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Posts Tagged ‘Almeida Theatre’

This is a new play set in England in the mid 17th Century, a turbulent period that included the English Civil War, leading up to the execution of King Charles I and the abolition of the monarchy, albeit only for a decade or so. This is the historical backdrop, but Lulu Raczka’s play is not a historical drama. It’s a fiction involving one noble family and witchcraft, oh, and the devil, of course. I was expecting something earnest, but its actually rather fun.

It takes place in the home of Lady Elizabeth and her louche brother. She’s on a mission to secure their line of succession, which means getting him married so that he can produce a male heir. She recruits young Agnes, who everyone is convinced is a witch. They engineer a union with Catherine, of somewhat lower status, but the Lord of the house doesn’t take to her and fails to consummate the marriage. He seems to have desires for just about everyone except her – servant girls and his sister amongst them. Lady Elizabeth and Agnes continue to plot, which involves the pregnancy of another servant with the Lord’s child and the promotion of Agnes to a full member of the household. As the English Civil War rages, the Lord finds himself a reluctant participant, drawn in to the royalist cause.

There’s a brilliant prologue by the devil linking the historical events to the present day and he reappears later to make sure we know who’s in charge. There’s witchcraft throughout, something very much in keeping with this specific period, yet its a very funny piece given an audacious production by Rupert Goold. Miriam Buerther’s design and Evie Gurney’s costumes are terrific, and there’s superb music from Adam Cork. This is the sort of production any young playwright can only dream of. In truth, I think the production outshines the play, which is entertaining but perhaps a little lacking in substance.

The performances are uniformly outstanding, with Lydia Leonard in total command of the stage as Lady Elizabeth, an unrecognisable Leo Bill as the Lord, absolutely brilliant, and Alison Oliver shining as Agnes. There’s a fine supporting cast, including a terrific cameo from Nathan Armarkwei-Laryea as the devil.

If you don’t take it too seriously, its a really entertaining evening.

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A 20th Century classic, a favourite play by a favourite playwright, my sixth production. High stakes. When I left the theatre, though, it felt like I’d seen it pass on to a new generation, taking a fresh look without in any way damaging the legacy. What a wonderful start to a new theatrical year.

Blanche and her sister Stella have a Mississippi plantation heritage. Stella left some time ago to pursue a new life in New Orleans, in love with her man Stanley, at home in her new community. Blanche presided over the loss of everything they had, now leaving Laurel to make an unexpected visit to her sister in her two-room apartment in this very different world. At first she seems a fantasist, needy and vulnerable, somewhat manipulative. It takes some time before the underlying mental health issues reveal themselves.

Rebecca Frecknall demonstrated her understanding of, and affinity with Tennessee Williams with Summer & Smoke, also at the Almeida, four years ago. This impressionistic, very physical staging, also finds new depth by abandoning realism in favour of visceral emotion. On a relatively bare, relatively small platform, with the audience wrapped around, there is an immediacy, an intimacy and pace which draws you in quickly and never lets you go. Blanche’s plight and fate, in reality TW’s sister Rose, has never felt so real.

I jumped on a number of occasions at Stanley’s sudden fits of rage. Paul Mescal prowls around with an animal magnetism, unpredictable, violent and misogynistic; yet you can’t fail to be sympathetic to the contempt shown for his immigrant status and working class roots. On TV, screen and now on stage, Mescal proves to be a rare talent. I’ve seen Jessica Lange, Glen Close, Rachel Weisz and Gillian Anderson as Blanche, yet Patsy Ferran’s is a more complex interpretation, a fascinating evolution to Blanche’s true self, from provoking laughter at her affectations to genuine shock at her tragedy.

I’ve also been lucky to see fine actresses like Ruth Wilson and Vanessa Kirby as Stella, and Anjana Vasan joins them with a pitch perfect characterisation which conveys the love that proves stronger than the abuse Stanley subjects her to. In an exceptional supporting cast, Dwane Walcott’s passionate Mitch, whose love for Blanche proves unrequited, stands out. The music played live by Tom Penn on a drum-kit above the stage provides even more tension, and more jumps of surprise.

