The Coronet Theatre Archives - Page 5 of 10

Le Petit Chaperon Rouge

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed – 18th November 2021

★★★★

“Pommerat works in blurred lines which come together in an ending which is happy, in a very ambiguous way”

A staple of Joël Pommerat’s shows is that the audience are frequently plunged into darkness. For much of the rest of the show the scenes are dimly lit. A few years ago, Pommerat told ‘The Guardian’ that the reason behind his stylistic decision is to give the audience something else to focus on – not just the faces but the bodies, too. “In that way, you can see yourself in the actors. Just like when you read a novel”.

“Le Petit Chaperon Rouge’ follows this concept to the book. The story is related to us by a nameless face: ‘the man who tells the story’, while the action weaves across the stage behind him as though seeping from a child’s imagination and drifting, whisp like, across the stage. It is no surprise to learn that the piece was initially created for one of Pommerat’s daughters. In addition to simply re-telling the familiar tale he strives to inject themes that have never really been addressed by the characters before now. Themes clearly close to his heart and shaped by fatherhood: the desire and fear of growing up, solitude, the transition from one generation to the next. (In his take on the fairy-tale, they all survive – even the wolf who ultimately decides it’s probably better not to eat mummies or little girls).

Rodolphe Martin appears from a blackout out of nowhere to present the fable. “It’s a bit sad, but that’s real life for you”. Murielle Martinelli is the lonely little girl who talks to her own shadow. Desperate to attract her mother’s attention she tries to give her a present one day – some time. Always too busy, the mother, played by Isabelle Rivoal, packs her off to her grandmothers with a cake instead, but not before burdening her with all the maternal worries that the poor little girl can carry. With a pertinent symbolism, Rivoal also takes on the role of the Wolf. Similarly, Martinelli doubles as the Grandmother. Far from being confusing, the switching of roles adds an aching poignancy to the relationships.

Without doubt, a fourth character is found in Grégoire and François Leymarie’s sound design. A mix of dream, nightmare, hallucination, and comfort blanket. Pommerat plays with our senses. We are invited to ‘look with our ears’ and ‘listen closely with both eyes’. The result is intimate and sensory. And short. Whether intentional or not the brevity is, in fact, a blessing. We are left not wanting more but satisfied that this particular type of theatre has been dispensed in just the right dose. To stretch it further could push it over into self-indulgence.

But mercifully it stays in the shadows. Just as any particular morals or lessons are lost in the fog of darkness. Pommerat works in blurred lines which come together in an ending which is happy, in a very ambiguous way. There is also an improvised, or at least a devised, feel to the piece and we feel that on another night we may be treated to something different. This kind of toying might not be to everyone’s taste, but there’s no denying the richness of the flavours offered up by the innovative ‘Compagnie Louis Brouillard’. Even the name is suggestive – ‘brouillard’ is French for ‘fog’. Or ‘obscurity’.

Obscurity is not where this company is heading, though. Rarely seen in the UK up to now, we hope to be seeing much more of their distinctive theatre on our shores.

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Le Petit Chaperon Rouge

The Coronet Theatre until 21st November

Five star show reviews this year:

Bad Days And Odd Nights | ★★★★★ | Greenwich Theatre | June 2021

Bklyn The Musical | ★★★★★ | Online | March 2021

Breakin’ Convention 2021 | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | July 2021

