Theatre

qui

Angela Unbound is playing as part of the London Fringe Festival.

This is the first of it’s problems.

Why the organisers decided to run a fringe festival in London simultaneously to not only Edinburgh’s far more popular fringe, but also to the much closer Camden Fringe Festival, I’m not entirely sure. This may explain why there were only seven people in the small basement theatre of Leicester Square Theatre, including members of the production team and three reviewers.

The other explanation could be the play itself.

Angela Unbound is a new work from William Whitehurst and tells the story of Frenchman Charles Duprey (Peter Glover) and his attempts to persuade renowned American author Daniel McBain (Jonathan Hansler) to let him translate his book, about a girlfriend (Ewa Jaworski) who happens to be with him in Paris.

Actually, story is a rather strong word to use for Angela Unbound. What is performed for 50 odd minutes is more a snapshot of a moment, allowing for very little character or exposition. It’s a shame, really, because there is some great talent in this show that almost make this an enjoyable 50 minutes, but not quite. Hansler’s American author is thoroughly unlikeable in a Billy Bob Thornton meets Johnny Depp in Fear and Loathing (or is it Jim Carrey) kind of way. Similarly, Glover as the caricatured Frenchman does an admirable job of acting a character with little depth and a profuse sweating problem. Jaworski as McBain’s muse is definitely the weakest of the three. However, I’m not entirely sure whether this is the fault of bad writing, bad direction or plain old bad acting, as she really isn’t given much to work with.

The production itself is nothing. It’s the kind of show you leave after less than an hour and after the same amount of time, you’ve practically forgotten everything. It may be harsh, but I left Leicester Square Theatre feeling absolutely nothing, which to me is sometimes worse than downright hatred.

At least that would produce some kind of passion.

Angela Unbound is playing at the Leicester Square Theatre as part of the London Fringe Festival until 29th August.

My first introduction to Edgar Allen Poe was at a relatively early age. In our house we had a weighty tome that housed the entire collection of Poe’s stories and poetry. I remember as an 8 year old asking to be read one of the stories, choosing the Pit and the Pendulum, thinking it sounded a delightful romp with clocks and ditches.

I’m fairly certain I didn’t sleep for a week.

However, my interest in Poe was sparked and I continued to read his work, first focusing on his beautiful, morose poetry and then later visiting his gruesome stories. His unique style of American Gothic had me hooked and scripted my love for all things in the style, from the films of Tim Burton to the music of the Dresden Dolls.

Add to this my unhealthy love of musical theatre, and you can understand my excitement at the prospect of Canadian troupe, Catalyst Theatre’s ‘Nevermore: The Imaginary Life and Mysterious Death of Edgar Allen Poe.’ To say that the story is Poe’s life would be lying. To say that Poe’s life informed the story would be more accurate, as they weave fiction, fact and fantasy to recreate Poe’s sad life on stage from the aspect of his twisted, macabre mind, set to a score drawing from musical theatre, vaudeville, folk and Weimar cabaret.

To say I enjoyed this show is somewhat of an understatement. In fact, it’s akin to saying that World War II was a minor argument. Everything about this show fit together like clockwork and resulted in an inspiring, wonderful, dark, witty, amazing play. I could sit here and think of another hundred or so adjectives to describe it, but that would just be time wasting.

The sets worked beautifully with the action, with a dark, Victorian chintz style scrim over a bare metal frame that featured three opening and closing doorways. Whether it be characters leaping into the darkness through an open door, monsters behind the scrim, half obscured and in shadow, or ghastly hands protruding from a doorway with the rattling, sinister sound of consumption scoring the action, the way the play interacted with the set was simply genius. I also have that I am a sucker for lighting that is almost as important as the set. The atmospheric lighting, always painting shadows over the actors, was simply beautiful and played an integral part in the horrors onstage. In fact, I think this is the first time I’ve seen horror effectively done on the stage. Notably, his mother screaming in her coffin, the return of his mother with her claw like hands and the raven will possibly make those nightmares I had as a child return.

The cast were all phenomenal, embodying the twisted figures in Poe’s life perfectly. However, the standout was Poe himself. His movement, voice and demanour suited the character so perfectly that I can’t imagine anybody else ever doing that part as well. His flawless, clean and beautiful high tenor voice sent chills up your spine in the few times he was allowed the opportunity to sing. The costumes were amazing, which you can see on countless production photos, and fit the piece perfectly. However, one of the absolute standout aspects of Nevermore was the choreography. The precise, simple movements that seem a mixture of contemporary dance, mime and buko, give every character a puppet-like quality that, as Lyn Gardner mentioned, seem to suggest that fate, not free will, is guiding these characters along.

It’s rare that you leave a theatre feeling like you’ve seen something before it gets huge. I seriously hope that this is the case for Nevermore, as it deserves to be as big a cult hit as something like Nightmare Before Christmas, that it firmly sits in the same genre as.

Hell, they even got a standing ovation out of me, the second in my life. The first was for Stephen Sondheim. Enough said.

Nevermore is playing at the Barbican Theatre until July 10. I’m hoping it comes back to London soon, as nowhere near enough people saw it.

This is theatre I love.

Everything Must Go is an original piece by Kristin Fredricksson that is nothing more than an homage to her father. Orginally written for both her and her father, Karl Fredricksson, to perform, Everything Must Go is a celebration of an extraordinarily complex, brilliant, funny and sometimes slightly insane man through theatre, multimedia, puppetry, dance and sound. It is, at it’s heart, a chronicle of his life and testament to the amount of love that  his daughter holds for him.

