A Moon for the Misbegotten

by Eugene O'Neill

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 30 July 2025

Rebecca Frecknall directs Ruth Wilson as Josie Hogan, David Threlfall as her father Phil and Michael Shannon as James Tyrone, with Peter Corboy as Josie's brother Mike and Akie Kotabe as their neighbour T Stedman Harder in Eugene O'Neill's 1957 play about two young people so insecure that they are unable to admit their feelings for one another in any productive way. 

Josie presents a transgressive front to hide her fears, while James tries to avoid his shames and self-loathing through massive alcohol consumption. This being an O'Neill play, alcohol figures prominently not only for James but also for Phil, an embittered Irish-American tenant farmer all too ready to drown his own sorrows and frustrations in drink. James Tyrone is, of course, the name of one of the two sons (and the father) in Long Day's Journey into Night, and though this character is not exactly the same person in the two plays, both share a tortured family history inspired by that of the playwright himself; in A Moon for the Misbegotten both James's parents are already dead.

The challenge is to render these characters believable and interesting despite their verbosity and inebriation, and both Michael Shannon and David Threlfall manage this tricky task with great skill, and in completely different ways: Shannon trying to be tight-lipped but occasionally permitting a despairing giggle; Threlfall clumsy in his movements, and hamming it up to a certain extent because Phil is probably not as drunk as he makes out to be. In the meantime Josie fends off her father's manipulations and warily engages with James Tyrone using a front of almost raucous bravado: her final relinquishment of any relationship with James, couched in rueful good wishes for his future, is painful to witness. Ruth Wilson, known in the past for portraying deeply repressed women with stillness and menace, here demonstrates a more brazen exterior, but the inner pain remains.

The Almeida stage was stripped back to reveal the brickwork at the rear, and most of the stage podium had also been removed to be replaced by dusty wood-floor areas on different levels, with all sorts of farming bric-a-brac - old planks, sheets of metal, implements - lying around: the chaos of the Hogans being both internal and external. With most of the action in the central part of the play taking place during a moonlit night, the atmosphere was almost derelict, and perfectly suited the action. Designers Tom Scutt (set) and Jack Knowles (lighting) made excellent use of the space available.

1536

by Ava Pickett

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 4 June 2025

With characters named Anna and Jane, and with the year of Ann Boleyn's downfall and execution as its title, one might have expected Ava Pickett's play 1536 (here expertly directed by Lyndsey Turner) to be yet another work appealing to our apparently inexhaustible fascination with Tudor history. But Anna (Siena Kelly) and Jane (Liv Hill) and their friend Mariella (Tanya Reynolds) are young women in a village in Essex, a place which considers Colchester, let alone London, to be too far away to provide anything except distant and late-arriving news. What they hear about the disgraced queen profoundly disturbs them, but they are at the same time aware that more may well have happened in the time it has taken for the news to reach them; that what sounds like an impossible rift in the right way of the world may well have already been resolved.

In the meantime Anna pursues her wanton ways, for the most part blithely unaware that her reputation is being tarnished, while Jane prepares to follow her father's bidding into an arranged marriage with Richard (Adam Hugill) - the man currently infatuated with Anna. Mariella, slowly assuaging her own heartbreak over William (Angus Cooper) who has also married for social advantage in the village, is apprenticed to the midwife and hopes her work will see her through, even though she does not like it.

The menfolk are occasional presences in what is a tense but cunningly localised drama of conflicting desires and social oppression. Anna appears to be in control of her life, and she often treats the bland and none-too-bright Jane with amused contempt even though they are supposed to be firm friends. Jane herself, seeking utterly naive at first, shows an unpleasantly ruthless streak under pressure, as the mild-mannered so often do. Mariella is less amenable to this treatment and more aware of the danger Anna is courting; their personalities and attitudes make for a powerful microcosm of late medieval society as it impinged on womenfolk, while the news of the catastrophe enveloping Queen Ann acts as a counterpoint to the development of these women's "small" and (of course) undocumented lives.

