Review – Time and the Conways – National Theatre

On Tuesday I had the good fortune of getting to see the National Theatre’s production of Time and the Conways for a mere £10. It had received a positive review from the West End Whingers, but its 3 hour running time – and, admittedly, cost – had put me off. However, with an offer for £10 tickets in hand, I decided to overcome my reservations and go see this show.

I’m glad I made the effort: for all its running time is longer than I can usually manage on school nights, Time and the Conways is a good show, despite having a director who apparently didn’t quite trust the words to make good theater and a second act that suffers from some seriously ham-fisted acting.

The family’s evolving relationships, shown in act-
length flashes (1919, 1939, and again 1919) were fascinating. Though it was heartbreaking to see people who seemed to love each other (act 1) so much brought down by spite and ego in the second act (1939), it made the third act ring more truthfully. There may have been a moment in time when all of the members of the family enjoyed each other’s company and were full of hope for the future; but once the lens of the future and its failings was put into your eyes, it was impossible to see the joys of the final 1919 scene looking rosy (and a good thing too as it was practically dripping with sap in Act 1). In fact, 1919 had the painful nostalgia I associate with looking at cherry blossoms in Japan – an appreciation for lovely things whose time will soon pass. And birthday girl Kay (Hattie Morahan)’s vision of what the future will hold for her family … I couldn’t tell if she was suffering because of what she knew or because she was wanting to undo it.

The shortcomings of this play were twofold. First, at times the acting was just “too too.” I couldn’t decide if Joan (Lisa Jackson) was pretending to be a person who liked to act like she was in a movie (as it seemed in Act One) or if the script actually called for her to make her character look like a silly numpty who had to overdramatize her feelings; at any rate, it was painful to watch. I also disliked most of the cast’s “aged” versions of themselves in act 2. Madge (Fenella Woolgar) had gone all floppy and slouchy, while Kay, who’d spent all of Act 1 being luminous and agile, suddenly looked like she had a pole thrust at an angle from her shoulderblades and hipbones and was attempting to convey 40 by standing at an angle and holding a cigarette. Adrian Scarborough, as Ernest Beevers, was, however, perfect as a short bully who had come into money as he had always hoped – but I found the evolution of his wife, the former Hazel Conway (Lydia Leonard). Perhaps his character had, in fact, changed very little, but I couldn’t fathom Hazel as the broken creature of act 2. (I think Priestly is to blame on this point, mostly.)

More annoying, however, was the director (Rupert Goold)’s ridiculous showy “end of act” moments that treated the audience as if they had no ability to think and process the words of the script and possibly had only ever seen movies before. The end of act 2 “mirror dance,” in which (I think) Kay attempts to convey the concept of living in multiple times simultaneously, was an ugly bit of choreography and wholly unnecessary. Worse than this was the end of act 3, in which Kay and her brother Alan (Paul Ready) do another sort of dance with video projections of themselves. I frequently loathe relying on cinematic innovations for theater; I feel like it shows a lack of trust in the text and is, in fact, a way of trying to do something in a simple and dull way rather than letting theatrical magic (the suspension of disbelief) take place. Much like A.I., this play would have been so much better if it had just stopped at the proper ending place instead of sitting there and beating us on the head to make sure we understood what Priestly was trying to do. Shame on you, Rupert Goold – just because you have the budget and the equipment doesn’t mean you should do it.

This was, however, probably only 5 or so minutes of the entire play, so I think I can give it a recommendation overall. A bit overproduced, as shows at the National sometimes are, but Time and the Conways is a strong script that has performances (and a story) strong enough to compensate for its shortcomings. I was lucky to get tickets for £10, but I think it would certainly be worth paying more to see it.

(This review is for a performance that took place on Tuesday, July 7th, 2009. It continues through August 16th.)

Mini-review – Royal Ballet School Linbury Performances 2009

On Friday I went with Alice and J to see the Royal Ballet’s School’s summer performances at the Linbury. Unfortunately I’m not going to be able to credit most of the dancers who performed as there were so many of them and no pictures to help me identify them, so this will have to be a short review that just captures the flavor of what went on.

The first half was mostly young dancers – to me they seemed to be about 8 to 10 years old, though they went up to 14 or so – in a series of very short pieces. It started with the youngest, 6 girls and about 10 guys – a veritable phalanx of little Billy Elliots! It was so exciting to think that a silly movie and bad musical had actually managed to make dancing cool for young guys – and awesome, too, as the worldwide weakness in men’s corps is painfully obvious. You go, boys!

