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Anthony and Cleopatra at the National Theatre 1998

I have seen this production three times, once at the start of the season, once at the middle, and at the last but one performance, so now that the dust has settled and I have had time to think about it, I would like to add my comments to the critics and theatre-goers reviews. 

I have been an admirer of Alan Rickman's work since 1982, and have seen him on stage many times from 1983 onwards, so I have seen a great deal of his work.  It was with great shock, therefore, that I read the appalling reviews of the critics when the play first opened.  Alan usually receives excellent notices, so what had gone wrong this time?  It wasn't only Alan who came in for a critical roasting - the set design, the music, and many of the minor performances were also heavily criticised. 

Whatever problems there may have been backstage, (which I will probably never know about), it was clear that the set had caused some serious difficulties.  It consisted of a semicircle looking like beaten metal, divided into vertical strips which could slide up and down, and produce different effects, such as doorways, windows, battlements, and so on.  There was also a revolve, which at one point sank by a couple of feet to simulate the deck of the galley, and a number of traps through which the forum set could rise. Artistically, I have no arguments with the set - the play covers several years in time and numerous locations in different countries, so it has to be flexible enough to accommodate this, and I liked the ingenuity with which this difficulty had been addressed, however, the complexity of  the set did cause headaches for the actors.  A friend who saw the first preview said that Sean Matthias had addressed the audience before it began to ask their indulgence as they had only begun rehearsing with the set that day.   The play over-ran very considerably that night, which is not surprising.   Another friend who saw the play at a later preview said that the whole action was halted by twenty minutes after a loud crash sounded backstage, and problems with the set had to be ironed out. By the time it opened, only a few days later, the set was obviously working, but after all the teething problems, an exhausted cast quite probably felt relieved just to get through to the end without disaster.  I think it was that feeling that communicated itself on that opening night.

The music, consisting of percussion effects, was atmospheric, and not as obtrusive as had been suggested in the reviews, although it was a little on the loud side when I was seated in the third row!  From a mid-stalls seat, it was fine. 

The performances I saw shortly after the play opened  were variable.  Helen Mirren and Finbar Lynch stood out as Cleopatra and Enobarbus, but Alan was not turning in the usual electrifying performance I have been used to seeing from him - something was missing, but I couldn't be sure what, at that time.  All the same, the reviews had not put off the theatre-goers as the Olivier was full.  (In fact, it was packed all three times I went. )  At the second viewing, mid-season, much had changed.  The set was behaving well, the actors were obviously used to it, and Alan seemed to have relaxed a great deal.  Now I began to see in his performance what had been lacking before - the touches of subtlety, the ironic inflections, the little glances the audiences could react to.  Not at his top capacity, yet, but much, much better.  The other roles had not really come alive, but even so, the whole was much better than the first time, and as the audience filed out I could hear people commenting on how pleasantly surprised they were after the poor reviews.  At the last performance I saw, it had all - far too late, alas,- come together.  Alan was giving the performance I would have expected of him, vigorous, amusing, passionate, heartbroken, ironic.  The scene between Anthony and Octavius, as Anthony grudgingly admits his faults, has scarcely been better played by anyone.  His final despair as he realises that he has lost everything was moving, and there were moments that I always treasure in the theatre, organic silences, as the emotions created by the actor casts a rapt hush over the audience.  The audience gave the performance tumultuous applause and there were several curtain calls. 

I have to add that in the three performances I saw, Helen Mirren and Finbar Lynch never swayed from excellent, but it was suddenly noticeable in the third one, that all the other players' performances were lifted, and had a liveliness and fullness of character I had not seen previously.  It seems a little simplistic to attribute all the difficulties to the set, but this may well have been a large factor, not so much the set itself, but the lack of time to iron out the problems and for the actors to feel comfortable with it.

After the third time, I waited outside the stage door, hoping for a chat with Alan.   Helen Mirren didn't emerge, but Alan came out, very surprised that anyone was waiting in the cold, and signed our programmes.  He seemed as cheerful and affable as when I have seen him in the past, and when asked what he was doing after the run ended, said, with obvious pleasure, that he was going on holiday. 

Cleo, Camping Emmanuelle and Dick.  National Theatre 1999

This is the best new play I have seen in a long time.  The action takes place in Sid James' trailer on the Pinewood lot and covers four periods of time, during the making of Carry on Cleo, at the time he first becomes acquainted with Barbara Windsor, Carry on Camping, when their affair begins, Carry on Dick, when he is a sick man, and the affair is over, and Carry on Emmanuelle, after his death.  Brilliantly written, funny and sad, beautifully acted by all concerned. The main characters are Sid James, Barbara Windsor and Kenneth Williams, and Sally, Sid's dresser (Jaqueline Defferary) and also include Imogen Hassall, (Gina Bellman) and Eddie, Barbara's minder (Kenneth MacDonald). The cast portray the real people - this is not just  impersonations of comedy turns.  Geoffrey Hutchings has all Sid's body language, and that laugh.  Samantha Spyro is a wonderful choice as Barbara Windsor, even reconstructing the famous bikini-popping scene, and Adam Godley, although not resembling Kenneth Williams physically, really captures the voice and movement, and the misanthropic anguish.  I hope this play reaps the awards it deserves, and that it has a life beyond it's too-short run at the National.