The action takes place in the fields outside the village. The set, designed by Max Jones, is a field of wild grasses, very suitable for the illicit assignations Anna so enjoys, and for conducting female gossip away from the unwelcome attentions of fathers and husbands (until the men come looking for the women). Since the Almeida has no proscenium, the set is visible from the moment one enters the auditorium, and it is framed at the front by a huge rectangle of thin neon light, almost like the border of a giant cinema screen. The wildness of the Essex countryside immediately destroys any expectation that this is going to be a play about court life, and the modern earthiness of the language only reinforces the point that we are dealing with articulate but essentially unlettered folk. But, as news percolates that the queen has been executed, local events put the three friends in danger: their prospects for surviving in a relentlessly patriarchal world are completely uncertain. The resonances with the modern world are all too clear: who will be believed? Is it safer to strike out or to bow to one's fate?

Rhinoceros

by Eugène Ionesco

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 16 April 2025

Omar Elerian directs Rhinoceros having translated and adapted it especially for this production, for which the set and costumes are designed by Ana Inés Jabares-Pita. It features Sopé Dìrisù as Berenger, Joshua McGuire as Jean, Anoushka Lucas as Daisy, Paul Hunter as the Narrator and Botard, and John Biddle, Hayley Carmichael, Sophie Steer and Alan Williams taking other parts.

Two major things are happening: a radical interrogation of theatrical experience, and a fantastical story set in a small town ("not in France", this Narrator insists, despite the French names of many of the characters) in which almost all the townspeople except the increasingly agitated Berenger turn into rhinoceroses. The stage is bare and white, with a rostrum in the middle and a raised platform at the back (luckily with steps down to the main acting area), and a table on either side each holding a variety of implements used by the cast to create sound effects. The Narrator, having begun with a welcome to the audience and a warm-up session in which we are encouraged to follow his gestures at first in real time, and then one gesture behind his, and then two (by which time almost everyone is relaxed, amused and confused), then sets the scenes, helping the actors as much as the audience to visualise where they are. He frequently reads all the stage directions as well.

With all this business to distract us, the sheer implausibility of the transformations can be smuggled past us, especially as the first appearance (or rather drumming sound) of a rhinoceros is not connected with any claim that it was once a person. What we are first concentrating on is the rather prickly friendship of two very different people - the uptight Berenger and the laid-back Jean. Later there is an increasingly chaotic scene in an office one Monday morning: there are more rhinoceroses roaming by then, and it transpires that one of them is one of the office workers, whom the manager had assumed was merely malingering.

By this time, the visual style of the production, the painstaking reading out of stage directions, the occasionally hesitant and often inappropriate attempts of the cast to enact the directions, and the weird progression of events, have conspired to make for much hilarity, but in the second half, when Berenger visits Jean to apologise for creating bad feelings between them, we witness (so far as is possible) Jean's own transformation, a superb piece of physical acting by Joshua McGuire, and later we the audience are conscripted into providing an unpleasant sound effect (by following the Narrator's gestures again) when Berenger baulks at slapping his girlfriend Daisy. Many in the audience had been provided with kazoos during the interval: they too had become rhinoceroses. By the end of the play, only Berenger is proclaiming his determination to resist the communal transformation, desperately shouting his resistance while the others take the curtain call. What seemed like an absurdist joke has become a disquieting examination of herd mentality and dehumanisation: no wonder the play was seen as a commentary on French collaboration during the Vichy years.

The jokiness of the visual style, and the commitment of the cast to taking their predicament seriously, means that there is very little overt preaching or too-obvious allegorising in the production, leaving us to find whatever messages we want in the undercurrents of a play by turns hilarious and worrying.