In just three shows, the third being the reinvention of Cabaret still in the West End, Frecknall has proven to be one of the most exciting new talents. Here, the relative youth of the cast and the intensity of the staging make it an electrifying yet respectful revival. I can’t wait to see what she does next.

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The first full year of theatre going since 2019 and I saw 129 shows in the 42 weeks I was in the UK (my travels resumed too!). A good indication of its quality was that a third made my long list.

BEST NEW PLAY – PATRIOTS at the Almeida Theatre & MIDDLE at the NT’s Dorfman Theatre

It was a particularly good year for new plays, perhaps because playwrights had more time during lockdown to craft and perfect their work. There were twenty contenders and after much deliberation 7 rose above the rest. Nell Leyshon’s Folk at Hampstead, about the song collecting of Cecil Sharp, proved a real treat, as did Marvellous, the life-affirming inaugural offering @sohoplace about the extraordinary Neil Baldwin. At the National, an adaptation of Sheriden’s restoration comedy The Rivals, Jack Absolute Flies Again, was by far the funniest new play, whilst down the road at the Young Vic The Collaboration was a fascinating examination of an unlikely relationship between two artistsWarhol & Basquiat. Prima Facie was a great play exposing the broken legal system of trials for sexual offences, but it was really all about the sensational star performance from Jodie Comer. It was two plays about relationships – Peter Morgan’s Patriots, about Berezovsky, the kingmaker of both Putin & Abramovitch and David Eldridge’s Middle about the divergence of a couple in mid-life, that stood out most.

BEST REVIVAL – The Crucible & The Corn Is Green at the NT and Handbagged at The Kiln Theatre

I couldn’t choose between the three, and there were six other very good contenders too. I’ve seen quite a few productions of The Crucible, but few had the intensity of the NT’s revival in the Olivier. Next door in the Lyttelton, what made The Corn is Green was the addition of singing by the miners, fully anchoring the play in Wales. I was surprised how much Handbagged, about the relationship between Thatcher and the Queen, resonated twelve years on and how clever and funny it still was.

The six ‘bubbling under’ were the return of Jerusalem after 13 years as good if not better than before, two Shakespeare’s at the NT – Much Ado About Nothing and Othello, Age of Rage – a Greek Tragedy ‘mash up’ from Amsterdam, a timely revival of Roy Williams’ Sing Yer Heart Out For The Lads in Chichester and To Kill A Mockingbird, transferred from Broadway to The West End.

BEST NEW MUSICAL – TAMMY FAYE at The Almeida

Every year is a lean year for new musicals these days, but this new musical had it all – great book, lyrics and music, given an audacious production with as fine a set of performances as you could hope for.

The Band’s Visit, about an Egyptian band lost in Israel, was a joy, understated and full of hope, which could have won in any other year. I loved Newsies too, but more as a dance showcase than a musical. The others on the long list were Mandela at the Young Vic, Local Hero in Chichester, Bonnie & Clyde in the West End and The Lion, though I was late to that party.

BEST MUSICAL REVIVAL – Spring Awakening at The Almeida, Crazy for You in Chichester and Billy Elliott at Curve Leicester.

A leaner than usual year for musical revivals; covid related costs and delays I suspect, but these three matched (Billy) or bettered (Crazy For You and Spring Awakening) all previous productions. Four of the seven contenders were in the regions (the other two being a terrific revival of Gypsy in Buxton and Terry Gilliam’s Into the Woods exiled to Bath). As much as I enjoyed Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club and Oklahoma at the Young Vic, they didn’t match these three.

So that’s it for another year. Here’s to as much, if not more, in 2023.

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I have to confess I knew nothing about Tammy Faye before I saw the film The Eyes of Tammy Faye nine months ago. Though I was well aware of American TV evangelists, I’d paid little attention to individual players. As much as I enjoyed the film, this new musical seems to have much more biographical depth and detail. It’s also huge fun.

It’s not the first musical about her; there were two in quick succession in 2006-7, soon after her death, but this one has a dream team – book by James Graham, one of our greatest contemporary playwrights, music by Elton John no less, lyrics by the Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears, directed by theatrical magician Rupert Goold – and it’s terrific.

