Black Mountain – Theatr Clwyd

Welcome to Roundabout. This unique pop-up theatre is taking the UK by storm. It is a masterful piece of engineering. Fully transportable, it is popping up in the most unlikely of places, including car parks, churchyards, seafronts, and housing estates. It takes six people about a day to construct, and needs nothing more than an Allen key to assemble. It is innovative, ingenious and distinctive. Its round white body is certainly noticeable alongside Theatr Clwyd, its current resting place. To have the opportunity to watch a play inside this intriguing structure was a very thrilling prospect.

The early signs were less than promising. Walking in, I could hardly see where I was going. The darkness was overwhelming. The theatre itself wasn’t much better. It was like entering a poorly-lit spaceship. I’d wandered onto the set of an early Doctor Who. I’d been transported back to the age of the 1950s B-movie. The media images seen beforehand only compounded matters further. It was a lot smaller than the press photos had made out. A technical fault at the start meant that my excitable early expectations were now almost entirely extinguished. I was really disappointed. But then the play began.

Black Mountain is a psychological thriller of the highest degree. It sees Rebecca (Katie Elin-Salt) and Paul (Hasan Dixon) travel to an isolated house in the country in an attempt to save their relationship. Writer Brad Birch has created an intriguing and unsettling plot that bubbles away with tension and drip feeds paranoia. The engrossing nature of his script meant that my initial shortcomings quickly dissipated. The intimacy of the space became its strength rather than a distractive weakness. The lighting effects used throughout were essential in the creation of a dark and disturbing tale.

Dixon is exceptional as the stuttering Paul. He conveys a sense of deep discomfort with relative ease. You can tell his character is walking on eggshells. He has a secret to hide from his wife Rebecca. She knows something is going on, but will he admit it? Birch doesn’t make it easy. Elin-Salt brings an intensity of strength to Rebecca that makes her appear a very confident woman. It is testament to her acting skills, however, that this confident exterior also harbours an unsettling tone. There is something deeper brewing beneath the surface. She is holding on to something. But what is it? Birch draws this out across sixty compelling minutes with his absorbing dialogue.

If you enjoyed recent television dramas The Replacement and Doctor Foster, this will be another similar storyline to savour. In some ways, the live action makes for an even greater thrill ride through the tempestuous relationships on stage, particularly as Rebecca turns the screw and the appearance of Helen (Sally Messham) muddies the waters for Paul. It becomes an increasingly sinister play, utterly gripping and completely enthralling. Ultimately, I came out of the darkness having seen the light.

Black Mountain is an absorbing play. The cast are absolutely fantastic and the direction is excellent. There may be some improvements to be made on the initial entrance to the Roundabout theatre. There is nothing but positive feedback on its content here though. An impressive debut for Paines Plough in North East Wales.

Originally published on 14th July 2017 for Get the Chance.

Gregory Porter at the Llangollen International Eisteddfod

In some ways, Gregory Porter was made for the International Eisteddfod. The man whose music transcends was making his debut at the annual event. Bringing his sweet, smooth and soulful sound to a warm and pleasant Friday evening, Porter is the embodiment of the festival’s message of peace and love. It is little wonder that he was rapturously received by a cross-generational crowd that pretty much packed out the Llangollen Pavilion.

There is always a message behind his music, and his choice of songs here balanced nicely between songs of relevance and well-known hits. His most famed, Liquid Spirit, certainly encouraged audience participation on the hand clapping front. Hey Laura got the biggest cheer of the night on its introduction. It is his shifts in tempo and mood – including between these two songs – that make Porter’s set constantly fresh and teaming with life. It also makes the acoustic parts of his set – just him and Chip Crawford on piano – that much more powerful. His impromptu rendition of Nat King Cole’s (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons was especially moving. Contrast that with a toe-tapping rendition of Papa Was a Rolling Stone, and you begin to see the diversity of his set.