The Chairs

by Eugène Ionesco

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 2 March 2022

Omar Elerian directs his own adapted translation of Ionesco's 1952 play Les Chaises, in which an Old Man (Marcello Magni) and his wife (Kathryn Hunter) prepare for the arrival of a Speaker (Toby Sedgwick) who is to articulate the Old Man's important message to a specially invited audience. As more and more guests arrive the Old Man and the Old Woman become involved in arcane conversations while trying to set out enough chairs to seat everybody before the Speaker himself arrives.

The absurdist element to this play is that none of the guests is visible, so all the remarks they might be making have to be inferred from the reactions and replies of the old couple. Their conversation with each other mixes banality, exasperation and affection, and the situation veers between farce and total incomprehension. The Speaker, when he finally arrives, cannot speak.

In this production, designed by Cécile Trémolières and Naomi Kuyck-Cohen, the stage is initially masked by draped light blue curtains, which when opened reveal a space also hung with swaggd material. It gives the effect of a down-at-heel old-fashioned proscenium stage, suitable perhaps for the slightly hysterical music-hall turns of the elderly couple. A doorbell sounds noisily to announce the arrival of guests, but sometimes it is on the left and somethimes on the right. Neither the Old Man nor the Old Woman seems at all perplexed by this anomaly.

Marcello Magni and Kathryn Hunter (husband and wife in real life also) are masters at the art of conveying absolute attention to their predicament in a double act that holds the audience's attention through all the grotesquerie, giving hints of the tragedy that lies behind their evident loneliness and their desperate attempts to allay it. He is dressed smartly in intention, but somewhat dishevelled, while she looks like an overgrown and at times disturbingly wizened child. As these two actors have long been associated with the Complicité tradition there are some wonderful sight gags with imaginary and real props throughout the performance.

The adaptation departs in some significant respects from the original. It begins with an overheard conversation in which Magni is apparently suffering from stage fright and refusing to go on. It ends with a long rambling disquisition by Toby Sedgwick in his own persona on the playwright's intentions, and the way they have been subverted by the 'accident' of his being mistaken as one of the late arriving guests, rather than as the Speaker himself. And in the middle of the performance the fourth wall is deliberately broken as two members of the audience are invited onto the stage to help greet the guests. There is of course much fun to be had with this ploy, since the Old Man can confidently reprimand one of these helpers for tripping over a guest, or for holding out a hand to someone who is plainly not there.

The final monologue defuses the manic energy of what has gone before, but it was a great opportunity to see one of the defining works of Absurdist drama revived by a stellar double act.

Spring Awakening

by Steven Sater with music by Douglas Sheik based on Frank Wedekind's play

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 16 December 2021

Frank Wedekind's controversial 1891 play Frühlings Erwachen is the basis for this musical from 2006 now revived at the Almeida by Rupert Goold with a cast of thirteen excellent young actors headed by Laurie Kynaston as Melchior, Stuart Thompson as Moritz and Amara Okereke as Wendla, with two older actors (Catherine Cusack and Mark Lockyer) taking all the adult parts. 

The usual high-spirited depiction of teenagers favoured by Broadway musicals here meets a sobering and at times shocking exposition of the cruelties of late nineteenth century bourgeois life, in which the suffocating strictures of adult prejudice, unwillingness to communicate, and fateful self-interest combine to quench the spirits and in some cases the lives of young people hopelessly out of their depth and yet eager to explore their world and make it better. 

Miriam Buether's set is a series of steep steps with large perspex doors at the top near the bare bricks at the back of the Almeida stage. The effect is of groups of teenagers lounging on the tiers of a school sportsground, or studying in a classroom resembling a lecture hall, though other scenes (domestic interiors, countryside ramblings, visits to a cemetery) are equally well accommodated. The set also lends itself to snappy choreography by Lynne Page, as the young people vent their frustrations or express their joys; there is a particularly clever song in which the boys wonder about 'all that's known' to the background beat of Latin recitation.

