Drama
One of the most pleasing features of the theatre programmed this term is the amount of ensemble drama, dominated by four productions by the two great American playwrights of the post-war generation, Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller. Later in the term we have Chekhov's The Three Sisters, and it struck me that there is a distinctively early Chekhovian flavour to Miller's slowly unwinding family drama.
With its lack of a hierarchical cast structure, All My Sons, like a Chekhov play, demands that every actor plays a crucial role. There are no bit parts - every character enters for a reason. There is no 'second messenger' in All My Sons. The challenge this presents for director Prasanna Puwanarajah is obvious: if one actor is miscast, one performance awry, the whole delicate construct falls apart. Fortunately, we are given a cast who are not only talented but responsive to each other. Some of the loveliest moments in the play come from watching listeners rather than talkers. Puwanarajah keeps a tight grip on the play and keeps it moving just fast enough to carry us along, while giving the characters room to develop.
All My Sons is a story of a family with a dark past. The plot is based around a secret which slowly reveals itself, so it would be unfair to give more than the vaguest gloss. Joe and Kate Keller (Gabriel Vick and Lorna Beckett) have a son, Chris (Harry Lloyd). Chris's brother Larry was long ago missing, presumed dead, in an air crash. The family has settled into a kind of uneasy peace. Then one day Larry's sweetheart, Ann (a charmingly sensitive Caroline Dyott) comes to stay. That night, the tree planted in memory of Larry blows down in a storm. Like a Greek tragedy, the plot works itself to its inevitable conclusion.
This is a triumph of ensemble acting, but that does not detract from some outstanding individual performances. Sarah Teacher's deliciously vicious performance as Sue Bayliss, the neighbour from hell par excellence, deserves special mention, as does Tai Shan Ling for a marvellously energised horoscope reading. Three central performances hold the play together: Vick's Joe combines splendid comic physical acting with a genuine tragic pathos, and Lloyd as Chris gives a characterisation by turns sensitive and hard as steel. For me, though, the real star is Lorna Beckett's Kate. Beckett gives a performance of strength, passion, and deep, aching sadness. She stands staring out into the audience, her voice hoarse with pain, her arms trembling slightly with grief, her words full of determination and hope. This is a special performance in a special cast.
If anything stops All My Sons from being an unmitigated triumph, it's a slight unevenness in the acting style (not quality), and an occasional failure on Miller's part to keep the dialogue taut - this is, after all, his first 'great' play. But what a joy this is: a beautifully paced ensemble production of a powerful play; rich in texture, subtly coloured, and thoroughly entertaining.
The story of the Cambridge spy ring, the group of notorious double agents who passed secrets to the Soviet Union, has long held great fascination for the British public. It is an exciting story, and also a puzzling one - what could have led the four men to betray their country as they did? Julian Mitchell's Another Country suggests that the seeds of treachery were sown in their schooldays. The play follows Guy Bennet, a fictional shadow of Guy Burgess, as he struggles against the strictures of a public boarding school. The claustrophobic atmosphere breeds discontent, and secrecy, subversion and the ability to maintain an illusion become vital.
The play is very funny and very sad. The all-male cast of real ex-public-schoolboys does well to preserve the humour while acting with a naturalism that prevents the characters becoming caricatures. Kieran Pugh (Bennett) manages the transition from mischievous flirt to bitterly disillusioned lover with skill and Jack Ream's performance as Judd, his passionate and brilliant friend, is particularly good. Judd strives to reconcile his idealistic socialism with the stifling traditions of the school without compromising his integrity. He is in some ways a cool character but the warmth of his relationship with Bennett becomes patent as the two are increasingly ostracized.
Another Country is an entertaining, interesting play and this is a competent production. And by the way, if you see Thursday night's performance you could find yourself rubbing shoulders with the author himself. Julian Mitchell will be coming to see what the Oxford cast makes of his play and will be sticking around for a question and answer session afterwards.
Kill Me Eat Me is a risky, but successful, piece of new writing which entertains and provokes. During the day tramps Jed and Trick work the streets of London with a series of clever and comic tricks, while at night they return to squat in what they know as 'The Palace', where one mustn't dirty the carpet (when one's installed, that is). John Bohannon manages to keep the dialogue light and witty in a landscape that is bleak and hostile.
The set itself is reduced to the bare minimum. In fact, there aren't even chairs for the audience to sit on. Don't let this put you off though: the play is short enough to carry it off, and the device makes the audience into the London crowd, adding to the atmosphere of a city street. The lighting, too, is simple, allowing the audience to concentrate on the acting alone. However, there are long periods of blackout where the acting continues. At such times one becomes more aware of the audience around you rather than of the actors themselves, which can be off-putting.
The excellent script is backed up by solid performances from all three actors, who interact well with eachother throughout - integral when there's such a small cast. Tom Murray-Rust is suitably resentful as the young Trick and Nanw Rowlands effective as quiet fellow tramp Dina, but it is Weston Rose as Jed who steals the show with his easy-going (albeit slightly unbelievable) attitude towards being homeless.
If you see a play this week, see Kill Me Eat Me for its poignancy, energy and audacity in examining a taboo area of our culture. It is a clever script which does not give everything away, but merely hints at the true backgrounds of the characters, while the actors themselves give them flawed but winning personalities which ultimately carry the show.
An elderly eccentric offers me and his other guests tea, worried that the cat has 'contaminated' the milk as he darts in his wheelchair mumbling to himself. So begins Peter Harness' Mongoose, occupying the Burton Taylor late slot in 3rd week. It is the bleakly comic story of Ted who, in the wake of his mother's death, befriends a mongoose, leading him to perform various dark deeds that ultimately result in death. Harness, a former contributor to the Oxford Revue, has penned 'an old-fashioned, dark fairytale: a once-upon a time magical kind of story,' addressing the themes of fatherhood and grief by charting the progress of a man 'finally starting to leave the fairytale behind.' With its beautiful yet homely script, it's like Alan Bennett for the American Psycho generation.
Originally conceived for radio, veteran director Sam Brown has successfully captured the intimacy of this one-man play by performing it in promenade without stage lights. My fears that this unnatural theatrical structure in the hands of the production company responsible for the controversial, albeit effective, production dealing with the Moors Murderers - Pre-Paradise Sorry Now - would be reduced to a mere gimmick were soon dispelled. This approach gives the play lucidity as it effortlessly flows from one scene to another as well as leaving its audience with the sense that they are not so much watching a play as entering the recesses of an amiable killer with his own gracious invitation.
Yet this style would come to nothing were it not for the adept and gifted performance of Daniel Harkin. Although he has a list of credits as long as a gibbon's arm, one cannot help but sense that even he sees this as a challenge - a one-man play that permits its audience to do anything but sit down. From the point he invited us to drink from his dirty mugs to the end, it seemed no matter how unexpected an audience response could be, this actor would be neither out of character or his own depth. Although to stand for close to an hour and listen to the absorbing tale of one man may test the patience of some, Harkin's compassionate performance allowed Ted to appear both personable and human. To be invited into this man's living room proved a welcome offer indeed. Just ensure Mongoose is away before accepting.
29th Jan 2004