Review: 'The Woman in Black'

By James Metcalf

The Woman in Black is, by now, a piece of familiarity to most people. Whether as a novel, play, or film, many of us have experienced the terror first hand (or at least been told about it by a wide-eyed friend), but not even that will prepare you for the production by Robin Herford at York’s Theatre Royal.

The play begins on the well-trodden boards of an empty stage, with a single figure reading from a manuscript in a frightened, mouse-like voice. He is interrupted by a much younger man, who condescends to give the man advice on projection and energy (‘for the sake of his audience’). I won’t give it all away, but these early scenes are humorous and light, which serves only to break down any defences you might have built against the terror you are sure to experience later on. They each play out the story of Gothic melancholy, taking on the roles of peripheral characters, until the one figure they could not draw upon by themselves is re-awakened for the audience.

There were screams a-plenty, rest assured, yet the performances of Julian Forsyth, who played Arthur Kipps, and Antony Eden, who played the gentleman acting the part of the lawyer in his youth, did not suffer for this. They were clearly so used to it, as their delivery did not break for an instant. Every time the wasted face of the woman in black appeared, or the repetitive and unnerving rhythm of the rocking chair took hold, shrieks could be heard throughout the theatre, but their faces were immovable; as though they really were in Eel Marsh House.

What was perhaps more unnerving than this supposed tranquillity or the very presence of the woman herself, was the sound effects, designed by Gareth Owen. His rocking chair, music box, pony and trap, and, of course, the scream of the dying child in the marsh, were ever present and unpredictable, to the extent that the audience did not want to turn around, lest the woman be there, her face looming above their heads. And Kevin Sleep’s lighting was simple yet effective in its creation of the shade cast by branches, and the moon through an open window, which, when added to the sound and the incredibly dynamic set design, courtesy of Michael Holt, altered the experience immeasurably. The three-dimensional staging, partitioned by a gauze curtain and a staircase, and the eerie atmosphere created by a twilit stage and sporadically sudden creaking transformed a horror movie into a dramatic, theatrical experience that belongs within touching distance.

Brilliant acting, staging, and direction aside, the adaptation of a relatively short novel (by Susan Hill) for the stage by Stephen Mallatratt is a work of no small genius. His way of setting up the play as a piece of theatre in itself seemed to ask a little too much to ask of the audience; yet the leap was not all that far. In fact, once the exposition had taken place, the audience accepted the new premise and promptly forgot about it, becoming embroiled in the drama and spectacle of an expertly enacted performance. As Forsyth and Eden intermittently narrated each scene when necessary, alternately leaving the rest to the audience’s imagination, there was never a moment in which we were lost or confused; in fact, the play was so easy to understand that I personally felt present in the marshes just outside the small, haunted township of isolated Crythin Gifford.

Whether you’ve read the novel or seen the film, or even if you’ve seen the play before, Herford’s production of The Woman in Black is something to see. The acting is immediately engaging, the performers are instantly likeable, and the sound, lighting, and staging are so expertly practised, they are made to look easy. In the tremendously impressive setting of the Theatre Royal, this is an experience that is immediately successful, being both exactly what you’d expect, as well as an awful lot more besides.

Review: 'God of Carnage'

God of Carnage, written by Yasmina Reza, is a play about two sets of parents having a big argument over an incident that happened between their children at school. The play succeeds in challenging the aura of respectability and solidity of your average middle class family while questioning the ideas of certainty, justice and childhood and the effects that adults can have on children. It is a play with absurdist pacing with spikes of chaos separated by eerie calmness. It is also a play very difficult to get right.

Where the director Rory McGregor triumphs is his obvious talent for getting the most out of his cast. It has become clichéd to talk about ‘chemistry’ between actors but Mungo Tatton-Brown, Helena Clark, Max Fitzroy-Stone and Claire Curtis-Ward feed off each other with such ease that the phrase becomes mightily appropriate. God of Carnage is definitely an actor’s play. With such simple set design, the audience relies on the actors to express themselves and to keep the pacing quick and snappy. The moments where Curtis-Ward and Fitzroy-Stone were subtly insulting each other was a joy to behold because of their understated yet savage delivery.

The acting in this play becomes more difficult due to the development each character goes through. At the start, they keep things hidden and feel each other out, playing the part of the concerned parent and part of a stable marriage. The mood changes are often sudden and intense, which is always risking alienating the audience but this play did not suffer from such shortcomings.

McGregor did a fine job at using the bare stage to its full effect. The couches were situated very close to the audience, which created a more intimate feel while the phone was situated far away from everything else, which meant the scene would totally change in dynamic when somebody answered. Though the couches were the focal point, there were times when the characters would disperse, usually during arguments. It meant the play never became stale, which was something the film version could more aptly be accused of. McGregor has outdone Polanski it seems.