He also had time to offer some thoughtful and inspiring words that chimed perfectly with the Eisteddfod’s values. Porter is a great believer in the power of music. It brings people together. It is spiritual, emotional, physical. It is a great healer. It is a builder of bridges across divisions in society. It is what the International Eisteddfod aims to do. And Porter certainly honoured those things. He, along with his band, were exceptional. From the organist to the double bassist, the French horn player to the saxophonist, they were all on sparkling form. The standing ovation at the end was thoroughly deserved.

Gregory Porter never feels like a man who craves the limelight. He was completely absent from the stage at times, the band performing independently of him. The music is the star of the show. That humble and sincere belief is something that has won Porter legions of fans. It is also the reason his presence at the Eisteddfod was a perfect fit. A match made in heaven.

Originally published for Get the Chance, an online arts review magazine.

Broken – BBC Series Review

Father Michael Kerrigan is the latest name to add to the growing pantheon of priests appearing on our television screens in recent years. Following in the footsteps of Tom Hollander (Rev), James Norton (Grantchester) and Mark Williams (Father Brown) is another acting heavyweight, Sean Bean. Bean takes the lead role in writer Jimmy McGovern’s latest drama, Broken. The six-part BBC series has seen Kerrigan battling his own personal demons whilst acting as counsellor, social worker and friend to his parishioners. The narrative has been suitably gritty, tackling poverty and injustice unashamedly through the lens of social realism. It is, of course, what McGovern does best. It could even be argued that Broken is among his best work.

Sean Bean is a fascinating lead actor. He is utterly mesmerising here. The emotion etched on his face conveys perfectly the inner turmoil and wretched guilt of his character. There is no need for words. He makes Kerrigan so likable, so genuine. It is hard not to fall in love with his character. His flaws and his mistakes and his heartfelt pleas only increase our empathy for the man. Kerrigan is broken. Yet in his brokenness we see something of our humanity – for better and for worse.

The opening credits seem to capture this sense of conflict perfectly. It is so beautifully melancholic: the heart-rending tones of Nina Simone singing “Human kindness is overflowing/ And I think it’s going to rain today”. It is this overwhelmingly positive image streaked with an impending sense of despair that wonderfully encapsulates the stories at the heart of this drama. In particular, the investigation into the death of Vernon Oyenusi (Jerome Holder) places a focus on PC Andrew Powell (Mark Stanley) as he wrestles with the personal and professional consequences of telling the truth. He wants to do the right thing, but there is a cost for doing so.

McGovern finds rich material here. He touches on some of the hypocrisies of the institutional church. He tackles issues of homosexual acceptance and the morality of gambling. There is also the moment when Kerrigan faces up to one of his former teachers who, as we see in flashbacks, abused him. The lack of remorse shown by Father Matthew (Robert Gillespie) is infuriating to say the least. Yet Kerrigan’s response is measured. He doesn’t lash out in justifiable rage yet the emotional anger underneath is evident in this incredible exchange. Again, Bean’s acting is masterful.

The standout episode of this fascinating series has to be the fourth offering. It finds single mother Roz (Paula Malcomson) facing up to the reality of her fraudulent past. She owes over £200,000 to her employer and confesses to Father Michael that her only way out is to take her own life. It is complete dramatic perfection from McGovern: raw, heart-breaking, full of understated emotion and grounded in the ordinary reality of daily life. It is also where Broken becomes an ensemble piece rather than simply a protagonist-led drama.

Jimmy McGovern is a master at creating fully-formed and multi-layered characters. The leading light in this drama is certainly Kerrigan. However, as the series progresses, he becomes like the candle he lights to declare the presence of Christ. This simple yet powerful motif reflects Kerrigan’s role in the community: he is present amongst his parishioners but he is no superman solving all their problems. He is there for them, but he is helpless as much as he is helpful. He is part of their lives, but they have their own stories to tell – he does not define their decisions or determine their choices necessarily.

