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.

Ward Thomas – Cartwheels Tour

Walking the streets of Manchester on Wednesday evening, it felt like any other visit to the city. With the exception of some TV cameras and a clear police presence, it seemed like business as usual for residents, commuters and tourists. Outside The Ritz, the popular music venue opposite Oxford Road station, heightened security meant that each individual was patted down on entrance. Inside though, it was standard procedure – find the bar, grab a drink, and wait for the music to begin.

There was plenty to be inspired by as a visitor to this city, coming less than 48 hours after a terror attack which left 22 dead and dozens injured at the MEN Arena. A spirit of defiance, to not let this savage brutality determine the way people go about their daily lives, was powerfully present, not just in the streets but inside The Ritz too. The decision of country duo Ward Thomas to go ahead with their planned gig here was met with widespread approval. They had postponed the Northampton leg of their Cartwheels tour 24 hours earlier, out of respect for those caught up in Monday’s bombing. Now, it was time to show solidarity with the people of Manchester, to stand together with them, and choose light over darkness and despair.

They opened with a song that, already powerful, took on a much deeper meaning in light of Monday’s event. Sung under ambient lighting, ‘Safe’ speaks of a place of rest, forgiveness and healing. It also features the incredibly moving statement, ‘You are not what happened to you’. It was the perfect song choice. It spoke right to the heart of this musical city. Here, on this night, were words of faith, hope, and love. Then, for a moment, this nightclub venue became a hallowed church: a minute’s silence to remember those who had lost their lives. Throughout the whole evening, as at this moment, the spirit of togetherness was extraordinary. The applause that rang out afterwards only echoed this further. It was all very moving.

After this emotional tribute, Catherine and Lizzy set about performing their planned set. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion of light and colour that hit the stage. In front of a black backdrop dotted with starry lights, the two sisters splashed great energy and enthusiasm over their country rock records. In contrast, their soulful ballads were marked with sweet harmonies and a simple spotlight. In both instances, the audience were full of applause after each song. It felt almost like a statement of intent. This was a celebration of this city’s musical identity. This is taking nothing away from Ward Thomas however. They deserve applause as artists in their own right. With ‘Cartwheels’, they have created a stunningly beautiful album. To become the first UK Country act to reach No.1 with their material is no fluke. These ladies really do deserve all the accolades that come their way. They write such powerful and emotional lyrics. They tell such great stories. There is a profound, and often universal, depth to their songwriting. And they can now add live performance to their ever-growing list of achievements. This concert, at least, was brilliant.

This concert was also inspiring. Ward Thomas played their part (as did Wildwood Kin, who were supporting them) but it was the audience who made this night special. Instead of staying away through fear, they turned up in their numbers. They responded in perhaps the best way one can to such a terrible, fear-inducing event. This simple choice of turning up, of coming together – this community spirit – sent a message. It was a message of hope, of solidarity, and a sign that love remains triumphant over hate. It was a real privilege and a great opportunity to be in the midst of such inspirational people. A moving and life-affirming night.

Originally published on Get the Chance.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – National Theatre Live

If you’re in the mood for a darkly comic tale, then director James MacDonald might be able to help. There is an uncomfortable darkness that penetrates through his production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? From the acting and lighting, right through to the set design, Edward Albee’s landmark play is given a wonderfully brutal treatment by the acclaimed director. Throughout, there are moments when you wonder whether to laugh or cry. Come to its engrossing finale however, and you can’t help but applaud.

Set designer Tom Pye has created a rather formal and symmetrical set. During the second interval, MacDonald describes his intentions: it is made to resemble that of a boxing ring. And there are two heavyweights of the acting world facing off against each other. In one corner, Imelda Staunton plays the drink-fuelled and imposing Martha. Facing her is worthy opponent Conleth Hill, playing her difficult and condescending husband, George. Together, they harbour a wealth of anger and toxicity. Driven by Albee’s exquisite script, no line is wasted; every piece of dialogue lands a punch. It is deathly biting.