As a piece of theatre, Everything Must Go has flaws. It’s structure is a little muddled, with some sections going on for far longer than they should, and others getting the briefest of glances. There are moments where you question the narrative style chose for the segment, propped up against others where its a perfect synergy of theatrical styles. However, none of this matters much, as it feels as if this is intentional to mirror her father’s life. Some bits are only glimpses, whereas others are ran out until it’s exhausted. Also, the story itself is so heartfelt and charming that it smooths over the flaws in the piece.

Fredricksson as an actor isn’t the strongest I’ve ever seen, but nobody else could, or for that matter should, perform this piece.

It truly is a masterpiece, and no amount of adjectives on my part can do it justice. If you’re not a sentimental person, this might not be for you. However, if you are then this could just be the thing you’re looking for.

Everything Must Go is playing at the Barbican until the 26 June

Peter Pan was always one of my favourite stories as a child. Who am I kidding, It’s still one of my favourite stories. The pirates, the sword fights, the mermaids, the fairies… It’s a camp straight man’s dream. The wish to never grow up is something that I still cling on to now. I’m in my mid twenties and I still occasionally rock out with a Bob the Builder wrist watch. Why would anyone want to grow up? According to Peter Pan, a world in which you never grow up is a world where magic exists, where fights never result in injury or death (unless you’re a bad guy) and where you can fly. Between Peter Pan, Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, I’m sitting somewhere in my ideal world.

I don’t want to live in David Greig’s Neverland.

This production, adapted from the original by David Greig for National Theatre of Scotland, has been reimagined slightly. First off, the obvious points. No longer are we in London. Instead, we have been transported to Victorian Edinburgh and the building of the Forth Bridge. However, it’s not just the location and the accents that have changed. With the move to Scotland, comes a much darker play than the original. This isn’t for kiddies any more. First off, Pan isn’t the cheerful, naive character from the Disney film. Instead we have a clear reference to Pan, the Greek god of mischief, with his animal-skin shorts and his horned hairdo. Similarly, Captain Hook is no longer a stereotypical ostentatious pirate. Instead, we have a more local idea of a pirate, a ruthless, menacing, skinheaded, heavily tattooed ruffian. This is the kind of man you would not want to meet in a dark alley. In fact, the only characters that have transferred relatively intact are Michael, John and Wendy, with the rest shedding their caricatured state and adopting more realistic, human and ultimately flawed characters. The closest comparison you could draw in style is probably Lord of the Flies.

Overall, this production of Peter Pan is quite dark, visually and thematically. The lighting very rarely fills the stage, and is quite often made to make it seem like Scotland very rarely sees the sun (No sun in the UK? Really?), something that West End Whingers seem to dislike slightly. I, on the other hand, loved the effect this had. The colour palette and the dank mood lighting set the tone perfectly. It made it very apparent that this time we weren’t watching Disney. Thematically, it starts off on a similar path to the original. These boys are lost and therefore won’t grow up. Tinkerbell is jealous of Wendy. Hook wants Pan dead. I’m comfortable with this, I know this. Sure, there are a few nods to adult(ish) humour, my personal favourite being Peter’s rather male-bravado infused ‘They’re my gang‘ to impress Wendy, but for the most part this is still Peter Pan. After the first act, however, things change a little. People die (rather gruesomly), there’s a bit of blood and Peter borders on the psychotic. In short, it starts out with dark edges in the first act, then throws a tin of black paint on the rest in the second.

The set design was lovely. What starts off as the beginnings of the Forth Bridge swings around to become trees/caves/pirate ships and are abstract enough to actually pull it off with a few extra props hung off them. The music was pretty, comprising mostly of sea shanties and homages to traditional Gaelic songs, and managed to firmly plant the piece in one particular place (Scotland) and one particular time (some time before today). Annie Grace and Alasdair Macrae, when not in Mrs Darling/Smee modes, complemented the scenes and set changes perfectly with an array of instruments and gorgeous lilting/grating and suitably piratey melodies.

The standouts within the cast was very clearly Kevin Guthrie as Pan. He seemed to constantly switch between naive boy and absolute psychopath who refuses to be touched or grow up. His absolutely dominated the stage every time he walked on it and managed to enthral me with every word. His boyish charms and good looks didn’t hurt either. However, when he turned dark, he really turned dark. The final scene in particular left chills down my neck which was not only carried by the inspired writing, but also by the stellar performance. Cal MacAninch did a rather beige job of Mr Darling. However, his turn at Hook was extremely menacing and worked perfectly. The menace in all his actions, particularly in the second half, were spot on and made him a character you hated, yet also made him intriguing and a little bit attractive. Another standout was Tinkerbell. The inspired use of flame was fantastic and was one true piece of magic onstage, considering the ‘flying’ was intentionally not masked at all.

All in all it was a very enjoyable night at the theatre, and I didn’t manage to nod off once. I found it a brilliant experience to revisit a beloved text of mine in a different light, and for the most part I enjoyed the darker side of the story.

Even if I don’t particularly remember Peter sticking knives through teddy bears in the original.

Peter Pan is playing at the Barbican until 29 May, and then heads north. Check it out if you get the chance.