As an overall comment, I was surprised by how incredibly conservative the dance style was – very traditional costumes and classical music, with an emphasis on cute (the cowgirl (Leanne Morris) kissing her suitors and “milking a cow” in the “Swiss Yodeling Song” was nearly too much, but then the cute red-headed boy in “Petit Pas de Trois” (Thomas Bedford) knocked the “adorable” ball out of the park). I was pleased to see there was a strong emphasis on non-toe, folk dance style work – I’ve often thought it was a neglected part of the Western dance program, based on how much more stronger this sort of ensemble work is in the Russian troupes I’ve seen. That said, I was a bit flabbergasted at the inclusion of a Lancashire clog dance, though I found the dignified approach the young blonde gentleman took to its performance great – he looked so proud, and even though I could have imagined him squirming in adolescent angst at the indignity of dancing with clogs, instead he performed like a total professional. It made me think he was really on the career track – and only about 14! I also was surprised at the inclusion of Irish and Scottish folk dancing, as I tend to think most ballet schools are too caught up in cultural snobbery to embrace their own folk dancing traditions. If only this kind of stuff would make it on the ballet stage more often – I feel like it would do a lot to encourage people to watch dance.

Con Alma, from this section, was especially notable for a long scen in which four men lifted and manipulated one woman as she “danced” (including pirouetting on a guy’s leg). She look petrified with terror, and, I think, rightly so – throughout I felt sorry for the young men who weren’t quite there in terms of being able to lift women overhead. Still, they need the opportunities to develop. And I imagined them teasing the girls for weighing so much in the way teenaged boys do. (A good story appeared just a few days later in teh Times about life in the ballet school – it was fascinating!)

The second half was mostly older students, some of them clearly on the verge of going off to do professional work. Still, despite the focus on classical scenes in a slightly larger vein, what I saw was the affect of youth on dance – a lack of skill in putting forth a character (always hard in short shows, but Albrecht should always be such a seducer – not really something a 16 year old boy could do), nerves (one poor fellow was covered in sweat), inexperience in keeping the stage face on (most of them did alright but I could see thinking going on). But it was lovely to watch them having this experience both to grow and to also to show off all that they have learned.

Sadly, I was unable to put names to the faces i found showing so much talent – the dark haired girl with the sparkling black eyes, the gangly boy with fluffy black hair and a big grin, the blonde fellow I mentioned earlier. I was hoping this could be a chance to “develop a relationship” with a dancer that I could track throughout their career. But it was not to be. Still I did enjoy my evenign and was very glad I got an opportunity to see this show.

The program was as follows:
Danse Bohemienne
Ukranian Suite
Facade: Scotch Rhapsody & Swiss Yodelling song
Petit Pas de Trois
Danse Russe
Seguidillas
Scottish Dances: Highland Flight & Bonnie Anne
Lancashire Clog Dance
Joy (2nd prize 2008 MacMillan Choreographic Awards)
Irish Dances: Lannigan’s Ball & Reels
Con Alma
(Interval)
Giselle (excerpts from Act 1)
Coppelia (excerpt from Act 3)
Broken Silecne (3rd Prize 2008 MacMillan Choreographic Awards)
Sleeping Beauty – Pas de Cinq act 3
Reawakening

(This review is for a performance that took place on Friday, July 3rd, 2009.)

Review – Slung Low’s “Last Seen,” Green path (Joy) – Almeida Theatre’s Summer Festival

Tonight I went to see Slung Low’s latest project, Last Seen, a promenade performance happening under the aegis of the Almeida Theatre’s Summer Festival. Although I was pretty excited about seeing this, I’m sorry to say it let me down. Perhaps it was just the story line that I took, Green (”Joy”) – the other two had two characters and I only had Joy (Lolita Chakrabarti) to entertain me.

The format was thus: we (the audience) gathered in the Almeida (note that where you sit determines which story you follow, so I recommend you pick either upstairs for White (Reason Season) or the rear of the stalls for Blue (The Great Bear)), where we were instructed to put on headphones. A brief check is done to verify that the equipment was working (it wasn’t initially for anyone – opening night problems, I’m sure). Then each group of people is led out, one group at a time, by the character(s) whose stories they will be following for the rest of the evening. Each group is also accompanied by one or two guides (we had two, I think, though only one introduced himself to us), who make sure the groups of headphone-wearing and thus mostly deaf people actually get across the streets safely and don’t block cars from getting down alleys.