The high spirits, the chafing at ignorance (particularly of sexual matters), the crushing burden of parental expectation, are all refracted through the songs, but there is no escaping the seriousness of the themes running through this piece. While the adults may be presented as caricatures, and thus dangerously near to figures of fun, their baleful influence causes mayhem and destruction in young lives. Wendle, after begging her mother to admit that storks do not bring babies, still knows nothing about the matter when she finally embraces Melchior. He in turn has written an essay to explain the facts of life to the insecure Moritz, which is later used as evidence of his depravity - but clearly he also is not really aware of the possible consequences of his actions until it is too late. These vignettes help to indicate the wider rottenness in a society in which hypocrisy breeds contempt and condemnation; the closeness of the teenage friends is no protection aganist the forces arraigned against them, while their ignorance can lead them into frightening experiments. The scene in which Wendle asks Melchior to hurt her so that she can try to understand how a friend suffering from parental abuse might feel is truly horrifying to witness.

An anthem to a 'purple summer' concludes the play, something which in a less fraught musical would be completely uplifting and affirmative. In this milieu there can only be cautious optimism, since there is no sign within the play that the adults can be seriously confronted or that society will show any kindness to those whom it deems are failures. 

It's an exciting production of a thought provoking play.

The Tragedy of Macbeth

by William Shakespeare

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 7 October 2021

Yaël Farber directs James McArdle in the title role and Saoirse Ronan as Lady Macbeth in a compelling production of one of Shakespeare's more difficult plays to stage. The potent brew of notorious witches, prophecies that come true because they are known about, and others that come true with cruel twists, combined with violent action and unsympathetic protagonists all too often leads to overblown or unbalanced results on stage. Here at the Almeida the pitfalls are avoided, and the director has made some interesting adjustments to the text to create a stark vision of inexorable catastrophe.

What to do with the language? The Scottish court spoke with Scottish accents: only the witches, Lady Macduff and the children did not. This worked surprisingly well once the ear had adjusted to it; Shakespearean cadences resonate just as easily in these voices as in 'received pronunciation'.

What to do with the witches? The presumed mindset of the original audience is no longer available to us, and indeed these witches in particular with their incantatory rhymes have become so stereotypical that they can seem like a joke. Farber has renamed them 'Wyrd Sisters' (having noticed that they are named 'Weird Sisters' in the folio cast list), and the programme notes draw attention to the many manifestations of three women guarding, creating or spinning Fate (Anglo-Saxon 'wyrd') in European myths. Thus there are no old crones cackling over a disgusting cauldron. Instead three enigmatic women, almost serene in their dispassionate presence, may be seen not only when they appear to Macbeth and Banquo, and later to Macbeth alone; they are also visible as silent observers of the outworking of Fate at many other moments during the play - possibly at all moments, though there is a good deal of mist billowing about which makes the back wall of the stage invisible at times.

What to do with the violent action? Macbeth is a bloody play, with unpleasant murders both off and on stage. There were two perspex screens often moved about the stage demarcating inner and outer spaces (part of a brilliant set design by Soutra Gilmour). A director might easily have splashed them copiously with blood starting with the execution of the rebel Thane of Cawdor near the beginning of the play; the murder of Duncan might even have been mimed behind a screen with further opportunity for spraying blood. In this production matters were more restrained, and all the more disquieting for that. At the opening tableau the whole cast gathered on stage to a persistent thrum of a low musical note above which a single cello line wavered. An attendant woman brought on a wheelbarrow full of boots and upended it, then carefully placed them at the front of the stage. A soldier washed himself from a bucket, but what he daubed over himself was blood, since a blood-soaked messenger brings the news of victory to Duncan. Similarly, bloodstains were always restricted only to the bodies of actors - either Macbeth and Lady Macbeth after the murder of Duncan, or Banquo when he appears as a ghost - and not used at all elsewhere, even during the on-stage murders. This made the deaths of Lady Macduff  and her two sons all the more chilling, especially as one child was dragged screaming from a hiding place and the lady herself was ultimately dispatched in a tub of water.