The set also feels like a domestic sitcom. All the familiar décor appears to be here: the centrality of the sofa; the obligatory bookcase and table-top lamp; the white-shuttered doors; and stairs in the background. Here though, there is also the addition of the drinks trolley, an important trope throughout the course of the play. Albee’s work is no Father Knows Best. Shows like this, depicting the perfect American family and upholding societal expectations, are in stark contrast to the 1950s image evoked here. Instead, we have a tragi-comic depiction of a desperate couple in utter meltdown. Yet their refusal to face up to their emotional turmoil means that we are treated to some sharp and bitter interchanges, not only between Martha and George but their two guests, Nick and Honey. Luke Treadaway and Imogen Poots are wonderful as the young, archetypal lovebirds who, slowly and agonisingly, are subjected to the vitriol of their hosts, succumbing to a few painful truths of their own. As dark as these truths get however, MacDonald has directed it in such a way as to colour it with humour. The physicality of his cast and the delivery of their dialogue do a lot to evoke laughter from the audience. Sometimes it is nervous, sometimes universal. It is the measure of Albee’s work that it touches on something within us that can be both profoundly relatable and worryingly uncomfortable.

Poots puts in a wonderful performance as the endearingly sweet and naïve Honey. She provides plenty of charmingly innocent humour which nicely offsets against the more poison-filled wit of Martha and George. Treadaway gives an accomplished performance as her other half, Nick. Thankfully, he doesn’t go too far in his portrayal of the obnoxious biology professor. He’s not quite so annoying that you want to get into the ring and punch him yourself. Staunton is wonderful as Martha: abrasive, brash, and loutish beyond belief. But she also brings real depth to her character too. At times, her considered delivery allows us to see, even if only briefly, into Martha’s soul. And Hill is absolutely fantastic as George. He fully embodies the character, and his chemistry with Staunton is such that you really believe in them as a couple. The final scene, featuring them both, is captivatingly haunting, demonstrating their immense ability to hold an audience with very little words or action.

The lighting in these final moments makes it a bewitching sight. It is also very introspective. It stays with you on leaving the theatre. It makes its mark. MacDonald’s production brings Albee’s world to life in a way that makes it truly unforgettable. This is a mesmerising piece of theatre that everyone should go and see.

Featured Image (C) ATG Tickets

The Importance of Being Earnest – Theatr Clwyd

There are certain smells that have the power to transport you to a certain place. Before the action had even started on the stage of the Anthony Hopkins theatre, I found myself standing in the middle of a bookshop, browsing the shelves and in my element. Clearly, the ingredients for the opening scene – consisting of an oak desk, antique tea trolley, red leather sofa and chipped wood wall panelling – had combined to create a most evocative scent. It was the perfect metaphor for my relationship with The Importance of Being Earnest. Suddenly, this play, which I had only previously encountered on paper, was coming to life right before my eyes, and in glorious detail too.

The costume department at Theatr Clwyd has once again excelled in creating the most exquisite outfits. The actors look positively fabulous, and the periodic detail is simply sublime. They capture the regal nature of the Victorian aristocracy perfectly: elegant, smart and, particularly in the case of Lady Bracknell, excessive. The Scenic Artists have clearly been inspired to compliment these gorgeous outfits with some spectacular scenery. In Act II especially, the Manor House garden is breathtaking. With huge green hedges and colourful flower beds, it is a wonder the stage is big enough to fit it all in. It is a real work of art, worthy of a horticultural (never mind theatrical) award.

Thankfully, this colourful production also contains some vibrant acting. It is not just the brilliance of Oscar Wilde’s script that is hugely affecting. The addition of physical expression means that the wit and wisdom contained within it are greatly enhanced. The humour is at times bitingly satirical, at times far more slapstick. Yet whether it is the mannerisms of Matt Jessup as John Worthing, the animated physicality of Nick Harris (Merriman), or the snobbish ignorance with which Hilary Maclean plays Lady Bracknell, this production certainly delivers on comedic value. It is infectiously enjoyable, in part from the fact that the entire cast seem to be taking such pleasure in performing Wilde’s work. They never seem to be overindulging in this opportunity though. They embody their characters brilliantly, and the strength of relationship between them is evident.

This seems a timeless play. One hundred years on, it still feels fresh. I still meet people today who care deeply about their public appearance, their social status and financial expression. It also feels like a timely political play too. One wonders, at least from media portrayals, whether today’s politicians aren’t the spitting image of Wilde’s characters. In both cases, director Richard Fitch has hit on something which makes this production enjoyably and humorously infectious. It is a beautiful production. A treat for the eyes, ears and (for me at least) the nose.

