Mark Ronan's theatre blog

Our Man in Havana, Richmond Theatre, November 2009. This novel by Graham Greene, adapted for the stage by Clive Francis, is about a British secret agent in pre-Castro Cuba, whose reports and informers are all inventions. As a vacuum cleaner salesman in need of money, he allows himself to be recruited by the secret services, and feeds them ingenious plots and conspiracies, which he tries to back up with real events, leading to near-disaster. Putting this on stage is not easy, but Clive Francis has the experience of playing in Travels with my Aunt, another Graham Greene adaptation, and like that play this uses only four actors, playing multiple parts. The main character, Wormold (our man in Havana) was very well performed by Simon Shepherd, while Philip Franks, Norman Pace and Beth Cordingly played the other roles. They did brilliantly well, and how they managed the multiple costume changes, lord alone knows. It was like a conjuring trick, and the audience loved it. This play is a comedy, and a reminder of how gross incompetence can be rewarded by Whitehall when it suits them to avoid admitting errors and rank stupidity.

Enron, Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square, October 2009. With its sound effects, lighting, and occasional choreography this was the Sesame Street version of the Enron story, explained for those who missed the real thing. It was educational, showing the rise of the company under chairman Ken Lay, a glad-hander who had little idea of how the Enron bubble expanded nor why it was bound to implode. Lucy Prebble's stage drama starts by focusing on the competition and sexual frisson between Jeffrey Skilling and Claudia Roe, showing Lay to be a decisive gambler who chooses Skilling to be the new chief executive, with his wild ideas of trading energy rather than producing it, as Roe wanted to do. Skilling then turns the aggressively ambitious Andy Fastow into chief financial officer so he can pursue his mad ideas of creating the Raptors — almost wholly owned subsidiaries of Enron — for swallowing debt. These extraordinary beasts, in which only a minority share of a minority share of a minority share was backed by real money, are well-staged as humans with alligator heads. For a public company the accountants, in this case Arthur Anderson, have to sign off on such creative accounting, and their doing so led to their own collapse.

As to the collapse of Enron itself we were shown how desperately they needed George Bush to win the 2000 presidential election to give them the deregulation of the Energy industry they'd been banking on to pay off the Raptors. In the process they failed, but screwed California, a folly that should never have happened if Ken Lay had half the political nous he imagined he had. Bush, who referred privately to Lay as 'Kenny Boy', had more important things to do than rescue him or his house of cards, and while Skilling got out before things went publicly pear-shaped, Lay continued to talk up the company to everyone. He and Skilling both screwed the employees, whose pension funds were tied up in Enron stock that became valueless as their jobs disappeared and the company went belly up.

This play showed a great deal about the rise of Enron, but omitted the story on how Lay, Skilling and Fastow were nailed. Living in America, I well remember in December 2002 being asked by English ingÈnues whether I really thought anyone would ever be convicted for the Enron fiasco. I replied that they already had, and the point is that Americans were apoplectic about this nonsense. It was criminal, and was prosecuted the same way a major crime family, or conspiracy, would be prosecuted. First you go for the smaller fry, giving them light sentences in return for cooperation so you can bring down larger game, until eventually you reach the top. This is what happened, but by the time they got to Ken Lay he conveniently died, leaving his wife with their ill-gotten gains. Skilling is now in prison, but his appeal is pending before the supreme court for sometime in 2010.

Samuel West did an excellent job of portraying Skilling as a man driven by a conviction he could outsmart everyone else, and really wasn't guilty of anything worse than being a victim to forces beyond his control. Tim Pigott-Smith was Ken Lay, with his Texan accent and cheerful demeanour, sailing smooth seas and blithely unaware of the raptors beneath. Tom Goodman-Hill portrayed Andy Fastow, showing him to be a small man, rather like a graduate student whose PhD thesis wouldn't even get him a receptionist's job at the US Treasury, and Amanda Drew played Claudia Roe as a very smart, very sexy and attractive lady, who was lucky to be sacked when she was.

The whole thing was well directed by Rupert Goold, with clever designs by Anthony Ward. I particularly liked the 'alligator' raptors, and the Lehmann Brothers appearance with two men in one coat. Despite slight misgivings, it was an evening that didn't drag for a minute, and like Sesame Street kept the audience entertained while informing them of the basics they ought to know.

The Browning Version, Rose Theatre, Kingston-on-Thames, September 2009. This production by Peter Hall of Terence Rattigan's play about a classics master at boarding school, was beautifully performed. Peter Bowles was utterly convincing as the dried-out classics master, Crocker-Harris, who has recently suffered a heart attack and is now resigning from the school to take up a less stressful position at a crammer. Charles Edwards was superb as the engagingly human science master, Frank Hunter, and his rather cold affair with Crocker-Harris's wife, played by Candida Gubbins, was well-portrayed. James Laurenson was good as the non-entity of a headmaster, and James Musgrave was wonderful as Taplow, the pupil who is keen to get his promotion to the 'remove', and presents Crocker-Harris with the Browning version of Agamemnon by Aeschylus. The playful mockery of the boys is as nothing compared to the calculated cruelty of Crocker-Harris's wife, who relates to her husband details of her affairs with the other masters, nor to the cold denial by the trustees of a pension to poor Crocker-Harris, who has served only eighteen years instead of the necessary twenty. Terence Rattigan, and of course Peter Bowles, engage our sympathy for this disappointed scholar who was once a star at Oxford and is now teaching his pupils to read Aeschylus, surely the hardest of the Greek playwrights to understand. What is it that turns bright young people into unloved experts who inspire little more than fear from 99% of their underlings. Whatever it is, Rattigan portrays the result with understanding and regret. An excellent play.

Hamlet, in a Donmar production at Wyndham's Theatre, August 2009. This was an excellent production by Michael Grandage, with large plain sets and modern costumes by Christopher Oram, well lit by Neil Austin, and the music and sound by Adam Cork was very effective. Jude Law was an anguished Hamlet, and though not a traditional Shakespearean actor he managed the part well, but I found little joy in his speeches. They seemed to be delivered too fast, or with inadequate breathing, to have the cleverness one often associates with Hamlet. Penelope Wilton was wonderful as his mother Gertrude, changing gradually from calm sympathy with her son to being an appalled accomplice in murder. As one critic said, she did look awfully like the ex-home secretary Jacqui Smith, but her increasing self-awareness left Ms. Smith in the narcissistic shadows inhabited by more than one of our modern politicians. As the king, Kevin McNally was robust and confident, a clever schemer well shown to be hoist on his own petard. One can hardly imagine him putting up with a doddering Polonius, and indeed Ron Cook portrayed that role with more vigour than is often the case. As Ophelia, Gugu Mbatha-Raw was lovely, but not entirely convincing in her descent to madness. Alex Waldmann was her brother Laertes, and I thought Matt Ryan was a wonderfully warm-hearted Horatio. The ghost of Hamlet's father was very strongly portrayed by Peter Eyre, who also acted well as the player king.

Altogether this was a good production, well worth seeing, but I wish Hamlet's speeches had been given with less force and more subtlety. And I did not quite see the point of having the soliloquy "To be, or not to be" given alone on the stage in a snowstorm.

Helen, The Globe Theatre, August 2009. This Euripedes play was given in a new translation by Frank McGuinness, and I liked it, but fear it may sound odd in a few years' time with expressions like done and dusted. However it worked well here, directed by Deborah Bruce, with designs by Gideon Davy, in a production that took the story lightly. That story, about the real Helen going to Egypt and remaining faithful to her husband Menelaus, while a fake went to Troy as the wife of Priam, became popular in Greece as it let Helen off the hook for the deaths of so many men in a ten-year war. The story was taken up by Hugo von Hofmannsthal as a libretto for Richard Strauss's opera The Egyptian Helen (Die ƒgyptische Helena, which I saw in February in Berlin). The opera is a more elaborate affair, and for this reason doesn't work well on stage. But this play does work, and at ninety minutes with no interval is far shorter than the opera.