What to do with the disintegration of Lady Macbeth towards the end of the play? Lady Macbeth is a driving force in the first half of the play, but increasingly cut off from her husband's plans and inner torment once he has become king. Then, at the end, there is the famous sleepwalking scene, with little to prepare us for it. Farber has created a daring visualisation of  the trauma precipitating this downfall. She has Lady Macbeth bring the advice to Lady Macduff that she should flee with her children, and then still be present to witness the murders. It is preposterous on a realistic level, but psychologically extremely acute, and Saoirse Ronan utterly convinces in showing the trembling panic of an unwilling witness to such babarity. Naked ambition in the abstract, so forcefully embraced by this woman at the beginning of this play, here confronts the horror of its consequences on real lives, and the strain is too much: a brilliant stroke.

What to do about Macbeth? Make him passionate, ambitious, uncertain about murder at the beginning but plausibly easy with the idea as his obsessions take control, completely unaware of the irony (and foolishness) in his determination to connive at the fulfilment of prophecy when it is to his advantage but to attempt to outwit it when it is detrimental. Make the famous lines of despair at the news of his wife's death deeply felt, not just cynical world-weariness. Give the part to James McArdle who conveys initial doubts over murdering Duncan, horror at the deed, abject terror at the appearance of Banquo's ghost and steely resolve to fight to the last, with equal skill and authority.

What do do about the Porter defusing the tension of the murder scene with long disquisitions about equivocation, a subject of no interest to a modern audience? Dispense with him completely, along with the more lurid witches' hocus pocus. In fact a number of other scenes were streamlined or omitted, making for sharper emphasis and an unremitting atmosphere of tension. I am not sure, but I think I even missed the explicit instruction for soldiers to disguise their numbers by cutting branches from the trees at Birnam Wood (a vital point in destabilising Macbeth's self-assurance, which was cunningly foreshadowed by the procession of Banquo's heirs presented to an anguished Macbeh during his final encounter with the Wyrd Sisters). There was no evocation of the holy stability of the English realm under Edward the Confessor to contrast with the dire state of Scotland or the peculiar defensiveness of prince Malcolm when Macduff confronts him. 

There was no final speech by the new king after the death of the tyrant Macbeth. Instead, the surviving cast gathered again in almost the same positions as at the beginning; the wheelbarrow of boots appeared, and one of the three Wyrd Sisters pronouned once more the opening question: 'When shall we three meet again?'. Malcolm was in the spotlight rather than Duncan, but Fate, evidently, is cyclical.

Hamlet (revisited)

by William Shakespeare

a recording from 2018 watched on 22 March 2020

Having announced a pause in postings to this blog, I've now decided to publish my thoughts on watching the Almeida's production of Hamlet (which I've already reviewed twice before in March and August 2017). The BBC broadcast it in 2018, when I recorded it, but it has taken the current situation for me to find time to watch it. I was a little apprehensive that a filmed version of a production which had impressed me so strongly in the theatre would be a disappointment, but I need not have worried. Here goes:

Vassa

by Maxim Gorky adapted by Mike Bartlett

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 8 November 2019

Tinuke Craig directs Siobhán Redmond as the matriarch Vassa with Amber James as her daughter Anna, Arthur Hughes and Danny Kirrane as her sons Pavel and Semyon, Michael Gould as her brother-in-law Prokhor and Cyil Nri as her manager Mikhail. Sophie Wu played Lyudmila, Pavel's wife, Kayla Meikle was Natalya, Semyon's wife, and Alexandra Dowling and Daniella Isaacs played the two servants Lipa and Dunya.

In a versatile set designed by Fly Davis, unusually making use of a curtain in this theatre, and allowing for multiple entrance points reminiscent of a farce, the fate of capitalism is played out in miniature as Vassa attepts to preserve the family fortunes from collapse in the face of her husband's imminent death, her brother-in-law's rapacity, and her sons' incompetence. Indeed the staging encourages a view that we are watching a farce, as people erupt on stage, having been eavesdropping at the doors, or else appearing totally unaware of the crisis into which they are plummeting. Vassa herself holds the stage (she is usually on stage) with imperious determination, and even in her absence most people are fearfully aware of her authority.

