UK Theatre Network

It takes a great deal of talent to pull off what is effectively a one-woman sketch show, yet writer-performer Carly Tarett does this effortlessly with her sequence of single-handed playlets themed around the seven deadly sins.

Apart from being very funny comic monologues, each piece works as a stand-alone drama.  Outstanding among them are the blindfolded neighbour-from-hell whose envy and interference have led to her current mysterious predicament, and a philosophical exchange (technically a monopolylogue) between a couple of east end bank robbers.  However the highlight of the evening is an outrageously rude skit about an elderly Welsh classroom assistant - her imaginatively obscene and expletive-filled commentary on Red Riding Hood would make Quentin Tarentino blush.

The night finishes with a couple of great comic songs by a bone-idle touring musician who won’t even finish writing her own lyrics.  Like several of the other creations I’d love to see her as a regularly recurring comedy character along the lines of John Shuttleworth.

Carly Tarett’s skilled writing and versatile delivery call to mind Joyce Grenfell.  With this all-round excellent show she is clearly a writer and performer to watch out for again.

Sinful was on at The Lass o’ Gowrie, 36 Charles Street, Manchester M1 7DB

www.thelass.co.uk
www.carlytarett.co.uk
www.eyeofthestormproductions.co.uk

The Royal Exchange has another popular hit on its hands with Jim Cartwright’s clever two-hander set in a pub.  Like his other gritty slice of life play, Road, we meet a parade of colourful northern working-class characters - here they’re passing through the saloon bar of a traditional public house which is presided over by a flirtatious landlady and her wisecracking husband.  In this play however all the roles are taken by a single pair of actors.

There isn’t a narrative arc other than the waxing and waning of customers as the evening passes.  But once the bar has cleared the undertow of tension between landlord and landlady is painfully exposed in a raw and heartbreaking final scene.

Local comedian Justin Moorhouse is a huge favourite with the crowd.  Big, cuddly and warm, he shambles about like a panda whose fur coat is at the dry-cleaners, and remains loveable whether playing the ebullient host, a lonely old widower, a neddy in a pom-pom hat or a sponging boyfriend with a roving eye.  As a bonus there’s plenty of banter with the audience, perhaps owing more to Justin’s stand-up experience than to the script.  At this point I should warn anyone of a retiring nature not to sit on the banquettes at the front, as they become such an integral part of the show that their occupants should probably get a credit in the programme.

Victoria Elliott is quite simply a brilliant actress with a natural flair for comedy – the biggest laugh of the night came from one of her off-the-cuff put-downs to an unfortunate audience member.  She is truly versatile in her range of playing, slipping easily between a wide variety of roles and acting styles.  The frail old lady with the butcher obsession is both funny and moving, the sub-Sloane Ranger who loves Big Men makes your eyes water, and the petrified woman on a night out with her abusive partner is horrifyingly real.

Designer Amanda Stoodley has created a circular mahogany bar that fits the space like it belongs there, and director Greg Hersov moves the action around (and over) it at a cracking pace.

With Happy Hour from 9pm-10.30 every evening, traditional pub games including darts, pool, table football available to play in the foyer, and free after-show entertainment on Thursdays, this is pub theatre with a twist.

TWO is on until Saturday 25 February 2012
Prices £9-£33
Evenings: Mon-Fri @ 7.30, Sat @ 8pm
Matinees: Wed @ 2.30, Sat @ 4pm
Box Office: 0161 833 9833
www.royalexchange.co.uk

In one of those ironic twists of fate, Bolton's most famous writer Bill Naughton - a man who has bequeathed his name to the Octagon’s studio space - is probably best known as the onlie begetter of the archetypal Cockney lothario Alfie Atkins.

What an extraordinary creation Alfie is.  The playwright has a musician’s ear for the nuances of accent, making his anti-hero not a mere loud-mouthed barrow boy or a  chirpy Cockney sparrow, but endowing him with the precise delivery and idiom of his region and class - closer to Diary of a Nobody than Oliver Twist or EastEnders.  The brilliant dialogue teems with comedy, cruelty and bathos, but one of the script’s most striking features is its daring use of aside and commentary, giving the lead actor unparalleled opportunities to play up to the audience like a sex-obsessed Richard III. 