I thought Penny Downie did well as Helen, with Paul McGann giving an excellent portrayal of Menelaus. Rawiri Paratene was Theoclymenes, the Egyptian king who wants to marry Helen, and his all-seeing sister Theonoe was well performed by Diveen Henry. The appearance of Helen's heavenly brothers Castor and Pollux at the end, as gardeners and odd-job men with angelic wings was pure nonsense, but fun. They were there before the play started, painting the stage, showing that none of this stuff should be taken too seriously, and the whole production was meant to be comic, with Helen expressing an oh-my-god-is-it-really-you attitude, and Theoclymenes hamming it up as a pompous but easily deceived king.

The Cherry Orchard, Old Vic, June 2009. This, the last of Chekhov's plays, was presented more as comedy than tragedy in Sam Mendes' production, performed to a translation by Tom Stoppard. The comedy was effective in showing the head-in-the-sand attitude of a family who are more concerned with romance and betrothal than finding a way out of their financial difficulties. Indeed, Sinead Cusack came over well as the mother, Ranevskaya who is in denial of her impecuniosity, and unwilling to face the prospect of tearing down her beloved cherry orchard and using the land for summer cottages. Simon Russell Beale as the ex-serf Lopakhin did a splendid job of trying to impose some rational behaviour on these once-wealthy landowners, warning them they will lose the whole estate if they do nothing. As they remain paralysed in a state of denial he buys it himself, owning the place to which his father and grandfather were once indentured.

While I regard Ranevskaya and Lopakhin as the principal characters, the rest of the cast did very well, and this was a team performance without anyone dominating things. When Ranevskaya returns from Paris to her estate she brings her 17-year old daughter Anya, well portrayed by Morven Christie, and the girl's German governess Charlotta, dramatically played by Selina Cadell, who did a wonderful job of the conjuring tricks in the party scene. Rebecca Hall as Ranevskaya's adopted daughter Varya had excellent stage presence with her brooding angst, and yearning for Lopakhin. The large cast comprises some twenty-odd characters, so I shall only mention two or three more. Ethan Hawke was suitably irritating as the student and ex-tutor of Ranevskaya's late son, Paul Jesson was good as the sentimentally silly brother of Ranevskaya, and Richard Easton did an excellent job as the old retainer who is left behind in the sealed-up house after the others have all left. As he slumps in a chair, falls off and lies on the ground we hear a sharp crack, signifying the beginning of the end of the cherry orchard as the first tree falls.

The set design by Anthony Ward was a raised platform with carpets but no other scenery, and the lighting by Paul Pyant worked well, as did the sound by Paul Arditti, with music by Mark Bennett. Costumes by Catherine Zuber were of the period, namely start of the twentieth century. All in all a simple but effective production, and a fine performance from the cast of British and American actors.

PhËdre, National Theatre, June 2009. This play by Racine, originally performed in 1677, was presented here in a 1998 version by Ted Hughes, originally staged just weeks before he died. The story is based on the ancient Greek legend of Hippolytus, who was the object of unremitting desire by his father's wife, Phaedra. In the Greek original, well expressed in Euripedes' play Hippolytus, the young man is a devotee of the chaste goddess Artemis (Diana in the Roman version), and Aphrodite takes revenge against his rejection of erotic love by inspiring his step-mother with insatiable desire for him. His father Theseus, king of Athens, and of Minotaur fame, believes Hippolytus has forced himself on Phaedra, and calls down a curse from Poseidon. Only after the curse has taken effect, and Hippolytus has been killed by a bull-like monster from the sea, does Theseus realise his error. Racine's main change to this legend is the creation of a new character, Aricia with whom Hippolytus is secretly in love, and she with him. This removes the misogyny from Hippolytus, and since Aricia is the daughter of an earlier king of Athens, it creates a political dimension. The other important difference is that Euripedes has Phaedra commit suicide after writing a note accusing Hippolytus of rape, whereas in Racine the accusation comes from Phaedra's nurse while her mistress still lives.

In this performance, Phaedra was played by Helen Mirren, portraying an insecure woman only too conscious of her own inadequacies. Her stepson Hippolytus was played by Dominic Cooper, calm and secure in his own feelings, and her husband Theseus was powerfully played by Stanley Townsend, roaring his anger at Hippolytus and summoning Poseidon to avenge him. These three made a strong cast of principals, well supported by Margaret Tyzack as Phaedra's scheming nurse, Ruth Negga as a sincere Aricia, and John Shrapnel as Hippolytus' counsellor, whose speech describing the young man's fearful death was very dramatically rendered. In fact this superb Nicholas Hytner production, with designs by Bob Crowley, lighting by Paule Constable, and an excellent sound score by Adam Cork, ends dramatically with Aricia dragging the dead remains of Hippolytus in a bleeding sack from stage rear to stage front. The broad trail of blood on the clean wooden stage is very effective.

Arcadia, Duke of York's Theatre, June 2009. This Tom Stoppard play cleverly juxtaposes the modern world of literary scholarship and mathematics with the early nineteenth century world of literary creativity, classical study and scientific enquiry. In the early period we have a very clever girl of 16 named Thomasina, played by Jessica Cave, and her tutor Septimus Hodge, wittily played by Dan Stevens, along with a poet, and others. These early nineteenth century characters are juxtaposed in the modern world by a dreadful literary academic named Bernard Nightingale, played by Neil Pearson, along with an author named Hannah, wittily played by Samantha Bond, and a clever but rather intense mathematician named Valentine, very ably portrayed by Ed Stoppard.

Hannah is doing a book about the history of the Derbyshire country estate where all the action takes place, and Bernard visits with questions about Byron staying there in the early nineteenth century, and some slightly daft and ultimately irrelevant ideas about was going on at the time. While Bernard and Hannah plumb the past, those in the past enquire about the future. Thomasina hits on the idea of the second law of thermodynamics to explain the arrow of time, whose direction is entirely absent from Newton's laws of motion, which are the same going backwards or forwards. As she points out, you can stir jam into a rice pudding, but you can't stir it out again, and the three laws of Thermodynamics have often been wittily stated as: you can't win, you can't break even, and you can't get out of the game. The second law says that available energy gradually becomes unavailable, so that in the long run everything will be at 'room temperature' and the universe will die out. Thomasina also discusses mathematics with her tutor, and devises an iterated algorithm that Valentine, in the modern world with his Apple laptop, is able to use to create beautiful shapes of nature.

The ability to make this into theatre is Stoppard's genius, and while the main passion is intellectual, he sprinkles sex into both periods. The women are keen for some fun, and in the early period a poet's wife, whom we never see on stage, along with Lady Croom, elegantly played by Nancy Carroll, breathe sexual desire into the proceedings. In the modern world Hannah shows sexual interest in the dreadful Bernard, and the young ChloÎ Coverly, charmingly played by Lucy Griffiths, shows a bright interest in things sexual as did her earlier incarnation as Thomasina, who starts the play off by asking her tutor what carnal embrace means. In the end she desires more than words from her tutor, but when she goes to bed with papers and a candle we realise this is where her room goes up in flames and her genius is lost forever.

This revival by David Leveaux, with sets and lighting by Hildegard Bechtler and Paul Anderson, is unfortunately more cramped on the Duke of York's stage than when I saw it at the National in 1993, and the impression of extensive gardens behind the house is lost. The acting was very good, though I would have preferred more charm from Jessica Cave as Thomasina, whose high-pitched voice resonated sharpness, while Neil Pearson could have made Bernard less obnoxious and more smugly clever, which may have kept things in better balance. But Samantha Bond, Ed Stoppard and Dan Stevens were a delight to watch.

Wallenstein, at Chichester, June 2009. This was adapted by Mike Poulton from Schiller's trilogy: Wallenstein's Camp, The Piccolomini and Wallenstein's Death. The story takes place during the chaotic Thirty Years' War (1618–48) when Wallenstein, fighting on behalf of the Austrian emperor was a brilliantly successful general, inspiring loyalty and admiration among his troops. He was superbly played by Iain Glen, showing his over-trusting nature and impulsiveness. His wife Elizabeth, his daughter, and his wife's sister, the redoubtable Countess Terzky were all well portrayed by Jessica Turner, Annabel Scholey and Charlotte Emmerson. His daughter falls in love with a young colonel, Max Piccolomini, excellently acted by Max Irons. He is almost a surrogate son to Wallenstein, and is the only character invented by Schiller, while the rest, including his father Octavio Piccolomini, very cleverly played by Anthony Calf, were real figures of history. Among the other generals, Count Terzky was skilfully represented by Paul Hickey, and Buttler, who kills Wallenstein off-stage was strongly played by Denis Conway.

This adaptation by Mike Poulton gave a fine insight into the strengths and weaknesses of Wallenstein, showing his enthusiasm for astrology, which caused fatal hesitation in waiting for the right omens. He was murdered in 1634 by those plotting against him, and this formed a strong but bloody end to the play. The direction by Angus Jackson kept the action moving rapidly. The costumes by Sian Harris were excellent, and the wonderfully realistic fight sequence, involving Max and a drunken general, was brilliantly arranged by Terry King.

The Winter's Tale, at the Old Vic, June 2009. This delightful Shakespeare play was given an excellent production by Sam Mendes. It is about the destructive suspicions of King Leontes who accuses his heavily pregnant wife, Hermione of adultery with King Polixenes, a visitor for the past nine months. A courtier, Camillo is ordered to poison Polixenes, but believing in the queen's innocence he warns him to leave, and they flee together. The baby daughter is then abandoned in the wild, where she is found and brought up by a shepherd, and given the name Perdita. Sixteen years later, Polixenes's son, disguised as a shepherd, meets her and they fall in love. When Polixenes rages against his son's match, the couple flee to Leontes's court, followed by the shepherd bringing tokens of Perdita's true identity, directed by an engaging rogue named Autolycus. Leontes already knows of his wife's innocence from the Oracle at Delphi, and a statue of her has recently been completed at the house of Paulina, the widow of the courtier who originally took the baby girl into the wild and was himself eaten by a bear. Polixenes and Camillo arrive, and after matters relating to Perdita are settled, Paulina shows the assembled company a great wonder. The new statue of Hermione comes to life, after which Paulina and Camillo, who had both believed in her innocence, become engaged, and everyone celebrates the miracle.

The role of Leontes was brilliantly played by Simon Russell Beale, with Rebecca Hall elegantly portraying his wife. Paul Jesson was a convincing Camillo, and Sinead Cusack a wonderfully sympathetic Paulina. Polixenes, Perdita, and Polixenes's son were all well portrayed by Josh Hamilton, Morven Christie, and Michael Brown, and the shepherd was delightfully played by Richard Easton. Autolychus was superbly performed by Ethan Hawke, and his singing added just the right colour.

The entire production was a delight, and the simple sets by Anthony Ward and modern costumes by Catherine Zuber allowed the actors to dominate the stage, which they did very well, aided by Paul Pyant's lighting design that used spots and darkness to very good effect. This is part of the Bridge project, with a mixed cast of American and British actors, each using their own accents, and the performance came over very naturally. An excellent Winter's Tale for the summer months.

A View from the Bridge, at the Richmond Theatre, May 2009. This Arthur Miller play, about the self-destruction of dockworker Eddie Carbone, who lives in 1950s Brooklyn with his wife and niece, was beautifully revived and directed by Lindsay Posner. Ken Stott was excellent as Eddie, well demonstrating his insecurity, his intensely narcissistic love for his niece Katie and growing disenchantment with his wife. After overcoming his reluctance to let Katie go to work and become independent, he is presented with two brothers from their extended family in Sicily who move in to work as illegal immigrants. The elder one, Marco intends to stay five years and then go back to his wife and children, but the younger brother Rodolpho wants to become an American, and Eddie immediately senses a rival for Katie's affections. When Rodolpho and Katie begin to fall in love, Eddie gets obsessed with the boy's easy going and outgoing attitudes, accusing him of being gay. He eventually snitches on both brothers to the US Immigration Service, despite his lawyer's warning that the reaction of his neighbours will destroy his own life. Eddie's narcissism is well expressed by his cri-de-coeur "I want respect". The wretched man cannot respect himself so he begs it from others, and his eventual demand for apologies, where none are due, leads to the execution of ancient Sicilian custom resulting in his own death.

The lovely 17-year-old Katie was beautifully played by Hayley Atwell, and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio gave a strong performance as Eddie's anxious and almost powerless wife. Harry Lloyd was a charming Rodolpho, and the elder brother Marco, who says but little, was powerfully portrayed by Gerard Monaco. The lawyer, who has a narrative role like a single-person Greek chorus, and attempts to turn Eddie from his fate, was excellently played by Allan Corduner.

Christopher Oram's designs of the costumes and interior of Eddie's apartment worked superbly, as did the lighting by Peter Mumford. The production by Lindsay Posner, which moved from the Duke of York's Theatre in London's West End, was well suited to this intense and emotional play, and the performance was riveting.

Burnt by the Sun, at the National Theatre, May 2009. This is based on a 1994 movie by Rustam Ibragimbekov and Nikita Mikhalkov, and was turned into a play by Peter Flannery. The story takes place in 1936 as Stalin's reign of terror is just picking up steam, and it deals with the destruction of General Sergei Kotov, whose idealism and strength of character were well portrayed by Ciaran Hinds. His wife Maroussia was convincingly played by Michelle Dockery, and her ex-fiancÈ Mitya (Dmitri Andreevich) was coolly and engagingly played by Rory Kinnear. He arrives unexpectedly at their dacha where Kotov lives in retirement with his daughter, wife, and members of her family of ex-aristocrats, and it is clear that Mitya and Maroussia still have strong feelings for one another. Mitya is a cultivated lover of the arts who plays the piano and listens to recordings of Puccini operas, and has been living abroad since disappearing suddenly several years ago, with no word of explanation to Maroussia. The reason was that Kotov got rid of him by having him forcibly recruited into the NKVD (a secret police and intelligence service), which sent him to Paris to spy on Russian ÈmigrÈs. Kotov realises Mitya may try to take revenge, but feels secure in his personal connection with Stalin. He is close to the sun, but burnt by it, as Mitya falsely accuses him of spying for the Germans and Japanese, has him beaten up and taken away by NKVD agents. As for Mitya, he commits suicide. Throughout the play there are sexual undertones. Kotov seems to have a relationship with his ten year old daughter that some matrons in Maroussia's family regard as too close, and he calls Mitya 'pretty boy' in a demeaning way that may reflect consciousness of a repressed adulation that Mitya bears him.

The acting was excellent. Not only did Ciaran Hinds, Michelle Dockery and Rory Kinnear play their parts extremely well, the members of Maroussia's family were all realistically portrayed. Howard Davies directed well and the designs by Vicki Mortimer were very effective.

I understand there was once a plan to end with historical information on a screen — I would have liked that. Sergei Kotov, Commander in the Red Army was shot on 12 October 1936; his wife Maroussia was sentenced to 10 years in a prison camp where she died in 1940; his daughter Nadia was arrested with her mother, and now lives in retirement in Kazakhstan. They were rehabilitated on 27 November 1956 — Stalin died in 1953.

The Winslow Boy, at the Rose Theatre in Kingston-on-Thames, May 2009. This new production, which will later go on tour, gave us a terrific performance of Terence Rattigan's enthralling play about a teenage boy wrongly accused of stealing a five shilling postal order at Naval College. The case, based on a true story, goes all the way to Parliament. Stephen Unwin's direction, with costumes by Mark Bouman, and sets by Simon Higlett showing the drawing room in the Winslow's house, worked very well. The acting was entirely natural and this theatrical play came over with complete conviction. What a very pleasant change from the dreadfully untheatrical play Madame de Sade, which I saw earlier the same week.