The place that McGovern gives to Father Michael Kerrigan is far less certain than the clear morality of Sidney Chambers’ crime-solving world in Grantchester. Yet it is somewhat more assured than the struggle for relevance that faces Adam Smallbone in Rev. This is what makes Broken such a fascinating series, particularly in the canon of TV shows with a clerical protagonist. For McGovern, the church remains a place where hope is found. But this hope is expressed through the individual (Kerrigan) rather than the institution (as represented by Adrian Dunbar’s  Father Peter Flaherty). In this way, the final scene makes perfect sense. Being critical, it could be seen as a little too perfect, almost sentimental. Nevertheless, it still elicited a few tears from me in response.

Broken is an excellent and inspiring drama. It continues Jimmy McGovern’s reign as one of Britain’s best and most provocative of writers. The acting talents of Sean Bean, et al. only add to the sheer quality on display here. It is surely one of 2017’s best dramas.

Originally published for Get the Chance, an online arts review magazine.

Featured image (C) BBC

Beginnings – Hannah’s Yard

The release of debut album Beginnings is surely the start of something special for Hannah Layton Turner. The musical collective known as Hannah’s Yard have released a fascinatingly eclectic record. Here are 14 songs that span across a variety of genres. We have a mixture of folk, pop, country, jazz and swing. They combine to create an album full of musical flavour, that doesn’t sit neatly into one particular category. The opening song “Why Would I Know” offers a laid back, easy listening sound; “Doin’ It for Myself” is an inspiring and upbeat pop song; and “I Want You” is a gear shift into jazz and swing. Then, in another key change, Hannah duets with fellow band member Barnaby Pinny on country-sounding ballad “Here and Now”, with the country/folk influence continuing in later songs “Baby I’m There” and “Dance Our Way Back”. This mixture of musical styles works, in part due to the naturally confident and adaptable voice of Turner. Her melodic vocals make for a seamless transition between songs. Her purely vocal intro to final track “Amazing Grace” shows off her vocal prowess – a captivating sound that calls for a devoted listening ear. This last song is a nod to Olney, the small English town where they are based and where the original was first written in the 1770s. Surely Hannah’s Yard is destined to be known further than their Buckinghamshire base however. With such a range of musical tastes, they have produced a lovely and surprising album that would be a welcome soundtrack to many people’s summer.

Originally published on website Get the Chance on 27th June 2017.

Featured Image (C) Hannah's Yard.com

Southern Halo – Debut Album

Adding to the wonderful sibling harmonies on the country music scene are Southern Halo. The Morris sisters – Natalia, Hannah and Christina – may only be in their late teens, but they are fast becoming a well-known trio across the pond. Born and bred in Cleveland, Mississippi, their self-titled debut album is far from the Blues sound of their birthplace. Instead, the sisters have produced an uplifting and energetic record, full of pop-inspired tunes in addition to an edgy rock sound. The final three songs on the album in particular (“Living Like That”, “Cowboys”, and “I Ain’t Crazy (But My Daddy Is)”) amplify the electric guitar to give them a lovely hard beat. They wouldn’t be out of place next to the likes of Carrie Underwood, for example. Before this, they deliver more standard fare – catchy pop tunes about young love (“Moonshine”) and heartbreak (“I Don’t Wanna Move On”). It is an interesting contrast, and probably reveals something of the compromise that the three have to make in accommodating their diverse musical preferences. For all this difference in musical styles however, the opening three songs on the album appear to have a linear theme running through them: “Little White Dress” is the desire to enjoy life before settling down; “Life Rolls On” is the clash between a care-free teenage life and the responsibilities of adulthood; and “Rewind” is that constant tension between the demands of work and spending time with loved ones. It is this wrestling between two states of being that gives this album a solid foundation, an insight into the sisters’ songwriting abilities. This album feels like a glimpse of what is possible if they continue to learn and improve. They may not be quite at the same level as Maddie & Tae or Ward Thomas yet. They are not far behind though. An impressive debut.