Cinderella | ★★★★★ | Gillian Lynne Theatre | August 2021

Cruise | ★★★★★ | Duchess Theatre | May 2021

Overflow | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | May 2021

Operation Mincemeat | ★★★★★ | Southwark Playhouse | August 2021

Preludes in Concert | ★★★★★ | Online | May 2021

Rainer | ★★★★★ | Arcola Theatre | October 2021

Reunion | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | May 2021

In My Own Footsteps | ★★★★★ | Book Review | June 2021

Sh!t-Faced Macbeth | ★★★★★ | Leicester Square Theatre | July 2021

Shook | ★★★★★ | Online | February 2021

The Hooley | ★★★★★ | Chiswick House & Gardens | June 2021

Starting Here, Starting Now | ★★★★★ | Waterloo East Theatre | July 2021

Witness For The Prosecution | ★★★★★ | London County Hall | September 2021

Roots | ★★★★★ | Wilton’s Music Hall | October 2021

Tender Napalm | ★★★★★ | King’s Head Theatre | October 2021

Indecent Proposal | ★★★★★ | Southwark Playhouse | November 2021

Brian and Roger | ★★★★★ | Menier Chocolate Factory | November 2021

Footfalls and Rockaby | ★★★★★ | Jermyn Street Theatre | November 2021

The Choir of Man | ★★★★★ | Arts Theatre | November 2021

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★★★★

“We watch in a state of fascinated disgust as he struts and spits, leers and cries, throws tantrums and smashes things up.”

Günter Grass wrote The Tin Drum in 1959. It remains one of the defining novels of the 20th Century, and Oskar, its diminutive anti-hero, one of literature’s most extraordinary creations. It is epic in scope, and a hefty undertaking for a one-man stage adaptation, but Oliver Reese’s skilful adaptation, coupled with a bravura performance by Nico Holonics, will surely ensure that this Berliner Ensemble production takes its place in German theatrical history.

Reese’s adaptation follows the famous 1979 screen version, in that it focuses on the first two thirds of the book. Oskar narrates his family history, and we watch him as he matures into an adult in Dansik/Gdansk during the tumultuous years of the Second World War. Oskar’s is a deeply disturbed and disturbing voice. He is a creature of pure will; a manipulative and destructive tyrant who, quite literally, makes people march to the beat of his own drum, having succeeded in his first monstrous act of self-creation, to will himself not to grow. In many ways Oskar is fascism made flesh. He is a grotesque. And Nico Holonics’ visceral, compelling performance meets this grotesquerie head on. We watch in a state of fascinated disgust as he struts and spits, leers and cries, throws tantrums and smashes things up. He flirts with us; our presence feeds his monomaniacal narrative, so that, in a way that reading a book can never quite accomplish, we become complicit. It is an uncomfortable evening, at times stomach-churningly so, and all the better for it. We should never be comfortable with this piece of our history. We should feel sick to our stomachs. We should squirm in our seats.

An hour and fifty minutes is a long time to be held to attention by a single performance, and Holonics doesn’t drop the ball for a single second. Ably assisted by the superb sound and lighting design (credit to Jörg Gollasch and Steffen Heinke respectively), he drives the narrative on – with Oskar’s relentless, maniacal energy – in a way that simply crushes any attempt to measure time passing. We submit. We aren’t given a choice. For the most part. This relentless drive is actually occasionally broken – when Holonics breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience in English. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it feels frustrating; an unnecessary and distracting bit of easy comic relief which lets us off the hook and marginally diminishes the evening’s power.

Only marginally however. In these troubling times, with nationalism on the rise again in Europe, this Berliner Ensemble production serves as a gut-wrenching reminder of our capacity for destructive delusion. Performances of this power don’t come along very often. Catch it while you can.

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography by Birgit Hupfeld

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed – 18th November 2021

★★★★

“Pommerat works in blurred lines which come together in an ending which is happy, in a very ambiguous way”

Obscurity is not where this company is heading, though. Rarely seen in the UK up to now, we hope to be seeing much more of their distinctive theatre on our shores.

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Le Petit Chaperon Rouge

The Coronet Theatre until 21st November

Five star show reviews this year:

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed – 25th February 2020

★★★★

“We watch in a state of fascinated disgust as he struts and spits, leers and cries, throws tantrums and smashes things up.”

Only marginally however. In these troubling times, with nationalism on the rise again in Europe, this Berliner Ensemble production serves as a gut-wrenching reminder of our capacity for destructive delusion. Performances of this power don’t come along very often. Catch it while you can.

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography by Birgit Hupfeld

The Tin Drum

The Coronet Theatre until 29th February

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue: