Recently, I have had the privilledge of working with Canterbury Christ Church University on their production of a new musical, When Midnight Strikes. This show takes place on New Year's Eve 1999, and examines briefly the lives of individuals at a party.
This is one of the first times this show has been put on in the UK; it will be presented on the West End in September. What's interesting about the show, I feel, is that it plays out very much like a review for the most part. Every single song sounds different to the last right up until the last quarter of the second act, when events in the plot begin to get serious. There's very much an influence of Sondheim in there, as well as perhaps some older classics.
Whether it works or not is a different matter. The main characters are surrounded by stereotypes: the gay, the nymphomaniac, the geek, the grumpy neighbour. At the very least, these characters are kept in the background until they are needed to help move the story along. Games of charades and "I Never..." help too.
The production is brilliant - I've been surrounded by some of the most talented, wonderful performers I've ever come across, and it's a top-notch amateur show. How well it works in the West End depends on how our audiences react to it. It's a small show so needs to be done in a small theatre, otherwise, like Rent, it just will not work in the UK.
Friday, 29 April 2011
Sunday, 3 April 2011
High Low Art
In recent years, the English National Opera seem to have been on a push to reach out to the majority. Opera today is arguably a minority art form; out of every form of theatre it most likely falls on the lowest rung of interest these days, underneath even ballet. This is not say that there is anything wrong with the art - far from it. It's just the nature of things - opera simply isn't mainstream.
So there has been over the last few seasons an attempt to create new contemporary productions, some of old works, some of original, to try and appeal to this majority that sticks it's nose up at a stereotypically snobbish art form. Anna Nicole is one of these. Based on the tragic true life tale of the former Playboy model and her infamous marriage to an elderly Texas billionaire and told with a very dark sense of humour, the opera explores at heart what it is to be famous and constantly in the attention of the media; in particular, how this lust for fame can corrupt and ultimately destroy.
It is perhaps a perfect story to be told in this form - the history of opera is full of tragic heroines - but in this case the story is sadly a lot more interesting than the score. That's not to say it isn't a good work - it's certainly a very vibrant score from Mark-Anthony Turnage, but sadly there are no tunes within it that you could leave a theatre humming. It's all a little TOO contemporary, almost as if they're trying too hard. Could it be the fault of the libretto, a very wordy affair from Richard Thomas, co-writer of Jerry Springer: The Opera? There are some great moments within it; when the lawyer Stern, viewed generally as the villain by the piece arrives too early in the story, the Chorus, made up as members of the press, scream, "Slayer of Bambi's Mom...Yoko Ono!"
The setting is done very well - at one point in the second half a giant screen comes down revealing years as we travel forward into the future. Both screens involve Anna Nicole in a typical supermodel pose. It flows straight from one scene to the next very nicely, but arguably finishes all too quickly. As soon as Anna's son Daniel dies of an overdose - a particularly chilling scene where the actor playing Daniel, in his only singing part of the show, chants the long list of drugs that were found in his body - the opera seems to want to hurry us along to Anna's own death. Act 1 is certainly better than Act 2; it feels less rushed as we slowly make our way through strip club to boob job to the fatal meeting of stripper and billionaire.
An ambitious project that certainly is admirable in terms of performances, setting and lyrics; but overall the show lacks the tragic bite that you feel it truly needs.
So there has been over the last few seasons an attempt to create new contemporary productions, some of old works, some of original, to try and appeal to this majority that sticks it's nose up at a stereotypically snobbish art form. Anna Nicole is one of these. Based on the tragic true life tale of the former Playboy model and her infamous marriage to an elderly Texas billionaire and told with a very dark sense of humour, the opera explores at heart what it is to be famous and constantly in the attention of the media; in particular, how this lust for fame can corrupt and ultimately destroy.
It is perhaps a perfect story to be told in this form - the history of opera is full of tragic heroines - but in this case the story is sadly a lot more interesting than the score. That's not to say it isn't a good work - it's certainly a very vibrant score from Mark-Anthony Turnage, but sadly there are no tunes within it that you could leave a theatre humming. It's all a little TOO contemporary, almost as if they're trying too hard. Could it be the fault of the libretto, a very wordy affair from Richard Thomas, co-writer of Jerry Springer: The Opera? There are some great moments within it; when the lawyer Stern, viewed generally as the villain by the piece arrives too early in the story, the Chorus, made up as members of the press, scream, "Slayer of Bambi's Mom...Yoko Ono!"
The setting is done very well - at one point in the second half a giant screen comes down revealing years as we travel forward into the future. Both screens involve Anna Nicole in a typical supermodel pose. It flows straight from one scene to the next very nicely, but arguably finishes all too quickly. As soon as Anna's son Daniel dies of an overdose - a particularly chilling scene where the actor playing Daniel, in his only singing part of the show, chants the long list of drugs that were found in his body - the opera seems to want to hurry us along to Anna's own death. Act 1 is certainly better than Act 2; it feels less rushed as we slowly make our way through strip club to boob job to the fatal meeting of stripper and billionaire.
An ambitious project that certainly is admirable in terms of performances, setting and lyrics; but overall the show lacks the tragic bite that you feel it truly needs.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
Audience Participation
I've just been involved in a play for the last week that involves a lot of audience participation. The show was The Farndale...Mikado (not it's full title, I'll stress); the premise is that an awful amateur dramatics company are attempting to put on The Mikado by Gilbert & Sullivan. Anything that can go wrong, does.
To get the audience into the mood of such a play, it is necessary to have a "pre-amble", where the actors and crew create the environment of the show as the audience enter the auditorium. It could be a prop being constantly moved from one side of the stage to the other; a director constantly losing his grip minutes before the show has even started proper; curtains that refuse to close conventionally. Yes, it takes a little getting used to but the audience eventually gets the basic idea.
When you go to see a piece of theatre, I truly believe that you gain so much more of an experience from it the more involved you are. When I directed The Diary Of Anne Frank in 2010 I particularly wanted the set to come out into the audience, for the only entrance and exit to the outside world to be the door that the audience had come into. For that purpose the curtains were open as they arrived. I plan a similar concept for my next project, Art, due in June this year, and a production that I will report back on from time to time in this blog.
I think this is why pantomimes are still as popular as they ever have been. They're about having fun, going out and being entertained; in the case of Anne Frank it means more - you get to learn more because you're more immersed in the story, you're more aware of what's going on around you. We stop being merely entertainers and take on the second role of educators. Farndale could be argued as being more panto-based than anything else, but it still has the same effect.
There's nothing wrong with a familiar box-stage production where everything happens on stage and the audience sit un-bothered and seemingly unnoticed by the people acting. However, as the continuing growth in the trend for one-on-one theatre has shown, theatre needs to once in a while shake itself and its audience up a bit; the quicker it does it, the better.
To get the audience into the mood of such a play, it is necessary to have a "pre-amble", where the actors and crew create the environment of the show as the audience enter the auditorium. It could be a prop being constantly moved from one side of the stage to the other; a director constantly losing his grip minutes before the show has even started proper; curtains that refuse to close conventionally. Yes, it takes a little getting used to but the audience eventually gets the basic idea.
When you go to see a piece of theatre, I truly believe that you gain so much more of an experience from it the more involved you are. When I directed The Diary Of Anne Frank in 2010 I particularly wanted the set to come out into the audience, for the only entrance and exit to the outside world to be the door that the audience had come into. For that purpose the curtains were open as they arrived. I plan a similar concept for my next project, Art, due in June this year, and a production that I will report back on from time to time in this blog.
I think this is why pantomimes are still as popular as they ever have been. They're about having fun, going out and being entertained; in the case of Anne Frank it means more - you get to learn more because you're more immersed in the story, you're more aware of what's going on around you. We stop being merely entertainers and take on the second role of educators. Farndale could be argued as being more panto-based than anything else, but it still has the same effect.
There's nothing wrong with a familiar box-stage production where everything happens on stage and the audience sit un-bothered and seemingly unnoticed by the people acting. However, as the continuing growth in the trend for one-on-one theatre has shown, theatre needs to once in a while shake itself and its audience up a bit; the quicker it does it, the better.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Rough Contrasts
The BBC have recently, as always, begun transmitting programmes which are in stark contrast of each other in terms of whether or not they're actually any good. Three of them will be examined here briefly: Faulks On Fiction, South Riding and Mrs Brown's Boys.
Faulks On Fiction and South Riding are both part of a year long celebration on the BBC of the written word, and both show that this season is full of immense promise. Though slightly rushed and selective, Faulks On Fiction was a wonderful mainstream prime time glimpse into what makes a story great, focusing on four separate characters: The Hero, The Lover, The Snob and The Villain. There were both obvious choices - Sherlock Holmes for Hero, Lady Chatterley for Lover, etc - and others that were perhaps not so obvious - James Bond as Snob. Sebastian Faulks, writer of some great works himself including the horrifying Birdsong and the utterly brilliant The Girl At The Lion D'Or, proved a winning presenter and guide through this world. The one drawback was that, though many famous literary figures were interviewed, the interviews for each were kept to two short snippets. Really, Faulks should have had either longer interviews or cut them all together. The programmes would have run slightly better that way. Nevertheless, it was still an entertaining and fascinating journey.
More satisfying still was Andrew Davis' three-part adaptation of South Riding, Winifred Hotlby's novel of a town in 1930's Northern England facing the Great Depression and great change. Davis concentrated more on the doomed potential romance between the two antagonists - the optimistic Sarah Burton, played by the excellent Anna Maxwell Martin, and the gruff land owner in debt Robert Carne, the dependable David Morrissey. Sadly, this decision to focus mainly on this storyline took the plot away from what could have been a fascinating portrayal of Northern England during this time. The final episode contained some rather obvious results after an admittedly surprising tragic twist, and the final five minutes did feel a little rushed. But the performances from all, in particular Martin and Penelope Wilton, ensured this was still an enjoyable piece of drama.
On completely the opposite side of both decency and taste is Mrs Brown's Boys, a so called sitcom which has become the latest in a long line of what this writer likes to call "Marmite TV", as it's popularity with some people is truly inexplicable. An always packed studio audience seem to enjoy it too, as Brendan O'Carroll drags up to play the title character, a filthy old Irish woman trying to interfere with her grown children's' lives. The scripts are a mess, drifting from broad humour to filthy innuendo to sudden attempts at pure drama. At one point Mrs Brown jokes with her daughter Cathy (Jennifer Gibney) about Cathy's ex-husband, then shocking reveals that she knows he used to beat her. It just doesn't work. At times, the episodes allow mistakes made by the actors to be shown, O'Carroll walking through the different sets in the studio at one point to pick up a handbag he left behind. These "mistakes" even look staged. Inexplicable.
Never mind, though, BBC - two out of three sure isn't bad. And with the return of the brilliant Waking The Dead this Sunday for it's final season, TV just gets better and better for the Beeb.
Faulks On Fiction and South Riding are both part of a year long celebration on the BBC of the written word, and both show that this season is full of immense promise. Though slightly rushed and selective, Faulks On Fiction was a wonderful mainstream prime time glimpse into what makes a story great, focusing on four separate characters: The Hero, The Lover, The Snob and The Villain. There were both obvious choices - Sherlock Holmes for Hero, Lady Chatterley for Lover, etc - and others that were perhaps not so obvious - James Bond as Snob. Sebastian Faulks, writer of some great works himself including the horrifying Birdsong and the utterly brilliant The Girl At The Lion D'Or, proved a winning presenter and guide through this world. The one drawback was that, though many famous literary figures were interviewed, the interviews for each were kept to two short snippets. Really, Faulks should have had either longer interviews or cut them all together. The programmes would have run slightly better that way. Nevertheless, it was still an entertaining and fascinating journey.
More satisfying still was Andrew Davis' three-part adaptation of South Riding, Winifred Hotlby's novel of a town in 1930's Northern England facing the Great Depression and great change. Davis concentrated more on the doomed potential romance between the two antagonists - the optimistic Sarah Burton, played by the excellent Anna Maxwell Martin, and the gruff land owner in debt Robert Carne, the dependable David Morrissey. Sadly, this decision to focus mainly on this storyline took the plot away from what could have been a fascinating portrayal of Northern England during this time. The final episode contained some rather obvious results after an admittedly surprising tragic twist, and the final five minutes did feel a little rushed. But the performances from all, in particular Martin and Penelope Wilton, ensured this was still an enjoyable piece of drama.
On completely the opposite side of both decency and taste is Mrs Brown's Boys, a so called sitcom which has become the latest in a long line of what this writer likes to call "Marmite TV", as it's popularity with some people is truly inexplicable. An always packed studio audience seem to enjoy it too, as Brendan O'Carroll drags up to play the title character, a filthy old Irish woman trying to interfere with her grown children's' lives. The scripts are a mess, drifting from broad humour to filthy innuendo to sudden attempts at pure drama. At one point Mrs Brown jokes with her daughter Cathy (Jennifer Gibney) about Cathy's ex-husband, then shocking reveals that she knows he used to beat her. It just doesn't work. At times, the episodes allow mistakes made by the actors to be shown, O'Carroll walking through the different sets in the studio at one point to pick up a handbag he left behind. These "mistakes" even look staged. Inexplicable.
Never mind, though, BBC - two out of three sure isn't bad. And with the return of the brilliant Waking The Dead this Sunday for it's final season, TV just gets better and better for the Beeb.
Friday, 4 March 2011
Sondheim
Stephen Sondheim is getting a Special Recognition award later this month at the Laurence Olivier Awards. Last year the maestro turned 80 years old, a birthday that heralded a season of his work at the Donmar Warehouse, plus his very own Prom concert and the publication of the first volume of his "sort of" autobiography. Not bad for a bloke who's not really written much these last ten years or so.
There's not really a problem with Sondheim, truth be told; there can be no doubt that he is a genius, a legend of American Musical Theatre. Whether it's solely the lyrics that he often derides now from earlier shows such as West Side Story or Gypsy, towards the grand masterpieces of Company and Sweeney Todd, it is clear to all that Sondheim is a special kind of composer. His work during the 70s and 80s in particular redefined what contemporary musical theatre was - gone were the fun and frolics of the Golden Age of Broadway; now as the Great White Way found itself seething under corruption and pornography, Sondheim's true visions could be unleashed: the uncertainties of relationships in Company, the mistakes of reminiscing in Follies, the tragedy of vengeance in Todd.
In the 80s, when audiences began to tire of this darkness amidst a growing AIDs crisis and the boom time of Wall Street, Sondheim changed direction again; this time he became more philosophical. Sunday In The Park With George, arguably his second masterpiece after Todd, looked in depth at what it meant to be an artist. Into The Woods is a surprisingly old fashioned twist on old fashioned fairy tales, but works magnificently. Assassins and Passion, his last great works in the 90s, were smaller affairs, and more and more his work has - perhaps sadly - been downgraded into review type shows such as (the admittedly brilliant) Putting It Together.
Give the guy a break, mind - he is 81 this year. It seems a shame that his work seems thoroughly rooted more in the hearts and minds of middle class audiences, the audiences who could afford to go to the theatre at that time, his own background, when the messages within them are so universal. What a great joy it was then that Tim Burton, one of the few great auteur's we have in this time, took on the challenge of bringing Todd to the screen, introducing a whole new age to the brilliant songs, score and bloodcurdling, chilling lyrics. A new production of this epic is set for later this year at Chichister, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton set to play the leads. No doubt people will go to see it more because of the film than the original productions, but so much the better; Todd is one of the few film versions of Sondheim's work that hasn't butchered a classic.
His influences are certainly felt today; they run all the way through Rent, for example. Now is the time for a major revival. The sooner, the better. We may not get much more out of him.
There's not really a problem with Sondheim, truth be told; there can be no doubt that he is a genius, a legend of American Musical Theatre. Whether it's solely the lyrics that he often derides now from earlier shows such as West Side Story or Gypsy, towards the grand masterpieces of Company and Sweeney Todd, it is clear to all that Sondheim is a special kind of composer. His work during the 70s and 80s in particular redefined what contemporary musical theatre was - gone were the fun and frolics of the Golden Age of Broadway; now as the Great White Way found itself seething under corruption and pornography, Sondheim's true visions could be unleashed: the uncertainties of relationships in Company, the mistakes of reminiscing in Follies, the tragedy of vengeance in Todd.
In the 80s, when audiences began to tire of this darkness amidst a growing AIDs crisis and the boom time of Wall Street, Sondheim changed direction again; this time he became more philosophical. Sunday In The Park With George, arguably his second masterpiece after Todd, looked in depth at what it meant to be an artist. Into The Woods is a surprisingly old fashioned twist on old fashioned fairy tales, but works magnificently. Assassins and Passion, his last great works in the 90s, were smaller affairs, and more and more his work has - perhaps sadly - been downgraded into review type shows such as (the admittedly brilliant) Putting It Together.
Give the guy a break, mind - he is 81 this year. It seems a shame that his work seems thoroughly rooted more in the hearts and minds of middle class audiences, the audiences who could afford to go to the theatre at that time, his own background, when the messages within them are so universal. What a great joy it was then that Tim Burton, one of the few great auteur's we have in this time, took on the challenge of bringing Todd to the screen, introducing a whole new age to the brilliant songs, score and bloodcurdling, chilling lyrics. A new production of this epic is set for later this year at Chichister, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton set to play the leads. No doubt people will go to see it more because of the film than the original productions, but so much the better; Todd is one of the few film versions of Sondheim's work that hasn't butchered a classic.
His influences are certainly felt today; they run all the way through Rent, for example. Now is the time for a major revival. The sooner, the better. We may not get much more out of him.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
The Oscars 2011 - Verdict
As is becoming more and more the case, the Academy Awards this year were full of unsurprising moments, with two exceptions - namely, two of the biggest ones.
Money and safe bets could have been placed on the acting categories. Colin Firth achieved what he should have been awarded last year, Best Actor, for his role in The King's Speech, while The Fighter took home the two Supporting Categories for Christian Bale and Melissa Leo, who brilliantly dropped the f-bomb in her acceptance speech. Another boundary broken, Oscar. Arguably the most satisfying awards were to the three most deserving - Toy Story 3 winning Best Animated Film, Aaron Sorkin winning Best Adapted Screenplay for his fast-paced, witty and wonderful script for The Social Network, and Natalie Portman winning Best Actress for the role of her career in Black Swan.
Considering how David Fincher won the BAFTA for Best Director it was indeed a surprise for Tom Hooper to walk away with the Oscar instead for The King's Speech; the film pulled a double whammy under this writer's feet certainly by beating The Social Network to Best Film, a feat that one didn't think the Americans would go for given the Golden Globe award the latter garnered.
As with last year and The Hurt Locker's success, it seems the Academy is turning more and more to the smaller budget, more independent feeling movies when confronted with more expensive hitters. The reward for the summer blockbusters is usually the more effects-based gongs, and so Inception deservedly walked away with those. Sadly, one feels that it would have had no real look in for the other main categories, especially considering how Christopher Nolan was snubbed with no nomination for Best Director.
Two surprises to end a rather unsurprising night; at the least this year one feels that the right films were being recognised with nominations, and that will be enough to bring them further into the public field. With the more independent fare such as Winter's Bone, this is only and always a good thing.
