June 28-July 19

Liverpool Playhouse, Once Upon A Time at the Adelphi

Liverpool’s premier hotel is of course known far and wide, so it’s good they’ve named a musical after it: romance is budding between two of the Adelphi’s personnel, Jo and Neil. But is this destined to resemble that of Alice and crookedly charismatic Thompson back in the glamorous 1930s, when attending an influx of visitors from America? And War waiting in the wings…

Whereas the play’s the thing, musicals rather lose the plot, or rather, it loses out to the singing and dancing, and both are pretty nifty, with the snappy lyrics. But the story also contends with a most spectacular set, something for which the Playhouse has always pulled out the stops: ballroom with chandeliers, magnificent bedchamber and foyer, and from the kitchen bowels via a giddying staircase to the roof itself. Then there are the sumptuous costumes, and some other lovely details: when Thompson goes home to the Dingle, the washing on the line is huge sheets of old photographs. Then there’s the scene which had the audience oohing and ahhing, but you can enjoy discovering that for yourselves.

The acting’s not half bad either. Natasha Seale sings, dances and acts her heart out as Older Alice and Thompson’s mother, while much of the comedy comes from Nick Smithers’s American impersonations: movie star, cowboy, soldier, and Helen Carter, who is terrific as best friend Babs, for which the synonym is obviously bubbly, the inspiration, Margi Clarke.

Julie Atherton, who doubles up as Young Alice and Jo, shines like a good deed in a naughty world and although neither Tom Oakley as Neil and Simon Bailey as Thompson have quite her sparkle, all three excel when it comes to singing and dancing. And the latter manages to show how the way to hell is paved with good intentions. Unfortunately, with Alice being a young lady of common sense, the plot hinges on her jumping to a most peculiar conclusion, a devise so clumsy it deserves the name McGuffin. Likewise, in one bizarre scene, the two men apparently first meet up slaving away for the cook yet turn out to have been students together. In fact, their relationship evolves rather than developing: friends, enemies, then war heroes.

Nonetheless, although in need of a stitch or two, it’s a fairly polished product which the Playhouse has once again delivered, maybe their most ambitious project yet. And the audience was enthralled - jolly good show.

June 30-July 5 Liverpool Empire, Hello Dolly

Hello, hello, hello in fact – you could say that somebody ought to be arrested for letting this show go on the road; talk about the devil is in the detail…

So what attracted merry widow, Dolly Levy, matchmaker supreme, to half-millionaire Horace Vandergelder – and why does he keep addressing her as Dolly Gallagher? (see what I mean?) And how will she manage this time, when the plan is for him to marry Irene Molloy, who in turn has fallen for Vandergelder’s lowly assistant, Cornelius Hackl?

OK, by and large, the staging is excellent, particularly the interiors of the Harmonia Gardens and Mrs Molloy’s hat shop, and the railroad station. But in Vandergelder’s feed store, there’s a game of Sardines with Dolly, Vandergelder’s daughter Ermengarde (no wonder she spends the entire squealing like a little kid) and suitor Ambrose Kemper, squashed in one corner. The costumes, other than the final scene from Brides Are Us (and ‘That hat is so you’), are eye-blinkingly gaudy; one scene has a couple in mufti not quite cunningly concealed at the back. Likewise, the dancing seems curiously asymmetrical and the chaps even appear to have to put in considerable effort to hoist their partners, as my companion pointed out.

It’s interesting to note that originally, the focus was on Vandergelder, for Dolly is now centre stage and Anita Dobson, evidently having the time of her life, puts everything into the role. No stone is left unturned, nor grimace nor gesture left in peace. Or tone; pity she constantly deepens her voice for comic effect, which steals poignance from the speech where it occurs naturally. And although she’s fairly successful in the funny bits, otherwise most of them are downright peculiar; farcical but not in a good way. However, Louise English is delightful as Irene and David McAlister does a great job transforming Horace Vandergelder. Then we come to Darren Day, who, considering some of his other roles, is in the wrong production, surely; right from the start, you find yourself wondering if that is actually him. But the spirit of Michael Crawford lives though, transferred to Amanda Salmon, as Irene’s assistant, Minnie Fay, giving ditzy blondes a bad name, and probably a couple of adjectives too if that kind of thing gets on your nerves.