Three Sisters

by Anton Chekhov

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 16 May 2019

Rebecca Frecknall directs atsy Ferran as Olga, Pearl Chanda as Masha and Ria Zmitrowicz as Irina (the three sisters) with Freddie Meredith as their brother Andrey, Lois Chimimba as his wife Natasha, Peter McDonald as Vershinin and Elliott Levy as Masha's husband Kulygin in Cordelia Lynn's adaptation of Chekhov's play.

The provincial setting in which the children of an army officer, adrift without occupation or responsibility, fixated on returning to Moscow as the solution to their anxious unease, attempt to give meaning to their lives, is often presented in a nostalgic haze of imagined Russian-ness. Here, the setting is more abstract, the stage a raised square set at an angle in the Almeida's curved acting space, with virtually no props apart from chairs, with a stairway against the bare brick wall leading up to a notiona study where Andrey often sits brooding, perhaps aware of what is happening below him, perhaps just sulking or bemoaning the trajectory of his life. The sisters meanwhile attempt to cope - Olga, older and unmarried, gradually engulfed in teaching, Masha, married to the pedantic schoolmaster but disillusioned after her initial infatuation with him and desperate to revive excitement with a lover, and Irina, optimistic about work as an ennobling act but appalled by the banal realities of the jobs she tries.

The Tragedy of King Richard the Second

by William Shakespeare

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 23 January 2019

Joe Hill-Gibbins directs Simon Russell Beale as King Richard with Leo Bill as Bolingbroke, Natalie Klamar as Carlisle, John Mackay as York, Robin Weaver as Northumberland, and Martins Imhangbe, Joseph Mydell and Saskia Reeves taking all the other parts.

The production uses a stripped down text, at less than two hours without an interval, in an oppressive box of felt walls and a perspex ceiling allowing for varying lighting effects, the design by ULTZ. All the actors are on the stage throughout, there being no obvious exit, and the only props are a golden crown modelled on the sort of crown found in a Christmas cracker; and two buckets each of helpfully labelled 'water', 'blood', and 'soil'. The costumes are anonymously modern tee-shirts and trousers.

The Writer

by Ella Hickson

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 9th May 2018

Blanche McIntye directs Romola Garai, Michael Gould, Lara Rossi and Samuel West in an often dazzling play examining the fraught business of writing for the theatre complicated by the difficulty (or even the impossibility) of a woman exerting artistic freedom in a male-dominated world.

The play begins with a young woman, a member of the audience of a play evidently just finished, engaging in a conversation with an older man who has some position in the theatre. It seems an accidental encounter, and the woman is at first unwilling to stay back and talk, but she soon delivers an impassioned speech about the corruption of theatre by monied interests, and she also objects to the too-easily patronising attitude of the man. 

The Twilight Zone

devised by Anne Washburn from the TV series

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 20 Jauary 2018

Richard Jones directs a cast of ten in a clever adaptation of eight stories from the cult TV series The Twilight Zone (1959-64), with the set designed by Paul Steinberg and the costumes by Nicky Gillibrand. The actors play multiple parts in the stories, which are interwoven rather than being depicted consecutively, giving an added distancing effect to the already uncanny and often disturbing individual stories.

The original series consisted of independent dramas aimed at destabilising comfortable assumptions about the ways of the world, either through the irruption of the paranormal, or through alien invasions or other science-fiction motifs. This play opens with a classic gambit, travellers stranded in a bar due to a snow storm, with rumours of something uncanny, other than the storm, having occurred nearby. The twist is that the bus driver distinctly remembers that he six passengers originally boarded the bus, but there are seven stranded people in the bar - so one of them must be an alien. There follows a predictable series of arguments and defensive ploys as everyone bickers about what could be going on. The denouement is withheld until after several other stories have got underway, but it has a neat twist of its own.

