Tag Archives: Review

HOLY FOOL

★★★★

Park Theatre

HOLY FOOL

Park Theatre

★★★★

“strong character acting and wry, comic moments to leaven the harsh story”

The theme of this new play by writers Rosalind Adler and Lea Sellers, just opening at the Park Theatre, is how the artistic world (music in this case) acts and reacts under a despotic regime led by a tyrant who can topple individuals with a single word.

Holy Fool is set at the height of the Stalin era of Soviet history, when cultural policy in this period centred on the doctrine of Socialist Realism. This mandated that all art must be optimistic and uplifting, accessible to the masses, and ideologically correct – in other words serve the interests of the Party. There are parallels to be drawn with current world powers. It is these that the writers and director Kate Fahy are keen to draw out in choosing Dimitri Shostakovich as the subject for this portrait of an artist under pressure.

Dimitri Shostakovich (Mitya) produced an extraordinary range of music. In his time it garnered both extreme praise for his genius and great hostility for the modern discordant elements of his compositions. Living under constant threat of torture and death, he walked a tightrope between appeasement of the tyrant and resistance to the strangling cultural environment. His story is skilfully told in a chronological narrative, and at the back of a dark, era-defining set (William Fricker) that includes a grand piano, and microphones that drop from the ceiling, we are given key dates on a black screen, including that of Stalin’s death, to help us navigate major events.

Four fine actors play the central roles (as well as an assembly of other characters): Mitya (Benjamin O’Mahony), his wife Nina (Jenna Augen), friend Izaak (Fergus O’Donnell) and a young woman who falls under Mitya’s spell, Katya (Phoebe Pryce). O’Mahony is, in turn, brilliant as the composer, then febrile, anxious and angry as the man. Augen as his soul mate and equal, maintains a solid but also light presence, wryly comic at turns, frustrated and tolerant. When she disappears from the narrative, after her death, we miss her almost as much as her husband does. As Mitya ages, Fahy makes the very sensible decision to let his gait and body movement tell of his deterioration without the need for superfluous make-up.

Shostakovich’s fourth symphony is the device which connects the narrative – composed between 1935 and 1936, then cancelled, achieving its premiere only in 1961. This is used cleverly (along with other compositions) by the writers and the creative team as a vibrant part of the drama. Finally, as the action moves toward Mitya’s last years, the back projection magically resolves into a vision of a freedom and safety that lights up the dramatic space – a middle class street of an American suburb in a time of hope: the sixties and seventies.

Overall, the threat of the Socialist Realism era is rather underplayed. However, this is not the first time, and it won’t be the last, that despots have tried to use force to silence artists. Underground resistance and the human spirit is the story told here in an extremely well created and performed piece of work, with strong character acting and wry, comic moments to leaven the harsh story.



HOLY FOOL

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 3rd September 2026

by Louise Sibley

Photography by Mark Douet


 

 

 

 

HOLY FOOL

HOLY FOOL

HOLY FOOL

KRAPP’S LAST TAPE

★★★½

Cockpit Theatre

KRAPP’S LAST TAPE

Cockpit Theatre

★★★½

“a fascinatingly original and deeply resonant take on Beckett’s classic monologue”

Krapp’s Last Tape, by Samuel Beckett, follows an aging, solitary man who spends his 69th birthday evening – as he has spent so many before it – listening to tape recordings he made decades earlier and revisiting the reflections of his younger self.

Krapp’s annual ritual is to record a tape reflecting on who he once was and speculating about what might lie ahead. Now, however, he has nothing good to say about the man he has become: a figure living on bananas and drink, once physically excessive in all things, now reduced to a life where only his sexual appetite has dwindled into near nothingness.

This short run production at the Cockpit Theatre has drawn national attention because its solo performer was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Peter Marinker, 85, is best known for his distinctive voice work, primarily from BBC radio drama. Using reel to reel tapes Marinker recorded when he last played Krapp in 1983, Dave Wybrow’s sensitive production and direction shapes these archival materials into a fascinatingly original and deeply resonant take on Beckett’s classic monologue.

Live in ear prompts from the visible stage manager, Marta Fossati, subtly guide Marinker through the performance, accompanied by screen captions that both quite deliberately highlight the production’s preoccupation with memory and the act of remembering. At times, this does pull focus and places the actor more prominently in view than the character, yet Marinker still offers us a compelling performance that lingers long after. The physical decline is etched into his body and demeanour. “Perhaps my best years are gone… but I wouldn’t want them back,” the character says. Krapp’s final stillness reveals the line for what it is: a self protective fiction. He did want those years back: like all of us, he is more governed by self deception than he would ever admit.

Beckett’s contrast of light and dark is handled with a softer touch here than in many productions of this classic short play. Even so, the browns, blacks and greys of Duncan Henderson’s production design and fabrication create a muted, almost monochrome world, underscoring how little colour remains in Krapp’s life.

Chris Lincé’s lighting reinforces this muted palette. It’s not as dim as in other productions I’ve seen, which slightly misses the opportunity to underline the extent of Krapp’s decline, and yet Beckett’s equation of late evening with late life still comes through.

Peter Marinker has a long history with Beckett, and he draws out both the humour and the sadness in the role. Yet one wonders whether an audience so aware of the production’s circumstances felt fully able to relax into the comedy. In particular, the classic Beckett clowning of Krapp’s banana business, which Marinker handles with ripe comic timing.

Perhaps inevitably, the production feels more like a meditation on a man recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s performing a play about the fragility of memory than a fuller exploration of Beckett’s other themes, such as regret and isolation. Even so, it remains a rich and resonant interpretation of Krapp’s Last Tape, and one that fully earned the standing ovation it received at the second curtain call.

Krapp’s spool of life is almost fully wound, yet whether “last” means final or merely “most recent” remains a question many productions of this one act monologue continue to grapple with. What is certain is that, despite his age and condition, Peter Marinker still has plenty left to give – and he will for some time yet.



KRAPP’S LAST TAPE

Cockpit Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd September

by Robert West

Photography by Chris Lincé for Stagefright Film


 

 

 

 

KRAPP’S LAST TAPE

KRAPP’S LAST TAPE

KRAPP’S LAST TAPE