Tag Archives: Richard Howell

THE REAL THING

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Old Vic

THE REAL THING at the Old Vic

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“Stoppard at his finest”

The Old Vic stages a new production of Tom Stoppard’s discursive but entertaining play from 1982. It’s become a norm to criticise the work of Stoppard for lacking heart, being too clever, and too wordy, so it’s amusing to hear the author condemned by one of his own characters. β€œHaving all the words is not what life’s all about”, says Max as he argues with the playwright Henry. And there’s much to carp about: the lack of character development, the snobbery, the itty bitty supporting roles. Charlotte argues that Henry creates a female character that is only good for the pouring of drinks, whilst Stoppard comes close to making Charlotte just that.

The central topic is the title of the play and to make this clear it is spelt out in neon pink lighting across the centre of the stage at the start and end of the show. As a series of relationships play out we assess if any of the affairs, married or otherwise, are β€˜the real thing’. Henry pontificates at length about the subject whilst his daughter Debbie reduces the discussion to something snappy that could be written on a t-shirt. Max clings at the legs of Annie when he discovers she is leaving. Henry cries in the dark when he hears of Annie’s affair with Billy. Charlotte admits nine secret liaisons whilst married to Henry. It appears that Stoppard is telling us that there is no real relationship without infidelity.

And what is real? In the first scene we believe we are witnessing something only to find it is a scene from a play. (No spoiler here as the Old Vic programme inexplicably gives this one away.) And if we think a scene seems real, the illusion is broken by dancing stagehands rearranging the stage furniture. In one such entr’acte, Henry is poured a drink by a stagehand as he relaxes on his sofa, whilst his room is created around him. It’s not real whatever Henry (or Stoppard) has to say about it.

The production values are superb. The set is a much larger open space than a traditional living room set (Peter McKintosh – Set & Costume) with luscious royal blue walls. Different lampshades are flown in above the same white sofa to differentiate sitting rooms. The sofa even doubles for seating in a train carriage. Director Max Webster moves his characters around the stage effortlessly, and whilst much of the action takes place on the sofa it never feels too static.

Bel Powley as Annie delightfully harnesses her inner Felicity Kendall, beautifully flirtatious in an over-sexy mini dress for her early scenes and comes into her own as her relationships develop. Her clothing ages with her as she settles down into shirt and jeans, and finally a rather middle-class trouser suit. James McArdle, on the other hand, spends much of the time in just a shirt and his boxers as Henry battles it out with his typewriter and the need to write words. These two characters carry the brunt of the play through their lovemaking and their arguing and McArdle and Powley are excellent throughout. It is the quality of their speech that is impressive, their impeccable diction giving Stoppard’s verbosity Shakespearian quality.

Oliver Johnstone too excels as Max particularly showing some fine facial expression and such a pity he disappears from the action after the important early scenes. Susan Wokoma as Charlotte who is brought back for a brief catch-up scene could give us more.

A special mention of Karise Yansen as Henry and Charlotte’s teenage daughter Debbie who aces her one brief scene, allowing us to learn that Henry struggles with father-daughter relationships as much as husband and wife.

The Real Thing is Stoppard at his finest. Combine this with the outstanding design elements of the show and the stellar cast, this is a show not to be missed.

 


THE REAL THING at the Old Vic

Reviewed on 12th September 2024

by Phillip Money

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MACHINAL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2024
JUST FOR ONE DAY | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2024
A CHRISTMAS CAROL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2023
PYGMALION | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2023

THE REAL THING

THE REAL THING

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Habeas Corpus

Habeas Corpus

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Menier Chocolate Factory

Habeas Corpus

Habeas Corpus

Menier Chocolate Factory

Reviewed – 14th December 2021

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“some of the laughs are misplaced today, but with a nod to its self-mocking humour, there is no doubt it is entertaining”

 

There is a jet-black coffin centre stage throughout Patrick Marber’s staging of Alan Bennett’s seminal seventies farce, β€œHabeas Corpus”. Symbolic or not of whether this revival will survive the kiss of life Marber smothers it with, its prominence is a distraction rather than a subtle reminder of Bennett’s underlying themes of mortality. β€œHabeas Corpus” is a play with two personalities; at once naturalistic, even touching the human chord, yet at the same time, a farce. The quiet, introverted musings on life are nearly always drowned out by the brash energy and seaside naughtiness of the comedy.

And energy is what this production certainly has, the key ingredient of farce – along with the extra marital shenanigans, mistaken identities, absurd situations, challenged respectability, and characters without their trousers. We are in GP Arthur Wicksteed’s home surgery in Hove. Richard Hudson’s blank, stark set allow us to imagine the draping of misogyny and sexism with which the doctor has furnished his house. We are introduced to the players by Ria Jones’ Mrs Swabb. Wicksteed would be a far more successful physician if he pursued his career as diligently as he pursues women. His wife, Muriel, is more assertive while his son is a timid hypochondriac who uses a fake terminal illness as a chat up line. Enter Connie, who has ordered a false pair of breasts to boost her confidence. Lady Rumpus is an expatriate, colonial figure, protective of her daughter Felicity while Canon Throbbing is a frustrated celibate who… well – his name says it all. Then there is Mr Shanks who arrives to fit Connie’s breasts, Sir Percy Shorter, a leading light in the medical profession out for revenge and Mr Purdue, a sick man who hangs over the proceedings like (and sometimes in) a noose.

Jasper Britton adds a bit of charm to his dated salaciousness. There is enough irony there to forgive him (the actor rather than the character). Catherine Russell’s Muriel has a light-hearted sparkle that occasionally flickers to reveal a more profound hurting. Kirsty Besterman is a joy to watch as the β€˜spinster’ who believes the only way to a man’s heart is through her body; a tenet that is constantly reinforced by the men in the piece. Mercifully the entire cast play on the dated perceptions and, again, we forgive. The sheer entertainment value carries us along.

The sensation is like revisiting, after many years, a favourite pub that has since been refurbished. The new dΓ©cor clashes with the fondness of memory. Marber has added a few twists that jar. Occasionally the poetic language bizarrely morphs into surreal song routines. The sadness and the cruelty behind the comedy are more hidden than they should be. Yet nostalgia is unreliable. Perhaps Bennett’s text was flawed back in the seventies. Perhaps not. Perhaps it still isn’t, and it is the times we live in that force us to judge it unfavourably. But that is another debate. If β€œHabeas Corpus” is a farce it certainly fulfils its purpose. Yes, some of the laughs are misplaced today, but with a nod to its self-mocking humour, there is no doubt it is entertaining. We just need to avoid politicisation for a couple of hours, be aware that all concerned have their tongue in their cheek, and enjoy.

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 


Habeas Corpus

Menier Chocolate Factory until 27th February

 

Previously reviewed at this venue this year:
Brian and Roger | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2021

 

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