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Review: Outward Bound

Posted on 05 February 2012 by Peggitty Pollard-Davey

Outward Bound, Finborough Theatre

“Daring Drama! Clever Characterizations! Breath-taking situations! Aboard a mystery ship bound for an unknown port! A boy and a girl, madly in love, unmarried, seek a short cut to happiness. Follow them through the mists of adventure into a shadow world, vague and mysterious. Romance and drama – and an undying love! Outward Bound will thrill you as you never thrilled before!”

 - Advertising on the trailer for the 1930 Warner Bros adaptation of Outward Bound

 

Outward Bound is a post-World War One work that takes on the question of what happens when we die. Currently showing at the Finborough is the first London performance of this piece for 50 years, directed by Louise Hill and playing as part of its ReDiscoveries2012 season. After several plays that enjoyed only lukewarm receptions, Vane’s unusual choice of subject in Outward Bound meant he found it impossible to entice any producer into backing the show. Undeterred, legend has it that for a mere $600 (so goes the estimate) Vane sourced actors, theatre, set – in short, everything – and put it on the stage himself. It went down a storm, and the initial word-of-mouth reviews ensured full houses during the play’s runs in London and New York through 1923 and 1924.

For Vane’s contemporaries, the play appealed to the many who were coming to terms with the social and economic fall-out of the largest-scale warfare ever, whilst mourning the more personal losses of family members. These losses caused a resurgent interest in the afterlife and led people to focus on contacting spirits and in attempting to find proof of existence beyond the grave – a famous example is the writer Arthur Conan Doyle who became involved in the Christian Spiritualist movement after the loss of a number of relatives in the war and his son’s death from injuries sustained in the Battle of the Somme. Vane’s work exploits the general preoccupation of the time by imagining an existence after death and, although not explicitly depicting death, capitalises on the interest in it by placing his characters on a river sailing away from Life towards – whatever it is that comes next.

On board, despite Scrubby (a nicely expressionless David Brett) the steward’s assertion that “There is only one class on this boat”, the passengers divide themselves up, pitting the snobby Colonel’s wife Mrs Cliveden-Banks (Carmen Rodriguez) – “I am”, she says, “very particular about my hyphen” – and rich and pompous MP Mr Linley (Derek Howard)  – who is “an honest British merchant, my bank balance will show you that” – against meek, earnest Reverend William Duke and East-End heart-of-gold charlady Mrs Midget (both very well cast and played respectively by Paul Westwood and Ursula Mohan).

Outward Bound’s cosmology mingles various religious mythologies; this boat could be the boat that travels on the River Styx of the Greeks, with steward Scrubby as the Ferryman Charon – or a version of the early and medieval Christian notions of a purgatory through which each soul must initially journey after death. When they finally reach their destination, the passengers’ fate will be decided after questioning by the Examiner (Martin Wimbush). But the destination is also unclear; dissolute young gentleman Tom Prior (Nicholas Karimi) questions Scrubby, asking “Where are we sailing for?” “Heaven, sir”, says the Steward. “And Hell too; it’s the same place, you see.”

Each passenger deals with their situation according their personality; blustering MP Linley calls the group to a ‘board meeting’ to certify that they are, in fact, dead and asks if the Examiner can be bribed; young Tom turns to drink; Reverend Duke to prayer and contemplation. Only Ann (Natalie Walter) and Henry (Tom Davey), the good-looking young couple, stay quiet. As the Examiner delves into each life in turn, those who lived badly – a corrupt past in a foreign country for Linley, the manipulations of Mrs Cliveden-Banks to hide her lowly origins -  and those who are worthy of redemption; here shown  in the honest, loving Mrs Midget and the genuine humility of Tom Prior – are each punished or rewarded according to their dues. It is a quirk of the narrative that the Reverend Duke escapes all judgement – is, in fact, immediately invited by the Examiner (a Reverend whose ‘flock’ now dwell in the afterlife) to assist in the judgement of his fellow passengers. Are those who take the cloth in life not subject to the same criteria at the pearly gates as those who have not? According to Vane, it seems so.

It is Ann and Henry, the most elusive characters, that the film adaptation uses to promote itself – as seen in the quote from the Warner Bros trailer above – which focuses on their forbidden love, their desire for each other stronger even than death, but it is only towards the end that Vane highlights their plight, and the contrast between the pair and the other passengers. Like Scrubby, Ann and Henry are ‘half-ways’, existing in a twilight state between life and death; the Examiner has not been informed of their arrival. Will they go on? Can they go back? Their story provides an alternative to the binary Heaven/Hell choice of the others, and in resolving their undecided half-state, the play also ends, leaving the Steward again alone at the bar of the boat, waiting for his next sailing.

Outward Bound is playing at the Finborough Theatre until 25 February. For more information and tickets, see the Finborough Theatre website.