Million Dollar Quartet – Venue Cymru

On December 4th 1956, four musicians gathered for a recording at Sun Records in Memphis. This gathering has gone down in music history as one of the greatest jam sessions of all time. It has even become the subject of a smash hit musical called Million Dollar Quartet. For one million dollars, they must be pretty special, I hear you cry. Well, these four musicians were no less than Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins. Now that is some roll call.

Considering the people involved here, trying to recreate this legendary night is no small feat. Yet Million Dollar Quartet manages to do so to a large extent. Firstly, its setting immediately transports you to 1950s America. With its rustic walls, framed vinyls and upright piano, the recording studio of Sam Philips (Jason Donovan) has a distinct Wild West feel.  The intimate setting feels very much like a saloon bar. The depth of colour, helped by some effective lighting, only adds to this sense of place.

Secondly, the cast do an impressive job in bringing these iconic individuals to life. Ross William Wild delivers the necessary swagger and suavity of Elvis, strutting across the stage in fine fashion. Robbie Durham brings a quiet confidence to the role of Johnny Cash. His physical demeanour appears spot on, even if the voice doesn’t quite hit the depths of that distinct baritone sound. Matt Wycliffe plays the lesser-known of the quartet, bringing a certain vulnerability to the role of Carl Perkins. As a character, Perkins seems to be of a defensive mind. He represents the established star who is threatened by the emergence of the newcomer. In this case, the new kid on the block is Jerry-Lee Lewis. And judging by the performance of Ashley Carruthers, who plays the antagonistic wild child, he has every need to feel under threat. Carruthers gives a blistering performance. The ultra-high tempo with which he plays the piano – not hitting a single bum note – leaves you in awe. There is a genuine expectation that smoke will start rising from his fingers such is the speed and strength with which he hits the keys. He captures the great musical prowess of Lewis with seeming ease, and his embodiment of “The Killer” extends seamlessly into the conversational elements of the script. There is a great cockiness in Carruthers’ performance which makes the exchanges with Wycliffe’s Perkins very humorous. These two would have certainly ended up at each other’s throats if it wasn’t for the father-figure of Sam Philips. Donavan brings a confident air to the role of the record producer, acting as storyteller. In doing so, he doesn’t dominate the stage but, when he does speak, he commands the attention of the audience. There is something about him that elicits a great deal of empathy and respect. The five of them together are simply brilliant. They appear to have great chemistry, and this shines through in both their music and dialogue.

For all the praise that is deservedly heaped on these gentlemen, one of the musical highlights for me actually came from the sole female in the show, Katie Ray. Playing Elvis’ girlfriend Dyanne, Ray delivers a stunning version of Fever. Her powerful vocals are pitch perfect, spine-tinglingly so. Carruthers’ “improvisation” on piano only adds value to the spontaneous feel of the song. The red backdrop and animated spotlight towards the end are especially effective in drawing out the cabaret feel of the number. She holds her own in this testosterone-fuelled studio. It certainly gives the boys something to think about.

Writers Colin Escott and Floyd Mutrux have taken what seems like a pretty thin concept and managed to create a hugely entertaining show. It would have been interesting if these co-authors had fleshed out the early emergence of these musical stars in greater detail. As it is, they only touch on their backstories. In spite of this, Million Dollar Quartet remains a tremendously enjoyable show.

(Million Dollar Quartet is currently embarking on a nationwide UK tour)

Grantchester and The Rise of the TV Vicar

As Grantchester prepares to get underway with its third series on ITV, I felt it would be a good time to reflect on the recent surge in clerical figures appearing on our television screens. Whether in comedy, drama, or documentary, the rise of the TV vicar is very exciting on a personal level. But it does intrigue me that, in this supposed age of secularism in Britain, such men and women of faith are coming to the forefront of British television. They are no longer the bit part players, given only a ceremonial role in soap marriages and funeral services. Instead, TV writers, directors and producers seem to be open to the idea that these men and women of the cloth can actually lead a show. They have entrusted them as protagonists. Praise the Lord!

Any doubts that may have surfaced in the early days of this “revival” must now be put to bed. Gone are the days where the religious output of the BBC was a mere half-hour every Sunday for Songs of Praise, and the obligatory documentary to mark the Christian festivals of Christmas and Easter. Don’t get me wrong, these still exist. Most recently, Fern Britton took a trip to Jerusalem to recount the story of Jesus in Fern Britton’s Holy Land Journey. Moreover, they still have a place within the television schedules. I think the evolution of Songs of Praise to include modern and contemporary Christian music, alongside congregations belting out 19th Century hymns, reveals something of this show’s continued relevance to its watching audience. But the representation of Christians on television is now moving beyond these niche slots to feature in other, more populist, areas of the TV landscape.