We start when Tammy is diagnosed with cancer, before we flash back to see the meteoric rise of the ‘mission’ of her and her husband Jim Bakker. They start with a touring Christian puppet show before they persuade media mogul Ted Turner to give them not just a programme but an entire satellite channel. After a rocky start, they become a radical and hugely successful force in TV evangelism, even setting up a Christian theme park. Their more conservative colleagues, busy ingratiating themselves with Reagan’s new right, decide to take control and as the first act ends, the fall begins.

After the brash exuberance of the first half, there is a change of tone as Bakker’s infidelities are exposed, fraud uncovered and the old guard conspire to hijack and take control of their empire. Graham handles this change brilliantly, toning down the manic pace and introducing a pathos in line with Tammy’s sympathetic character development, surrounded by all these devious, sexist, hypocritical men, perhaps the only christian (with a small c) amongst them.

Elton John knows how to write a catchy tune and the show is jam packed with them, with an Americana feel through its gospel and C&W references. Shears sharp lyrics compliment Graham’s book and do more to add colour and propel the story than lyrics do in most musicals. The book is a very comprehensive telling of her story, and it’s also extremely funny. I particularly liked the idea of a triumvirate of global Christian leaders – The Pope, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the head of the Mormon church – discussing and commenting on the rise of the TV evangelicals.

Katie Brayben is simply sensational as Tammy, navigating the emotional roller-coaster of her life, with solid characterisation, superb comic timing and brilliant vocals. Andrew Rannells’ Jim has a hapless quality and faux sincerity, as if things happen to him rather than made to happen by him, a great interpretation. It’s an extraordinarily accomplished cast, most of whom play more than one role, often in delicious combinations. Peter Caulfield as Billy Graham becomes porn baron Larry Flynt, Pontius Pilate and a judge. Nicholas Rowe as Ted Turner, TV evangelist Pat Robertson and The Pope! Steve John Shepherd plays evangelist Jimmy Swaggart, the Archbishop of Canterbury and Ronald Reagan. Zubin Varla is excellent as Jerry Falwell, the stern, conservative architect of the Bakker’s demise, a dramatic contrast to those around him.

Designer Bunny Christie channels the TV show Celebrity Squares (and Zoom meetings) with a versatile wall of 25 cubes in which people appear and on which things are projected, brilliantly lit by Neil Austin. Katrina Lindsay’s costumes are period perfect and for once a huge shout out to the wigs and make-up teams whose work is spectacular. Rupert Goold’s production is packed with inventiveness, complimented by Lynne Page’s terrific choreography. The show oozes quality in every department; the first act in particular takes your breath away.

New musicals come along rarely, British ones even more rarely, shows this good once in a blue moon. A huge treat.

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It’s rare to see a middle-class black family on our stages, so this is a breath of fresh air. More than the story of one family, it examines the black British experience.

Dipo Baruwa-Etti’s play takes place in the kitchen-diner of a family of Nigerian heritage, begInning on father Segun’s 60th birthday. He’s a successful psychotherapist and writer. His wife Tiwa has given up her career as a Psychiatrist and now works for a charity. Their daughter Ore is a Doctor and son Bayo a Police Officer, his wife a Labour MP. Arguments rage that bring out their different perspectives. Segun & Tiwa have conservative values, Ore is angry at the failing NHS and the black British experience. Amina feels powerless despite her position, whilst her husband remains committed to prosecuting wrong-doing.

Ore has been caring for someone who dies young of a heart condition, leaving behind his partner and baby son. She is troubled by the case and shares it with her mother. They agree to take Wunmi and her son August into their home, which disrupts the already dysfunctional family as she appears to take control of the household, ultimately causing havoc, taking them to the brink of disintegration. There’s a lot of story and a plethora of issues, perhaps too much to cover in any depth in less than two hours playing time. It’s style also becomes a touch too melodramatic, with some seemingly implausible twists, burying some of the issues.

That said, it’s a very slick production by Monique Touko with a fine set of performances.

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This is only Peter Morgan’s third play, but like the other two it’s brilliant. He’s best known for The Crown, films like The Queen and TV features like The Deal. He’s a master of true life dramas based on facts with varying degrees of speculation. This examination of Russia from 1991 to 2013 is new ground, but still masterly.