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Recommended book

The National: The Theatre and it's Work by Simon Callow

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Sleep With Me by Hanif Kureishi at the Cottesloe, National Theatre

Hmm, now let’s see if I've got this right - Stephen, a successful screenwriter used to live with Sophie in their student days but is now married to Julie with 2 children and having an affair with much younger Anna. Sophie has abandoned the glittering world of the media for social work, and is living with dull but worthy schoolteacher Barry (2 children and one maladjusted daughter by his previous marriage). She has just had a fling with Russell, a TV producer and wide-boy philanderer, whom no woman in her right mind would have anything to do with. Fortunately he has no children. Charles, a charmingly shambolic producer of Stephen’s work has devoted himself to eating and drinking, and despairing over his failed marriage and estrangement from his (I have lost count of how many) children. Lorraine, Julie’s nanny, just wants to have fun. When Russell arrives with his new girlfriend described artfully in the program as "Russell's girlfriend", and who fails to mention her name in her first scene this is tantamount to putting up a large neon sign that this is Anna, and indeed it is. The action, if it could be called that, and there is very little of it, with few, if any surprises, takes place on a summer weekend at Stephen and Julie’s formal paved garden complete with lily pond and summerhouse . Stephen agonises about leaving Julie for Anna then does - Sophie agonises about accepting a job from Russell - going from the real world to the glittering falseness of television - then she does. Barry agonises about his relationship with Sophie, Anna agonises about her relationship with Stephen, and Charles agonises about the son who won’t speak to him. Lorraine just wants to have fun. Charles has a May/September fling with Lorraine, giving us the one really hilarious moment, as, unable to undo the button of her cardigan, he has to put on his reading glasses. There is much analysis but little depth which just goes to show that if you spend much time examining your navel most of what you find will be fluff. As one might expect from the National Theatre the cast are all excellent especially Penny Downie as the wistful Sophie and Jonathan Hyde as Charles.

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UK

To call this play a comedy would only partly describe it. Intelligent and perceptive, its language (an excellent translation by Christopher Hampton that retains the feeling of the French original, and is sometimes reminiscent of Ionesco) is simple and startlingly clear. Like all the best comedies, it has a serious side, a strong edge of pathos and cruelty. It is also wonderfully funny. The imaginatively lit set echoes the text in intelligent simplicity. At the end, we gain a visual clue as to why the three friends are together. All three performances are excellent, though I must single out Stephen Tompkinson, whose monologue on the pitfalls of organising a wedding is worth the ticket price by itself.

National Theatre 2001
A production of a classic well known Shakespearean play in which the performances illuminate the text so that it comes up fresh and lively and accessible is a rare joy and this is such a production.  Simon Russell Beale gives a performance of clarity humanity and humility, which held a large and varied audience spellbound. We can only suffer with his confusion, grief self loathing and doubt.  Dennis Quilley's Polonius extracts every drop of pompous humour from this role.  It was a pleasure to behold , and therefore a delight to see him reappear later on as the first and indeed only gravedigger. Peter McEnery as Claudius was a stylishly smooth ponytailed villain. Sarah Kestleman as Hamlet's mother, was gentle and sorrowful - for once there were no oedipean suggestions as has been the fashion in other less subtle productions. One can believe in the mother/son relationship but also in the weakness that would have swayed her to remarry so soon
Ophelia was delicately restrained in those difficult mad scenes rendering them more believable and therefore gaining our sympathy.
The set is simple but very imaginative -  a number of leather bound trunks suggest the travels of some of the characters but also do duty for all that is necessary while lighting and scene changes are provided by a number of elegant lamps that descend from above. The ghost is cleverly yet simply allowed to appear and disappear by moving into and out of areas of light and shadow.
Fortinbras didn't show up - but then that might have spoilt the mood of this beautifully crafted productionn

National Theatre.

I first saw this play when it was performed in 1982 with the wonderful Paul Eddington, Patricia Routledge and Nicky Henson.  This very welcome revival, which is due to transfer to the West End after a sell-out season at the National stars the no less talented Peter Egan, Patricia Hodge and Aden Gillet. The premise is simple - a touring repertory company is due to do a season af a ghastly farce called Nothing On, complicated by the offstage romances of the cast. Act one, during a rehearsal sets the scene, and the highly imaginative Act 2 take place during a performance, but seen entirely from backstage. By now, the relationships have started to reach crisis point and things start to fragment. By Act 3, a performance later in the season, it is all going horribly wrong. This has to be one of the funniest farces ever and is as much a delight as it ever was. The demanding quick fire action keeps the audience on its toes throughout.

Stones In His Pockets

Duke of York’s Theatre

 During the interval of this play a lady in the row behind me said loudly to her companion that this wasn’t what she called “Theatre”. Theatre, as far as I could make out, meant lots of lovely scenery, ladies in nice dresses and action that didn’t require one to think too much. Well if that is what theatre means to you, fair enough, don’t go to see this play.   If, however you enjoy seeing two excellent actors play numerous parts (male, female, old and young) between them, creating personality and scenes with the pure skill of their craft, if you like a comedy/tragedy/satire about the impact of a Hollywood film being made in an Irish village on the lives of the extras, then rush at once to the Duke of Yorks. This is for you.

This is a real original and I loved it, in fact it is a show I plan to see many more times.
The great strengths of this musical are the atmospheric original songs, performed by a strong talented cast, and the evocation of the social conditions of London in 1888, and what it was like to live there in the midst of the Autumn of Terror. While the many theories are alluded to, the show very sensibly makes no attempt to identify a particular suspect as the Ripper, and the violence is only suggested. The cast play a variety of characters including policemen, prostitutes, local residents, Salvationists, and newspapermen; the whole being linked by a narrative that fills in the facts without being too gory for the average theatregoer! There is never any hint of trivialisation of the crimes, and the line between entertainment and hard-hitting social commentary is very well judged. For a taster of the music, go to the website, www.rippershow.com