Our narrator was a woman named Joy. As we trooped down Almeida Street, she began to tell us of her daughter Angel and a bit about her family. Although she spoke in a normal voice, we all listened to her through our headphones, which continually played some music (not helpful) and occasionally other people’s voices. Joy met someone who gave her a gold painted medicine bottle, and shortly thereafter was menaced by a man in a face mask and hoodie on a bike.

We wandered along until we came to the Astey’s Row Rock Gardens, where she talked about being sexually harassed at a job. We paused for a while at the entrance to the park, where a strange sculpture of gold art model dolls had been put near a playground. I think I also saw a gold painted chewed apple in the park – they kept showing up throughout the performance, and though I thought perhaps they had some reference to Adam and Eve or perhaps even Eris, they seemed only later to refer to some apples her daughter had eaten.

The most exciting moment of the evening came when Joy told us of meeting Angel’s father (done after we’d passed through the park behind St. Mary’s Church, possibly on St. Mary’s Path), where a man was leaning against a spray-painted shadow on a wall. He fit it perfectly. He then walked away from the shadow and went to another wall, where he continued playing with his cellphone. Joy stood in the shadow and changed into a red dress; the gorgeous, high-cheeked man was joined by a woman who made out with him enthusiastically. We all walked back to the church and were eventually passed by the man and the woman, but were they a part of the scene or just some random, hormonal strangers? None of us knew.

We did actually go in the church, and then back to the Almeida, all within about an hour, but there’s little really to say about the walk. It didn’t make Islington come alive, like it might have; the other two stories didn’t come together at all, like Moonwalking in Chinatown (but we were told we could stay and watch another thread for a mere 5 quid, or come back and see it for 40% off at another date during the run); it didn’t take advantage of the headphones to provide us with secret information on people’s thoughts like Minkette’s brilliant Train of Thought. It didn’t seem to have a real arc to it; in fact, it was rather dull. It didn’t take advantage of being in Islington at all and didn’t really benefit from being a promenade in any way as near as I can tell.

In short, this was a huge disappointment for me. I am really hoping the other stories were more interesting. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to check as I’m gone for the rest of the run (it’s last day is Sunday July 12th), but I have to say I’d be really hard pressed to bother coming back after tonight even if I was free.

(This review was based on the 7 PM performance that took place Wednesday July 8th. Last Seen continues through Sunday July 12th, 2009, with performances at 7 and 9 except for Sunday the 12th, when it is at 4 and 6 PM.)

Time and the Conways – £10 – 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14 July only

After reading the West End Whingers’ positive review for this play, I’ve been interested in going, but not really willing to commit due to the long running time. However, £10 tickets are certainly the thing to convince me that being a little bleary eyed at work is the smaller price to pay, and the offer I received in the mail from the National this morning looks like it’s going to push me into committing to see the play at last. The deal reads thus: “To book simply call 020 7452 3000 and quote ‘£10 offer’ or book online and enter Promotion Code 1992 before selecting your date. Offer is valid for 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14 July (does not include Saturday or matinees). Subject to availability.”

That’s that then and if any of you need someone to visit with during the two intervals, I’ll be there on Tuesday the 7th.

Review – Forbidden Broadway – Menier Chocolate Factory Theatre

On Tuesday it was time for the highlight of my theatrical summer season. I’m not talking about the sold-out, anti-sunny days Jude Law’s Hamlet – Godot is a no go – and while the all-male Pirates of Penzance might be fun, nothing had tickled my theatrical “gotta go” bone like the launch of Forbidden Broadway at the Menier Chocolate Factory, an event I heard about months in advance and decided to go to in the kind of blind, not-even-concerned-about-ticket-price way large producing organizations salivate over. I had a great time when I’d seen this show in New York on Christmas Day. It seemed to be written for me – a jaded old “been there, seen that, left at intermission” gal who is torn between her true and deep love of the theater and her dislike of wasting her time on tripe. All I wanna do is see a show that sends me out into the night singing my heart out … and a show making fun of the foibles of the world of theater seemed like just the ticket. And it was.

I wondered, though: was this going to be a straight import, the same show and cast I’d seen before? I’m pleased to report the cast is all original (and English), and the various numbers, while they may not be original, are at least widely varied from “Forbidden Broadway Goes to Rehab” – 70% of the first half was different, and about half the about half of the second half was.

Skipping ahead to the “but was it good” bit, well, I laughed my head off. Off course, the evening was spiked by going in the company of the West End Whingers, who about split their pants when they were namedropped in the first number (”All That Chat”). (I’m convinced this destroyed any semblance of distance they might have attempted to maintain for the rest of the evening. And of course I was seething with envy. Sure, I might have been mentioned in the New York Times on Sunday, but on stage? I was green.)