The protagonist is Boris Berezovsky, once a brilliant mathematician, a child prodigy, who moved into business and politics as the USSR broke up and Yeltsin became President of Russia. He was one of the oligarchs who cleaned up as Yeltsin proceeded to sell / give away his country’s assets, but more importantly he was the krysha (advocate, godfather) of two men who went on to very much bigger things – Abramovitch and Putin. He’s a business mentor to the former, with a verbal agreement that would give him a significant slice of the profits as his businesses grew. To Putin he’s a kingmaker, as he moved from relative obscurity as Deputy Mayor of St. Petersburg to become head of the FSB, the successor to the KGB, before Berezovsky persuaded him to become Yeltsin’s Prime Minister, and in no time he succeeds Yeltsin as President.

He was a very clever man who had studied decision-making theory and put it into action. He bought the state TV channel as well as becoming krysha to these two men. His power and success of course relied on their loyalty, but both eventually deserted him, Abramovitch after he’d outlived his usefulness and Putin as part of his plan to clean up corruption, put the oligarchs in their place and cement his position of absolute power, and as we now know get his own slice of the action. The final straw for Putin may have been his humiliation on Berezovsky’s TV channel over the Kursk submarine fiasco.

Berezovsky becomes an exile in the UK, with his security man Litvinenko, getting political asylum from the Blair government. There’s a brilliant theatrical moment when events collide with those in Lucy Prebble’s play A Very Expensive Poison, as Litvinenko goes to meet someone over tea and gets poisoned in the process. Homesick after ten years in the UK, he seeks to return to a quiet life in Russia, but Putin is having none of it. He dies, allegedly committing suicide.

Rupert Goold has a great talent for staging epic stories with great clarity and pace, as he did with Enron, and as he does here. Miriam Buether’s design is like a lap dancing club (not that I’ve been to one, of course) with people sitting at the cross shaped bar / stage and scenes played out upon it. Tom Hollander’s terrific performance as Berezovsky, determined manipulative and strong willed, is a career highlight, but there are excellent performances too from Will Keen as an emotionless Putin and Luke Thallon as a cool, calculating Abramovitch, plus a fine supporting cast of eight, most playing multiple roles. It’s good to see Jamael Westman, who originated the role of Alexander Hamilton in London, playing another Alexander, Litvinenko, here.

This is a fine drama, very timely given Putin is on our screens almost daily, informative, thought provoking and entertaining. I feel another West End transfer coming on.

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Another play we were due to see two years ago, and one I was particularly looking forward to having enjoyed Beth Steel’s first three plays and even more of Anne Marie Duff’s performances, and boy was it worth the wait. An epic covering more than 50 years and 4 generations of the Webster family, together with much of the social history of the country since the mid-sixties.

We start in 1965 on the death of Constance’s father, when her mother comes to live with them. She and her husband Alistair have teenage twins Jack & Agnes and a younger daughter Laura. Alistair is a factory worker and shop steward. Constance is clearly unfulfilled, often in her own world of Bette Davies films and cabaret songs. Jack and Agnes look like following in their parents footsteps, both in terms of occupations and politics. Agnes is as feisty as her mum and Jack as passionate about politics as his dad. Laura seems to have learning difficulties, and its her fate which will hang over them all for decades to come.

We navigate the return of Labour in the 60’s, the winter of discontent, Thatcherism and the miners strike, New Labour and more recent times and events. Only Jack breaks out, with an extraordinary journey from communism to capitalism. As family members die, their neighbour comes to wash and lay them out, until that is no longer the custom; she’s like a narrator / chorus, commenting on changing times. Though it’s a linear story, characters return in ghostly flashbacks and it’s not until the end of the play that the pieces come together like the completion of a jigsaw. Blanche McIntyre’s direction is masterly.

The ensemble is outstanding, led by a superb performance from Anne-Marie Duff as Constance. She was in Sweet Charity at the Donmar before lockdown, so we knew she could hold a tune, and here she contributes a handful of songs in her dream life, but its the story of her family life which captivates. Some of the cast double up very effectively, notably Stuart McQuarrie as Alistair and the older Jack and Carol Macready as Constance’s mother Edith and the older Constance. There’s a lovely cameo from Beatie Edney as the neighbour.

