Tag Archives: Sam Newton

A Woman Walks Into a Bank

★★★★★

Theatre503

A WOMAN WALKS INTO A BANK at Theatre503

★★★★★

“there’s lots of laughs. In a doleful, what-can-you-expect-this-is-Russia kind of way”

Roxy Cook’s A Woman Walks Into A Bank is a thoroughly delightful—yet pointed, in the way that Gogol’s Dead Souls is pointed—portrait of a corrupt and brutal society drunk on its desire for easy money. In this play the society under the microscope is Moscow in 2018, just after a very successful World Cup. But don’t go to Theatre503 in Battersea expecting elaborate sets and a cast of thousands. Cook and her talented cast of three manage to pull off this wide ranging satirical tale in a box set of a theatre. A box set that contains the enormous energy of this piece like some unstable star, threatening to blow its energy right off stage and take us with it.

As Cook explains in the introduction to the script of A Woman Walks Into A Bank, the play had a lengthy development period, starting with a workshop at the Park Theatre, and then a protracted gestation during lockdown. Recognition from playwrights’ awards such as The Women’s Prize for Playwriting, Brentwood and Verity Bargate prizes no doubt also helped writer and director Cook produce it. And Theatre503 is the perfect place for its premiere. If you think a small theatre with a small stage is an obstacle to putting on epic dramas that have important things to say about late stage capitalism, prepare to be astonished by A Woman Walks Into A Bank. And like all good Russian stories, there’s lots of laughs. In a doleful, what-can-you-expect-this-is-Russia kind of way.

The plot is quite straightforward. An old woman—and much of the dialogue contains a repetition of these three words as a way of introducing a new point in the narrative—an old woman walks into a bank. It is this simple act of walking into a bank that precipitates a free wheeling picaresque tale about three characters: the Old Woman, an ambitious young Banker, and a Debt Collector. Oh, and Sally, the Old Woman’s cat. The Old Woman walks into a bank because, as the narrative wisely observes, old women everywhere always need money. She is attracted by a picture of a friendly young man offering bank notes as an enticement to taking out a loan. In the bank she meets the Young Banker (a newly promoted clerk) who sets her up. In every sense of the word. The complicating factor in all this—apart from the fact that these loans are deliberately targeted at vulnerable people who have no means to repay them—is that the Old Woman does, in fact, have money. But she has stashed it in hiding places around her flat, and has, as an additional obstacle, forgotten that she has it.

You can see where all this is headed. And you’d be right—except that, through the adventures of the Old Woman’s cat Sally, the audience meets a whole range of Russian characters, human and feline, in A Woman Walks Into A Bank. We also get to see the adrenaline fuelled life of a cat living on the fifth floor of a high rise building in Moscow. As I said, it gets complicated. Through the energetic words of Cook’s script, her just-in-time style of direction, the precise, choreographed movements of her cast (Sam Hooper), and the intimate setting of Theatre503, the audience gets to experience all this as though they were also on stage.

The show belongs to that school of dramas where the action emerges spontaneously out of a narration, often told in the third person. This is a thing on London stages at the moment, and it is not always successful. It’s a way of staging that runs the risk of becoming just an act of telling a story, with little else for the actors to do. Fortunately for us, Cook and her talented team are skilled enough to avoid this pitfall. Actors Guilia Innocenti (The Old Woman), Sam Newton (The Banker) and Keith Dunphy (the Debt Collector) bring such inventiveness to the range of their roles that the energy on stage rarely flags. They are particularly effective when playing the same character at the same time. The set designed by David Allen, covered in carpet with all kinds of cut outs —rather like an advent calendar — reveals its secrets as the play progresses, and it’s another visual delight. Cook instructs her actors not to use Russian accents—again, a wise decision. But sound designer and composer Hugh Sheehan doesn’t hesitate to add a backdrop of Russian pop music and that helps to anchor the play in its Moscow setting.

