Tag Archives: Robert Workman

One Million Tiny Plays About Britain

★★★

Jermyn Street Theatre

One Million Tiny Plays About Britain

One Million Tiny Plays About Britain

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed – 6th December 2019

★★★

 

“Nicholls and Barclay’s remarkably sensitive acting made these snapshots very powerful, for all their brevity”

 

As we file into the small Jermyn Street Theatre, the ushers tonight seem a little… extra. It all becomes clear as the performance starts and we see these same ushers ‘backstage’, rummaging through audience coat pockets for mints and sharing behind-the-scenes banalities. They’re the first of many characters, and the start of a roll call of modern Britishness via a quickfire series of vignettes.

The format here comes from writer Craig Taylor’s Guardian magazine columns and subsequent book, and originate from fractions of overheard conversations in the maelstrom of the capital. It’s not ever quite clear how much is fiction and how much verbatim; Taylor keeps this opaque. But we can certainly assume that there’s been some narrative help to some of the scenes – of which more below.

It takes exceptional acting to convincingly show us such a huge range of characters of all ages within two hours. Fortunately, Emma Barclay and Alec Nicholls are more than equipped. Their adept handling of the wide span of accents required, for example, is astonishing; note-perfect even when switching rapidly between, in one case, Scouse and Manc. The sense of changing settings is also helped by, as so often at the Jermyn, top quality lighting (Sherry Coenen) and sound design (Harry Linden Johnson).

To the content, then, of our many little plays. Some of these flashbulbs of modern life are amazingly poignant, such as the ageing lady struggling to stay in her own home as tendrils of dementia wrap around her, and the gay guy hospitalised after a suicide attempt whose mum determinedly puts his actions as being down to the darker evenings. Nicholls and Barclay’s remarkably sensitive acting made these snapshots very powerful, for all their brevity.

There are flashes of incredible observations of Britishness too, such as the escalating passive aggression about who pays a cafe bill and the reserved sweetness of a mature widow describing the kiss at the end of her first date after bereavement (‘I’m not sure what it was, really’).

But some of these set pieces are more sophisticated than others, seeming to call up rather lazy stereotypes. There’s a builder looking at page 3 in a white van, and a gap yah millennial exchanging Bob Dylan vinyl because they’re into new stuff. These scenes tell us nothing new, and aren’t even much played for laughs, so fall a little flat when viewed against the more effective vignettes.

Some other elements work less well, too (although tellingly these are parts with less to do with the faultless performances of Nicholls and Barclay). The interludes between scenes, voiced by an unseen speaker, prove some of the weaker writing, with the asides actually adding little and actually proving an irritating distraction at times (‘Wolverhampton… never been’). And at times, moving scenes are undermined by a sudden pivot towards comedy, almost as if there’s an insistence towards this being a lighter night. The well-spoken couple having a torrid break-up in a west London restaurant are so acutely observed and acted as to make any of us who’ve survived dumpings pang in empathy (Barclay is especially sympathetic here, as the woman trying to retain her dignity), but the poignance of this scene is punctured by an unnecessary twist.

The biggest issue, though, is about what the series of vignettes can claim to represent. The title refers to Britain, and, with the location of each scene introduced, the geographic spread of the ‘little plays’ is made clear. We’re taken to Scotland (Edinburgh) once, and Swansea. We range from King’s Lynn to Newcastle, from Whitstable to Liverpool. But make no mistake: London scenes dominate here, and RP accents prevail. Given the diversity of today’s British population, not least in London, characters from outside the UK are inexplicably absent. More uneasily still, where they do crop up, it feels as though these characters are simply foils, shining a light on the ‘native’ character. The monosyllabic Ukrainian delivery man who a lonely spinster tries to nobble for a chat; the nurse with beads in her hair (‘maybe not in her culture’), referenced in passing; the honourable Eastern European builder who derides his British colleague’s casual sexism. In a production that does so well to hold a prism up to many strains of Britishness (an ailing NHS, an ageing and lonely population, disconnects between parents and their children), the absence of an attempt towards a truly rounded understanding of what Britain’s population looks like today disappoints.

