by William Shakespeare

Get Over It Productions

Directed by Paula Benson

Designed by Valenzia Spearpoint

at The Roundhouse Studio Theatre

The Camden Fringe

Chalk Farm Rd, London NW1 8EH

Call 0844 482 8008 Tickets £7.50

Running time 1 hour with no intermission

4.30pm Through August, 2009

Cool, But Not Far Out

Glam-rock, 70’s glam-fest Macbeth? Sounds tempting. Only an hour long? Can’t hurt too much. Might just be a little winner.

Caveat: mistakenly referring to this thundering Shakespearean tragedy of grasping ambition, superstition and murder as a love story, was the amber alert. No hits, but a lot of misses (pun intended) as this energetic, ambitious company of eight actor-women throw ‘stardust and glitter’ at the story.

Some pleasant live drumming, hip hop dancing and unintelligible miming by the two male members of the ‘all female’ company started proceedings. In what followed there was a good sense of the drama, but had the wondrous language not been so rattled off and mangled, had the rather lovely music and song   been more clearly and naturally integrated, had the acting styles and levels been more consistent, had the direction at least have counselled against facing straight out to the front, this company might actually have achieved a most unlikely coup. They might have won with the creation of a genre of envy/chic, murder/chic and superstition/chic. It would be nice to say that they failed while striving valiantly, but the company does exaggeratedly boast that it is ‘steeped in the traditions of physical theatre’.

Tania Kieffer in the title role spent a great deal of time facing front and staring at the gallery, but made her interpretation and physicality tell with her final speeches. Between M and Lady M, the lusting after power did not result in any sense of physical hunger for each other. As if determined to avoid being labelled a gay company, close contact was a coy and careful kissing of foreheads, or putting an arm around the shoulders.  Thelma Rocha, in her various roles, was entertainingly bright and forceful, and occasional design touches, as with the bloody daggers, and distorted mirror image were most pleasing.

Clearly time, creative energy and possibly money has been spent on appearances. But the show shares with Macbeth himself  the absence of the steely character which would have guided them both on a path of fruition, not mistake. The signs are there, though.

At an hour’s length it was enough, but a tauter vision of the dream could have held one’s attention to this watchable piece more rewardingly.

Somewhat Recommended

Saul Reichlin

London correspondent

by John Ford

Baseless Fabric Company

Directed by Joana Turner

Designed by Katherine Webb

at White Bear Theatre

138 Kennington Park Rd, Lon 4DJdon SE11

Call + 44 20 (0) 7793 9193 Tickets £10 – £12

Tuesday – Saturday 7.30pm; Sunday 5pm

Running time 2 hours with intermission

Through August, 2009

Eat Your Heart Out, Brother

The night revels in multiple murders, betrayals, gory dealings in general, and at its heart the forbidden sin of carnal love between brother and sister. John Ford’s famous and best known work is irresistible enough for there to be periodic productions around town, and it remains for each to stamp its identity on the great play.

With its trademark precision and clarity, Director Joanna Turner’s Baseless Fabric Company gives the narrative an inexorable style that echoes the tale itself, confidently balancing fluent energy with the complexities of the story. The protagonists’ drive toward their fates through an assortment of causes – revenge, jealousy, stupidity, hypocrisy, an uncontrollable libido, or any combination of the commandments and deadly sins has something for everyone.

Thrust into your hand as you go in is a heart shaped chocolate in blood red wrapping. You suspect that eating it will bring pleasure tinged with guilt, and it does. The stage design in the absolutes of the same blood red and gleaming white tells you there are going to be no frills, but the casual modern costuming does look a little charity shop bought, and sometimes a little bizarre.

The self destruction inevitable in the motives and intrigues of all the players is constantly entertaining, and the comic relief of the Bergetto/Poggio scenes is fun to watch. Within this the attacking speed of the treatment sits precariously on the bridge between the aristocratic and the everyday, the period language and modern rhythms, the lyrical and the prosaic. The company, young in their energy and daring, grasp the dialogue sometimes to great effect, sometimes careless of complexity, wanting a nuanced subtlety.

