Entertaining Mr Sloane **** TNT

Wednesday 25 February 2009 10:05 GMT

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Entertaining Mr Sloane

This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Wednesday 25 February 2009 10:05 GMT.

Imelda Staunton gives a perfectly-judged performance combining ruthless determination with a childlike vulnerability in this precisely observed revival of Joe Orton’s scabrous black comedy. She plays rapacious middle-aged landlady Kath who hasn’t a single qualm about changing into the sheerest of sheer negligees to pounce on her much younger new lodger.

She’s not the only one with designs on the cocky young man with a secret, though. Her brother Ed (his pompous pretensions to moral rectitude betrayed by every twitch of his moustache in Simon Paisley Day’s equally effective portrayal) finds him just as irresistible, and it’s left to their myopic father (Richard Bremmer’s gangly old Kemp, as unsavoury as an elongated Steptoe) to fatally call his bluff.

Director Nick Bagnall keeps the piece very much in period (flying ducks adorn the tasteless peeling wallpaper) and - 45 years after its premiere - Orton’s innuendo-packed satire on lower middleclass behaviour guarantees a comedy of selfish cruelty in the company of a quartet of callous characters one really wouldn’t want to know outside the confines of the theatre.

Trafalgar Studios, Whitehall, SW1 (0870 060 6632)to 11th April (£25-£45-)

The Stone - **** TNT

Friday 20 February 2009 11:37 GMT

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The Stone

This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Friday 20 February 2009 11:37 GMT.

The history of a Dresden house serves as a microcosm for the major events which took place in his native Germany from 1935 to 1993 in Marius von Mayenburg‘s clever, hour long drama. As the occupancy changes along with the prevailing political situation, the cast of six remains on stage throughout, enabling random, lightning-fast switches to and fro between different periods to expose the lies and self-delusions which have been perpetuated – and accepted as fact – over three generations.

Originally the property of the Jewish family whom (according to his wife Witha’s whitewashed version of the murky past) he helped escape to America, Wolfgang’s house – purchased from them at a premium – is later temporarily occupied by Stefanie when his own family flee to the West, then reclaimed by them when Witha returns with her now grownup daughter and granddaughter.

The ghosts of the past hover on the sidelines, ready to reveal the truth of Wolfgang’s unacknowledged Nazi sympathies, and von Mayenburg’s clever, teasing device (played out in the unrelenting glare of a simple box set) keeps the audience on its toes as the tangled strands of Ramin Gray’s meticulously acted production unwind.

Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square, SW1 (020 7565 5000) to 28 February ( £10-£25)

King Lear ***

This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Friday 13 February 2009 10:33 GMT.

Theatrical wunderkind Rupert Goold has been busy. His restaging of Oliver! has just opened, and now his take on Shakespeare’s famous tragedy, with Pete Postlethwaite in the title role, arrives in London after a sell-out - but critically knocked - run in Liverpool.
Postlethwaite plays the abdicating king as a flat-capped everyman in brown trousers – he could be anyone’s irascible father as he disowns his youngest daughter Cordelia when she refuses to overstate her love for him. There’s little sense of a great ruler’s fall from power and, as a result, it isn’t until Lear’s senses desert him that Postlethwaite comes into his own, emaciated and fragile in a flowery dress and belatedly wielding a broken parasol against a storm which has already passed and wrought its damage.
Played out on a flight of stone steps sprouting weeds of neglect, Goold’s production (which he places in the late 70’s) emphasises the fragmentation of Britain as well as the schisms between fathers, offspring and jealous siblings. The faces of Lear’s followers are painted, like football fans, with the red cross of St George; Forbes Masson’s sombre Fool is a Scot, and Goneril’s scorned spouse speaks with a heavy Irish accent, as does Jonjo O’Neill’s Edmund, the scheming bastard son of the Earl of Gloucester whom John Shrapnel plays with an authority which withstands his stomach -churning mutilation at the hands of Regan (who sadistically uses her teeth to sever his eye).
But despite the overall narrative clarity, the directorial touches sometimes seem gratuitous and, ultimately, the production lacks the overarching vision which has characterised Goold’s best – and most exciting – work.
Young Vic, The Cut, SE1 (0207 922 2922) Until 28th March (Tickets £22.50)

Shades ****

This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Friday 13 February 2009 10:17 GMT.

The Royal Court’s New Writers Festival gets off to an accomplished and exceptionally enjoyable start with this warm, witty and rather wise social drama from Alia Bano. The subject matter isn’t especially original – independent, educated modern Muslim girl seeks like-minded male from similar background who wants to settle down, marry and have kids. But Bano uses a light touch to explore serious issues, and adds a further complication in the shape of a couple of gay male flatmates, one white, one Bengali.
Right from the start, the snappy dialogue engages. Sabrina (a successful events organiser – long hours, too much socialising, and definitely not an appropriate career for a good Muslim wife) emerges from a half-hearted attempt at speed-dating which has yielded the usual crop of unsuitable candidates, plus good-looking Ali. His intrusive questioning and oily persistence put him firmly in the reject pile but also (for a Western audience) set out the prejudices facing Sabrina.
Love can grow in unexpected places, though - even accountants can be more than just a suit - and Bano sheds light on the often unacceptable compromises young Muslim women are expected to make to satisfy close knit families and the religious faith which unites them.
Nina Raine’s well-acted production, with the stage a traverse catwalk, is as nifty as the writing, and Stephanie Street’s Westernised Sabrina draws gasps from the audience as she tentatively covers her head with a hijab in an attempt to keep her man.
Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square, SW1 (020 7565 5000) until 21st February (£10-£15)

Private Lives ***
This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Friday 30 January 2009 10:23 GMT. It was last updated on Wednesday 04 February 2009 17:45 GMT.