The cast all did an excellent job, particularly Claire Cox as the Winslow boy's big sister Catherine, showing great intelligence and emotional restraint. Timothy West gave a commanding performance as his father, with Diane Fletcher as a sympathetic mother who laments the financial and emotional strain created by her husband's consuming passion for justice. Adrian Lukis added a terrifyingly professional quality as Sir Robert Morton the famous barrister who is surprisingly willing to take on this seemingly trivial case, and prove the boy's innocence. As the boy Ronnie, Hugh Wyld acquitted himself well, as did Thomas Howes as his elder, happy-go-lucky brother. Sarah Flind was good as the maid, and John Sackville and Roger May were convincing as the young men who would woo Catherine — the first rejecting her when she refuses to drop her brother's case, and the second willing to wed even though she can feel no love for him.

This is a well-crafted play that starts slowly, building up to the entrance of the famous barrister Sir Robert who undertakes a ferociously provocative interrogation of young Ronnie. After it's over his remark, "The boy is plainly innocent. I accept the brief", is a real coup de theatre, followed immediately by the fall of the curtain on the first half. The audience responded well to the performance, and choice lines such as, "the House of Commons is a peculiarly exhausting place, with too little ventilation and far too much hot air" caused well deserved laughter, particularly in view of recent events in parliament. Altogether a wonderful evening's entertainment.

After playing at the Rose in Kingston the play tours: Cambridge Arts Theatre 1^st – 6^th June, Yvonne Arnaud Theatre Guildford 8^th – 13^th June, Theatre Royal Bath 15^th – 20^th June, Oxford Playhouse 22^nd – 27^th June, Malvern Theatres 29^th June – 4^th July, Milton Keynes Theatre 6^th – 11^th July, Churchill Theatre Bromley 13^th – 18^th July, Brighton Theatre Royal 20^th – 25^th July.

Madame de Sade, in a Donmar production at Wyndham's Theatre, May 2009. The interesting question about this production is why the Donmar decided to devote their excellent creative energies to this play, which is such poor theatre. Indeed it's not so much a play as a sequence of philosophical discussions concerning the Marquis de Sade and why he had such a strong influence on some of the women close to him. There is little action. All conversations take place in the house of Madame de Montreuil, who was brilliantly played by Judi Dench. She is the mother of de Sade's wife ReneÈ, excellently portrayed by Rosamund Pike. There are four other actresses, and no male actors. Fiona Button plays ReneÈ's sister, who waltzes off to Venice with de Sade at some point in the recent past, but we only hear of this, never see any of it, and the same is true of the rest of the non-drawing room activities. Frances Barber as the Comtesse de Saint-Fond starts the play out by cracking her riding whip, showing a fascination in all forms of sex, and it looks as if this may make interesting theatre. But her later death during a riot in Marseilles, in the early years of the French Revolution, is only recounted in conversation, describing how she became a street girl, a darling of the people, whose dead body was seen to show her as far older than her pretended age. Her original interlocutor Baroness de Simiane shows a prurient interest in the countess's gossip, and eventually reappears as a nun who will take ReneÈ into holy orders, but none of this works as theatre. The interaction between Judi Dench's Madame de Montreuil and her daughters is very well done, as is the interaction with Fiona Button as the maid, and the costumes and sets designed by Christopher Oram are lovely. But without action there is nothing to hold our attention, and the only blessing is that it lasts no more than an hour and three quarters, without an interval. If there had been an interval the audience would very likely have diminished, and I've heard that Judi Dench and Rosamund Pike, who have the largest roles, are counting the days to the end of the run.

So why did they put this strange 1965 creation by Yukio Mishima, translated by Donald Keene, on stage? Apparently the director Michael Grandage found it fascinating, and having seen his recent work on Ivanov and Twelfth Night I was expecting something really engaging. But while de Sade himself may have appealed to masochists, I did not realise you had to be a theatrical masochist to sit through this stuff.

Romeo and Juliet at the Globe Theatre, May 2009. This production by Dominic Dromgoole, designed by Simon Daw, gave a claustrophobic intensity to the drama, while the music composed by Nigel Hess with choreography by Sian Williams helped lighten the atmosphere. As Romeo we had Adetomiwa Edun giving a passionate performance, and commanding the stage with his presence. Unfortunately I found Ellie Kendrick's Juliet no match for him, and one wondered why he and Paris took any interest in this dull girl. Rawiri Paratene was an impassioned Friar Lawrence, Ian Redford an irascibly intense Capulet, Ukweli Roach a sneeringly dangerous Tybalt, and Fergal McElherron was superbly engaging as Peter, a servant in the Capulet household. These men made the drama work, aided by Philip Cambus as a slightly wild Mercutio, Jack Farthing as an emollient Benvolio, Tom Stuart as a keen and callow Paris, Penny Laden as the nurse, and Andrew Vincent showing good stage presence as prince of Verona. The fight scenes were entirely convincing, and I thought the monks carrying Juliet's body through the audience in the pit added a very effective touch. Altogether a successful production of the play, though I wish the nurse, Juliet and her mother had come over a little more strongly.

Collaboration, and Taking Sides at Chichester, May 2009. These two plays by Ronald Harwood, dealing with how Germany's Nazi regime affected the lives of two of the greatest musicians of the twentieth century, were performed on the same day, with the same actors, and the experience was riveting. The first play centred on the collaboration between Richard Strauss and Stefan Zweig, who took over the role of Strauss's librettist when his previous collaborator, von Hofmannsthal died. The second play dealt with the aggressive questioning of conductor Wilhelm Furtw‰ngler after the war when an American army Major was determined to find reasons for him to be prosecuted at the Nuremberg war crimes tribunal. Both plays are sympathetic to the musicians, but pass no moral judgements, and Taking Sides allows the audience to form its own conclusions and take sides.

Collaboration starts with Strauss's desperate need to find a new librettist after von Hofmannsthal's death. He hasn't the confidence to ask the great writer, Stefan Zweig, but his wife Pauline, irritated by his indecisive insecurity, takes matters into her own hands. Zweig is only too delighted to assist a man he regards as the greatest composer on earth, and the two of them hit it off brilliantly, and form a close relationship. Strauss is enamoured of one of Zweig's suggestions, namely Ben Johnson's 17^th century play The Silent Woman, which they turn into the opera Die Schweigsame Frau. The story of its luckless premiere in 1934 is well-known, with the Nazi authorities deleting Zweig's name from the playbill, because he is Jewish, and Strauss insisting they reinstate it. Zweig's later insistence that he can no longer be Strauss's librettist, though he will help whomever Strauss chooses, is followed by his subsequent departure from Austria, and later suicide in Brazil. These events are well portrayed, as are the Nazis, represented by ministerial official Hans Hinkel. He puts pressure on Strauss by making threats against his Jewish daughter-in-law, to say nothing of his half-Jewish grandchildren, compelling him to remain silent and simply get on with his work. When faced with Allied soldiers at the end of the war, and questioned about possible collaboration with the Nazis, he repeats his distress at Zweig's suicide, which could itself be seen as a kind of collaboration. The use of music from Strauss's Four Last Songs at the end left the audience with a powerful feeling for this remarkable genius who wrote sublime music, even if he was unable to manipulate the Nazis as they manipulated him. Despite these well-known facts, and his despair at losing Stefan Zweig, there are still people — I've met them — who condemn Strauss as a Nazi. This play, and the next, should show even the dimmest of bigots that life is not so simple.

Taking Sides is a highly charged encounter between American army major Steve Arnold and Wilhelm Furtw‰ngler. Major Arnold was an insurance assessor good at detecting fraud, and was charged with the job of uncovering Nazi collaboration by Furtw‰ngler. Arnold has no appreciation for classical music, though his two assistants certainly do and resent his insolent treatment of the great conductor, or 'band leader' as he refers to him. Clearly Furtw‰ngler helped numerous Jews, but Arnold is sincere in seeking motives as to why he remained in Germany. Arnold has nightmares and mentions the smell of burning flesh, yet Furtw‰ngler comes through it all with dignity and integrity. Eventually Arnold's secretarial assistant Emmi, whose father was executed after the failed plot to kill Hitler, lets out a piercing scream. She has had enough of this bigoted interrogation, and yells at the Major that her father only tried to kill Hitler after it became clear they would lose the war if they carried on this way. The other assistant puts on a record of Beethoven's 9^th conducted by Furtw‰ngler, and refuses to take it off. The major gets on the phone saying he knows a journalist who will tell them what they need, but this and his earlier use of a Nazi informer in Furtw‰ngler's Berlin Philharmonic, who makes some unsubstantiated claims about his earlier master, undermine Arnold's investigative techniques. You cannot use bigotry to condemn bigotry, yet retain the moral high ground.