Nowhere is this more evident than Sunday nights. It is perhaps apt that the traditional day of worship for Christians should also be the time when two of the biggest contemporary dramas are broadcast, both featuring clerical characters. As mentioned earlier, Grantchester begins its third series on Sunday at 9pm, having previously been broadcast on Mondays (Series 1) and Wednesdays (Series 2), again in a primetime 9pm slot. Who would have thought that a show featuring an Anglican vicar as its protagonist would regularly pull in 6 million viewers? Yes, it taps into the current popularity of murder mystery dramas. But it is not afraid to take seriously the vocation of James Norton’s character. It deals with issues of faith in a very open and unabashed way. The Revd Sidney Chambers is not perfect, and the character himself never claims to be. He wrestles with the conflict and dilemmas that emerge from his faith, sometimes overcoming them and sometimes not. Here is a man who does not think he is better than us (the traditional stereotype of TV satire) but a man who is like us. This empathetic portrayal, I believe, is one of the reasons why the TV vicar is becoming increasingly visible on our screens.

The other big Sunday night draw is the ever-popular Call the Midwife. Broadcast on Sundays since its inception, it remains the highest-rating drama on British television since the turn of the century. And at its heart is a group of Anglican nuns. Writer Heidi Thomas has created such a wonderful drama full of real human stories. Yet she does not shy away from treating the nuns’ faith with the same care and attention as the episodic story arcs of one-off characters. The sisters receive just as much dramatic attention as the nurses that work alongside them, as does the resident vicar Tom Hereward (played by Jack Ashton). There are numerous examples of these faith-filled storylines and, like in Grantchester, the conflicts and desires at the heart of these characters are explored with such depth of care and attention that one cannot fail to empathise with them. As a result, we can begin to understand and take faith more seriously. It is no longer a weird, ancient pastime but lived experience, a legitimate (and complicated) part of a person’s identity.

These are just two examples of the increasing presence of clerical characters on our TV screens. They are by no means alone in the growing pantheon of shows featuring a clerical protagonist. Others include: Welsh-language drama Parch (featuring a female cleric), US fantasy drama Preacher, Sky Atlantic’s The Young Pope (with Jude Law), and BBC daytime series Father Brown. But if you think this list of dramatic representations means the death of the vicar in TV comedy, think again. Recent series such as This Country (BBC3) and Hospital People (BBC1) remind us that they still have a place within the sitcom genre. They can still be figures of fun, much like anyone else. But the sitcom is no longer the only place we find them.

After years of unpleasant stereotyping, in which they have been satirically lambasted, played as figures of ridicule, and been a pointless but necessary figurine at weddings and funerals, it seems that the TV vicar finally has the opportunity to tell their own story. Since the arrival of Rev, the floodgates have opened to allow the small screen cleric some actual and proper screen time. This can only be a good thing, particularly in an increasingly secular culture that views faith with suspicion. So here’s to the rising prominence of Christian clerics on television. May the positive portrayals continue, and may other faith groups follow. (And I raise a glass of whisky – Sidney’s favourite tipple – rather than the stereotypical sherry as I say that.)

(Originally published on Get the Chance website on April 24th 2017)

Featured image (C) ITV

The Good, The Bad, and The Nuns

As someone who has a keen interest in the portrayal of clerical characters on screen, it has been intriguing to note the gradual rise of nuns onto both the small and big screens in recent times. My most recent trip to the cinema got me thinking about this.

It wasn’t something I was expecting from The Lady in the Van (2016), but Maggie Smith’s Miss Shepherd was certainly profoundly affected by her relationship with the nuns of Camden. Sadly, their effect on her was profoundly negative, repressing her love for music and piano-playing in favour of silence and quiet prayer. It leads to a scene towards the end of the film that left me utterly frustrated and rather angry that something so beautiful could be condemned in such a way that, as she begins to play again for the first time in decades, she cannot bring herself to finish the piece. There is a self-loathing that stops her from continuing.