David Ricardo-Pearce as the eponymous hero is handsome and dressed to kill, the absolutely epitome of the Sixties even before they’ve begun to Swing. 

John Branwell delivers a masterclass in pathos and comedy as Joe, a widowed hospital visitor, and his still and chilly portrayal of the abortion doctor Mr Smith is mesmerising.  Ill health robbed us of the chance to see him play Fred Dibnah last spring - they should revive The Demolition Man just so we can see him in the role.

The script gives designer Lis Evans the challenge of creating umpteen sets including bedrooms, hospital wards, greasy spoon caffs, car interiors and pubs.  She gets round the problem by putting her props on wheels, and coupled with Lesley Hutchinson’s movement direction the scenes change so frequently and rapidly that watching the tables, chairs and cupboards flying in and out is like seeing the Ikea catalogue perform Starlight Express.

David Thacker’s production is fluid and fast-paced, though it can’t quite dispel memories of the classic Michael Caine film.

Alfie is on at Bolton Octagon until Saturday 18 February 2012
Then touring to Newcastle-under-Lyme, Scarborough and Oldham
Tickets: from £9.50-£22.50
Performances Mon-Sat
Eves @ 7.30pm
Matinees: Wed & Sat @ 2pm
Box Office: 01204 520661
www.octagonbolton.co.uk

Manchester Royal Exchange is the only game in town for adult theatre-goers this Christmas.  Their Yuletide offering is always an out-and-out comedy, whether that be traditional English farce (See How They Run, 2008), European classic (Cyrano de Bergerac, 2006), or, as with 2005’s Harvey, an American screwball comedy perhaps better known in a black-and-white film version starring James Stewart.

Kaufman and Hart’s You Can’t Take It With You is an absolute fit for the latter category, although this co-production with Told by an Idiot Theatre Company is so extraordinarily physical and theatrical it completely dispels all sepia-tinted memories.  The madcap household of thwarted balletomanes, aspiring playwrights, xylophone-playing printers and exotic animals would be matter enough, but when you throw in a Russian émigré dancing master, an unexpected tax inspector, and most worryingly of all an amateur firework-maker, you can expect things to go with a bang.

Apart from the pyrotechnics, flying ballerinas and animatronic snakes, director Paul Hunter almost turns the play into a Busby Berkeley musical with scene changes re-imagined as dance sequences from The Great American Songbook.  There are endless bits of slapstick and comic business that would have done the Marx Brothers proud, as well as occasional moments of disaster that might just be deliberate.

Outstanding among the frenzy of (deliberate) over-acting are Golda Rosheuvell as the best stage drunk I’ve ever seen, Maggie O’Brien playing Grand Duchess Olga, an exiled aristocrat who now waits tables with sneering condescension, and Miltos Yerolemou in an electrifying performance as the terrifying maitre de ballet.

Paul Hunter takes full advantage of the proximity of the audience to involve them directly in the action - the people in the cheapest seats (the banquettes at the front) probably had the best night of all, which is entirely appropriate for a play that cocks its snook at materialism and wealth.

On the face of it an anti-capitalist screwball comedy might seem a real play for today.  But You Can’t Take It With You fails to answer the paradox at its own heart: true, it takes a swing at Wall Street bankers like Mr Kirby (Martin Hyder with a comb-over hairdo that deserves its own programme credit), but has nothing to say about Grandpa Vanderhof (an avuncular Christopher Benjamin) who maintains his family’s unconventional lifestyle by living off the substantial rents of his buy-to-let property portfolio; and his elaborate tax evasion scam is more or less eulogised, the dirty plutocrat!

Laura Hopkins’ set-on-wheels and Sian Williams’ choreography are at the heart of the show’s success.  Judging by the queues at the box office on press night, this is Manchester’s answer to One Man, Two Guvnors.  Smug in the knowledge that I’m already booked in again for January, I advise you to buy your tickets at once.

YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU is on until Saturday 14 January 2012
Prices £9-£33
Evenings: Mon-Fri @ 7.30, Sat @ 8pm
Matinees: Wed @ 2.30, Sat @ 4pm
Christmas & New Year performances vary - see website
Box Office: 0161 833 9833
www.royalexchange.co.uk

Has Manchester’s fringe theatre scene ever been in finer fettle?  A testament to its vigour is that among the numerous pantomimes, musicals and children’s shows which infest the city’s venues at this time of year there is still an enthusiastic audience for a brand new play, presented in the tiny space at the top of The Lass o’ Gowrie by young company Hazel Tree Productions.

Playwright Chris Dance puts a cynical spin on the season of goodwill by setting his comedy in Britain’s grottiest Santa’s Grotto, where put-upon shop-girl Laura (endearingly played by a starry-eyed Hazel Earle) is contractually obliged to wear the stripy stockings, fluffy red boots and pointy felt hat of one of Santa’s Little Helpers.

Her peaceful lunchtime sandwich among the sacks of presents, stuffed reindeer and fairy lights is interrupted by co-worker Julie (hilariously lairy Emma Laidlaw), who has disguised herself as an elf and fled the lingerie department for a natter with her friend, even though their manager has already tried to separate her from Laura for being a “bad influence”.

Chris Dance explores the girls’ fundamentally different natures with tart characterisation and plenty of wit - Julie is the party-loving singleton who stashes gin, brandy and half-eaten kebabs in her handbag, while romantically-thwarted Laura is the kind of person who revises for a game of Trivial Pursuit after the Queen‘s Speech.  Their tête-à-tête is interspersed with fleeting appearances from Father Christmas himself - David Slack’s downbeat northern Santa is straight out of The Last of the Summer Wine, and his white curly wig wouldn’t disgrace Lady GaGa.  And Mike Seal as Clive, the unworldly Elvis-obsessed busker, tops and tails the story beautifully, ending with a rousing sing-along.

Director Jake Murray - late of The Royal Exchange, where he was responsible for the excellent Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom and A Conversation - makes a welcome return to Manchester with this sweet and funny production.

Early booking is recommended, as tonight was sold out.  May I also advise bringing a shoe-horn and a plunger - one for squeezing into your seat with at the beginning, and the other to extricate yourself at the end.

Grotto is on at The Lass o’ Gowrie, 36 Charles Street, Manchester M1 7DB until Saturday 17 December 2011
Tickets:  £6 from www.ibookedit.com
Performances: Thurs & Fri @ 7pm & 9pm; Sat @ 4pm & 7pm
www.hazeltreeproductions.co.uk
www.thelass.co.uk

Reviewed by Richard Howell-Jones

What does Christmas mean to you? Jingling bells, mingling smells, toffee and coffee and caramels? Crisp snow, pointy trees, goodwill and seasonal fuzziness? Redemption’s happy dawn? Or perhaps lazing down a river in a small boat well-filled with the makings of a summer afternoon’s picnic, the sun glinting off the murmuring waters? In this weather? You must be crackers!

So The Wind in the Willows is not, then, a Christmas show, despite its placing in the calendar, a quick burst of In the Beak Midwinter notwithstanding. It’s entertaining, jolly, funny in places, but doesn’t have that feelgoodwilltoallmen factor generally associated with shows held at this time of year.

But then if you thought Kenneth Graeme’s classic woodland tale included Dasher, Dancer and Rudolph in the cast, you just haven’t been paying attention. So is it a good production?

If we’re honest, the opening is not promising. Assorted actors wander not-entirely-convincingly onstage, their various gaits denoting wildlife of some description, eventually identified through dialogue delivered with all the brio one associates with Boxing Day. But after all, this isn’t a panto, it’s a play, so hearty thigh-slapping isn’t suitable; realism is what we need, of course.

So it’s encouraging when Mole appears, complaining, as they do, about spring-cleaning. Sophie Gajewicz’s character is to be our touchstone, our guide through this odd tale of calm and chaos, and she plays with consistency, intensity and innocence her whole Mole role.

Wince if you must, chuckle if you like; this is the type of humour Alan Bennett has injected into the story. And as he regards the characters as ‘relentlessly nice’, he has injected something else too.