Featured Image (C) Southern Halo

Salome – National Theatre Live

Director Yael Farber brings a biblical tale to life in the National Theatre’s latest live broadcast. Despite a lack of emotional zeal, Salome is a gloriously aesthetic production. It immerses itself in Middle Eastern culture, making for an atmospheric opening. It harbours a mystical quality that enhances the special effects and technical features. It is very heavily choreographed in places, obviously so at times that it makes it feel overly dramatic. This could be because Faber’s interpretation seems a bit untidy, a bit confusing. Nevertheless, it manages to present its central theme of occupation well. There are some strong performances from the cast which help it on its way. Ultimately though, it all seems a bit average.

The story of Salome is a short one. We find it in three of the Gospels. Here, she is named simply as Herodias’ daughter. She dances for her stepfather Herod and his guests, “pleasing” them so much that he offers to grant her any request. On asking her mother, she returns to ask for the head of John the Baptist. Despite Herod’s silent protestations, he agrees. We are promised that Farber’s production is this tale ‘retold…, but never like this’. It is a fairly accurate assessment of the South African director’s interpretation. It both reflects and veers away from its original source. For example, Salome’s nameless status is reflected in the play, yet her mother is omitted from the cast. Farber subverts the biblical story, moulding it into a centrally important narrative that makes this woman a pivotal agent of change.

Farber’s intentions work to an extent. The theme of occupation is a powerful one. This is particularly true of the relationship between Herod (Paul Chahidi) and Salome (Isabella Nefar). Here, we find perhaps the most disturbing scenes of the play. Herod seeks to “occupy” Salome’s body in a sexually violent and emotionally abusive way. It is much more jarring than the more conventional sense of occupation also portrayed here. We are submerged into first century Judea: the hauntingly beautiful tones of traditional Arabic song; the sand pouring across the backdrop; the stone-carved floor; and the costumed spectacle of Arabic dress and Roman armour. Farber places her cast of Roman officials and religious leaders at the centre of a turntable stage. Salome, for the most part, circulates silently around them. It is a stark contrast. But it serves a telling purpose. In this male-dominated world, it is the silent female who incites a dramatic set of events.

Unfortunately, this production does not illicit a great deal of emotional response, even at its inciting finale. Despite its attempts to produce a dramatic story arc, the forced and overdrawn choreography finds it wanting. More specifically, it appears as if it is trying to imitate a biblical epic. In short, it seems to be trying a bit too hard. Therefore, when the play reaches its intended melodramatic climax, it sounds more like white noise than a dramatic statement requiring deep emotional engagement. This is taking nothing away from the cast, however, who deliver some strong performances, Nefar and Ramzi Choukair (John the Baptist) in particular. It is the script, in this instance, that seems to let them down. Farber’s interpretation seems a bit loose, slightly unfinished. The omission of Herodias, the original instigator of John the Baptist’s beheading, leaves a particular problem: what is Salome’s reasoning for this request without her? In light of John’s kindness towards Salome in her cleansing especially, I was left confused and asking myself, why?

Confusion seems to have been the wider audience reaction too. As I left the screening, everyone seemed to be rather puzzled as to what they had just witnessed. Designer Susan Hilferty has created a beautiful set. The mystical quality of this production still manages to stir up some level of intrigue. Sadly, it lacks an emotionally compelling narrative. As a result, Salome is a physical spectacle, but not an immersive experience.

Fearless – A British Homeland?

Writer Patrick Harbinson has left Stateside to come and create a brand-new thriller for ITV. Fearless features Helen McCrory (Peaky Blinders, Penny Dreadful) as a human rights lawyer who sets out to prove the innocence of convicted killer Kevin Russell (Sam Swainsbury). But as she attempts to re-open up his case, it appears that there are powerful forces at work eager to stop her from doing so.

The title credits to Fearless spell out in no uncertain terms that this is a political thriller. A little girl (presumably a young Emma) walks along a wall adorned with images from political history. Maggie Thatcher, Tony Blair and Donald Trump are all here, as are some familiar slogans from down the years. The credits finish with the girl teetering on the edge of a tall brick structure – a precarious precipice that certainly feels like a pertinent symbol. As McCrory’s character begins to re-investigate Russell’s case, not all is as it seems. It becomes clear that if she is going to dig deeper into this thing, she could be putting herself in real danger. A web of connections quickly spins out on screen of those involved in one way or another. Some we come to know quickly; others are a passing glance. Who is the woman Stateside for instance? And what has Michael Gambon got to do with any of this? Like any great thriller, Fearless is throwing up as many questions as answers.