Money and safe bets could have been placed on the acting categories. Colin Firth achieved what he should have been awarded last year, Best Actor, for his role in The King's Speech, while The Fighter took home the two Supporting Categories for Christian Bale and Melissa Leo, who brilliantly dropped the f-bomb in her acceptance speech. Another boundary broken, Oscar. Arguably the most satisfying awards were to the three most deserving - Toy Story 3 winning Best Animated Film, Aaron Sorkin winning Best Adapted Screenplay for his fast-paced, witty and wonderful script for The Social Network, and Natalie Portman winning Best Actress for the role of her career in Black Swan.
Considering how David Fincher won the BAFTA for Best Director it was indeed a surprise for Tom Hooper to walk away with the Oscar instead for The King's Speech; the film pulled a double whammy under this writer's feet certainly by beating The Social Network to Best Film, a feat that one didn't think the Americans would go for given the Golden Globe award the latter garnered.
As with last year and The Hurt Locker's success, it seems the Academy is turning more and more to the smaller budget, more independent feeling movies when confronted with more expensive hitters. The reward for the summer blockbusters is usually the more effects-based gongs, and so Inception deservedly walked away with those. Sadly, one feels that it would have had no real look in for the other main categories, especially considering how Christopher Nolan was snubbed with no nomination for Best Director.
Two surprises to end a rather unsurprising night; at the least this year one feels that the right films were being recognised with nominations, and that will be enough to bring them further into the public field. With the more independent fare such as Winter's Bone, this is only and always a good thing.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
REVIEW - State Of Play
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Washington: Up and coming politician Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck) is beginning talks with a major private security company when he is informed of the death of one of his staff. His emotional response threatens to damage not just the talks but also potentially his career and marriage. Meanwhile, his old friend Cal McAffrey (Russell Crowe), a reporter for the Washington Globe, is following the story of a young murdered black boy. It isn't long until the two events are mysteriously linked...
State Of Play started life as a brilliant six-part British television drama created by Paul Abbott who, among other projects, was responsible for Shameless and Clocking Off. It was high-edge, fast-paced and well executed, with an amazing cast including John Simm, David Morrissey and an award-winning Bill Nighy.
What's perhaps most interesting about THIS version is how well it transposes to the big screen without you really missing a lot of that. The storyline, though slightly modified, stays as sharp and tight as it did in the series. Washington looks spectacular as a setting for this, arguably the first big-budget political thriller to be set there since All The President's Men, which this clearly apes in several key moments, most notably the use of the infamous Watergate hotel by the private security company in a sly nod. What the film captures too is the feel of a newspaper at work as well as a newspaper under threat - even when the television series was made the impact of Internet Blogs and such were yet to be fully felt by newspapers. Now there is a real danger for all concerned that soon they will become very much obsolete, fears well portrayed in Helen Mirren's portrayal of the editor.
Sadly, though Mirren is very good, she is not on screen long enough to make the same kind of impact that Nighy was able to make in the original role. Robin Wright, as Collins' wife, is underused too, though this is because the secondary storyline in the series of a relationship between her and Cal is demoted here to a one night stand in the past. Also slightly wasted is Rachel McAdams, playing the role of Della that was played by Kelly MacDonald. Whereas there Della was more of a pro, here she is a newbie, a blogger being introduced to the world of real journalism. Her naivety sometimes grates with the rest of the film.
Much more convincing are Crowe and Affleck; the latter in particular makes up for the dodgy choices he has made film wise in the past and begins his long walk to triumph with a very fine performance. Crowe too shows us the same kind of dogged determination that he did in his brilliant performance in LA Confidential, though more world-weary. The supporting cast do well, although Jeff Daniels is relegated to a rather 2D politician; in particular Jason Bateman is very impressive as a slimy rich good-for-nothing who ends up involved in the case.
What is great about the film is that, for the most part, it can stand up on its own next to it's television cousin. Sadly, it just comes a little short to the expectations you might have for it based on its relative. Perhaps better to watch if you have never seen the show before.
7/10
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