Into the tale floats Rat, played with a hint of the late John Le Mesurier by Christopher Wright. As they leave, two of the woodland walk-ons briefly discuss the new friendship in terms that made disquiet stir sleepily in the back of my head. But out of nowhere, Otter arrives, injecting some much-needed comic energy into events, ably assisted by her nervous daughter. Having fulfilled this important function, like a kingfisher darting across a stream, they immediately leave and are never heard from again, even in the programme.

Happily, before things slow down again: enter, Toad. Paul Barnhill is a deserved favourite with the Library Theatre and here he seems to have been given his head. The result is not easy to describe: everything Toad should be, of course, larger than life, irrepressible, bumptious, enthusiastic, a powerball in a tumble-drier; but there’s something else – perhaps it’s the green wig and giant red  glasses – that made me imagine Laurence Olivier in his thirties doing an impression of Elton John in his twenties. Clearly both Barnhill and the audience had tremendous fun, especially with his ‘front of curtain’ pieces.

Which made his near-upstaging all the more remarkable; though I’m certain upstaging wasn’t intended. Albert the Horse, played with beautiful understatement by Jason Furnival, had the funniest lines in the show and got laughs on all of them, apparently without trying, sometimes without moving.

And finally, the production began to hit its stride. Alun Saunders’ Chief Weasel could have been a nastier wide-boy, but not much; Tarek Merchant’s Fox was a tad too Bambi-esque in his movement but certainly sly; and the supporting ‘Bennett team’ students realised that acting was required of them too, and demonstrated that they could do it after all. (To be fair, portraying a woodland creature without drawing criticisms of this kind is almost impossible.) And then came the darkness of the Wild Wood, where dwelt stoats, weasels and, scariest of all, Badger.

Again to be fair, much of Badger’s scariness lies with Alan Bennett. In a doubtless well-meant attempt to ginger up the story, he created a little sub-plot where Rat and Badger not-so-subtly vie for Mole’s friendship and companionship. Unfortunately, the result here is just creepy. I’m sure Robert Calvert means to be avuncular, but he came across as the kind of elderly gentleman whom everyone thinks has, or should have, signed a certain register. It isn’t helped by his repeated enthusiastic references to Mole about ‘keeping your little toes warm’, nor by the heaviness of his costume making him sweat noticeably. Rat looked nervous, and I totally agreed. Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m certain my ten-year-old son would have felt a slight perplexity too.

But the show goes on and things improve. This dubious sub-plot is happily forgotten in the action that follows, as courts are fixed (one of the best scenes), cars stolen, trains hijacked, Toad capers happily across the stage in a variety of outfits, and Rene Krupinsky’s final fight for Toad Hall is all one could wish for.

Mention must be made of the set which was simple, rustic and entirely suitable, though attempts at multi-media using a cloth for projected backgrounds were irrelevant and could easily be omitted without loss. The trucks for railway engine (with engaging steam), motor car and occasional pieces of set seemed to move by magic, though Rat’s boat had to make do with his feet. There was even what appeared to be a live campfire onstage; even more remarkably, no-one got their ears, tails or costumes so much as singed!

Music was provided live by the minor woodland creatures, together with some effective, if occasionally shrill, harmonies; though why Jeremy Sams thought that the show’s happy finale ought to be in a minor key is unclear.

Sadly, the overall feeling was disappointment. Despite Barnhill’s biggest and best efforts, the production seemed too small for the story, the space and the time of year. Opportunities for gags missed, characters played too realistically, not enough joie de vivre. Not a panto; not a Christmas show; and only a fair production. It’s the season of goodwill, I know, but . . . sorry.

Chris Honer directed.

The Wind in the Willows, the Manchester Library Theatre Company,
at the Lowry theatre until 14th January.

Tickets: 0843-208 6010
www.librarytheatre.com

Beautiful Thing, Jonathan Harvey’s 1993 play about working class teenagers exploring their sexuality, has become a modern classic over the last two decades.  It was a breakthrough piece at the time, but not because of the subject matter.  In the late 1980s there had been no shortage of films and plays about gay schoolboys (EM Forster and Merchant Ivory were rife throughout the land) - but the school was always Eton, the period pre-war (the First War), and the setting sepia-tinted. 