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Review: The Pitchfork Disney

Posted on 05 February 2012 by Jake Orr

The Pitchfork Disney, Arcola Theatre

Philip Ridley’s The Pitchfork Disney in its revival at Arcola Theatre leaves you with more questions than it provides answers. Ridley’s text is wondrously descriptive, evoking a post-apocalyptic world where each character resorts to their primitive nature. Locked in a house and abandoned by their parents, Presley (Chris New) and Haley Stray (Mariah Gale) devour chocolate, and tell stories to each other about a nuclear-bombed world outside their front door. Their troubled imaginations provoke hysteria in Haley, leaving Presley to be the carer of the two. It is only when Cosmo Disney (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) is invited into their home that the outside world forces its way into their idyllic and twisted lifestyle.

Ridley’s ability to capture his audience through his imaginative writing, which links religious figures with grotesque portrayals of society and consumerism, against these two dysfunctional lost-in-their-own-minds young adults, make The Pitchfork Disney a real gem. Once considered to be part of the In-Yer-Face ‘movement’ of writing, Ridley’s text forces images onto the stage that will at times make you squirm with discomfort and want to shut your ears off from vulgar dialogue. This discomfort is all part of the joy that The Pitchfork Disney can achieve, acting as a play to make its audience confront its dark images, like a mirror being held up for us to truly see our wrongdoings reflected.

However, in Edward Dick’s revival, The Pitchfork Disney acts more as a message only half delivered, where a certain misfortune of Anne Cooper’s casting places the pivotal role of Cosmo Disney with the slightly awkward Stewart-Jarrett. You could see this as a fine performance in which Cosmo’s “big boy attitude of perfection” is easily shot down, but Stewart-Jarrett’s performance seems a weak point in the otherwise thrilling revival.

New and Gale as the brother and sister duo are phenomenal at presenting two characters clearly too caught up in their own imaginations to understand the dysfunction that has set in around them. New’s performance, especially when delivering Ridley’s poetic monologues, sucks the audience from their seats and into the imagined world he portrays. Never do we question his character, and never do we lose sight of the metaphors in which he speaks.

Dick’s overall direction is strong at working Ridley’s text within the confides of a somewhat-derelict house, with a particular knack of giving the production a continued driving force so never does it linger too long. The Pitchfork Disney doesn’t shock as perhaps it once did, but it certainly does entertain. The complexities of the characters’ situations and imagined worlds might have you wondering how the production stands when so little is developed from the characters – they are ultimately and inevitably stuck within Ridley’s world. Yet this is what makes Ridley’s play stand the test of time. It still manages to capture our imaginations and allows us to soar on the sometimes disgusting, sometimes heartening, dialogue.

Whilst Stewart-Jarrett’s performance is lacking (there was a particular moment when you couldn’t help but see the mechanics of an actor acting) The Pitchfork Disney is a real, tongue-twisting and genital-groping joy of a production. The Arcola Theatre has clearly outdone itself and reminded us that though it might appear a bit make-shift, the focus of work is bang on the mark. The Pitchfork Disney might leave you a bit puzzled and questioning what you’ve just seen, but isn’t that better than some of the non-thinking dead theatre played out across London at the moment? At least this show has life – even if it does come in the form of cockroaches.

The Pitchfork Disney is playing at the Arcola Theatre until 17 March. For more information and tickets, see the Arcola Theatre website.

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Review: The House of Bernarda Alba

Posted on 01 February 2012 by Jake Orr

The House of Bernarda Alba, Almeida Theatre

Federico Garcia Lorca‘s The House of Bernarda Alba is a formidable play that holds wickedness and envy between every line and subtext is all the dialogue and action. Bernarda Alba is a fortress of a woman, who rules over her house like the dictator Franco ruled over Spain during Lorca’s lifetime. Keeping her daughters under lock and key, Bernarda’s tyranny ultimately leads to the storm that devastates her house, where siblings tear at each other in a desperate attempt to escape.

Emily Mann’s adaptation of The House of Bernarda Alba goes a fair distance to relocate the internal struggles of Lorca’s Spain to Iran. Given the lack of freedom for women in modern-day Iran, the parallels between Lorca’s metaphors and the political unrest of Iran fit well. Whilst the context may be fitting, there is a certain disappointment that the lyrical and poetic nature of Lorca’s original text is not brought across in Mann’s adaptation. Instead, the weighting of the piece is upon the direct dialogue between the all-female cast, with songs and music cut to a minimum.

Whilst disappointing for any purists, the Almeida Theatre’s production of The House of Bernarda Alba is a slick one, capturing the essence of Lorca’s characters and confiing them within Bunny Christie’s beautiful rustic prison of Bernarda’s house. If there is one thing the Almeida does well, it has to be its captivating commitment to design within its small stage space. Christie’s design is as if the membrane of the wall of Bernarda’s house has been removed so that we can watch from the auditorium.