Against

by Christopher Shinn

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 9 September 2017

Ian Rickson directs Ben Whishaw in this new play which investigates the ills of modern society through the mission of Luke, an IT billionaire, to 'go where the violence is'. Early in his 'project' he meets the parents of a young mass-murderer, hoping to discover something about the violence and perhaps to help them come to terms with it. In later developments, we see more of the people reacting to his 'project', rather than their direct interactions with him - indeed Luke becomes, against his will, something of a celebrity figure as his journeys across America are followed by the media.

Ink

by James Graham

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 5 July 2017

Rupert Goold directs Bertie Carvel as Rupert Murdoch and Richard Coyle as Larry Lamb with support from eleven others in this new play concerning Murdoch's acquisition of the Sun newspaper and his editor's efforts to surpass the sales figures of the rival Daily Mirror within a year.

Once again James Graham has looked to a significant episode in British life from four or five decades ago and converted it into a fascinating play which turns out to have unexpected contemporary relevance. This House dealt with the minority Labour government of the mid-1970s and exposed in dramatic form the extraordinary stresses under which such a government operates from day to day. Now, after the recent election, the Tories find themselves in a similar and unenviable situation, and barely a month since the election it is already clear that strength and stability may well be in short supply.

Ink deals with the emergence of Rupert Murdoch as an unignorable figure in the field of British print media, at just the time in which his Fox company is proposing to become the major shareholder (i.e. owner) of Sky. But the play presents a surprisingly nuanced picture of the younger Murdoch, physically awkward and often ill at ease, determined to smash what he sees as outdated and outmoded Fleet Street traditions, but occasionally nervous about the methods adopted by his editor. 

The Treatment

by Martin Crimp

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 10 May 2017

Lyndsey Turner directs this revival of Martin Crimp's 1993 play, with Aisling Loftus as Anne, Indira Varma as Jennifer and Julian Ovenden as Andrew, supported by Matthew Needham as Simon, Ellora Torchia as Nicky, Ian Gelder as Clifford and Gary Beadle as John and a couple of dozen mostly silent extras. The sets are designed by Giles Cad;e and lit by Neil Austin.

This is a really disturbing play, not least because it begins in what could be just a probing but essentially light-hearted satirical tone as two 'facilitators', husband and wife team Jennifer and Andrew, listen to Anne's strange tale of being tied up and having tape placed over her mouth. They immediately perceive this as the prelude for sexual assault or abuse, ignoring Anne's insistence that there was no abuse, not even any physical conflict or contact. They are already envisaging a fairly conventional sexual thriller, while Anne is soon uncomfortably aware that she is out of her depth.

Hamlet

by William Shakespeare

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 8 March 2017

Hamlet again - the fifth since I started this blog, and I think the twentieth stage production I have seen (plus three films). This time, Robert Icke directs Andrew Scott as Hamlet, Juliet Stevenson as Gertrude, Angus Wright as Claudius, Jessica Brown Findlay as Ophelia, Peter Wight as Polonius, Luke Thompson as Laertes, David Rintoul as the Ghost and the Player-King and Elliot Barnes-Worrell as Horatio, with sets and costumes designed by Hildegard Bechtler.

A modern Hamlet with video surveillance cameras first alerting the guards to the Ghost's appearance, TV newsreel footage of the old king's funeral at the beginning, and Hamlet's at the end (a really nice touch to have the running text at the foot of the screen in Danish), and a camera always ready to film coverage of public royal occasions such as the beginning of the marriage feast, the Royal party attending the play and the fencing match, and Claudius making various public announcements. 