Still, this musical must have pleased many people most of the time, and the audience happily greeted Dolly.

June 13-July 5

Liverpool Everyman, Ten Tiny Toes

This review can also be seen at
http://www.whatsonstage.com/blogs/liverpool/?p=103#more-103

Dulce et decorum est…but can it truly be fine and fitting to die for one’s country? For a noble cause? If not, then soldiers are slain for nothing. And define a noble cause: toppling an evil dictator? Or protesting against War?

There’s a game of happy families as the Kent household welcome Michael back from Iraq, but they then have to face the consequences when younger brother, Chris, signs up. As for their parents, Mike also has to cope with dole and drink, whilst Gill, obsessed with the news, becomes involved with the group, Military Families Against the War.

A plain setting, sitting room to the fore, video projection on to the backdrop - warzone in the background, allows for many scenes to overlap. Similarly, that each character is haunted is symbolized by the physical presence of a ghost. But it is the dialogue which bring this powerful play to life, aimed straight at heart and mind. From comedy to tragedy, brilliantly authentic, it makes the initial family scenes hilariously convincing, though perhaps a little more so than the inevitable tragedies later on. The poignance of Mike’s fate is dimmed by comparison with that of his children, though Barry McCormick does a remarkable job of wrestling with the dichotomy of chin up whilst keeping your head down.

As for the Westons, so stiff upper lip, it’s a wonder they can speak, Paula Stockbridge is excellent as Olivia Weston, Army wife and mother to the bitter end. Likewise the ladies whom, she feels, doth protest too much: Fionnuala Dorrity, the determined, practical Lucy Cope, and Joanna Bacon, adding some nifty humorous touches to her portrayal of Maya Johnson. Above all, Lisa Parry is splendid as the stalwart Gill, if outshone by her two boys.

Joe Shipman is quite outstanding as stroppy Chris, one of those rare actors whose flair for comedy captures laughter with one look or gesture or word. And David Lyons miraculously retains some sympathy for Michael, a man whose dwindling conscience struggles to watch out whilst brutality threatens to overwhelm humanity… as if evolution is in retreat.

Fables and fairy tales have much more to tell us than may appear on the surface. And the imaginative fiction of Theatre comes a hell of a lot closer to the truth than anything you read in the media or hear from politicians. See for yourself.

June 14-July 5
Royal Court, Liverpool: Stephen King’s Misery

www.royalcourtliverpool.co.uk

It makes for a curious situation where you have the film and the play of the book, from Les Liaisons Dangereuses to Trainspotting. Even more so in this instance, which also revolves around the book within the book. So which medium works best? As Irving Welch has said, each needs to be considered on its own merits.

And where does Stephen King get his ideas from, especially when his work ranges from sprawling, picaresque epic, like The Stand, to Cujo: with a rabid dog laying siege to a car. And Misery, where Annie Wilkes, no 1 fan of writer Paul Sheldon, keeps him as a bedridden captive following a car crash. Captivated she may be by his series of books, but he has to go with the formula ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, and become Scheherazade in a desperate attempt to keep grisly fate at bay, to outwit a woman who in both senses, is mad as a bucket of frogs.

Something so claustrophobic is made for theatre, and none better than the Royal Court with its strange layout. The play is enhanced by Tayo Akinbode’s excellent atmospheric and chilling music, which is a match for the imaginatively sinister staging, memorably a gnarled tree which appear to be reaching out. to drag house and inhabitants down to the bowels of Hell. However, set on a revolve with a couple of interiors as well as the exterior, it gives a twirl every so often as if for no other reason than a brief change of scenery.

So, this spooky production examines a weird, perilous hostage situation, and the heart and soul, and role, of the writer. One would like to imagine that the ‘Misery’ series, if too mocking as a tribute, is at least an affectionate nod to the flood of historical novels which stormed the 1960s and 70s. However, eventually, inevitably, Sheldon, high on inspiration, but crazed by pain and drugs, looks as if he’s ended up as mad as Annie Wilkes.

