Theater Review by Carol Rocamora . . . .
The current theater season in London is generating enough excitement and heat to warm the worst of this winter weather.
Two glorious productions showcasing the works of Stephen Sondheim have been the jewels in London’s crown this past month. Old Friends, a sensational revue, features forty songs from Sondheim’s greatest triumphs, including Sweeney Todd, Company, Follies, Sunday in the Park with George, Merrily We Roll Along, Passion, and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, as well as from shows for which he wrote lyrics (Gypsy and West Side Story). An all-star cast has been assembled from among veteran Sondheim actors, including Bernadette Peters, Lea Salonga, Janie Dee, and Jeremy Secomb.
Essentially, Old Friends has been created by “old friends” who have worked on Sondheim shows together. The idea of the show was conceived during the pandemic by Cameron MacIntosh (his lifelong collaborator and friend) together with Sondheim himself. It was to be the third revue of Sondheim’s work, to follow Side by Side by Sondheim in 1976 and Putting It Together in 1992. But, Sondheim died in November 2021 before it came to life. Today, there couldn’t be a more joyous tribute to his work. With its all-star cast and artistic leadership—notably director Matthew Bourne, choreographer Stephen Mear, and orchestrator Jonathan Tunick (another lifelong collaborator)—the cumulative effect is overwhelmingly wonderful, with show-stopping applause after every number. What better way could there be to celebrate Sondheim’s extraordinary fifty-year contribution to musical theater?!
Playing since the fall at the Gielgud Theatre in London’s West End, Old Friends closed on January 6, but I can’t imagine that it won’t come to New York, where Sondheim is being celebrated today with successful productions of Sweeney Todd and Merrily We Roll Along. The tribute to America’s greatest musical composer must—and will—continue!
Over at the Menier Chocolate Factory in London’s South Bank, a remarkable revival of Sondheim’s Pacific Overtures (1976) is taking place. What distinguishes it from past revivals is that it is a co-production with Umeda Arts Theater (a Japanese company based in Osaka) that has already been mounted in Tokyo and Osaka with actors of Asian descent. It offers an enlightening Asian perspective on American imperialism that is sharp, satirical and, at times, unexpectedly humorous. As John Weidman, author of the show’s book, explains, it’s “a Western show about Japan exported to Tokyo and Osaka, where it was performed in Japanese, then turned around and exported back to London to be performed in English.” The result is exotic, elegant, and highly entertaining.
The story—beginning with the momentous historic appearance of four ships, led by Commodore Perry, in Tokyo Bay in July 1853—charts how the isolated, insulated, traditional culture of Japan was changed forever and opened up against its will to commerce and interaction with the US and other countries.
This colorful, imaginative production is staged on the Menier’s tiny stage in corridor format, directed by Matthew White and designed by Paul Farnsworth, to maximize the theater’s intimacy. Sliding see-through screens and golden slatted side walls flank the open playing space, making it appear even larger and more open. The talented cast (of Asian descent) is agile and graceful. Notable renditions of Sondheim’s songs include “Four Black Dragons,” dramatizing the invasion of Perry’s ships in a clever, imaginative way, with actors entering wearing paper boats. “Somewhere in a Tree” (one of my favorites), is a delight, as is “Please Hello,” in which costumer Ayako Maeda dresses the actors in elaborate, outrageous clothes and headdresses, representing delegates from France, Holland, and Russia. This serving of “cups of tea and history” (as Sondheim’s lyrics go) is delectable.
Alongside these Sondheim treasures, there are two distinctive classical revivals of special note for their creative interpretations and unique staging.
The House of Bernarda Alba, Federico Garcia Lorca’s searing tragedy about a tyrannical mother and her five captive daughters (adapted by Alice Birch), is getting a powerful, highly theatrical revival at the National Theatre. Written in June 1936 during a period of violent political unrest in Spain (Franco’s rise and the eve of the Spanish Civil War), Lorca was brutally assassinated a few months later. A cloak of fear and violence hangs over the house of Alba, just as it did over the country where he wrote it. The great British actress Harriet Walter rules as Bernardo, supported by a superb ensemble of five daughters who struggle desperately, and in vain, for freedom and independence.
The special feature of this production, directed with fierce intelligence and speed by Rebecca Frecknall, is the presentation of the house itself: a three-story construct, where you can see each of the daughters at all times, cowering before their mother in the drawing room, or hiding in their individual rooms, completely open to the audience. This ingenious design heightens the dramatic tension and involves us deeply in each daughter’s suffering. Another radical feature is the presence of Pepe El Romano, an offstage character in Lorca’s all-female cast, who is engaged to the eldest daughter Angustias (Rosalind Eleazar) but is meeting secretly with the youngest, Adela (Isis Hainsworth). This radical choice of putting Pepe on stage is shocking for those of us who know the original play; but the move turns out to be sensational, since Pepe (played by James McHugh, a powerful actor with an imposing presence) does not speak, but rather moves among the women as a charismatic, erotic presence. It’s a memorable revival of a classic with a powerful historical context.
Equally arresting is the production of Ibsen’s Ghosts (1881) at the Shakespeare’s Globe theater on the South Bank. This surprising choice (after all, it’s Shakespeare’s theater) has been adapted and directed by Joe Hill-Gibbins, stripping the classic to its barest bones and heightening its intensity, while being faithful to the original story and characters. As you may know, the Globe’s performance interior is tiny—restored by Sam Wanamaker to retain its original stage and seating, with candle-lit chandeliers instead of stage lighting. The result is a shadowy, claustrophobic atmosphere, wherein this frightening family tragedy of incest, adultery, and disease is played out.