Harbinson has had such success with Homeland, it is no surprise that we see some familiar tropes from it here: from the use of handheld cameras to the cross seat shots of Emma whilst she’s driving. In Fearless, we also get a sense of similar themes emerging to that in the latest series of Homeland. Here, we saw those in authority setting out to retain their power at all costs. It appears that Emma might unleash a similar response if initial reactions to her re-examination of Russell’s case are anything to go by. It will be interesting to see her response as the pressure (presumably) heats up over the next few weeks. She has a ruthless Carrie Mathieson streak to her, but it appears (for the moment at least) to be much less scatty and frantic. McCrory plays her as a woman who keeps her emotions under control, channeling them into her work with a deeply subtle ferocity. She is an instantly likeable character – a champion of justice and a supporter of the oppressed. McCrory has landed a plum role.

Fearless has the makings of a fascinating, edge-of-your-seat drama. There was enough revelation and intrigue in this debut episode to want to return for more. McCrory is fabulous in the lead role, and the themes of injustice and corruption mean that Emma already looks set to be the next heroine of the small screen. Let’s hope that’s the case.

Fearless is on ITV at 9pm, Monday from 12th June 2017.

Featured Image (C) ITV

The Play That Goes Wrong – Venue Cymru

The Play That Goes Wrong is one of the funniest things you will ever see in theatre. There are so many funny moments that a smile will be etched on your face from start to finish. It is consistently hilarious. It is incredibly witty and full of deadpan humour and physical farce. I hate to say it, but if you don’t enjoy this, there is no hope for you. Period.

The premise of this show is simple. The Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society are putting on a 1920s murder mystery. Yet the simplicity of this idea allows for such complexity of humour, it is a production that becomes a must-see not only once but several times (at least). This is because everything that can go wrong does. Sometimes, so much goes wrong that the stage becomes an arena of mayhem. You can be so busy laughing at one thing that you can completely miss another. But this pandemonium is a huge part of its charm.

Its set very much reminds me of The Mousetrap: the obligatory leather sofa, the fireplace in the corner, draping curtains across a towering window, and a telephone resting on a side table. We are instantly transported into the world of Agatha Christie. Instead of an unfurling murder mystery however, we are presented with what might have been had she written comedy. The “big reveal”, a staple of her books, is subverted in spectacular style within the opening half-hour. It becomes a running joke that works very well, particularly as the story builds toward an altogether different climax.

I really loved the addition of two actors playing the “stage crew”. With Trevor and Cat emblazoned on their black t-shirts, both resembled students on a work experience programme. Their apparent ineptitude at the beginning of the play, putting the finishing touches to a set already showing signs of failure, made for a humorously organic start. At one stage, they roped in a member of the audience to help them, with hilariously unexpected results.

The Play That Goes Wrong has such a diversity of comic conventions that it is little surprise it explodes with humour. The physicality of the performers is extraordinary. To maintain composure and be able to produce such a seemingly-coincidental set of disastrous happenings takes real skill and acute precision. The use of props is unlike anything I’ve seen on stage. The misplacement, mismanagement, and substitution of various items create a wealth of comic situations. Again, it is the simplicity of these props that allows some to be used as recurring devices due to their breadth of comic potential. The personas of the characters are brilliantly excessive. Meg Mortell is fantastic as Sandra, a real diva who desires to dazzle at every opportunity. Alastair Kirton brings a hilarious cheekiness to his rather naïve Max who loves to work the audience a bit too much. And Patrick Warner as lead actor Chris is fantastic at conveying his passion for the profession, and as a result his utter despair when pretty much nothing goes to plan.