I’ve lived through the whole of this period, a real life contemporary of Jack, and there is an authenticity about the play, with the exception of bad language in the home which you would never hear in the working class homes in my village at that time. It’s sometimes harrowing (there were tears behind us), but it’s a real theatrical feast and I left the theatre feeling deeply satisfied by a great drama superbly staged and performed. Unmissable.

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Another evening which starts in awe of the work of theatre designers, this time the poolside of Matt Saunders’ LA modernist house, which seems to take its inspiration from those 1960’s David Hockney paintings like A Bigger Splash, and splashes were provided to the front rows as characters used the onstage pool!

Playwright Jeremy O . Harris made a very big splash with the Broadway transfer of The Slave Play, which we’ve yet to see here. This was his first play, written a couple of years before, but revised a year after his big hit. His work reminds me of that of fellow American playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins (we’ve seen Appropriate, An Octoroon and Gloria here) with a sprinkling of Angels in America’s Tony Kushner, because of the way they play with form and often abandon realism.

It’s another play seemingly about art, following hot on the heals of The Collaboration at the Young Vic, about two artists and unlikely bedfellows Andy Warhol & Jean-Michel Basquiat. In this case it’s Franklin, a young American artist, and Andre, an older European collector, who become actual bedfellows after they meet as Franklin is about to get his first show. Basquiat actually features as he’s a big part of Andre’s collection.

As we meet them, their relationship is new. Franklin is in awe of, but uncomfortable about, Andre’s collection, but he is clearly loving the attention and the lifestyle. His friends Max and Bellamy get to visit and enjoy Andre’s hospitality and his dealer / gallerist comes to plan the exhibition. It’s when his religious mother comes that a power battle for the soul of Franklin begins between her and Andre. Zora is a single mother and Franklin her only child. Sugar daddy vs mother, during the wedding between Andre and Franklin. Franklin’s father looms large, but he isn’t an onstage character.

Danya Taymor’s production is hugely audacious. In addition to the extraordinary design, there is a gospel choir (well, a trio), who act as a Greek chorus. Others occasionally bring out a microphone and sing. There are moments of stylised movement. Mobiles ringing and voicemail messages are significant. Sound and lighting make their atmospheric contributions too. The pool, which people emerge from, enter and frolic in, and which acquires it’s own inhabitant in the second half, is very much the focal point of the play,

The performances are uniformly excellent. Ioanna Kimbrook is hilarious as the designer obsessed, instagram fixated friend who gets her own sugar daddy. It’s great to see John McCrea back on stage after his lead in Everyone’s Talking About Jamie and he’s superb as other friend Max, who’s feelings for Franklin are a combination of love, jealousy, resentfulness and contempt. There’s a lovely cameo from Jenny Rainsford as the archetypal pretentious art dealer, who’s more about price & value that aesthetics. Sharlene Whyte is simply terrific as Franklin’s mom Zora, a larger than life god fearing matriarch. Danish actor Claes Bang oozes authenticity as Andre, as obsessed with Franklin as he is his art. Then there’s Tarique Jarrett, a captivating performance with a childlike quality that conveys perfectly what Franklin is experiencing, at such a pace.

I think I was more enamoured with the production and performances than the play, but you have to remember it was written by someone in his mid twenties about to enter drama school. On those terms, it showcases an extraordinarily promising playwright and I for one can’t wait to see where he goes next, though we’ll hopefully get to see The Slave Play first.

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The early 1950’s saw a revolution in theatre, well in Paris at least, with the arrival of Beckett and Ionesco (one Irish and one Romanian), challenging the realism that the art form was locked in. This play, and Becket’s Waiting for Godot, were first produced there in 1952. It reached the UK five years later where it ignited a debate amongst theatre folk, triggered by critic Kenneth Tynan and involving the playwright and theatrical luminaries like Orson Wells. Around the same time our own angry young men heralded a new age of realism with their kitchen sink dramas, led by John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger.

This was an important part of the post-war history of theatre. Surprising then that this appears to be only the second major London revival. I saw the first, a 1997 co-production between the Royal Court and Complicite directed by Simon McBurney with the late Richard Briers and Geraldine McEwan. This proved to be the most unlikely transfer to Broadway, garnering five Tony nominations. Twenty four years on….