God of Carnage is one of the finest plays I’ve seen at the Drama Barn and all four leads are deserving of plaudits. This is exactly the kind of play that DramaSoc should do more often with its interesting characters, short running time and cheap set. It is of little surprise that it has achieved national acclaim and has been entered into the National Student Drama Festival, where I’m sure it will continue to gather admirers.

Review: '9-5: The Musical'

By Ellie Roberts

A great mix of raucous comedy, storming feminism and pounding music, Dolly Parton’s very own 9-5: The Musical certainly gives Mamma Mia and Jersey Boys a run for their money. Opening with the title song’s crashing crescendo, a spectacularly colourful stage and a descending projection of Dolly herself, the show promised everything delightfully tacky, boisterous and unconventional that one could hope for from one of the most distinctive country singers of all time.

Modelled closely on the iconic 1980s film and book by Patricia Resnick, the tale centres around three feisty employees of Consolidated Companies: Doralee Rhodes (Amy Lennox), Judy Bernely (Natalie Casey) and Violet Newstead (Jackie Clune) all exploited by their lascivious and chauvinist boss, Franklin Hart. Fed up with the "boys club" style of business, they decide to take matters into their own hands, exacting a somewhat absurd revenge on Hart whilst creating a progressive worplace utopia with job-sharing and day care.

A brief summary of the narrative however cannot do justice to the eclectic mix of scenes. Carried along by moments of kidnap, pot-smoking, dead bodies in car boots and even the casual bit of S&M, it was easy to forget the structural lacking of the plot. The superb writing also helped to compensate for narrative shortcomings. punchy lines like "your arse is grass and I'm a lawnmower" were interspersed with tender and naturalistic dialogue so the show achieved a fine balance between bawdy comedy and touching realism. Although it was Jackie Clune as Violet Newstead the no-nonsense office veteran who really stood out, it was the supporting characters who really gave the performance its oomph. Lori Hayley Fox's appearance as the office drunk Margaret provided not only the laughs but offered a subtle social commentary.

9 to 5 certainly took the tone of Parton’s own feminism, once joking that she “wanted to be the first woman to burn her bra, but it would have taken the fire department four days to put it out”.  The “girl-power” agenda took on a comic rhetoric that may well have caused the more serious feminists to squirm in their seats. Yet whilst the feminist sensibility was clearly vintage, the spectacular array of costume and the intricacies of the set transported the audience back to the year 1979 demanding we take the out-dated feminism with a pinch of salt. 

It was however the set and scene transitions that prevented me from becoming truly absorbed in Dolly’s time-capsule. It seemed at times that the stage was slightly too large for the scenery that attempted to fill it, a shortcoming only illuminated rather than disguised by the brightness of the lighting. The set changes also proved to be fairly slow moving disturbing the fast pace of the plot.

The musical score was performed to a very high degree. Particularly impressive were the performances from Amy Lennox as Doralee (the bright blonde hillbilly modelled on Dolly herself) and Bonnie Langford as Roz Keith, the sycophantic assistant to Franklin Hart. However the music itself was disappointing, lacking the freshness and diversity of Parton’s own musical repertoire. Whilst songs such as Backwards Barbie struck a chord with Parton’s own anthems of empowerment, the songs in the second act did begin to merge into one another not least by the repeated 9-5 riff that acted not so much a transitional smoother as a jarring interruption. The show certainly only presented one side of Dolly Parton. The radically political yet delicate songwriter of Coat of Many Colours and My Tennessee Mountain Home didn’t come across at all.

So perhaps the plot was ridiculously implausible, the songs a little samey and the set changes clumsy but if you want an alternative to Reflex to get your cheese and feel-good fix then 9-5: The Musical definitely fits the bill. It will certainly be an enjoyable night and it is impossible not to come out beaming. And if you do see it, as a projected Dolly herself commands, then “tell everyone all about it” and if you don’t, well, “y’all better keep your big mouth shut.” 

You can hear Ellie's review by visiting the URY Player

Review: 'The Physicists'

By James Metcalf

The Physicists is a play about three supposedly mad scientists, who have found their way into a German sanatorium, and who have seemingly gotten comfortable in their seclusion. Their formerly secretive and private lives are, however, disturbed when it is discovered by the police and chief prosecutor that three of the nurses guarding the patients have been murdered by their charges. In a sudden change of narrative, these killings – all of them carried out by strangulation – turn out to be necessities in the complex and intricate plots of government operatives who turn out to have more on their mind than physics.

Funnily enough, this convoluted and esoteric piece of theatre by the Swiss playwright Friedrich Durrenmatt and directed for the Dramabarn by Alex Wakelam, with production by Rachel Walter, is not all that fun for the audience.

A play about madness, you might think, would make for a rather engaging experience – and this it certainly does, but the writing of Durrenmatt, performed in so amateur a production (and I use the word trepidatiously, not meaning to derogate but merely stating a fact) is something to be avoided in future endeavours. Much of the exposition was unnecessary and long-winded, causing the play to forestall the occasional compelling scenes, and the histories of the scientists themselves was repeated so often, I could almost recite them myself.