A two-hander as tense and complex as this requires a couple of your finest actors: Joan Kempson and a grizzled Andrew Schofield, immaculate accents and all, will have been first on the list. As ever, he wrings out every little bit of black, black comedy, a portrayal all the more remarkable, since he is confined to bed or wheelchair for much of the play. Joan Kempson is almost more than match for him, largely because she’s such a bizarre character, veering from raving mad to somebody, perhaps even more dangerous, who comes up with startlingly lucid insights.

There are many heart in mouth moments to make this gripping, play one of the scariest things ever seen on stage. Unfortunately, talk about good play, shame about the audience - even allowing for the fact that a nervewracking production can make some people react with giggles, too many shrieked like kids at a funfair. At times, it made you jump more than the events on stage. And that does get on your nerves, particularly when what’s meant to be frightening, like Annie Wilkes’ ominous behaviour and language, for some strange reason, made people laugh.

But don’t be put off – don’t be a misery, in fact: hotfoot it to the Royal Court, for an evening of chills and thrills. After all, every night, and audience may be different, but not the quality of this production.

June 3-7

Liverpool Playhouse, London Assurance

Tartuffe would be a hard couple of acts to follow in any instance but fortunately, this play should still appeal to a wider audience than fans of bodice and breeches. But you don’t half have to concentrate on a plot which revolves, dizzingly, around mistaken identity, and there’s so many characters suddenly seeing the light, it’s incredibly dazzling.

Grace Harkaway is quite content to be betrothed to Sir Harcourt Courtley in order for their two estates to be united and her deceased father’s greatest wish fulfilled. But the course of true love makes for a bumpy ride, and the unexpected. Until her friend Lady Gay Spanker slaps some sense into her…no, no, of course, she doesn’t, but sounds so tame by comparison: comes up with a cunning plan.

We have an extremely lush and dainty Regency setting for this witty, uproarious romp. However, it cheats somewhat by having windows which appear to show a London residence across the road, then a country estate across the lawn, though later becoming more appropriate French windows. And no artfully contrived and choreographed furniture removal either, so much the vogue these days.

As for the cast, sterling they are, ah no, pure gold, positively extravagant in portraying an Age where Society, Fashion and Style were so important, and so ripe for lampooning. Gerard Murphy makes a pompous Pantomime Dame of Sir Harcourt, le dernier cri with his costume and cosmetics. By the end, like many of the characters, he has turned over many a new leaf, so much so, he’s nearly deciduous. However, fiancée Grace, though a delightful heroine, playing Feisty with a capital F is consequently a bit shrill. Ironically, asides are bellowed; annoyingly, it gives the impression that hoi polloi, ie the audience, is assumed to be rather thick.

Still, there’s plenty of bon mots and delicious comedy: Sir H’s down to earth foil, the bluff Max Harkaway (Mike Burnside), Nigel Hastings as the constantly foiled lawyer, Meddle, and Laurence Mitchell, reprobate son Charles come good - so realistic, he could have got away with ‘Doh!’ at moments of epiphany. Ken Bradshaw (Dazzle) is as crafty and manipulative as Mike from ‘The Young Ones’… but there’s Christopher Ryan himself, excellently droll as Mr Spanker. Most eagerly awaited, his better half, and how splendidly Geraldine McNulty plays a role which could have been created for her, not least with a delightful tribute to Wilde himself, tho with his bad habits, quite likely vice versa.

In case you have ever wondered, policies are taken out for Life Assurance not Insurance, because you cannot insure against the inevitable. But you can rest assured that this will be a lively and enjoyable evening.

June 3-7

Liverpool Everyman, Running the Silk Road

5000 miles is a long, long way, and anything can happen… Ken, a born librarian, is so upset when his girlfriend breaks off their engagement and goes to China to help disaster victims, he decides to win her back by raising funds via a world class marathon. And though his friends at first think him mad, they rally round.

It’s a worthy aim, and not surprisingly, the play incorporates a lot of information about troubled regions and races. The friends themselves of course have to contend with a variety of issues and obsessions (Ken’s minute listing of his daily timetable includes not a mention of his fiancée). As a result, the dialogue clunks in places, and the succession of episodes is somewhat bitty; there are inevitably boring bits, along with some charming interpretations. This does not allow the audience to engage fully; almost like staging something in a church hall and putting agnostics on the guest list. The fact that the subtitles were not altogether prompt did not help either.