The performances are razor-sharp. Helene Alving is played by the marvelous Hattie Morahan, who has already distinguished herself as a fine interpreter of Ibsen in her performance as Nora in A Doll’s House (2012 at London’s Young Vic London and 2014 at BAM). Like Bernarda, Helene is a matriarch—but in this case a loving one, intent on protecting her son Osvald (Stuart Thompson), whom she learns is suffering mortally from syphilis. At the same time, Osvald has fallen in love with his mother’s maid Regine (Sarah Slimani) who, as it turns out, is his half-sister. (Osvald’s father, Helene’s husband, had an adulterous affair with Regine’s mother).
Director Hill stages this melodramatic tragedy on a bare stage that designer Rosanna Vize has covered in a thick, blood-red carpet. The actors tread barefoot—indeed, Osvald often lies face-down on it, as if he were in a separate bedroom than the drawing room of the country house where the action is supposed to take place. The result is astonishingly modern, though it retains the melodramatic power of Ibsen’s original. When Osvald, who eventually goes blind at the end, cries out “The sun, mother, the sun!” I couldn’t wait for the back doors of that dark theater to open so that natural light could pour in.
As for new works on the London stage, the Almeida Theatre—known for its development of new plays—is featuring Cold War, an adaptation of Pawel Pawlikowski’s 2018 film, directed by Rupert Goold, with a book by Conor McPherson (The Weir, Girl from the North Country) and music by Elvis Costello. Set in post-World War II Poland, it’s a moody story of doomed love between two young Poles who can’t live with or without one another. Viktor (Luke Thallon) is an arranger/pianist who is enlisted by manager Kaczmarek (Elliott Levey) to tour post-war Poland in search of Polish folk music for a state-sponsored production. In auditions for the troupe, he meets and falls in love with a beautiful young singer named Zula (Anya Chalotra), and we chart their troubled relationship over two decades, as they journey to Paris and back to Poland.
The story is gripping. Though Viktor and Zula have a deep passionate love for one another, they continue to clash over artistic issues (for example, she feels that he should be composing music, not arranging it). Even though they live together in Paris in freedom, having escaped from behind the Iron Curtain, their fractious relationship becomes a prison of their own making. Ultimately, Zula leaves Paris and returns to Poland, and Viktor follows. Viktor is subsequently arrested by the Polish authorities for illegally leaving and reentering the country, and serves out his harsh prison sentence without protest (he harbors a terrible guilt for something he did in his past—no spoiler alert).
It’s a moody and haunting love story, eliciting true empathy for both characters and sorrow over their fate. Chalotra and Thallon are superb (I was more moved by the play than the film). “We’re two empty mirrors facing each other. There’s nothing there . . . ” Zula says to Viktor. On several occasions throughout the play they recite mutual marriage vows that they long to take officially, but never do. What could be sadder?
On a cheerier note, audible cheers (literally) are coming from Prince Edward Theatre in the West End where Dear England, James Graham’s hit show from the National Theatre, has transferred. A play about football (we call it soccer in America), it’s attracting a sports-loving audience with a vocal passion you rarely hear in the theater! Author of This House and Ink, Graham is an astute observer of contemporary social values, issues and institutions. In Dear England, he focuses on the true-to-life British football coach named Gareth Southgate who takes a leadership role over England’s national team in 2016 as it is languishing. Infusing it with new energy and hope, he leads the team all the way to the World Cup semi-finals in 2018.
Southgate (played convincingly by look-alike Joseph Fiennes) is portrayed as a soft-voiced, self-effacing, sensitive leader, aware that his job is one of the most scrutinized in national sports. “Heavy lies the head that bears the crown,” he says, paraphrasing Shakespeare’s Henry IV. “It takes strong shoulders to carry a country’s dream,” he recognizes. In Act One, he hires a female psychologist to work with the team and help them face the element of failure that is possible in any sport, especially when faced (in English football) with the perilous ritual of penalty-kick shootouts (tiebreakers that can go either direction). Recognizing that football expresses England’s national identity, Southgate gains the affection of his team and the fans—as does Fiennes, the fine actor.
On Es Devlin’s spectacular, enormous, oval-shaped set, Rupert Goold directs a stellar ensemble, featuring England’s team. Movement directors Ellen Kane and Hannes have choreographed the players’ movements to simulate the game itself, and it’s theatrically thrilling.
“What England has to learn is how to lose,” says Southgate. What a memorable line—when it comes to understanding not only the sport, but also the country, its proud history, and its place in the world today. Dear England is really about England itself.
Old Friends. Closed January 6, 2024. Ran at the Gielgud Theatre, London.
Pacific Overtures. Through February 24, 2024, at the Menier Chocolate Factory, London.
The House of Bernarda Alba. Closed January 6, 2024. Ran at the National Theatre, London.
Ghosts. Through January 28, 2024, at Shakespeare’s Globe, London.
Cold War. Through January 27, 2024, at the Almeida Theatre.
Dear England. Closed January 17, 2024. Ran at the National Theatre’s Prince Edward Theatre, London. Available now on National Theatre online.
Cover Photo: Pacific Overtures (Photo: Manuel Harlan)