Small, skinny Jamie has a massive crush on his sporty neighbour Ste, the local Adonis.  Although their relationship seems like a non-starter they are thrown together by circumstances.  That’s about as far as the story goes, but the joy of the drama is in the exploration of the growing relationship between the lads and how it’s handled by Jamie’s mum (Sandra), Sandra’s latest boyfriend (Tony), and the oddball girl-next-door (Leah).

The rough south London housing estate where Jamie and Tony live still seems contemporary, even though there aren’t any mobile phones and no one says “innit” all the time.  Liz Ashcroft design makes the most of the in-the-round setting by creating a public space almost like an arena, a mixture of run-down children’s playground and private balconies.

Matthew Tennyson’s performance as Jamie is quite extraordinary – even though he’s just graduated from LAMDA he really looks and behaves like a shy 15-year-old, veering uncertainly between emotional extremes like a frisky foal trying to find its feet.  Tara Hodge is equally amazing as Leah, the bolshie, gobby neighbour who is obsessed with 1960s singer Mamma Cass.  And Claire-Louise Cordwell’s tough but tender Sandra channels Alison Steadman to great effect.

Sarah Frankcom’s production is very strong on comedy, but springs an emotional surprise at the end when the massed ranks of Manchester’s Lesbian and Gay Choir come onstage to sing “Dream a Little Dream of Me”.  Lovely.


BEAUTIFUL THING is on until Saturday 3 December 2011
Prices £9-£33
Evenings: Mon-Fri @ 7.30, Sat @ 8pm
Matinees: Wed @ 2.30, Sat @ 4pm
Box Office: 0161 833 9833
www.royalexchange.co.uk

Here in Manchester theatrical farces are as thick on the ground as autumn leaves.  Last week the National Theatre’s One Man, Two Guvnors sold out at the Lowry, and this week Bolton Octagon is reviving Alan Bennett’s clever comedy about the permissive society.

The household of Dr Wicksteed is, superficially, a respectable middle-class establishment.  However, while the insatiable doctor slakes his lust on his prettiest patients, his wife, son and sister are all quivering with sexual frustration.  But when a colonial widow, the widow’s nubile daughter, the president of the BMA, and a trained fitter of bust-enhancing appliances all arrive in town, the skeletons in Dr Wicksteed’s cupboard come home to roost.

Although Habeas Corpus is one of his earliest stage works, the classic Alan Bennett traits are already well-established.  The characters regularly vent their “inner voices” in a self-conscious manner that goes way beyond an occasional “aside” to the audience.  And the playwright’s arch northern tones and slyly tweaked literary references are also present and correct.

The concept of the production is truly brilliant - a Donald McGill postcard brought to life - and Ciaran Bagnall’s pared-down yet stylish design has “award-winning” written all over it.  Colourful beach huts along the back of the stage provide nine different entrances, with the characters popping in and out of them like demented cuckoos from their clocks.  Another stroke of genius is Howard Ward’s boater-wearing seaside organist, whose musical accompaniment (and knowing winks to the stalls) is just this side of Les Dawson.

Russell Dixon plays Mrs Swaab – and not for the first time, having performed the same role at the Library Theatre in 1976 (although it was Alan Bennett himself who originally dragged up for the part).  There are hints of Russell Dixon’s Lady Bracknell in Mrs Swaab’s pursed-lipped disapproval; and Francesca Ryan’s Lady Rumpers is another interpretation of Lady Bracknell, only in khaki.

Rob Edwards’ performance as the dodgy Dr Wicksteed occasionally resembles a pop-eyed Prince Andrew; Eve Steele is very good as the doctor’s under-developed sister Connie, sporting a range of over-the-top expressions worthy of a Carry On character; and Colin Connor is on his usual excellent (and versatile) form as the trouser-less Mr Shanks.

This was only the second night of David Thacker’s production, and when the pace has speeded up it will be a real treat.

Habeas Corpus is on at Bolton Octagon until Saturday 12 November 2011
Tickets: from £9.50
Performances: Mon-Sat @ 7.30
Matinees: Wed & Sat @ 2pm
Box Office: 01204 520661
www.octagonbolton.co.uk

Steve Wood’s new play is a poignant portrayal of two lonely people trying to find some meaning for their existence.