A Woman Walks Into A Bank is not a Christmas play by any means, despite references to the (Russian Orthodox) Christmas Eve, but it’s a great way to start your holiday season theatre going. Book it while you can, because tickets are going to sell out fast.

 

A WOMAN WALKS INTO A BANK at Theatre503

Reviewed on 28th November 2023

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by David Monteith-Hodge

 


Previously reviewed at this venue:

Zombiegate | ★★★ | November 2022
I Can’t Hear You | ★★★★ | July 2022
Til Death do us Part | ★★★★★ | May 2022

A Woman Walks Into a Bank

A Woman Walks Into a Bank

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Big Big Sky

Big Big Sky

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

Big Big Sky

Big Big Sky

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed – 7th August 2021

★★★★

 

“draws us into the big big hearts of these characters in a beautifully low-key way”

 

There is a moment in Tom Wells’ “Big Big Sky” where Angie, the café owner, talks of once sighting an albatross gliding across the Yorkshire shoreline. Nobody believed her. “You should have taken a photograph” she is told; which she rebuffs by explaining she would rather have just experienced the moment. The sentiment personifies the play that, in our Instagram age, rolls into our hearts like a breath of fresh air.

This burst of fresh air sweeps in from the North Sea onto the remote hamlet of Kilnsea on the Yorkshire coast. It is always closing time here. The café is closing in each scene, perhaps for good this time. The summer season is over, and as the long winter months beckon, even the way of life is tottering on the brink of extinction. But the café is a haven of hope, of tea and sympathy. Run by Angie (Jennifer Daley), helped by the younger Lauren (Jessica Jolleys), the clientele has flown south – along with the local bird population. Lauren’s father Dennis (Matt Sutton) has a habit of turning up for his freebie supper just as the ‘café open’ sign is dragged inside each evening. It is a cosy ritual, the cloak of which sometimes slips from the shoulder to reveal the bruises born of sadness and grief.

In walks Ed, an enthusiastic conservationist and ecologist, driven to this backwater for a job interview. Today he would be labelled as being ‘on the spectrum’, but in this timeless setting he is merely awkward; initially shy. A vegan geek, Sam Newton effortlessly makes his character loveable, pitching the mannerisms with precision and choreographing perfectly timed moments of understated humour. A captivating performance. It is tempting to say he stands out, but he is matched by the other three, all of whom bring a powerful and penetrating realism to the roles. Dennis bubbles with the Luddite gruffness of a man who has lived in one place for too long, yet Matt Sutton refocuses this myopic vision and we can clearly see a grieving heart that beats beneath. Jessica Jolley’s Lauren is a gorgeous mix of sense and sensibility, who mocks and respects in equal measure – particularly Ed, for whom she falls. Holding the fort is Jennifer Daley, an outstanding portrayal as the maternal yet heart-achingly vulnerable Angie.

Wells’ writing takes centre stage along with the actors. Nothing much happens but it is brimming with backstories and the subtle and melancholic prose draws out the sadness and grief in just the right measure that it sits comfortably alongside the humour. Tessa Walker’s direction reflects this, unafraid to string out the silences between the clamour of emotion, forming the rhythm of the breakers and backwash on the shingle outside the café. A refreshing and bracing combination, capped by Bob Bailey’s authentic coastal tea-room design.

Each character is mourning the loss of a loved one – a mother, a wife, or a daughter. But the will to keep moving perseveres. The café is on the brink of extinction, but it perseveres. Like the hope that shines through the cracks of these characters’ sadness, it will always be present. Life does go on. This type of theatre is sadly often thought to be obsolete in today’s climate, where everything strives to be innovative, shocking, or polemic. “Big Big Sky” definitely disproves that notion. It draws us into the big big hearts of these characters in a beautifully low-key way. It may be a harsh world they live in, but warmth glows from this snapshot of their lives, which will stay in your heart longer than any photograph.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Robert Day

 


Big Big Sky

Hampstead Theatre until 11th September

 

Previously reviewed at this venue in 2021:
The Two Character Play | ★★★★ | July 2021

 

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