Much more vibrant is the way the plot is interwoven with ancient legends, and the simple setting makes an excellent backdrop for exotic description. OK, the singing in Beijing Opera may not be to all tastes - so high pitched it’s a wonder the theatre was not besieged by every dog in Liverpool. However, much of it is pretty spectacular, utilising dance, fight sequences, lavish costume and some remarkable puppetry.

The three Opera memebers, Gongxin Lan, Shen Feng and Yanzhong Huang were ably supported by the remaining cast as spear carriers – well, flag bearers etc. And the former’s stylized movements contrasted with the realism of the quotidian undergone by the latter. Nick Chee Ping Kellington as Ken, metamorphoses from geek to hero; Chia-Keui Chen (Wei), matures from spoilt son to considerate lover; Dina (Betsabeth Emran) is a passionate eco-warrior; Saraj Chaudhry as Jahid, provides a much needed comic touch (and some ancient jokes)

Overall, the production makes for an unusual mixture of the personal, political and mythical, and something so adventurously different should pick up plenty of fans.

June 4-14

Rose Theatre, Kingston-upon-Thames

www.rosetheatrekingston.org

Tartuffe, adapted by Roger McGough
(at Liverpool Playhouse)

There’s an old French saying…oh, alright then, it’s a phrase but certainly les mots justes: ‘Succès fou’. What a brainwave - and how brave: a whole evening of poetry. So well done, whoever had the bright idea to resurrect Molière’s play and hand it over to Roger McGough to come up with this delightful adaptation. For how rarely do writer, all the actors and the entire audience have such fun that the atmosphere in the theatre is that of one big, happy family.

Unlike Orgon’s; despite all their efforts, after taking in the pious Tartuffe, veritably clasping him to his bosom, he will not believe the man is a charlatan. But with the future of his two children at stake, desperate measures are called for. Indeed, Molière’s comedy is dark at heart, his views scathing; no wonder the play was banned, for all his judiciously creating the King as the deux ex machina.

Here, with a script ranging from the wit of l’esprit d’escalier to cheeky Scouse humour, no pun is left unintended. It’s undeniably all the more comic because of the fun and games playing with the rhymes, where, never mind equality and fraternity, the most shocking liberties are taken. And bearing in mind that couplets can end up sounding as banal as a jingle, how well the cast mastered them, with impeccable timing and delivery.

Nor could the staging and costume be bettered; it seems no expense has been spared. The ladies are lavish in shades of ruby and gold, the chaps ravishing in pastel or sumptuous in black, and all play their part to perfection in a stately, panelled chamber complete with chandelier, fancy fauteuils and handy chests.

Off to a splendid start with Eithne Brown (years ahead of her time) formidable as Orgon’s imperious mother, Madame Pernelle, the other Tartuffe fan. Annabelle Dowler, if rather excitable, sparkles as Dorine, the ubiquitous maidservant who tries to sort out everybody’s problems, while Alan Stocks switches neatly between earthy bailiff and posh Officer. The rest are mostly caricatures, particularly the hilariously twittering lovebirds, Mariane and Valere (there must be a joke here about towhit towhoo but you leave that kind of thing to the Master). Robert Hastie, foppish popinjay of a son, Damis, earns one of the biggest laughs of the evening, while John Ramm produces a Tartuffe as loathsome and oleaginously cunning as Gollum. Orgon himself is nigh as hypocritical, completely bamboozled by the man of God, then blaming everybody else for being so deceived; Jospeh Alessi twists and turns most amusingly. All of which makes a nice contrast with the two most realistic characters: brother and sister, Cleante and Elmire. The former, masterfully played and sonorously voiced by Simon Coates, tries to talk sense into Orgon, but it is the latter’s charming, clever wife (Rebecca Lacey) who comes up with a plan.

French and poetry; how cultured can you get? Purists may say that Molière would be turning over in his grave – ‘Mais oui!’, say I - in order to clamber out and join the rest of us in a standing ovation.