The ‘old man’ and ‘old woman’ live on an island. They are preparing to welcome an (invisible) audience to hear the old man’s big speech, though it will be given by the speaker. We learn that London is no more, so we are in some sort of dystopian future. They assemble chairs for the visitors and when they arrive welcome them, making introductions between them. It’s all building up to the big moment, the speech.

Omar Elerian’s translation / adaptation / direction takes a lot of liberties, either with the permission of Ionesco’s estate (Beckett’s would never let him get away with it) or maybe the protected period has lapsed. There’s a backstage audio prologue, the speaker turns up regularly for bits of business and interaction and the speech is replaced by an elongated epilogue, which was the only variation I felt pushed it too far. Otherwise, an obtuse period piece was brought alive for a new audience.

It’s hard to imagine better interpreters than husband and wife team Marcello Magni & Kathryn Hunter whose extraordinary physical theatre and mime skills, as well as the chemistry between them, are used to great effect. Toby Sedgwick provides excellent support in the expanded role of the speaker. Even Cecile Tremolieres & Naomi Kuyok-Cohen’s clever design gets to perform.

It was great to see the play again after a quarter century of theatre-going. The production may travel a long way from Ionesco’s intentions, but it seemed to me to provide a fresh interpretation for an audience seventy years later. London’s longest running play is The Mousetrap, 70 years now. Paris’ longest runner is Ionesco’s earlier absurdist play The Bald Primadonna, 65 years. That somehow defines the differing theatre cultures of the two cities.

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In another life as a theatre investor, I lost my shirt (well, actually a wardrobe full of shirts!) on the original West End production of Steven Slater & Duncan Sheik’s ground-breaking show. It arrived from Broadway just 5 days after its production ended its highly successful and profitable two-year run there, garlanded with eight Tony’s and four Drama Desk awards. It previewed at the Lyric Hammersmith, where it played to packed houses, earning more 5* reviews than I’d ever seen before, but it lasted just two months at the Novello, failing to find an audience, despite the reviews and four Olivier Awards, including Best New Musical. It launched the careers of newcomers including Charlotte Wakefield, Aneurin Barnard and Iwan Rheon, the latter two getting performance Olivier’s of their own. I’ve never really understood its commercial failure; theatre can be a surprising and risky world. So here we are 13 years later with an opportunity to re-evaluate it.

The show is based on Frank Wedekind’s 1890 German expressionist play about adolescence. The teenagers are growing up in a conservative and emotionally repressed world while they are experiencing the angst associated with these years. The issues are, somewhat surprisingly, still relevant today – coming to terms with their sexuality, mental health, suicide and teenage pregnancy – but in a world where they are told babies are delivered by storks, and both parents and teachers are disciplinarians, even bullies. The story, character names and period are unchanged, but feelings are expressed through contemporary music. It’s one of the most audacious ideas in musical theatre, yet somehow it works brilliantly.

When I walked into the auditorium to see ten rows of steps the width of the entire stage, Miriam Buether’s design reminded me of the Open Air Theatre’s semi-staged versions of Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita, but the space is used very differently, and more theatrically, in Rupert Goold’s new staging, with great choreography from Lynne Page. Nicky Gillibrand’s costumes aren’t all identical school uniforms, as I recall in the original, which allows the personalities and idiosyncrasies of the characters to come through. It’s both more intimate and more ‘in your face’ which gives it a lot more emotional impact. Goold also references the activism of today’s teenagers, without it jarring with the rest of the story.

Raw talent was cast first time around, which gave it great energy and edginess, but here more experienced actors seem able to develop the characters, bringing out more visceral qualities which engage you with what they are experiencing. Laurie Kynaston impressed greatly in The Son, now with a brilliant Melchior he extends his range to include musical theatre. I last saw Amara Okereke play the lead in The Boyfriend, which is about as far as you can get from Wendla, but she’s just as thrilling. Stuart Thompson is terrific as the much troubled Moritz, as is Carly-Sophia Davies as the rebellious Ilse. It’s a great ensemble,who shine in chorus numbers. All of the adult ‘authoritarian’ characters are played by just two actors, Mark Lockyer and, on the night I went, an impressive stand-in by Mali O’Donnell.

A fresh new interpretation of an important contribution to the musical theatre genre. I loved seeing it again in this stunning new production.

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