The direction of both plays by Philip Franks, with designs by Simon Higlett, was excellent, and the use of music was superbly done. The acting was extremely good. Michael Pennington as Strauss in the first play and Furtw‰ngler in the second, was emotionally and visually convincing in both roles. David Horovitz as Zweig in the first and Major Arnold in the second was equally convincing, a calm and controlled European in one and a brash American from Milwaukee in the other. They were ably assisted by Martin Hutson as the awful Nazi official Hinkel in the first play, and Arnold's junior officer in the second; by Sophie Roberts as Zweig's secretary and later girlfriend in the first, and Arnold's assistant Emmi in the second; and by Isla Blair as Strauss's wife Pauline. The performers in both plays, particularly Pennington and Horovitz, showed how a good actor can portray different emotions in different roles, though it must have made for an exhausting day. I applaud them and the rest of the cast for their interpretations, and Harwood for creating such excellent and thought provoking theatre.

Duet for One at the Richmond Theatre, April 2009. This play by Tom Kempinski, in a well-produced revival by Matthew Lloyd, kept me involved from beginning to end. The main interest is Juliet Stevenson's remarkable portrayal of Stephanie Abrahams, a brilliant concert violinist who can no longer play her instrument because of multiple sclerosis. Her bitterness and anger, complemented by the determination that made her a world star, combine in forming a defiantly difficult patient for psychiatrist Dr. Feldmann, well portrayed by Henry Goodman. She goes to him because her musician husband demands it. He is a composer, but we never see him, or anyone else. Only two characters appear on stage, but this is not a simple matter of talking heads — the patient gets out of her wheelchair, falling over more than once, and even in the wheelchair she is a kinetic force, occasionally careening over to the doctor and even bumping him deliberately.

At the start of the play she is totally in control, having fully discussed with her husband how to adjust to her increasing disability, and the doctor has to provoke her into facing her own self. This creates utter defiance on her part, which reaches a climax of self-destructive behaviour in her avowed sexual liaison with a scrap metal merchant. Dr. Feldmann tells her she is treading the fine line between life and suicide, and talks to her about the purpose of life, and mankind's desire to understand it — he ends by saying that the purpose of life is life itself. After leaving that session she returns to say she no longer needs him, and it is almost as if the play is over. It isn't, and the final visit at which we are present shows how the good doctor has finally got through to her, and she is ready to start the therapy that will last the rest of her life.

Mary Goes First at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond, January 2009. This comedy of manners by Henry Arthur James first opened in 1913, but despite its location in the upper class world before the First World War, it seemed remarkably up to date in its concern over local issues, political preferment and national honours. Mary, brilliantly played by Susie Trayling, is determined to retrieve her position of superiority over Fanny, the wife of the recently knighted Sir Thomas Bodsworth. Her provocations of the vacuous and social-climbing Fanny, well portrayed by Claire Carrie, lead to a demand for an apology and the threat of a lawsuit for slander, claiming she has referred to Lady Bodsworth in private as an "Impropriety". This happens at a dinner party given to honour the Bodsworths by the ambitious and cleverly emollient lawyer Felix Galpin, calmly and intelligently played by Damien Matthews. The solution is for Mary to get her husband ennobled to a baronetcy and call the Bodsworths' bluff on the lawsuit. The problem with contriving such sensible measures is Mary's husband, a silly man well portrayed by Michael Lumsden, who would rather play golf than call the bluff, win the local parliamentary seat for the Liberals, cough up money to the party funds, and receive the desired honour. His stubbornness and foolish speeches make it incumbent on Galpin to contest and win the seat, while he puts up the money and gets the title. The play ends at a new dinner party given by Galpin. Fanny is in tears, feeling unable to accept any gentleman's arm to enter the dining room where Mary goes first, and the brilliantly assertive Mary simply drags Fanny in with her. Very well directed by Auriol Smith.

Twelfth Night at Wyndham's Theatre, January 2009. This Donmar production by Michael Grandage with designs by Christopher Oram, was a romp. The actors inhabited their roles naturally, and the whole thing was full of sexual energy. Derek Jacobi started as a very dry Malvolio, exhibiting little more than contempt for those around him, but the letter scene was a masterpiece of comic timing on his part, and when he then dressed in cross-gartered, yellow stockings, thinking his mistress would take a serious interest in her servant, he displayed a misplaced audaciousness and leering sexuality that made it quite natural he should be confined as a madman. Victoria Hamilton played the shipwrecked Viola, who has lost her twin brother Sebastian and, disguised as a boy, has found service with Duke Orsino, played by Mark Bonnar. His passion for Indira Varma's elegantly bewitching Olivia is easy to understand, and she remained the calm centre of all the folly, with Samantha Spiro as her mischievous maid Maria, who is the catalyst for some of it. The pairing of Ron Cook as a pint-sized Sir Toby Belch with Guy Henry as a lanky and foppishly foolish Sir Andrew Aguecheek created a fine comic duo. And with Maria in tow, their spying on Malvolio from behind a windbreak, while he reads the fake letter from Olivia, was done with exquisite timing. The confusion of identity between Viola, disguised as Cesario, with her lost brother Sebastian gave an increasing velocity to events that led to a quicker resolution of their desires than the characters could ever imagine. It seems that everyone will live happily ever after, except perhaps Malvolio, though now at least released from his confinement.

Love's Labour's Lost at the Rose Theatre in Kingston-on-Thames, November 2008. This comedy about four young noblemen who woo four young noblewomen was well staged by Peter Hall. The men vow to spend three years in monkish contemplation, which they promptly give up when the women appear. When these ladies reject them because of their callow frivolity, and tell them to spend a year isolated from romance, they are devastated at the prospect of so long a time without love—an ironic mockery of their previous vows. The men were played by Dan Fredenburgh, Nicholas Bishop, Nick Barber, and Finbar Lynch, who was a strikingly witty Berowne. The women were Rachel Pickup, as a beautifully witty princess of France, supported by Nelly Harker and Sally Scott, with Susie Trayling as a sparky Rosaline, and Michael Mears as her charmingly snake-like chamberlain. Peter Bowles, in his magnificent costume, did a good job of Don Adriano the Spanish braggart, and William Chubb and Paul Bentall were superb as the pedantic schoolmaster and curate, adding irreverent colour in their black costumes. Greg Haiste was rambunctiously colourful as the bumpkin, and the rubenesque Ella Smith sang like a nightingale as the dairymaid in the penultimate scene. Lighting was by James Whiteside, and the designs by Christopher Woods gave us glorious costumes, and an uncluttered stage on which to enjoy the irony and clever wordplay of this Shakespearean comedy.

A Disappearing Number by Complicite at the Barbican, October 2008. This play is about the meeting and collaboration between Cambridge mathematician G. H. Hardy and the Indian mathematical genius Ramanujan. He visited Hardy between 1913 and 1918, after which he returned to India to recover from illness, and died there in 1920 shortly before turning 33. This creation by Simon McBurney combines the Hardy/Ramanujan story with a modern tale of love and marriage between a mathematician named Ruth, and an Indian-American named Al, but I never found the relationship convincing, and was unmoved by her death, in India. Ruth was played as a very intense mathematician by Saskia Reeves, Al was unconvincingly played by Firdous Banji, Hardy was David Annen, and Ramanujan was Divya Kasturi, who gave him a weak stage presence. The designs by Michael Levine worked well, as did the lighting by Paul Anderson and the music by Nitin Sawhney. Revolving blackboards were used to make people vanish from the stage, and the simulations of travelling in India by train and rickshaw were effective. The play starts with Ruth giving a lecture about Ramanujan's claim that the infinite series 1+2+3+4+... has a sum of -1/12, and conveys the unusual nature of Ramanujan's creative work, done without a serious mathematical education. But the story of Ruth and Al does not shed much light on the Ramanujan/Hardy interaction, and the action moves rather frenetically, with no insight as to what is going on in Ramanujan's mind. For example, he says he has calculated his own astrological chart and found he will die before he is 33, but does he take this prediction seriously? He never refers to it again in the play, and we don't know.