Noel Coward reputedly dashed off this classic bittersweet comedy in a mere four days whilst recovering from a bout of flu, then starred in it himself when it premiered in 1930. After Romeo & Juliet, it boasts perhaps the most famous balcony scene to be caught on stage — though Coward’s takes place in a swanky French hotel and the very English protagonists are certainly older if not wiser.
Elyot Chase has just arrived with his new, considerably younger wife, Sybil only to discover that Amanda, who divorced him five years earlier, has booked into the adjoining suite with her brand new husband Victor. From this neatly symmetrical scenario, Coward wittily portrays a “can’t live with”/ “can’t live without” relationship in which Elyot and Amanda, cut from the same wealthily indulgent cloth, are obviously made for each other but — with their barbed tongues, short tempers and uncomfortably violent streaks – are equally destined to inflict a lot of pain.
Claire Price allows Amanda’s underlying vulnerability to shimmer through her quipping, elegant shell, whilst Jasper Britton leaves you in no doubt that there’s a brutal side to the suave sophisticate. Kicking off the Hampstead’s 50th anniversary season, Lucy Bailey’s production focuses as much on their pain as their laughter, whilst the rejected new spouses (Lucy Briggs-Owen’s apparently sweet-as-sugar Sybil and Rufus Wright’s stuffy, old-before-his-time Victor) are pushed aside by the maelstrom of an attraction with which they cannot possibly compete.

Hampstead, Eton Avenue, NW3 (020 7722 9301) until 28th February £25-£15 (under 26’s £10)

Enjoy ***

This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Wednesday 04 February 2009 17:32 GMT.

Alan Bennett’s nostalgic – and surely at least a tiny bit autobiographical – comedy wasn’t a great success when it premiered in 1980. But blessed with some witty dialogue, an occasionally Ortonesque sense of humour and perfect performances in the central roles, Christopher Luscombe’s revival reveals Bennett’s ambivalent nostalgia for a passing era as well as his recognition of the limitations it imposed.
Set in his hometown of Leeds, in the about-to-be-demolished back-to-back terrace where Dad Wilf and Mam Connie are waiting to be relocated to a new high rise council flat, it envisages a surreal scenario in which grey-suited observers arrive to record the everyday life of this working class community before the bulldozers commit it to history. Even when death threatens, these heritage industry officials just watch and take notes without speaking or responding, yet unintentionally changing behaviours by their very presence.
Alison Steadman’s forgetful Mam (unrecognisable in practical pinafore and decade-adding mousey perm) is touching as she cheerfully says goodbye to her memory as well as her home. David Troughton is suitably intransigent as disgruntled Dad (injured in an accident and slobbed out in his chair, he vehemently denies the existence of their estranged gay son whilst idolising daughter Linda and refusing to acknowledge that she’s on the game.)
And, although a few cuts would be very welcome, Carol Macready’s Mrs Clegg is a broad comic treat as a helpfully nosy neighbour who can’t wait to remove Dad’s trousers.

LOUISE KINGSLEY
Gielgud, Shaftesbury Avenue, W1 (0844 482 5130) until May 2 (£48.50 - £13.50)

Hit Me:The Life & Rhymes of Ian Dury ***
This article was first published on tntonline.co.uk on Friday 23 January 2009

Even from beyond the grave, Ian Dury is causing controversy thanks to Jeff Merrifield’s account of the man who found as many reasons to be angry as to be cheerful, but didn’t let the legacy of his childhood polio stand in the way of becoming a punk icon.
But it’s hardly Dury’s fault (he died of cancer in 2000) that the actor who successfully played him in Edinburgh and on the fringe refused to work with a revised script and was replaced at the last minute. Thankfully, Adrian Schiller has had enough time to do his homework and gives a more than creditable performance in this warts (and there are a lot of them) and all look at the life of the lyricist and vocalist who wasn’t afraid to offend and whose Spasticus Autisticus was banned by the BBC.
Whilst lauding his talents, it doesn’t shy away from the less likeable aspects of Dury’s character – too much drink, too many women and an uncontrollable temper — but, frustratingly, whilst the mundane, expletive-filled dialogue comes across crystal clear, the sound system frequently drowns out the lyrics which made his name.
Told partly from the view point of his ex-jailbird minder, Fred “Spider” Rowe (who resorted to hiding Dury’s leg iron to keep him under control) this two-hander — even without the appearance of the backing group, The Blockheads — will serve as a welcome walk down memory lane for ageing fans who were around in his heyday, and give younger generations some insight into the appeal of this charismatic performer and his distinctive rasping voice.

Leicester Square Theatre, Leicester Place, WC2 (0844 847 2475) until February 14, £25 – £20