Leading the cast is Shohreh Aghdashloo , whose Bernarda Alba is rigidly proud of herself as a mother. Her stiffness extends to her husky and firm voice, and to  her physicality. In many ways, Aghdashloo makes Bernarda into her own tyrant who drives Mann’s action firmly. Yet the real wickedness, the monstrous side that should leave her children quivering under oppression seems to be missing from Aghdashloo’s performance. It’s doesn’t make her portrayal any less enjoyable, but I would have wanted just that little bit more character to really make her blindness and stubbornness prevail. Aghdashloo is brilliantly paired with Jane Bertish as Darya, her confidante and servant. The couple’s scenes together are excellent at bringing out the dynamic of older women worn down with commitment.

As a whole, director Bijan Sheibani has made Mann’s adaptation into a production which is steeped with tension and conviction. The Iranian recontextualising works well, and there are moments where the sheer power of an all-female cast  seems to explode. Sheibani’s production may not be as poetic as with Lorca’s original text, but it does present itself well. There is perhaps a sense that Sheibani could have pushed his cast further, especially with Hara Yannas whose portrayal of Adela, the young rebelling daughter, was considerably weak. Yannas’s final moments aren’t portrayed with any sense of escalation and this makes The House of Bernarda Alba end a little too falsely, but this overlooked in comparison to the rest of the production.

It’s good to see an adaptation of Lorca’s classic play working well. The running time of an hour and thirty-five minutes easily makes the production seem effortless to enjoy and immerse yourself in. It may not have the lyrical qualities for which Lorca is known, but The House of Bernarda Alba does give a fine portrayal of repressed Iranian women caught in the sufficating male-driven world.

The House of Bernarda Alba is playing at the Almeida Theatre until 10 March. For more information and tickets, see the Almeida Theatre website,

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Review: Port Authority

Posted on 30 January 2012 by Jessica Edwards

Port Authority is a play about love, but not the play you expect. Many things about this nimble, eminently subtle piece are unexpected. In one of Conor McPherson’s most sophisticated and human pieces, the delight is in his lightness of touch.

Port Authority surprised me because all I knew of McPherson’s work before seeing it was The Veil, which I did not particularly warm to. Port Authority almost felt like it was penned by a different writer. Set in the recent past, it depicts the lives of three generations of Dublin men, quite separate, yet in some way connected. The links between the stories are reminiscent of the subtlety of Daniel Kitson’s storytelling, and deeply satisfying because they are so incidental and unexpected.

The three stories escape the cliché and sentiment that might come out of such a form, and while they demonstrate their tellers’ life experiences, they are by no means archetypes. McPherson weaves together immediacy and reminiscence, finding the epic in the mundane. For me, Kevin (Andrew Nolan) and Joe’s (John Rogan) stories were the most enticing, combining a good mix of the comic, the wistful and the joyful.

Dermot’s strand of the story, played expertly by Ardal O’Hanlon, was the least compelling and believable of the three. For all this, it fully justified its place in the piece. O’Hanlon surprised me in his rugged, somewhat haggard weariness, demonstrating a depth of character that delivers much more than his frothy onscreen parts suggest. His tale brings a sharp, black comedy, and sometimes an overpowering bleakness to counterbalance the warmth and nostalgia of the other two strands. Without it, the play may have strayed into the realms of the sentimental.

Undoubtedly the star of the production is John Rogan as Joe. Among three truly excellent actors, his was the only performance in which I never saw the cogs, the mechanism, the thinking behind the part. Admittedly, this is rare for O’Hanlon and Nolan, but Rogan’s performance is utterly compelling, and utterly human. I could imagine him as no one other than Joe, and his performance has the rare quality of extending, telescopically, through the past and future of the character. He shows you Joe’s bones, and his performance felt true and sad.

For a show still in preview, Port Authority is remarkably polished. Directed sparely and precisely by Tom Attenborough, the piece as a whole has few flaws. However, Nolan’s performance still needs to settle a little. He seemed the most uneasy of the three, but delivered warm and engaging work. I am sure he will develop his performance during the course of the run.

The set and lighting design deserve high praise. Francesca Reidy’s stripped-down stage of piled pallets was complemented beautifully by Joshua Carr’s under-stage lighting and subtle, warm colour. A wonderful moment in which form and content were united occurred at the beginning of the piece; making use of the whole fantastic depth of the Vault at the Playhouse, Carr illuminated the two tunnels that stretch behind the stage. It was almost like looking back into the characters’ pasts before we had heard them speak.

Without hesitation, I can recommend Port Authority. It is beautifully written, beautifully performed and aptly directed. It moved me more than a piece of theatre has for some time, and above all it has the ring of truth about it. McPherson and Attenborough have hit upon something that speaks to the human.

Port Authority is playing at the Southwark Playhouse until 18 February. For more information and tickets, see the Southwark Playhouse website.

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