salt, the cheeky subtext of which sets up for a fantastical journey of gender discovery ignited by the arrival of the outlaw, Jack Cannon.

Playing with the image of the American cowboy, an icon of masculinity, is nothing new. The popularity of films like Brokeback Mountain and The Power of the Dog show how exploring gender and sexuality in this repressively conservative setting works. But where Cowbois differs is in centring the voices of women and trans people in a way that’s uplifting, rather than tragic. The trans and queer characters are self assured heroes who inspire awe and universal swoons from cast and audience alike.

The infamous Jack Cannon, played with swagger and style by Vinnie Heaven, acts as a catalyst for change for all the townspeople in sometimes magical and mysterious ways. De facto leader of the group Miss Lillian, Sophie Melville, is enthralled by Cannon’s charm. Their intense sex scene is deliciously wet and wild, staged under blue light (Simeon Miller) punctuated with moans and splashes from a substage pool. Later events are unexplained and unexplainable, but that’s no bother – this is a fantasy after all.

“There’s plenty of high camp music, movement and costumes that keeps the silliness coming”

Lillian and Jack’s moments of tenderness are sweet but surpassed by those between Jack, Kid, wonderfully played by Lemuel Ariel Adou on press night, and Lucy/Lou, Lee Braithwaite, where the bandit’s arrival inspires a recognition of something in Lucy/Lou that had not before been named. A small but perfectly formed moment.

There’s plenty of high camp music (Jim Fortune), movement (Jennifer Jackson) and costumes (Grace Smart) that keeps the silliness coming. A four-piece band (musical director Gemma Storr) plays on stage throughout that could only have been improved through being more visible, rather than tucked off to the side.

The action of Act I proceeds seamlessly (co-direction Charlie Josephine and Sean Holmes). There’s broad coverage of themes from racial injustice to homophobia to trans bodies but these are all briefly danced over, with characters ready to absorb whatever is presented in front of them with childlike acceptance. This is no criticism – it’s cheering to just be absorbed in the charm and fantasy of the piece rather than having to think too deeply about injustice and inequality. But as the act comes to a close, things do feel like they are going all too well, and as the dancing spirals to a climax, low and behold the smoke clears and the long-forgotten men of the town are there in silhouette having returned to the town.

Act II brings the conflict, along with a barnstorming performance from LJ Parkinson as one-eyed Charlie, but it’s swiftly resolved. Rather than deep and brooding intellectual discussions, mostly the men just seem bemused and ready to accept the collective awakening that’s happened in their absence, before joining in for the gun slinging finale.

Cowbois is a queer western fantasy celebrating individual expression and love in all its forms. Its feminist exploration of gender identity will leave you feeling lighter and more optimistic than when you went in.


COWBOIS at the Royal Court

Reviewed on 17th January 2024

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Ali Wright

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MATES IN CHELSEA | ★★★ | November 2023
CUCKOO | ★★½ | July 2023
BLACK SUPERHERO | ★★★★ | March 2023
FOR BLACK BOYS … | ★★★★★ | April 2022

COWBOIS

COWBOIS

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