The thing was, though, even though that one bit was especially funny, it was met by song after song that had us in stitches. OH the wrong of the Billy Elliot/Elton John number, OH the campness of the Hairspray number, OH just SO many clever songs. I got a little tired toward the end of act one (the long Lion King and Les Mis pieces kind of wore me out), but by the end of the evening I was singing along (it was a singalong and not just because I was drunk, as I was not, though this changed afterwards) and completely charged up and pleased.

Part of this was, I think, because the performers were just totally on. Sophie-Louse Damn had a certain twitch to her upper lip that had me nearly hysterical, and everyone really had the pipes (and personal endurance) to make it thorugh the evening in high style. But my God, Steven Kynman’s Daniel Radcliffe put the American version to shame – his flitatiousness and insouciance, the little wink and giggle, made it just so painfully shameless that I laughed far more than I had six months earlier. Well done!

Unfortunately, part of the “new” bit of the first half were pieces making fun of old stodgy shows that I don’t really consider part of London’s theater culture so much. FBGR was very much hitting the “what is happening right now” nose of the scene, so I was expecting a bit more relevance to UK theatre’s problems, such as the omnipresent juke box musical phenom (the Jersey Boys number sort of hit that, but the treatment indicated that it was a unique problem to this show), star-based casting and the lack of new shows (just how many versions of Hamlet do we need in a year, no matter who is in it?).

However, so many of the problems they described were shared on both sides of the Atlantic – overpriced tickets (mocked in an Oliver sketch that was done fresh for this production), the preference for cute shows over those with substance, and even (my personal favorite) the rise in the use of animated backdrops as sets (Carousel was the show being mocked, though I didn’t know it was being performed on Broadway – however, this problem has apparently cropped up again for the Kensington Gardens’ Peter Pan, which would be a good replacement for the “Finding Nemo” projection shown during this number). And while the Mary Poppins “Feed the Burbs” might have been seen mostly as a stab at the Disneyfication of Broadway (a huge theme for the December show), the broader theme … “Tepid! Vapid! Musicals pay! …” is just as true a sentiment here as it is in New York.

Despite the roasting of the negative aspects of Theatre-land, overall this show was very upbeat – it was about loving the theater, not hating it. (As Katy noted, the Hairspray number actually made us want to see it again, rather than making us writhe in shame at how much we like that show.) For me, it was all the fun I wished I’d had at Priscilla wrapped up in one tinselly (and tart) evening. I liked it so much I think I’m going to go back before the end of the run -in the hope that they’ll have added in some new numbers, but mostly just because it was such a good evening. With the timid attitude of producers today, it will be ages before something so witty turns up on the London stage again.

(This review is for a performance seen on Tuesday, June 30th. It continues through September 13th, 2009.)

Review preview: Hayward Gallery “Walking in my mind” and Menier Chocolate Factory’s “Forbidden Broadway”

An unexpected load of things to do during the day (and sunny weather causing me to not want to sit around typing) means I’m behind on my reviewing. Still, if you’re fishing around for some fun, I can wholeheartedly recommend the Hayward Gallery’s new exhibit, Walking in My Mind, and the Menier Chocolate Factory’s production of Forbidden Broadway, both of which I saw this week. The Hayward exhibit is deliciously trippy and completely worth the cost of admission; I’d especially recommend going on a Friday night, when they’re open late. As for Forbidden Broadway, well, I saw it last night and just laughed my head off. It’s like it was especially written for theater geeks like me – all of the laughs I’d wished I’d been having at Priscilla and didn’t. Do go!

Preview – Slung Low’s “Last Seen” – Almeida Theatre’s Summer Festival

UPDATE: review of “Last Seen” now posted.

Today’s trip into work left me with a hot tip courtesy of The Metro: Slung Low is doing a site specific show in Islington as part of the Almeida Theatre’s Summer Festival. I enjoyed their production Helium last fall, and I like walkabout, site-specific theater (Moonwalking in Chinatown the best I’ve seen since I moved here), so this sounds like a sure win. However, with such a prominent story in the Metro, it’s likely this might sell out, as it’s only five nights (though with a showing at 7 and 9). Get your tickets while you can!

(This preview is for a show running from Wednesday July 8th through Sunday July 12th, 2009.)