Such repetition did not, however, provide any semblance of clarity. The scientific terminology, while convincing, was exclusivist and hardly accessible in a student production, and, at times, one felt as if the actors themselves hardly comprehended their own dialogue. Fortunately, this play was pulled from the fire by a whisker by the talent of the young men and women who decided to take on the challenge.

Particularly engaging was Harry Whittaker as the unpredictable and incredibly charming Sir Isaac Newton, whose mammoth wig perfectly captured his ostentatious behaviour. Also convincing was Albert Einstein, played by Peter Marshall, who pulled off the muggy sadness and regret of Einstein’s later life to great effect, and, as always, the miraculous Zoe Biles managed to bring the audience close to tears in her confessions of love and willingness to sacrifice herself and her life to the lunatic ravings of an unnerving Mobius, played by Rory Hern. 

Unfortunately, the performances of other cast members did not match those of their contemporaries. There were many mistakes, which smacked of unpreparedness, and some even seemed relatively unenthused about the concept of acting in a play of so little sense; this was compounded by the confusion caused by having several cast members playing as many as three parts, which drew attention not to the characters, but to the actors, detracting from the writing which could not afford to be subject to any distraction.

It is a sad thing when a Dramabarn performance cannot stand up against those from other occasions, but this is very little to do with the society and its production. The barn was as usual decked out in a way that services the play without diverting any attention from the actors, and it was nice to see the music and lighting department play a more prominent role in the production, where the scope for their abilities was realised as the violin of Einstein frequently broke the often palpable tension, and the spotlights acted as the sun, setting as days ended and the nights began.

As one might expect from a play about madness, The Physicists often descended into moments of insanity itself, clouding the occasional lucidity of the dialogue; however, this was not the fault of anyone but the writer. The performances were, as usual, more than up to par and it’s difficult to knock the spirit behind the production – it’s wonderful to see the Drama Society challenging itself in such a way – but this does not mean that the audience had as good a time as in previous weeks, nor should the works of Durrenmatt surface again in a venue like the barn, which is so used to productions of incomparable depth and glory. 

You can listen to James' review by visiting the URY Player

Review: The Garden

By Zoe Biles

There is something to be said for theatre which does not shout or scream, but rather is subtle and quiet, forcing the audience to think deeper than they usually would. The Garden, written by Zinnie Harris and directed by Rosa Crompton did just that. However, stellar acting performances aside, there was something distinctly missing from this production, something that just didn’t reach the thought provoking level of the script.

The Garden is a one act performance of the three act play, taking place after an unknown disaster in an unknown location. All the audience have information wise are two characters, Jane (Lily Cooper) and Mac (Edd Riley), as we are given a window into their lives following said disaster. And the world we witness is turned on its head by a small plant that appears underneath their linoleum kitchen floor, one morning. In a society where “everything dies except for this”, both characters are forced to question their sanity, their relationship, and their future in general.

Walking into the Drama Barn, the audience were immediately thrown into the drama of the play, as the dim lighting and thrust stage made us all feel like we were inside the home of Jane and Mac as soon as we sat down. Cooper being on stage, sprawled over a wooden chair, distant and unassuming, created a sombre and uneasy tone, and made the audience begin to see the world through her character’s eyes. The lino floor and wooden cabinet were the only distinguishing features of the set, successfully matching the raw and often bleak moments in the script.

In many ways the intimacy of the Drama Barn created the perfect space for such a play to be performed, as it had the potential to intensely impact such a small audience. Disappointingly, the performance did not quite reach such a level. Cooper and Riley were both excellent in their portrayal of a married couple falling apart at the seams. Cooper in particular carried her character with a piercing vulnerability that touched a lot of the audience. The chemistry between the two actors was maintained admirably throughout the entire show, a hard feat with a two-person cast. Riley’s performance epitomised that of a modern day business man, however lacked in strength a couple of times. Nevertheless, the acting was impressive and powerful as a collective.

It seemed to me that the points where the play lacked impact or strength were in the moments of hurriedness or rushed action. With the play being no longer than 40 minutes, I felt that there were definite moments where both movement and acting could have been slowed, to allow the audience to feel the intensity of the scenes. Transitions were also hugely messy, with one black out lasting what seemed like a lifetime, as we heard both actors work hard to move the set around for the next scene. The undoubted moments of genius appeared when dialogue began to flow, and the two actors eased into their element, something which should be congratulated and admired for such a raw and minimalistic script.

Overall, this play worked well with the material it had, and largely suffered due to technical decisions rather than the performances given by the actors. It was very refreshing to see a different style of play be performed in the Barn, and was definitely something which should not have been missed. 

You can listen to Zoe's review by visiting the URY Player