In an evening of the sort of committed performances Miss Turner demands and receives, there are heart breaking moments  of love and ecstatic pain from Siobhan McMillan as the doomed Annabella. The thrilling power of her churning emotional depth and the musical resonances of her passionate innocence are satisfying waves that wash over one. The call for this beautiful young actress from the main stages is surely only a heartbeat away.

Recommended

Saul Reichlin

London correspondent

www.ChicagoCritic.com

Talk Theatre in Chicago Podcast

Conceived by Robert Schrock

Arts Theatre

Directed by Phil Willmott

Musical Director Leigh Thompson

Designed by Nigel Hook

Choreographed by Andrew Wright

Lighting design by Peter Bragg

Arts Theatre

6 – 7 Great Newport Street London WC2H 7JB

Call +44 (0) 845 017 5584 Tickets £15 – £17.50

Joint ticket with Fucking Men £25  – £30

Fucking Men: Tues – Sat 7.30pm

Naked Boys Singing: Tues – Sat 9.30pm

Running time 1 Hour 30 mins with no intermission

Limited Season

Congratulations, it’s a Bouncing Boy

The most amusing thing about this show is the sight of a lot of penises wobbling and flapping about. They really are quite comical, having a life of their own, especially when their owners are bouncing around themselves entertaining the good folks who paid money to see them showing off their talents.

The owners of the penises displayed impressive amounts of energy and goodwill towards some clever writing and choreography, but when it came to a showdown the penises won hands (or should that be pants) down. The competition fell short of the professional brilliance this potentially slick and amusing review show needed to demonstrate that nudity is a bonus, not the main thing. Without the penis’ contribution there really was not enough to hold ones interest.

Director Phil Willmott tells in his programme notes that the first time his cast revealed all in rehearsal it was ‘an occasion of great joy, celebration and laughter’. Pity this was not so on the night. The bit by bit removal of clothes as the numbers went by became merely a silly extended strip tease, and ultimately not worth the wait. When the time came and there was nothing left to hide, the result was simply to wonder: ‘was that all you could think of?’

This production has been wowing audiences in the Off Broadway scene because the numbers were sung and danced superbly, rivalling anything on Broadway itself. The actors’ commitment in this production will no doubt  bring joy, celebration and laughter to fringe audiences, but when performed individually the unamplified voices were thin, sometimes inaudible, and certainly not likely to rival the shows across the road.

Ultimately this is a minor entertainment, relying on the title and little else to bring in the audiences.

Somewhat recommended

Saul Reichlin

London correspondent

www.ChicagoCritic.com

Date Reviewed: July 11, 2009

By Joe DiPietro

Directed by Phil Willmott with Samuel Miller

Designed by Nigel Hook

Lighting design by Peter Bragg

Arts Theatre
6 – 7 Great Newport Street London WC2H 7JB

Call +44 (0) 845 017 5584 Tickets £15 – £17.50
Joint ticket with Naked Boys Singing £25 – £30

Fucking Men: Tues – Sat 7.30pm
Naked Boys Singing: Tues – Sat 9.30pm

Running time 1 Hour 30 mins with no intermission

Limited Season

The World’s a Gay Stage

The aggressive closet army gay/homophobe, the horny college boy, the escort/whore, the film star with a secret, the bored male married couple, the porn star, the pretentious writer etc etc all, without exception, are desperate for something they haven’t got. Fabulous material with which to people an excoriating and witty story. But the abiding conclusion is that within the gay world there isn’t a single relationship without a malcontent, unfulfilled, unhealthy, frustrated and dishonest, and there isn’t a single person one would like to meet.

Inventing traps for himself, director Phil Willmott has created a kind of sit-com artificiality out of otherwise serious, genuine relationships. That doesn’t mean the night has to be serious – what’s funnier than perceptive truth? The clearly hoped for atmosphere that would be provided by a vast smoke machine was simply toxic, and did nothing more than make breathing difficult. Something entirely more sophisticated, and less ‘clever’ is what the West End demands. Some shows just belong in some venues and not in others.