Mini-review – English National Ballet School & Central School of Ballet – City of London Festival

Over lunch today I ran to St. Paul’s to catch the English National Ballet School & Central School of Ballet performing on the steps of St. Paul’s as part of the City of London festival. The ENB dancers went on first, opening with a five-person, five movement ballet with two sections using Astor Piazolla (photo here and here – unfortunately I missed the intro as I’d gone the wrong way around the building so I can’t provide information on the choreographer or the dancers). The three girls and two young men performed fairly well – I was impressed they were able to manage so well despite the high heat and humidity.

Next up was a piece that should have been easy to pick out if I’d even once seen the ballet (though I suspected Beauty and the Beast). The dancers were dressed as cats, and while I found this piece fairly cute and enjoyed them swatting at each other, I felt like they weren’t really focusing on the character enough – perhaps they were finding it all just a little silly.

The third piece was a pas de deux performed in blue and for some reason I think it’s from Sleeping Beauty, the Bluebird Pas de Deux (I didn’t photograph it but it very much looks like this photo). This was, I thought, the strongest piece, and what’s surprising was that it was the man I thought was shining. In addition to his leaps, he was a superior partner. His eye contact with her was tight and lifted his companion not so much like she was a sack of potatoes, but like he knew where her body was and where it needed to go, and had no trouble getting her there. I think I’ll be seeing him on stage again. Exciting to think I caught him at the start of his career! (Note: I went back and watched it again the next day, when it was even better – and this time I took a picture.)

A “Red Riding Hood” scene followed, once again making me worry that the heavily costumed male dancer was going to keel over on stage. I think this was chosen for audience appeal as it didn’t have too much dancing (other than some pantomime and growling) in the bit they presented – more’s the shame. Everyone sitting on the steps with me seemed to enjoy it, anyway.

I think this was the end of the ENB section, and was followed by the Central School of Ballet, performing three pieces, “Five Lullabies,” something by Ashton, and a newly choreographed hip hop piece. This group of dancers seemed much younger than the other group and also lacking in dance maturity (though they were charming, see photo) – but they seemed to be thinking about what they were doing rather a lot, and something about the way the women were being handled made me think they were on the verge of careening out of control. Still, I liked the girls’ enthusiasm as they faced certain doom. I also really like the young man who was the only non-Caucasian of this group – in “5 Lullabies,” he was really getting a lot of height in his leaps, and his body seemed to have a really good form to it. Alas, if only I knew his name!

Even more alas, I wasn’t able to stay for the other three pieces. Still, I really enjoyed my lunchtime ballet treat and am looking to seeing them perform tomorrow.

(This review is for a performance that took place on June 29th, 2009.)
FOr another take, please see Graham Watt’s review.)

Review – Eonnagata (remount) – Sylvie Guillem, Robert LePage, and Russell Maliphant at Sadler’s Wells

Last winter I spent a frustrating two weeks clicking F5 over and over again, hoping that a pair of tickets would be released for Eonnagata. I had read about this strange story – based on the the Chevalier d’Éon, a French swordsman and spy who was rumored to be both male and female (and pretending to be the other) at different points in hir life – way back in November, but found the concept rather too vague to commit to what with pantos and Nutcrackers occupying my attention; but as the first reviews (and more detail) came out, I became rather frantic to see the show – Japanese ballerina transexual samurai kung fu dance show! It was like every cultural thing I am interested in all rolled into one, and it was desperately, desperately sold out. Fortunately, they announced a second production of the show, and as it seemed to not quite hit perfection (per a critic whose opinions I value highly), I crossed my fingers that while I wouldn’t be able to see the premiere, I might be able to see an improved version of the original without the trouble of the pesky first viewing polluting me. (Really, I was just trying hard to grasp at straws about not getting those tickets.) It was a long wait until the June showtime rolled around, and last night was the great unveiling. WOOO!

Now that I’ve finally seen it, I’ll summarize the evening as “like Guillermo del Toro directing a gender-fluid, Japanese Dangerous Liasons, with fight scenes by Yuen Woo Ping.” It’s not so much a dance show as a production with movement that is just as much about costumes, lighting, and music as anything else. In fact, the dancing was rather thin. Ms. Guillem did do some great things in which her lifted legs looked like extra swords; but it was more as a part of creating a spectacle than dance. I didn’t mind, really. I was hypnotized by the gauzy kimono floating around the performers and hovering behind the creamy scrim (for a sort of human shadow puppet scene), by the strange Lincoln-log pannier skirts, by the stripey fencing pants and knee-high white boots (or stockings), by the dancers slipping across tables, duetting with mirrors (and then with each other) … I was amazed by the way they melded into each other and then were themselves again (especially when a man crawled into the shadow kimono and emerged a woman). Yeah, sure, we weren’t really sticking to the correct culture, but I was completely happy with the use of Chinese/Japanese martial arts weapons and clothing alongside 17th/18th century articles – it looked great and that was good enough for me.

