★★★★★

“an evening of pure magic”

You could argue (and many people do) that the run up to Christmas gets earlier and earlier each year. No sooner have the pumpkins rotted and the fake cobwebs blown away from the city’s hedgerows, than the festive lights are switched on and Santa dominates the shop window displays. We utter ‘Humbug’ in disapproval and complain about rampant commercialism, while inwardly allowing the child in us a little bit of excitement. There is always a watershed, though, after which we can openly embrace the festive season without shame; and over the years one of them has become opening night of the Old Vic’s “A Christmas Carol”. It may still be November, but the annual event in Waterloo is now as traditional as mince pies. The spirit of Christmas is officially declared in our capital. And Old Marley is dead as a door nail.

Tradition rules in what is a faithful, but inspired, telling of Charles Dickens’ ‘ghostly little book’. Originally written in five staves it seems to be inviting a musical underscore, which Christopher Nightingale more than excels in providing. From the opening (and closing) handbell ringing through to the filmic strings and reeds, not to mention the chorale harmonies of the cast – dubbed ‘singing creatures’ by Scrooge. The ensemble cast also double up as a kind of chorus, in Victorian black and stove pipe hats, giving us stylised and choreographed snippets of Dickens’ evocative prose to link the staves of the story.

Central to the story, obviously, is old Ebenezer Scrooge. This year John Simm wears the cloak with an easy assurance. Not so much fearsome but more brooding. Beneath the initial rancour, one can glimpse a sensitivity that Simm brings that could almost excuse his forbidding nature; amplified by the flashbacks to his childhood at the hands of an abusive, debt-ridden father (an impressive Mark Goldthorp, who doubles as Marley’s ghost). Forgiveness and hope are essential strands in the narrative, and we understand how those hard done by, at Scrooge’s hand, manage to keep hold of this precarious quality. Juliette Crosbie’s Belle encapsulates this with a sharp and, at times, heart-rending portrayal of Scrooge’s lost love.

The three ghosts of ‘past’, ‘present’ and ‘yet-to-come’ are more mischievous than menacing in their matching patchwork cloaks. With the quality of a Shakespearian fool, they each lay open the painful truth Scrooge has spent a lifetime avoiding. In Jack Thorne’s imaginative adaptation, Scrooge’s little sister, Fan (Georgina Sadler) who died in childbirth, haunts him as the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. An impassioned dialogue over Scrooge’s own coffin is a deeply moving moment. Our hearts break at other times, too. When Scrooge watches himself as a young boy he wistfully proclaims, “I don’t want him to become me”. A pause. “I want him to love”. Those simple four words are a pivotal point, the epiphanic moment that assures us he has reached the turning point. From then on, our own spirits are lifted to the roof; accompanied perfectly by the music that slowly swells from a plaintive a cappella solo voice to a sumptuous choir. Cut to black. A few seconds of pure and thick silence, and we are back in the present.

We are constantly and fully immersed in the story, whether sitting in the balcony, alongside the thrust of the playing space, or even on the stage itself. Director Matthew Warchus makes full use of the auditorium, resulting in a theatricality that cannot be faulted. Sparse yet evocative, we feel we are on the cobbled streets outside, with Rob Howell’s empty door frames made solid by Simon Baker’s ingenious sound design. Hugh Vanstone’s lighting is the icing on the cake (the brandy on the pudding) that adds the final magical flourishes. Simm’s transformation of character on Christmas morning is filled with a boyish ecstasy – a joy that we share watching this production. It is an evening of pure magic. Momentarily, the show slips out of character and flirts with pantomime – complete with chutes of sprouts and a low-flying turkey on a zip-wire. But the enchantment is swiftly restored. Joyous, evocative, atmospheric and spirited, “A Christmas Carol” is a tradition that has survived the past and will live long into the future. The Old Vic’s seasonal offering joins that tradition – and is the perfect Christmas present.

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican

★★★★

“a high-spirited, multi-coloured and absolutely joyous interpretation”

Written thirty years ago and set half a century ago, Hanif Kureishi’s “The Buddha of Suburbia” still contains a lot that is still true about Britain today. In Emma Rice’s adaptation (co-adapted by Kureishi) the reality is expressed through comedy and, like all the best fables, the seriousness of the message hits hardest when delivered in kid gloves. A ‘rite of passage’ story, it is part fairy tale and part social realism. Directed by Rice, too, it has slightly less of the creative chaos that is usually on offer, resulting in a beautifully slick production; but is still packed with magic, joy and the anarchic fun that has become her trademark.