Ivanov at Wyndham's Theatre in a Donmar Theatre production, October 2008. This is one of Chekhov's lesser known plays, in fact his first, written when he was 27, but well worth seeing, particularly in this new English version by Tom Stoppard, well directed by Michael Grandage, with designs by Christopher Oram, and lighting by Paule Constable. The eponymous character, an intelligent country squire, who has difficulty making ends meet and paying his creditors and workers, was brilliantly portrayed by Kenneth Branagh. His friend Lebedev was also excellently played by Kevin McNally. These two men, and the two young women, Anna Petrovna the wife of Ivanov, played by Gina McKee, and Sasha, the daughter of Lebedev, played by Andrea Riseborough, are the four intelligent and reasonable people in this drama. The others are all, in their way, in the way. Almost everyone seems to make life difficult for Ivanov, either by demanding his attention, his money, his love, or his time. Dr. Lvov, played by Tom Hiddleston is the worst of these offenders, angrily demanding Ivanov spend more time with his sick wife. She faints at the end of Act I when Sasha forces her way in on Ivanov, whom she has loved since childhood, and unwittingly compromises him in front of his wife. Borkin the steward, played by Lorcan Cranitch is the first to distract Ivanov, from his thoughts and his books, by firing a gun. Shabelsky the uncle, a rather pathetic Count, is the next irritating character who needs attention, and later in the play Borkin sets up a marriage between him and Babakina, a wealthy heiress, played by Lucy Briers. But the main marriage is the one between Ivanov and Sasha, after Ivanov's wife has died. He is very uncertain of the match, not wanting to blight the life of young Sasha, but is now accused of taking a second wife for the money, and the doctor can't resist attacking him in front of the others, and challenging him to a duel. At this point, Sasha comes into her own, accusing the doctor of being obsessed with Ivanov, and writing anonymous letters making fanciful accusations against him. Ivanov is trapped by accusations, insinuations, debts, and a desire to avoid entering a marriage that will in the long run make his new wife miserable. He takes the only way out he can, and the play ends as it began, with a bang.

Oedipus at the National Theatre, October 2008. In this new translation by Irish playwright Frank McGuinness, Ralph Fiennes gave a very strong performance as Oedipus, and was well matched by the rest of the cast. Claire Higgins was convincing as Jocasta, and so was Jasper Britton as Creon. The other supporting roles were all well played, with David Burke as the priest, Alan Howard as Teiresias, Malcolm Storry as the stranger from Corinth, Alfred Burke as the shepherd, and Gwilym Lee as the messenger at the end. The production was by Jonathan Kent, with excellent lighting by Neil Austin, and designs by Paul Brown showing a vast door to an invisible palace. This was effective, adding to the sense of power in this play, though some would object to the costumes of dark suits and white shirts. The chorus sang to music by Jonathan Dove, which I thought suited this modern production very well, sounding in parts very like Britten's Peter Grimes. Overall this was a fine performance of a very powerful play.

Leaving by Vaclav Havel at the Orange Tree in Richmond, October 2008. This play, seen in England for the first time, in a translation by Paul Wilson, is a send-up of politics and the theatre. It is based on the departure from office of Chancellor Vilem Rieger, excellently portrayed by Geoffrey Beevors, and there were resonances from Shakespeare's Lear and Falstaff, along with Chekhov's Cherry Orchard. The Chancellor is being ejected from his pleasant government home, which includes a cherry orchard, and the man who is responsible, and is buying the property to turn it into a vast fun and sex palace, is his erstwhile deputy minister and now vice prime minister Vlastic Klein, ably portrayed by Robert Austin. Klein's name has the same initials as Vaclav Klaus, who succeeded Havel as President of the Czech Republic, and it is surely no coincidence that Klaus was no friend to Havel. Rieger's elder daughter was well played by Esther Ruth Elliot, portraying an unsympathetic woman who utterly controlled her husband, a man who ran naked on the stage at one point. Rieger's long-time companion Irina, played by Carolyn Backhouse, was equally controlling. Apparently Havel started this play in 1989 while Czechoslovakia was dominated by Communism, and completed it after leaving office. This explains how Deputy Prime Minister Klein could be played as both a corrupt communist official, and a rapacious capitalist, while Rieger was an intellectual, too naive to protect himself.

In-i at the National Theatre, September 2008. This is a dance piece by choreographer and performer Akram Khan, with words, song and Juliette Binoche. Music is by Philip Sheppard, and the stage design by Anish Kapoor is a large solid screen that changes colour. The lighting design by Michael Hulls works well, but the overall effect of this one-hour pas-de-deux is boredom. Khan's choreography has some inventive moments, and Binoche has obviously trained hard to match him, but she is not a dancer and cannot create the necessary stage presence. The story, or stories, concern a passionate affair that goes through stages of insensitivity, argument and revulsion. It fails to convince. It fails to interest. It is self-indulgent, as is the title. The programme gives fourteen Greek words and phrases for love, most of which are irrelevant to the performance, and gives a brief description of Inanna's Descent, a Sumerian myth about the goddess of love (Inanna) going to the netherworld to challenge her sister, who is queen there. The title may have Sumerian connotations (in could be in₅ referring to a lady or goddess, and i can have any one of nearly twenty meanings, but the programme does not explain). Superficial and self-indulgent, this does not belong in the National Theatre.

Gigi at the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park, August 2008. This Lerner and Loewe musical was made as a movie in 1958 and adapted for the stage in 1973. It features a wonderful old rouÈ named Honore, whose signature song, "Thank Heaven for little girls, they grow up in the most delightful way" was made famous by Maurice Chevalier. In this successful production by Timothy Sheader, Honore was very engagingly played by Chaim Topol, and Gigi was Lisa O'Hare who played the part well, though her attraction to Honore's nephew Gaston always seemed a bit contrived. He was played by Thomas Borchert, who appeared very English, despite being German, but is supposed to be French, and I found him somewhat unconvincing. Mamita and Aunt Alicia were delightfully played by Millicent Martin and Linda Thorson, and one could hardly ask for better. Linda Thorson looked terrific as the retired courtesan who will turn her niece into a grande cocotte, and the costumes and designs by Yannis Thavoris were simply wonderful. The choreography by Stephen Mear seemed a little dull, and I wish the amplification were not so loud, as the band came over at a roaring volume that lacked subtlety.

King Lear at Shakespeare's Globe, August 2008. This was a good traditional production by Dominic Dromgoole, with designs by Jonathan Fensome, and music, including songs in Old English, by Claire Van Kampen, intentionally recalling what may have been heard well over 1000 years ago in Britain. It worked well, and the fights, directed by Renny Krupinski, were excellent. David Calder played Lear very convincingly, brashly autocratic but without being over the top. The natural lighting worked well in the forest scene came, with drumming, and actors with sounding sticks in among the audience in the pit. This was very effective, but the diction from many of the actors was not always clear. On a damp night, with rain and aeroplanes occasionally overhead, it is not easy to hear in an open-air theatre when the performers are frequently turning away from part of the audience. Lear's daughters, Goneril and Regan, were played by Sally Breton and Kellie Bright, with Fraser James and Peter Hamilton Dyer as their husbands. Lear's third daughter Cordelia was well played as a fearless and principled young woman — like Antigone — by Jodie McNee. His fool was Danny Lee Wynter who had excellent diction, but was very young compared to other fools I've seen. Lear's knight, a lovely part, was well played by Kevork Malikyan, Gloucester was Joseph Mydell, and his sons Edgar and the scheming bastard Edmund were Trystan Gravelle and Daniel Hawksford. The cast seemed to me a little uneven, but Calder's Lear swept all concerns aside, and this was a raw, earthy Lear, refreshingly uncontrived, and powerfully driven.