And the lighting design! It helped the performers slip into and out of shadows, it let them end a scene in one spot on the stage gracefully as another “thought” started somewhere else … but my favorite bit was when all three performers were doing staff fighting in little bands of light which changed shape as their staves (or were they swords?) hit the floor – it was like something out of The Matrix or even a video game. It was, in a word, gorgeous.

Was the performance just perfect? Well, no. Russell Maliphant had a horrible clunky moment in which his microphone kept picking up the sound of his clothing dragging across it, and most of the spoken bits seemed completely superfluous and a drag on the evening. The bit where Ms. Guillem was reading letters from the Chevalier’s mother actually made me long for the end to come at last; I was getting tired. And, in the end, I’m afraid it overstayed its welcome. While I was with it for at least sixty minutes, I think around seventy its energy started to flag – and I slid downhill with it.

But, in the end, who cares how historically accurate it was or how much of a dance piece it was, it was a treat for the eyes and engaging and well worth burning a sunny evening indoors. Who knows, maybe it’s in the summer that the best theatre really happens, because that’s when only the most devoted can be convinced to spend their time this way. Overall, it was a very good evening and I’m pleased as punch that I finally got to see it.

(This review is for a performance on June 23rd, 2009. Eonnagata continues through June 27th.)

Review – A Doll’s House – Donmar Warehouse

Just when you think social media is just a bunch of garbage, you get a tweet from the Donmar Warehouse letting you know that a show you failed to book before it sold out (two months before it opened) has had some seats released. SWEET! And that is how I managed to make it to A Doll’s House last night. I feel like a fool that I wasn’t able to commit to £15 tickets much earlier than I did, but after reading the West End Whinger’s review, I realized I’d made a mistake I was likely to regret for a long time and needed to remedy it – yet without stooping to day standing seats (a sure recipe for three days of aching feet). Saved by Twitter – who’da thunk it?

Because this show is so very sold out (though it’s running for three more weeks), there seems little point in providing an extensive review. I loved that the new version (by Zinnie Harris) is set in England with politicians instead of in Norway with bankers; the painful freshness of being dragged through the papers for some pecadillo and just what you could expect to happen to your reputation if you were accused of fraud added a lot of energy to the text and, I think, led to far more laughs (and tensions) that you often get with Ibsen. And it sharply emphasized the shortcomings of David Hare’s Gesthemane – politicians can make for interesting plays, but the focus needs to be on human relations and timeless concerns, not on some flash-in-the-pan scandal everyone will have forgotten in two months. Of course, Ibsen is a master of social ties, and creates characters who are so real you can pretty well imagine what they were doing before the play started and even twenty years later – not really Hare’s forte but one which makes the question of how will Nora’s husband respond? a matter of vital importance to the theatrical audience. This is expecially impressive given that, well, I knew exactly how he would respond … and it still hurt to see it. Ouch!

Gillian Andersen (Nora) was gorgeous and a bit fluffy as Nora -for some reason, it seemed to me that she had a bit of Marilyn Monroe in her portrayal. She was, however, absolutely convincing as a woman whose husband was vitally sexually interested in her and as someone who could have lived the coddled life she’d had quite happily for a decade. Toby Stephens “Thomas,” Nora’s husband, I couldn’t help but call him Torvald when discussing the play later) had a bit of work trying to portray someone who’s an unbelievable prig and rather unsympathetic … but he generally handled the twists and turns (of self-deception) well, and actually managed to be completely pathetic at the end. And, gosh, Tara Fitzgerald (Nora’s friend Christine Lyle) and Christopher Eccleston (Kelmer) actually made what I thought was a throwaway plot point when I read the script ages ago seem extremely vital (I kind of want to re-read it to see how Ibsen had originally developed it – and surely Christine wasn’t such a socialist?). Actually, the cast was just really good, as was the show – which means – maybe you ought to break down and go for the day seats, and as for me, I think I’m going to gloat a bit for getting to see this gorgeous show in this lovely, intimate space. Yay Team Donmar!

(This review is for a performance that took place on June 22nd, 2009. A Doll’s House continues through July 18th at the Donmar.