The Death of King Arthur

translated by Simon Armitage

seen at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse on 14 July 2015

The so-called 'alliterative Morte Arthure' is a poem composed in about 1400 in alliterative verse. A modern translation by Simon Armitage has been prepared for dramatic recitation by the poet assisted by David Birrell and Polly Frame, with musician Paul Johnson, directed by Nick Bagnall.

The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse proves an ideal location to hear the recitation of a mediaeval English poem, just as it did a few weeks ago for 'Beowulf'. Simon Armitage presents his own modern alliterative version of the original poem, with musical accompaniment (mainly percussive, with some pipes) and two actors to vary the pace and characterisation. These are essential, as his own reading style is not dramatic, but rather sing-song - effective in a narrator with this style of verse, but made all the more so with the contrasts provided by the others. David Birrell mostly gives Arthur's speeches, while Polly Frame provides some narrative, and also speeches by the Emperor Lucius and other characters.

Kreutzer vs Kreutzer

by Laura Wade

seen at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse on 12 July 2015

This new 'play for voices' features Katherine Parkinson as 'Woman' and Samuel West as 'Man', with Thomas Gould (violin) and Ana-Maria Vera (piano) playing Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 9 (the 'Kreutzer' ), and Thomas Gould (first violin), Jamie Campbell (second violin), Max Baillie (viola) and Minat Lyons (cello) playing Janáček's String Quartet No. 1 (the 'Keutzer Sonata'). It is directed by Tamara Harvey.

Laura Wade has had the brilliant idea of linking three famous works - the two musical pieces mentioned above and Tolstoy's story 'The Kreutzer Sonata' - in a meditation on the fraught relationships between men and women. Tolstoy's story is related by a man who has killed his wife from jealousy when she has begun an affair with a musician friend of his while they were practising Beethoven's sonata together. Janáček's quartet, in turn, is a response to Tolstoy's story, inflected by his own unconsummated passion for a young married woman (Kamila Stösslová) to whom he wrote more than 700 letters towards the end of his life.

Death of a Salesman

by Arthur Miller

seen at the Duke of Yorks Theatre on 4 July 2015

The play, directed by Gregory Doran, and designed by Stephen Brimson Lewis, stars Anthony Sher as Willy Loman, Harriet Walter as Linda, Alex Hassell as Biff, Sam Marks as Happy and Guy Paul as Ben. It is an RSC transfer from Stratford.

The set mainly shows the Loman household, with bedroom and dining room adjoining (the kitchen and bathroom notionally behind), and the boys' bedroom in an attic space above. All around, the apartment blocks are represented as flat walls encroaching on the garden (as Willy several times complains); but at moments of stress they become mere frames of netting when lit from behind. Other scenes such as Willy's hotel room when travelling, the office and a restaurant, are played in front of the house space. This is an extremely effective way of visualising the claustrophobic nature of Willy's world.

What's It All About? Bacharach Reimagined

conceived by Kyle Riabko and David Lane Seltzer

seen at the Menier Chocolate Factory on 3 July 2015

Kyle Riabko and six other young musicians pay tribute to the songs of Burt Bacharach in a 90-minute revue-style program featuring 33 of the composer's songs. Both Bacharach and his principal lyricist Hal David approved of the enterprise, which was first seen in New York in December 2013. (Riabko and two others of the cast are from the original production.)

Letter in the TLS

The following letter appeared in the Times Literary Supplement for July 3 in response to their review of the play in the edition for June 19, which was less than enthusiastic.

1984

adapted from George Orwell's novel by Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan

seen at the Playhouse Theatre on 1 July 2015

This production, originally at the Almeida Theatre, is directed by Robert Icke and designed by Chloe Lamford, and it features Matthew Spencer as Winston Smith, Janine Harouni as Julia and Tim Dutton as O'Brien.

The setting is a large wood-panelled room which can serve as office, canteen, shop, or Winston's flat - but our expectations are put into doubt during the opening scene in which Winston begins his forbidden diary, because there seems to be some sort of seminar (whether literary, sociological or historical is unclear) taking place to discuss the provenance of the diary. Some scenes are played out more than once, and Winston is constantly (and plausibly) being asked where he thinks he is. All of this cleverly de-stabilises our sense of the narrative drive, in just the way that Winston's own rewritings and adjustments of historical records (as part of his job) play havoc with the collective memory of what has happened.

The flat in which Julia and Winston try to live without the endemic surveillance of the Party is viewed by us only on film projected above the wood panelling - a subtle clue that surveillance has not been avoided after all.

At various points, blinding white light flashes to disrupt a scene.

Much of this can be played as comedy of course, with the fatuous Parsons extolling his daughter's precocity in scene after scene - until at the final repetition, one of the listeners has completely disappeared and can no longer contribute to the expected conversation. At this stage (at the latest) the audience's laughter can no longer be comfortable.

Any lingering hopes that this is an enjoyable parable are stripped away by the final scenes in which Winston is 'made perfect' by means of agonising tortures. The blackouts and blinding flashes of light are only just able to cover for the horror of O'Brien's relentless breaking of Winston's spirit in a room without darkness - a white space with a white plastic floor onto which the hapless prisoner bleeds and vomits.

This is an extraordinary visualisation of Orwell's novel. Perhaps the only thing missing is Orwell's relentless insistence on the sheer grubbiness of everything in Airstrip One, and the pervading smell of boiled cabbage (Orwell was obsessed with the smells of things as signifiers of mood and of prosperity or the lack of it). The cast are extremely good at conveying the stoical acceptance of oppression which defines their lives.

There is very little comfort. Even the idea that the Party ultimately failed, hinted at by the seminar discussions, is called into question by a final half-swallowed comment by one of the participants.