The Merry Wives of Windsor at Shakespeare's Globe, August 2008. This production, directed by Christopher Luscombe, with excellent designs from Janet Bird and musical composition by Nigel Hess, was a delight from beginning to end. One could not hope for a better Falstaff than Christopher Benjamin, exhibiting jollity, quick wit and a good-natured response to the jests of others. In wit and scheming he was well matched by Serena Evans and Sarah Woodward as Mistresses Page and Ford, who worked brilliantly together, cleverly dealing with their husbands, played by Michael Garner and Andrew Havill respectively, and well aided by Sue Wallace as Mistress Quickly. Page's daughter Anne was charmingly played by Ellie Piercy, with Edward Macliam as her adored Fenton, and William Belchambers and Philip Bird as the unsuitable suitors, Slender and Dr. Caius. All the actors worked well to support this fine production, with dance and music adding to the atmosphere and making the forest scene a delight. It was full of fun and outrage, but nothing was over the top. A wonderful evening.

Pygmalion at the Old Vic, July 2008. This clever play by George Bernard Shaw is of course the basis for My Fair Lady by Lerner and Loewe, and one almost expects Henry Higgins to burst into song; in fact I believe that in a previous version of this Peter Hall production he did. Here we had Michelle Dockery as a coolly calculating Eliza Dootlittle, rather like her father, played by Tony Haygarth. Henry Higgins himself was played by Tim Piggott-Smith as an overgrown schoolboy, and Colonel Pickering was similarly played by James Laurenson, though with considerably better manners. Neither of them seemed to have the faintest idea of what was going on in Eliza's head, but the women were absolutely down to earth and were extremely well played by Una Stubbs as Higgins' housekeeper Mrs. Pearce, and Barbara Jefford as his mother Mrs. Higgins. The costumes by Christopher Woods were entirely fitting, and the excellent sets by Simon Higlett, with lighting by Peter Mumford, gave a wonderful sense of upper class space to the evening. Altogether this was as fine a version of Shaw's Pygmalion as one is likely to see.

Blackbird at the Rose Theatre in Kingston-on-Thames, April 2008. This recent play by David Harrower, which won the 2007 Olivier awards as best new play, was staged here by David Grindley. Its two main characters, played by Robert Daws and Dawn Steele, are a man in his mid-fifties and a woman in her late twenties who pursues him after fifteen years, since he slept with her as a 12-year old girl, went to prison for it, and changed his identity. No longer named Ray, he changed his name to Peter and has a new life with a woman he says is a year older than him. His brief affair with 12-year old Una left her not just with pain and betrayal, but an unrequited infatuation, almost to be restarted, until a visitor arrives; not his new partner, but a teenager—her daughter—who seems to adore him. They go off together. The pattern it seems may continue. The actors did a fine job, but the theatre lacks the intimacy necessary for this play, and the production did little to alleviate this. The litter-strewn common room in which all the action took place created a dull ambience without the claustrophobic atmosphere it should have engendered.

Brief Encounter by the Kneehigh Theatre Company at Cinema Haymarket, April 2008. This was directed and adapted by Emma Rice from the iconic 1945 movie of the same name, made by David Lean with words and music by Noel Coward. It was very cleverly produced for the theatre, with actors sometimes appearing in front of a movie screen, walking into it and immediately appearing on screen in black and white. The movie sequences used today's actors but were made to look like grainy footage from the original. The main characters are Laura, a housewife played by Naomi Frederick, and Alec, a married doctor played by Tristan Sturrock. Neither was convincing. Not so the other characters, however: Amanda Lawrence gave a great performance of the station-buffet waitress Beryl; with excellent support from Tamzin Griffin as her 'refayned' boss, and Andy Williams as both the toughly engaging station master, and Laura's husband. Stuart McLoughlin as the very ordinary station worker, Stanley, who fancies Beryl and also does the musical interludes, was a delight. An excellent production spoiled only by the failure of the main characters to show any repressed passion, excitement or yearning.

Dealer's Choice at the Trafalgar Studios, February 2008. This early Patrick Marber play, first shown at the National, is about a restauranteur, his son and his staff, who play a regular game of poker on Friday nights. They are joined by a professional poker player, who needs money, but loses to the boss. The boss gives him the money anyway since his son owes it to him. What's the point? I don't know. It was well directed by Samuel West, and well acted. Ross Boatman was Sweeney, who wants to avoid playing, since he's taking his young daughter out next morning, but ends up being a good sport and losing the money he needs for his daughter. Stephen Wright was Mugsy, the entertaining young fool who is full of words and mockery, Malcolm Sinclair was the boss, who pays his son to play, and Roger Lloyd Pack was Ash, the sad eyed professional poker player. Jay Simpson was Frankie the son, who seems to want to fail his father, and Samuel Barnett was Carl, a winner who wisely retreats after being clobbered by Ash. Perhaps the cleverest moment was when two shouted arguments were carried on simultaneously in Act I.

The Vortex at the Richmond Theatre, February 2008. This early Noel Coward play is about a young man, Nicky Lancaster, convincingly played by Dan Stevens; and his glamorously insecure mother Florence, played rather too frenetically by Felicity Kendal. He has entered a vortex of cocaine use, now compounded by the loss of his fiancÈe, Bunty who rejects him in favour of Tom, an old flame, who is also the lover of Nicky's mother Florence. This mess leads to histrionics between mother and son, in her bedroom, and there the play ends, with the son pleading to be mothered. Cressida Trew as Bunty seemed too unappealing to be pursued by two men, and it was hard to see why Daniel Pirrie as Tom was so attractive to the two women, but Phoebe Nicholls as Helen, the close family friend and confidante, was entirely convincing. Like most of Coward's plays this is trapped in its own time and society, in this case the roaring twenties of the upper middle classes. Good designs by Alison Chitty, with direction by Peter Hall.

The Vertical Hour at the Royal Court, February 2008. This is a series of self-indulgent dialogues by David Hare, mainly between a family doctor in Shropshire and a young American feminist academic who supports the Iraq War and has advised the US President on Iraq policy. Of course the doctor wins, and she gives up academia to return to her previous work in the Balkans. In the meantime her relationship with the doctor's son breaks up after they stay one night at the father's house in Shropshire, mainly because the son is obsessed by the idea that his father will seduce his girlfriend. I found the first part boring and hoped for something unexpected in the second, but it never came. Is this just a ramble about Iraq and US foreign policy, or is it a play about the doctor, dancing on the edge of the abyss, while destroying the best relationship his son has ever had with a woman, and deflecting her into a new path in life? If that's what it's about, why confuse it with the heavy guns of Iraq? The young woman was well-played by Indira Varma, with Tom Riley convincing as her boyfriend, and Anton Lesser as the doctor, but none of them could turn this stuff into anything more than a boring series of clever arguments.

War Horse at the National Theatre, February 2008. This play, adapted by Nick Stafford from a novel by Michael Morpurgo, shows the naivety and heroism of men and horses in the Great War, and the banality of that war. Millions died, and to say that the animal population of the affected part of France was decimated would be a striking underestimate; rather than a death rate of one tenth, there was a survival rate of less than one tenth. The story centres round the young Albert Narracott, movingly played by Luke Treadaway, and his horse Joey, foolishly bought by his father in a bout of family rivalry. The father, played by Toby Sedgwick shows an admirable level of stubborn narcissism and folly, though Thusitha Jayasundera as his mother seemed a bit shrill. Sedgwick also did a fine job as director of movement. The most sympathetic characters by far were the ones who loved horses: Albert, who is torn away from his beloved horse when his father sells it to the cavalry, and the German Captain Mueller, gloriously played by Angus Wright. Dialogue was predominantly in English, interspersed with bits of German and a tiny scraps of French. Most actors played more than one part; for example Finn Caldwell was a delight as the goose, and gave a strong performance as the Veterinary officer who tries to shoot Joey because he has no time to care for a wounded horse. The horses were movingly portrayed by their internal puppeteers, so much so that they seemed fully alive, and the goose, birds and children were cleverly done; puppet design and fabrication were by Basil Jones and Adrian Kohler. Music direction by Harvey Brough was extremely effective, and the directors Marianne Elliot and Tom Morris have put on a memorable production.

