Showing posts with label Ron Cook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ron Cook. Show all posts

Friday, 5 July 2019

Europe

by David Greig

seen at the Donmar warehouse on 4 July 2019

Michael Longhurst, taking over as Artistic Director of the Donmar, has chosen to revive David Greig's 1994 play set in an abandoned railway station in an unspecified (but probably Eastern) European country near 'the border'. Ron Cook plays Fret, the station master, with Faye Marsay as Adele, his assistant, Billy Howle as Adele's husband Berlin, Theo Barklem-Biggs as Horse and Stephen Wight as Billy, Berlin's friends, Shane Zaza as Morocco, a local boy made good, Kevork Malikyan as Sava, a refugee, and Natalia Tena as his daughter Katya.

Written during the period in which the former Yugoslavia was being torn apart by war and 'ethnic cleansing', Europe nonetheless still packs a powerful punch. The small town is dying now that its importance as a border crossing has vanished, and automation is making its industrial workforce redundant - Berlin, Horse and Billy are now at a loose end. Stationmaster Fret appears at first to be an old-fashioned martinet swamped by the illogicality of train timetables which no longer include stops at his station, and he has no sympathy for a man and woman he finds waiting on the station, apparently impervious to his announcements that there will be no trains. Adele, stifled in her marriage to the unimaginative and truculent Berlin, dreams of glamorous foreign capitals.

Thursday, 7 September 2017

Girl from the North Country

by Conor McPherson, songs by Bob Dylan

seen at the Old Vic on 6 September 2017

Conor McPherson directs his own musical play set in a debt-ridden guesthouse in Duluth Minnesota (Dylan's birthplace) in 1934; a sketchy story from the Depression years is used as the framework for a score od Dylan's songs drawn from a wide range of his recordings, here re-arranged and sung by an exemplary group of soloists and backing singers. Principal parts are taken by Ciarán Hinds (Nick, the landlord), Shirley Henderson (Elizabeth, his wife suffering from dementia), Sheila Atim (Marianne, their adopted coloured daughter) and Ron Cook (the narrator/doctor, in a style reminiscent of 'Our Town' by Thornton Wilder).

Though not at the bottom rung of society's ladder, most of the characters are struggling to avoid it, not least Nick, the proprietor of the guesthouse, faced with impoverished guests, an increasingly sick wife, and a daughter who has fallen pregnant but is unwilling to accept the (somewhat forced) offer of marriage from an elderly (white) widower. The possibility of Nick's lover providing a financial escape once the probate from her husband's will is settled in her favour evaporates in 'Bleak House' style when costs consume the estate; the outlook is extremely grim with the presence of a gun on stage intimating the worst. However, the denouement, desperately sad as it must be, is nonetheless tinged with unexpected and moving dignity; there is even hope for Marianne as she takes up with someone who may be an escaped prisoner but who is nevertheless kind and honourable (it is noticeable but not forced on one's attention that her name is nearly Mary and his is Joseph). 

The stories are not deeply engaging, being little more than anecdotal, and the idea of a motley group of people thrown together by circumstance lends only a superficial unity to the proceedings, but all this is hardly the point. The production owes its deserved success to the wonderful songs - the lyrics are revealed to be at times heart-wrenchingly appropriate despite their familiarity - and to the inventive way in which they have been adapted to suit the situation. Add to this the skill and commitment of the instrumentalists and the singers, and the result is a poignant insight into the lyricism of Dylan's songs arising from a really entertaining ensemble piece. Curiously, the title song was omitted from the performance we saw, even though it was listed in the program, but many other songs were a sheer joy to listen to.

Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Faith Healer

by Brian Friel

seen at the Donmar Warehouse on 1 August 2016

Directed by Lyndsey Turner and designed by Es Devlin, this production features Stephen Dillane as Frank, the faith healer, Gina McKee as his partner Grace and Ron Cook as Teddy his manager.

The play consists of four monologues given by Frank, Grace, Freddy then Frank again, each actor alone on the stage in a different setting, each recounting directly to the audience some episodes from Frank's itinerant journeys around Wales, Scotland and Ireland as a faith healer who occasionally (but not often) effects cures.

It is an extraordinary theatrical device, removing the usual situation in which characters on stage can interact with one another, and instead relying on extended reminiscence to reveal both character and narrative. Matters are further complicated by the fact that the accounts of the three speakers differ so markedly in some details that it is impossible to know exactly what happened; or rather, it becomes necessary for the audience to include these contradictions in its assessment of the characters and their experiences. Although the general shape of the 'story' seems relatively clear, the different accounts of it are impossible to reconcile with absolute finality.