For budding thespians, The Play That Goes Wrong is all their nightmares rolled into one. Surely inspired by the best efforts and the terrible experiences of Amateur Dramatic Societies up and down the country, it feels very British both in style and in substance. It conveys in spectacular style the feigned ignorance that is the essence of much British comedy. The idea that when something goes wrong we simply carry on, pretending as if nothing has happened, is portrayed in stark detail here.

The Play That Goes Wrong is a two-hour joy ride that will leave you in stitches. It is side-splittingly funny and should be prescribed on the NHS to anyone who is having a bad day. This will, without doubt, turn anyone’s frown around.

An edited version of a piece originally written as part of the Young Critics scheme.

Featured Image (C) The Play That Goes Wrong

My Country: A Work in Progress – NT at Theatr Clwyd

With another General Election almost upon us, Theatr Clwyd’s staging of My Country seems particularly apt. A political play of sorts, its backdrop is last year’s divisive and historic EU referendum. In the days following the vote, the National Theatre set about touring the nation, interviewing a variety of people to hear their views on the referendum, their town, their country, their lives, and their future. The result is a smorgasbord of opinion, brought brilliantly to life on stage by Director Rufus Norris and Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy.

In a similar way to London Road, My Country uses a verbatim script, with Duffy weaving together some wonderfully rhythmic dialogue. She manages to capture the very conflicting and often contrasting views of people extremely well. Using the natural cadence of the English language, she has created a piece of work that is both musical in its tone and voice, and clear in its content and subject matter. It is not burdensome on the listener, with six actors representing six regions of the UK. Each actor plays between eight and twelve characters from their part of Britain. The play can get busy with these various personalities, but thankfully not so busy that one gets lost. Each is brilliantly engaging in their own way: Laura Elphinstone brings a cheeky humour to her North East; Adam Ewan a lovable snobbery to some of his South West folk; and Seema Bowri’s East Midlands characters are charmingly no-nonsense and frank. They complement one another fantastically well. As a cast, they work together brilliantly.

Keeping the six in check is Britannia, played by Penny Layden. Acting as Chairperson, she is a humble yet authoritative character. She enters the room quite ordinarily at the start, in a plain and simple blue suit. Putting down her bag, she clicks on the lights and manoeuvres the seven tables on stage. She greets the audience, then each of the six cast members in turn. They sit at their tables, and she announces the intentions of the meeting in a simple and unassuming way. Then, one by one, they lift up pictures of the people who they are representing – a diverse group that includes some recognisable faces from the political class. When it comes to then recreating their famous speeches, Layden is superb in bringing Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage and David Cameron (to name but three) to life. She not only captures their familiar accents but manages to achieve the individual nuances of their movements and gestures. It is a delight to behold.

Even as she impersonates the Westminster elite with a sense of joviality however, Layden still manages to retain Britannia’s unpretentious and sincere nature. If she were to be too satirical in her performance, the later scenes, holding much more dramatic weight, would perhaps not have worked quite as effectively. Here, there is much more emotional depth. Fractures start appearing. The six on stage start shouting and arguing with each other. Britannia seeks to keep them under control. At one stage, she appears to go through an identity crisis of her own. For a 75-minute production, it manages to say a lot in a relatively short space of time.

Ultimately, this is a play about “the sacrament of listening”. The six actors descend into more bickering and arguing as the play goes on. Britannia has to call them back each time – to “listen” again. They get so caught up in themselves that they forget to listen. We are all the same. It is the reason to feel both heartbroken and ashamed as Christian Patterson, who plays Cymru, assumes the voice of Dylan, a little boy from Merthyr Tydfil. Now and again, above the commotion, he softly speaks: “Be kind… No argues”. But nobody listens to him.

The National Theatre, under the direction of Norris, has undertaken to listen to people from across the country. It has endeavoured to listen with such precision that Duffy has used their exact words to create a multifaceted and beautifully rhythmic script. She has taken their stories and opinions seriously enough to include views from all sides – some funny, some extreme; some uplifting, others uncomfortable. They cannot be accused of being hypocritical in their content. They have listened. They call us to listen to. It is a simple yet powerful message to take away. And one, at this time in particular, that may be worth acting upon.

More information on this touring production can be found here.