Drama
It is a credit to the cast and crew of Chess: The Musical that throughout the whole preview, the thought of Mel Brooks's Springtime for Hitler barely entered my head. For, surely, a 1980s Benny-and-Bjorn scripted musical set amid the torrid world of international chess must be someone's idea of a joke? Well, no, actually, and I dutifully accept a firm hand-slapping for being such a wizened old thespy snob. Chess is a ripe, friendly, old-fashioned show of the best sort, beefed-up with some classy Tim Rice songs and greased smoothly along by music that is both heart-swelling and foot-tapping. Let's not forget that these seventies Swedish throw-backs made us grumpy luvvie bores eat our words with the obscene success of Mama Mia, and Chess, their earlier attempt, has generous helpings of all that made Mama Mia appealing.
Chess opens in Merano, Italy, where CIA puppet Freddie Trumper is gagging to bring the title of World Chess Champion home to Uncle Sam. But he faces stiff competition in the shape of Soviet superstar Anatoly Sergievsky. Not only is Sergiesvsky irritatingly good at chess, but he also has the backing of swarthy KGB operative Alexander Molokov, who is prepared to go to any lengths to win the championship for the USSR. Can he persuade Anatoly to desert his wife Svetlana and steal Florence, Freddie's lover, away from the temperamental American?
Chess isn't perfect. Despite directors Wayne Ives's and Michael Bloomfield's pragmatic decision to separate off their singing chorus and their dancing line, the discrepancy of talent between these groups sometimes grates. Assured singers, the chorus falters somewhat when required to move, and the dancers never open their mouths. Nonetheless, both groups do their jobs well. The dancers, a bevy of seductive blondes, display a healthy athletic eroticism as they romp on stage, One Night in Bangkok being a particularly ballsy number. The chorus however occasionally become a sort of musical Jeremy Paxman, providing useful historical background such as '1956, Budapest is fall-ING...', while still producing the requisite 'ooh-bops' of a backing group.
It is in their leads that the producers of Chess have really hit gold-dust. Guy Grimsley as Freddie and Sara Rajeswaran as Florence are astonishingly good, possessing the sorts of voices that deserve a bigger stage than this. Rajeswaran in particular adds a vein-throbbing dose of soul-ish depth to her polished numbers and Grimsley, while inexplicably lacking an American accent, throws sufficient petulance and verve into his songs to pass for an American any day. Catherine Knowles as Svetlana provides a lovely delicate-voiced counterpoint to Rajeswaran, and Pavel Jiracek as Anatoly, a rich mittel-european tenor, convinces as a chess boffin. See Chess for this power-house quartet alone, but see it too for some snazzy ensemble work and good, honest, cheesy fun.
Austin Barclay
I'm sure I'm not the only one who's observed that whenever large groups of young people get together for the first time, attempts to make conversation generally revolve around common cultural references such as 1980s TV programmes, or quite often the greatest films ever made. When lists like this are put together, they feature films like Shawshank, Happy Gilmore and Pulp Fiction. Those who consider themselves cinema buffs will often notice the lack of films made before 1990 mentioned in such discussions. Mainly because many people simply haven't seen such films as The Maltese Falcon, anything by Hitchcock and perhaps The Browning Version, a list will often be made of classic films that deserve to be seen. Fortunately, I'm sure you'll agree, Terence Rattigan's play The Browning Version is coming to the Burton-Taylor theatre.
The play takes its name from a copy of Robert Browning's translation of Agamemnon, given by a pupil to a cranky schoolteacher named Crocker (played by Brian Mullin). The gift is initially seen as a sincere token of affection, taking him by surprise since he had on that day, his final day at the school, learned how disliked he is by all. His career, which had began with high hopes mirrors the state of his loveless marriage to the cruel Millie (Lydia Newhouse). Millie discredits the gift, seeing it as a cheeky ploy to get a good report. Crocker doesn't take this well at all, in a play about one man 's rise and fall.
The Browning Version is about loneliness with the prospect of redemption. It would be shame if the cast failed to bring this emotion to the
audience. We're in luck then that all the acting's good and much of it much better. Of particular note is the Yank, Brian Mullin, who overcomes the language barrier with resounding success. It is a joy to listen to his miserable, scholarly tones.
Less pleasing is a trick that those familiar with Hollywood's recent crop of blockbusters will recognise: evilness signified by the smoking of cigarettes. It would be great to see a return to the days when no hero was complete without cancer-stick.
This doesn't detract from the terrific performance though and this fast-paced production will be enjoyed by all. It also lets you cross one off your list.
Christopher Smith
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18th Oct 2001