Uncle Vanya at the new Rose Theatre in Kingston-on-Thames, premiered on 25^th January 2008 in a production by Peter Hall. The title character was superbly played by Nicholas Le Prevost, ably showing frustration with his insensitive, quasi-intellectual, pamphlet-reading mother, played by Faith Brook, and his narcissistic, mindlessly-intellectual, parasitical brother-in-law Professor Serebryakov, played by Ronald Pickup. Uncle Vanya appears here as the character with the highest intelligence, closely followed by Doctor Astrov, played by Neil Pearson, but both these intelligent men, bored by the inanity of the local people, are smitten by Serbryakov's young wife Yelena, coolly played by Michelle Dockery. Her step-daughter Sonya, played by Loo Brealy, adores the doctor, and the plainness of her voice, looks and movement make it easy to see why he is entirely uninterested, and unaware of her yearning. Repressed desire and frustration explode with gunshots, in one of the great moments of theatre, after Serebryakov announces his intention of selling the estate he doesn't own, managed by relatives he largely ignores. Vanya's shots miss the mark each time, suddenly turning this play into a tragi-comedy, but his caustic comments are right on target in this excellent translation by Stephen Mulrine. The theme of the doctor's laudable concerns for ecological sustainability, deflected only by his desire for a pretty woman from a world outside his own, make this play both timeless and timely.

The Seagull at the New London Theatre, December 2007 in a production by Trevor Nunn. The action takes place at the country estate of a retired government official named Sorin, wonderfully portrayed by Ian McKellan. The four main protagonists are an ex-leading actress, Irina Arkadina, her lover Trigorin a popular writer, her son Konstantin an innovative playwright, and Nina a young would-be actress from a neighbouring estate. She "is" the seagull, fatally captured by the amoral Trigorin, yet loved by Konstantin. He in turn is the object of unrequited love by Masha, daughter of the estate manager Medvedenko, who in turn is adored by the teacher, whom she marries out of boredom, and with whom she is bored. The innovative playwright, Konstantin suffers from his mother's appalling insecurities, her narcissistic love and repeated put-downs; she ruins the play he puts on for the assembled guests, and Chekhov's own play ends with his suicide, off-stage. The young women, Romola Garai as Nina, and Monica Dolan as Masha, sounded just like two of my nieces, though Dolan was reasonably convincing in the part. Frances Barber as Arkadina was strikingly dramatic and autocratic, but showed no vulnerability. Gerald Kyd as Trigorin was a Rasputin-like toy-boy, rather than an experienced writer, but Richard Goulding was convincing as Konstantin, as was Jonathan Hyde as the Doctor, albeit a little on the young side.

Kean at the Apollo Theatre on Shaftsbury Avenue, May 2007. This is Sartre's recreation of a play by Dumas pËre about a brilliant actor named Edmund Kean (1787–1833). The title role was played unconvincingly by Anthony Sher, with Alex Avery as the Prince of Wales, and Sam Kelly as a very engaging dresser/prompter. Subtlety and emotion were lost in this brash performance, and Kean's lovers, played by Joanna Pearce as the wife of the Danish ambassador, and Jane Murphy as Anne Danby, appeared unattractive and unconvincing. Good designs by Mark Thompson and lighting by Oliver Fenwick.

Nan at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond, May 2007. Katie McGuinness gave a moving performance of the title role in this 1908 play by John Masefield. Nan lives with her aunt, uncle and cousin, played by Kate Lock, Stuart Fox and Amy Neilson Smith, after her father has recently and unjustly been hanged. Her aunt bullies her, while showing an image of perfection to outsiders, and Kate Lock's vicious portrayal of the aunt had me on the edge of my seat; it was a thoroughly emotional production. This was apparently the first professional production of the play since 1943.

Equus at the Gielgud Theatre in March 2007. Richard Griffiths, the extraordinary teacher in The History Boys, was equally convincing here as the psychiatrist Martin Dysart; and Daniel Radcliffe was outstanding as Alan Strang, the disturbed young man who blinds six horses. Thea Sharrock directed, with designs by John Napier, who was also the designer on the original production in 1973. I found this play just as compelling and relevant as when I saw it 34 years ago, and I noticed an extra dimension: when Alan's symbiotic relationship with the horses is destroyed after his seduction by the young woman, the rejection he feels is a metaphor for the Biblical rejection from Eden, or more clearly the rejection by the animals that Enkidu experiences in the Epic of Gilgamesh after he is seduced by Shamhat.

Antony and Cleopatra at the Novello Theatre, January 2007, in a production by Gregory Doran that was previously at Stratford. Antony was brilliantly played by Patrick Stewart, showing a man entranced by Cleopatra, but more at home in the world of men. Harriet Walter was a fine Cleopatra, and John Hopkins showed a strongly human side to Octavius.

Frost/Nixon by Peter Morgan at the Gielgud Theatre in January 2007. The action is in 1977 when David Frost (Michael Sheen) interviews Nixon (Frank Langella) and eventually gets him to apologise for his part in the Watergate affair. The lead-up to the interviews involves the seamy side of Nixon's desire for ample financial rewards, and Frost's signing of a contract before he has the funds. Interesting, but I found the characters didn't quite come alive. This was Morgan's first stage play, but I prefer his excellent screenplay for The Queen.

Amy's View by David Hare, at the Garrick Theatre in December 2006. Felicity Kendal was terrific as the witty and spirited West End actress Esme. The action starts in 1979 when her daughter Amy (Jenna Russell) brings home a boyfriend Dominic (Ryan Kiggall). David Hare gives him almost no redeeming virtues as a demotically successful creature of the media who derides the theatre as being elitist and increasingly irrelevant. By the mid-1990s, Esme finds herself in financial distress, owing more money than she can ever earn, after risky investments made on the advice of Frank (Gawn Grainger). She returns to her theatrical work, and Dominic, long since estranged from Amy, tries to make some amends by giving her a shoe-box full of cash; she no longer has a bank account, and her salary is automatically culled in repaying debts that reached silly figures after the Lloyds crash.

The Life of Galileo by Bertolt Brecht, at the National Theatre in August 2006. This version was by David Hare. The history is well-known: Galileo (1564–1642) used the recent invention of the telescope to confirm the theories of Copernicus (1473–1543) that placed the sun at the centre of the universe rather than the earth, but his personality set him on a collision course with the papal authorities, who viewed the writings of Aristotle as divinely inspired dogma. Simon Russell Beale was terrific as Galileo, and Oliver Ford Davis gave a powerful performance as the Cardinal Inquisitor.

Rock'n'Roll, a new play by Tom Stoppard, at the Duke of York's in August 2006. It deals with Czechoslovakia between 1968 and 1990, and involves rock music as a means of apolitical self-expression. The imprisonment of a rock group called the Plastic People of the Universe, became a catalyst for Vaclav Havel and others to found Charter 77. The production is by Trevor Nunn, with Brian Cox giving a fine performance as the Cambridge professor, Max, a clever and irascible academic whose emotional need for a world built on abstract principles turns him into a self-indulgent old fool who cannot accept that he was wrong. Excellent performances also by Sinead Cusack and Rufus Sewell.

Embers at the Duke of York's theatre in London in May 2006. This play is based on a novel by the Hungarian writer Sandor Marai, and the theatrical adaptation is by Christopher Hampton. It deals with a meeting between two older men, recalling an incident from the past, and seeking resolution. Jeremy Irons gave a masterful performance of the main part. Well worth seeing.

The Crucible at the Gielgud Theatre, May 2006, in an excellent production by Dominic Cooke for the RSC. Iain Glenn was terrific as John Proctor, showing a moral growth from defensiveness to heroism and eventually martyrdom. Robert Bowman gave the Reverend Hale a very human side, and the whole cast did an excellent job, with Elaine Cassidy as the feverish Abigail Williams. This play by Arthur Miller, about the 1690s witch trials in Massachusetts, was first produced over fifty years ago when it reflected the absurdity of McCarthyism, but it remains perennially relevant.