The scene  opens with an elderly woman, Ada, sitting on a park bench eating a takeaway: “One pound twenty for a penn’orth of chips – they want locking up”.  A formidable handbag is gripped tightly across her chest as both shield and weapon, and we can tell her emotions are buttoned up as tightly as her coat. 

The entrance of a whiskery tramp, Tommy, shouting and swearing as he swigs from a bottle, does nothing to improve Ada’s mood.  Despite her rebuffs Tommy seems determined to strike up a conversation, and as the two mismatched pensioners tentatively swap details about their empty lives a fragile bond forms between them. 

The ebullient and energetic David Milne makes Tommy – initially an aggressive and unappealing old wino – into a funny, charming and sympathetic figure.  His uninvited overtures of friendship hide a desperate craving for companionship; he even chats to the local stray dogs.  It’s a shame that his character is underused, lapsing into a sounding board for Ada’s monologue.

Pat Brocklehurst’s authentic local accent and deadpan delivery are perfect for Steve Wood’s warm and amusing northern dialogue, although Ada’s attitudes to decimalisation, cappuccinos and public phone boxes are so out of date I thought she must have been in prison for the last forty years.

Director Laura Vorwerg does an excellent job of making an everyday conversation into a moving drama, and designer Victoria Vernon has magically transformed the basement of Taurus Bar on Canal Street into an autumnal park.  As well as the typical wooden bench and green slatted rubbish bin, there’s a thick carpet of leaves which covers the entire floor.  As the musty smell of leaf-mould perfumes the room and the leaves crackle underfoot you really feel as if you’re in that park with Ada and Tommy.  It’s indicative of the company’s attention to detail that they go beyond mere set decoration to create a sensually immersive experience for their audience.

You’re Never Too Old
Presented by Organised Chaos Productions
Touring to Levenshulme Festival (31 October) and
Smiths Restaurant, Eccles (30 Nov & 1 Dec)
Tickets: £7.50/£5.50 (conc)
Further details from:
www.organisedchaosproductions.co.uk

C P Taylor’s extraordinary 1981 play tries to explain how a harmless German academic finds himself reluctantly caught up in Hitler’s rise to power, and how he unwittingly becomes an instrument in the atrocities at Auschwitz.

John Halder (Adrian Rawlins) is a devoted family man who teaches German literature, hates the Nazis and whose best friend is a Jewish doctor.  In 1933 he can’t believe that the new National Socialist government will be able to implement its outrageous policies.  Meanwhile his home life is disrupted by his needy, neurotic wife and a blind mother with dementia; and at work he’s distracted by an attractive blonde student who can’t see the relevance of Goethe’s Faust. 

John tries to be good but is torn between conflicting interests, not least his own desire for an easier life.  He tries to comfort his Jewish friend Maurice although he won’t help him; he loves his musical wife but abandons her for the charms of the pretty philistine; he wants to help his disabled mother but hasn’t the patience to care for her properly.

John’s sense of chaos is mimicked by inter-cutting, overlapping scenes, by his confidential asides to the audience, and by frequent interruptions from a troupe of invisible singers and musicians.  Jazz standards, operatic arias and religious cantatas pop out at him from drawers, handbags and coffee pots wherever he goes.

Adrian Rawlins’ Professor Halder is a typical rumpled intellectual, weak but well-meaning – however his selfishness and vanity allow him to be seduced firstly by the  lovely young Anne (Beth Park) and later by the Nazis and their smart SS uniform. 

The entire play revolves around John but he risks being overshadowed whenever Kerry Shale’s charismatic, caustic and comical Maurice takes to the stage.  In fact the entire cast excels, with most of them playing several characters as well as a variety of musical instruments.  James Cotterill’s minimalist design allows for fluidity between the scenes, while throwing in Faustian pyrotechnics and a stunning ending that redefines the opening scene.  Polly Findlay’s direction of this strange musical hybrid of Berthold Brecht and Dennis Potter is pacy and well-characterised.

An accomplished production of a fascinating modern classic.

GOOD is on until Saturday 5 November 2011
Prices: £9-£33
Evenings: Mon-Fri @ 7.30, Sat @ 8pm
Matinees: Wed @ 2.30, Sat @ 4pm
Box Office: 0161 833 9833
www.royalexchange.co.uk