Mary Stuart

by Friedrich Schiller adapted by Robert Icke

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 14 December 2016

This production is directed by Robert Ice with set and costume designs by Hildegard Bechtler. Juliet Stevenson and Lia Williams take the parts of Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I of England, selecting which part to play in each performance on the toss of a coin. (On days with matinee performances, the matinee allocation is reversed for the evening performance). Vincent Franklin is Burleigh (Elizabeth's wily political adviser), John Light is Leicester (his emotional allegiance apparently torn between the two queens), and Rudi Dharmalingam is Mortimer (a convert to Catholicism and Mary's cause).

The play is not historically accurate - it famously includes a personal confrontation between Mary and Elizabeth which never took place - but it embodies serious political and philosophical themes in intensely powerful and bitterly opposed personalities. Can the agents of one state imprison the head of another state? Can the prisoner, a queen, be justly tried by a court which by definition cannot be 'of her peers'? How much is the sovereignty of a governing queen constrained by the wishes of her people and her councillors? How do the courtiers survive the minefield of their queen's imperious will? All this and more is on display here.

Richard III

by William Shakespeare

seen by live streaming from the Almeida Theatre on 21 July 2016

Rupert Goold directs Ralph Fiennes as the eponymous king, with Vanessa Redgrave as Queen Margaret, Finbar Lynch as Buckingham and Aislín McGuckin as Queen Elizabeth. The set is designed by Hildegard Bechtler.

The play opens with a forensic excavation of a pit or grave, taking place while the audience enters. This is, it transpires, the famous exhumation of King Richard's remains from under a car park in Leicester in 2012. As the news broadcast of the DNA confirmation of the skeleton's identity fades, the play begins. The grave remains constantly visible, usually through a perspex floor; but it is occasionally used as the receptacle for executed or murdered victims of the king, before he himself is finally killed in it during the battle at Bosworth Field.

Uncle Vanya

by Anton Chekhov

seen at the Almeida Theatre on 5 March 2016

Chekhov's play has been adapted by the director Robert Icke so that its setting is less obviously Russian (Vanya is 'Uncle Johnnie') and also later than the nineteenth century (there is a telephone, and electric light in the house). It features Paul Rhys as John (Vanya), Jessica Brown Findlay as Sonya, Tobias Menzies as Michael (Astrov, the doctor), and Susan Wooldridge as Maria (John's mother and Sonya's grandmother), with Hilton McRae as Alexander (the professor) and Vanessa Kirby as his second wife Elena, Richard Lumsden as Cartwright (Telyeghin) and Ann Queensberry as the nanny. The production is designed by Hildegard Bechtler.

On a raised platform of wooden boards, with posts at each corner supporting a black roof or canopy, there are a few props, and an old nanny and a visiting doctor. Conversation is desultory, the old woman offering tea and complaining about the disruption to the routines of the household, the doctor absorbed with signs of his slow disintegration into mediocrity. Slowly, the whole platform revolves, while a neighbour and the members of an ill-assorted family appear and disappear. The management of the estate, which normally occupies Sonya and her uncle Johnnie, has lapsed during the visit of Sonya's father and stepmother who seem to have exerted a fatal lassitude simply by being there, city folk ill at ease in the country. But John is attracted to Elena, his brother-in-law's new wife (Sonya's mother was his sister), and this adds to the simmering tensions.

Little Eyolf

by Henrik Ibsen

seen at the Alemida Theatre on 17 December 2015

The play is directed by Richard Eyre, in a new adaptation by the director based on a literal translation by Anne and Karin Bamborough. It features Jolyon Coy as Alfred Allmers, Lydia Leonard as his wife Rita, Eve Ponsonby as his sister Asta, Sam Hazeldine as Bjarne Borgheim, Eileen Walsh as the Woman (the so-called 'Rat Wife'), and Adam Greaves-Neal (in this performance) as Eyolf (the son of Alfred and Rita). The set is designed by Tim Hatley and lit by Peter Mumford.

At eighty intense minutes, played without a break, this is a distillation of an already comparatively short play in which a married couple, drifting apart in unhappiness and recrimination even before the catastrophe which concludes the first act, are stretched to breaking point by the accidental drowning of their crippled young son Eyolf.