As if to say the public have grown out of needing to sit and watch men groping each other to know that it happens, there’s not much of it about. Thus the show cannot be accused of titillation, voyeurism, or sex for its own sake. So – hardly any sex, little or no violence, physical or emotional, but also no love, only desire, no warmth, only sentimentality, and nothing and no-one to believe in, really, except when it’s too late – the one redeeming thought brought to the party by that rare creature, the Journalist with a heart.

The theatrical requirement of neatly tying up everything after 90 highly energised minutes led to a neat conclusion where ‘everyone finds someone new’ when what they have needs replacement, updating or upgrading, and the million permutations of gay life conveniently fit the prescribed formula. Fucking Men is not Angels in America, but there may be enough support in the community to give this fitfully entertaining piece a reasonable season at the Arts.

Somewhat Recommended

Saul Reichlin

London correspondent

www.ChicagoCritic.com

Date Reviewed: July 10, 2009

By The Jewish Museum

Guide Dennis Davis

Once Upon a time In The East End

In a city of a multitude of cultures, there is a corner whose extraordinary Jewish history is made more poignant by being invisible. London’s buildings, streets and area names are steeped in the past going back to Roman times, so one might wonder, given that the Jewish presence in the country recently celebrated its 350th anniversary, why there is so little evidence of this presence in the part of London where it was once so thriving, the East End. Now the vibrant Jewish past, saturated with human experience, is a neglected garden, overgrown with evidence of the present occupiers, aided and abetted by Hitler’s Luftwaffe.

Historic Jewish East London

Last Sunday I went on a walking tour of the ‘Jewish’ East End of London, arranged by the Jewish Museum in Camden, soon to be re-invented. Thinking that there might be something enriching to see, I was continually bereft of any visual emotion. Where there was once a bustling Hessel street market, redolent of a thousand foods, now there is just a street. Where the sweatshops, manned by the immigrant refugees from second world war atrocities, gave meagre livelihoods to thousands, now there are anonymous commercial buildings. Where the Grand Palais of Yiddish Theatre once flourished, now Flick Fashions presides.

At various times Trotsky, Gorky, Rosa Luxembourg and even Stalin could be seen at conferences. Roughton House, the sixpence-a-night residence for working men, where Lenin stayed on his visits to London, lives merely in the passing reference of a tour guide.

In the Jewish East End of London there are not enough Jews to produce a quorum for a religious service. The remaining synagogues are relics, with no barmitzvahs, no weddings, and no Hebrew schools to keep them open. There are no kosher bakeries, no Jewish delicatessens and few Jewish residents. What was not flattened by war time bombs has been replaced by commercial realities. The odd Victorian brick building is shouldered aside by matchbox modern structures, and there is little worth looking at anymore.

Other cultures rule now. Alongside huge apartment blocks named for the Muslim community, a huge mosque now stands proud where once the Jewish community lived, worked and prayed. There is even a healthy German Catholic presence.

When Oswald Mosley led 2000 of his Black Shirts on a march through the Jewish streets escorted by 6000 police, the Nazi thugs were thwarted by the barricades manned by Jews alongside Irish and Cockney dockworkers, alienated not persuaded by the fascist message. Now the barricades of the Battle of Cable Street are a distant memory. Only the name of the street remains of the story for those who want to listen.

The Jews have emigrated to other parts and taken their culture with them. With the economic mobility that the generations developed there is no need to come back to this cold, forsaken remnant. The disappearance from the area of a chapter in the story of Jewish survival is not entirely bitter, however. The loss is sweetened by the move away having been of the Jews’ own volition, not decided or ‘assisted’ by anyone else on this occasion.

Recommended

Saul Reichlin

London Correspondent

Call: +44 (0) 020 8371 7373 Tickets £10, Email: joann.deluna@jewishmuseum.org.uk,  Periodic Sundays 10.15 am, 9 Aldgate High Street, EC3N 1AH, Running time 2 hour 30 mins with no intermission.