If there is any doubt about the setting (though Rachana Jadhav’s authentic set design and Vicki Mortimer’s period costume should instantly quell them), the protagonist, anti-hero and narrator – Karim – immediately sets us straight. It is the eve of Thatcher’s rise to power and Karim introduces himself to the audience with an assured swagger that belies someone still trying to find their feet. Dee Ahluwalia, as Karim, mirrors those qualities with an ease and stage presence that belie his experience. A lithe figure, he guides us on his journey with a clarity of storytelling that casts out any need to be familiar with the original novel.

He whisks us back further to 1976 and into the bosom of his extended, mixed-race family. Karim is desperate to escape suburbia, although by the looks of things there is plenty going on in his neck of the woods. Sex is available on tap, it seems, but I guess he’s looking for something deeper. Cue his headlong dive into the world of theatre, for which the words ‘frying pan’ and ‘fire’ come to mind. Beneath the social commentary, it is the characterisation that brings the show to rich, colourful life. With some multi-rolling and swift doubling up, the impressive ensemble cast portray a host of exuberant, eccentric personalities whom we grow to love despite – or because of – their flaws. All of them are caricatures, but all have a striking individuality.

Karim’s father Haroon (the acrobatic Ankur Bahl) is a Muslim from Bombay who has turned to Buddhist teachings as a means to seduce the hippy housewives of Southeast London. Katy Owen plays the hard-done-by wife. Owen reappears as aspiring actress Eleanor, hilariously pretentious, upper-middle class but wanting to ‘get down’ with the common people. We meet Matthew Pyke, the theatre director from Hell. A lot of fun is had during the rehearsal scenes which are a master class in parody. The shagging and the shenanigans, mainly expressed through slap-and-tickle use of bananas and melons, start to get a bit limp through repetition. Thankfully, though, the acute character observations hit home more than the party-popper punchlines. Karim has escaped his roots, but his yearning to retrace his steps brings us full circle. Meanwhile, childhood friend and nymphomaniac, Jamila, has been married off to arranged husband Changez (Simon Rivers in brilliant self-deprecating form); while Karim’s first crush, Charlie (a tongue in cheek Tommy Belshaw), has achieved rock star success and made the move to LA… and tragedy. Uncle Anwar and Aunt Jeeta are still getting by at the grocery stall, until Anwar pops his clogs and Jeeta finds a new lease of life (Rina Fatania gives a star performance in a flourish of irreverent self-parody and comic timing).

It is all pinned together with a pulsing soundtrack that takes in the Bee Gees, T. Rex, The Velvet Underground, Bill Withers and Joni Mitchell – among many others. A perfect mixtape that could have been whisked out of a Ford Capri’s cassette player. But beneath the party atmosphere, the darker undercurrents start to slip through – especially in the second act. Racism and violence crescendo from their background drone to become an explicit comment in the narrative. It is evocatively staged, but somehow the reality of its menace doesn’t quite break out of the party mood. Perhaps because all too quickly the show plunges back into celebratory mode with a hastily assembled, feel-good finale.

“Buddha of Suburbia” is a collaboration with the Royal Shakespeare Company, but it seems that Emma Rice has been calling the shots. It is a high-spirited, multi-coloured and absolutely joyous interpretation, that Kureishi is obviously proud of. The Rice magic still sparkles and dazzles, and we leave the theatre with a bounce in our step and a 120bpm inner rhythm coaxing us to raise our arms and punch the air. A terrific night at the theatre.

Tag Archives: Simon Baker

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

★★★★★

Old Vic

A CHRISTMAS CAROL at the Old Vic

★★★★★

“an evening of pure magic”

A CHRISTMAS CAROL at the Old Vic

Reviewed on 20th November 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE REAL THING | ★★★★ | September 2024

MACHINAL | ★★★★ | April 2024

JUST FOR ONE DAY | ★★★★ | February 2024

A CHRISTMAS CAROL | ★★★★★ | November 2023

PYGMALION | ★★★★ | September 2023

A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol

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THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

★★★★

Barbican

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican

★★★★

“a high-spirited, multi-coloured and absolutely joyous interpretation”