 

Reviewed by Abi Davies

Photography by Robert Workman

 


One Million Tiny Plays About Britain

Jermyn Street Theatre until 11th January

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Mary’s Babies | ★★★ | March 2019
Creditors | ★★★★ | April 2019
Miss Julie | ★★★ | April 2019
Pictures Of Dorian Gray (A) | ★★★ | June 2019
Pictures Of Dorian Gray (B) | ★★★ | June 2019
Pictures Of Dorian Gray (C) | ★★★★ | June 2019
Pictures Of Dorian Gray (D) | ★★ | June 2019
For Services Rendered | ★★★★★ | September 2019
The Ice Cream Boys | ★★★★ | October 2019
All’s Well That Ends Well | ★★★★ | November 2019

 

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The Jazz Age

★★★★★

The Playground Theatre

The Jazz Age

The Jazz Age

The Playground Theatre

Reviewed – 15th October 2019

★★★★★

 

“Jana Robbins and Anthony Biggs’ direction is jaw-droppingly masterful”

 

“The New Yorker called him a 44 year old unemployed screenwriter from a forgotten era. The Jazz Age, they called it.” So says Ernest Hemingway about his friend F. Scott Fitzgerald in Allan Knee’s new play, The Jazz Age. It’s a quote dripping with delicious irony, as neither Fitzgerald, The Jazz Age nor Knee’s tribute of the same name are in any way forgettable.

The play follows the lives of the two writers who arguably encapsulated The Jazz Age more than anyone else – Hemingway (Jack Derges) and Fitzgerald (Robert Boulter), as well as Scott’s wife Zelda Fitzgerald (Hannah Tointon). Set mostly in Paris during the Roaring Twenties, the story closely recounts the tale of the trio’s young lives, particularly focusing on the complex relationship between them. Beginning with Scott’s scouting of Hemingway and Scott and Zelda’s whirlwind romance, the narrative continues with Hemingway’s rise to fame, Scott’s downwards spiral into self-pity and alcoholism and Zelda’s ever loosening grip on her own sanity.

Scott credits Hemingway as “holding a mirror up to the world and writing what you see,” a metaphor which also applies here – the story is written with clarity and panache whilst the attention to detail is absolutely spot on. From the moment the audience enters they are transported into a twenties Parisian Jazz club, Darren Berry’s three piece band enticing them in with sultry, buttery-smooth tones whilst Gregor Donnelly’s grandiose design wows them. Cabaret tables peppering the front row are a particularly pleasing touch – what better way to immerse the viewer into the play’s world than to make them part of the set?

As one might expect, the music is part of what makes The Jazz Age such a joyously stimulating experience – like icing on a cupcake, you’d notice if it wasn’t there. Never superseding, it is woven into the fabric of the play and evolves with the scenes it introduces – sometimes upbeat and fun, sometimes gentle and beautifully wistful. Its utilisation for changes in setting allows the story to seamlessly flow whilst making sure that classy Cabaret atmosphere never slips.

The stars of the show, however, are the characters themselves. Jana Robbins and Anthony Biggs’ direction is jaw-droppingly masterful – this is as close as you’re going to get to seeing Scott, Zelda or Hemingway actually come back to life. Boulter’s Scott is initially cocksure and arrogantly naïve, particularly apparent in his brazen forwardness towards Zelda during their first encounter, however Boulter’s transformation into the hollow, quivering spectre Scott becomes later on is measured impeccably and heart-breaking to witness. Tointon beautifully embodies the flapper girl Zelda, moving playfully yet gracefully and truly bringing the rhythm of the music to life. It is never one note however – Zelda may at one point be oozing with seductive charm and then suddenly switch into a complete manic breakdown, making her mesmerising to watch.

Derges’ Hemingway is quite simply breathtaking. Seldom have I seen an actor master the dry wit in a play like Derges does here. Every savagely witty putdown is timed effortlessly and laced with a palpable weariness and nonchalance. Hemingway’s overt machoism is never shied away from either and his cool confidence contrasts spectacularly to Scott’s nervous energy. The friendship between the two writers is definitely the most believable part of The Jazz Age and is what makes the final moments so beautifully poignant.

What’s really great is that you don’t need to know anything about the actual lives of these characters to feel a deep affinity with them. You can simply sit back, let the music seduce you and enjoy being whisked away to The Jazz Age for one evening. I urge everyone to go and watch it – it’s sublime.

 

Reviewed by Sebastian Porter

Photography by Robert Workman

 


The Jazz Age

The Playground Theatre until 19th October

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
Fanatical – the Musical | ★★★ | November 2018
Sacha Guitry, Ma Fille Et Moi | ★★★½ | January 2019
My Brother’s Keeper | ★★★★ | February 2019

 

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