Another British film that shows nuns in a bad light is Philomena (2013). Here, the nuns of Roscrea allow a young inmate at their convent, Philomena Lee, to be parted from her baby boy without her knowledge or permission. It appears to be a harsh regime that separates mother and child, only for them to see each other for short periods of time. This separation allows the nuns opportunity to welcome prospective adoptive parents to the convent to choose a child for themselves. The harrowing scene when Philomena realises it is her little boy, Anthony, who is being taken away reveals the harsh and brutal regime of the convent. It is hard not to be overwhelmed with a sense of injustice; to see this as the responsibility of nuns makes it unfathomable.

I went to watch The Lady in the Van with a couple of others, and one of their comments struck me in particular: “It does make you want to writhe against the church”. It is interesting how these depictions shape our thinking and understanding of not only Christianity but also of God. Particularly with Miss Shepherd, her sometimes-unforgiving attitude and overly-fervent prayer life suggest that she sees God as a critical and demanding person. Despite the image at the end of this film which sees Miss Shepherd ascend into the arms of God, it is not this positive image that remains with you as you leave the cinema. From my point of view, Philomena fairs slightly better in comparison. Philomena’s forgiveness towards Sister Hildegarde serves as a powerful expression of God’s gracious love. Sadly, the nun’s lack of repentance is anything but favourable.

Where I have found a positive image of nuns, however, is in the BBC’s highest-rated drama series of this millennium: Call the Midwife. It is amazing to think that the most popular series on television since 2001 has been a programme centred around a convent in 1950s London. Yet the British public have taken this adaptation of Jennifer Worth’s memoirs to their hearts. Alison Graham serves up a brilliant argument for why it’s one of the best shows on TV much better than I can in her weekly Radio Times column. For me, the fact that a bunch of nuns play such a central role in this ensemble drama is testament to the increasing representations of clerical characters on television. From Rev. to Grantchester, British TV seems to be experiencing a renewed interest in the lives of those whose vocation is serving God. In Call the Midwife‘s case, it is a promising portrayal of nuns who seek to serve their community, love each person they come across, and keep their faith even in the toughest of times (Sister Mary Cynthia’s ordeal in episode six of series five is a great example of this latter observation).

Much like the The Lady in the Van and Philomena, the depiction of nuns in Call the Midwife can help shape our understanding of both the Church and God. It is great to find such beautiful acts of love in this latter show. It is sad to think that such emotional brutality in the two films is based on real people and real experiences.

Ultimately, I think these opposing representations feed into a wider, overall analysis of clerical characters on screen, namely that they are presented as imperfect human beings just like the rest of us. They may have faith, but they also have weaknesses and experience failure and success just as much as the rest of humanity. If this is true, I wonder how much these empathetic portrayals are contributing to the rise of the on screen cleric..?

(Originally published on March 24 2016)

Featured Image (C) BBC

Scarlett Review – Theatr Clwyd

There is much to love in Scarlett. This one act play is short and sweet. Yet don’t think it lacks depth. It tackles issues of identity, family and death in a very humorous and conversational way. Part of its appeal lies in the relationships between the three generations of women onstage – protagonist Scarlett, her daughter Lydia, and her overbearing mother Bette. Scarlett is having some kind of midlife crisis. Or is it? Whatever her reasons, she has decided to travel from London to rural Wales in search of a new place to live. The small stage represents a patch of Welsh countryside, on which sit two rocks and a dilapidated stone building. This building appears to be the perfect place for Scarlett (played by Kate Ashfield) to start a new life for herself. This is in spite of local landowner Eria (Lynn Hunter) insisting it’s a chapel, and Lydia and Bette referring to it as nothing more than a shed.

Writer Colette Kane uses these differences of opinion to create a very witty, sometimes poignant, script. The dialogue is often rapid. The characterisation is scarily familiar. I could see elements of my own family in all three generations of women, yet this only added to the humour. Joanna Bacon is superb as Scarlett’s demanding and self-righteous mother. There is a fierce outer shell yet an inner vulnerability to Lydia which Bethan Cullinane manages to balance effortlessly well. As for Scarlett herself, Ashfield has landed a strong and empowering role. She commands the stage, not imperiously, but simply by embodying the character so well. There is no doubt that this effervescent and strong-willed woman is the central figure in a play that is not afraid to speak plainly about sex, status and self-worth from a wholly-female perspective.

Kane’s script can be very subtle in its character arcs. I say this because the characters can feel fully formed when we first meet them, yet over the course of the play, there is a change in their outlook and perspective. This is not always obvious. Sometimes, the change is too subtle. When the lights came up and the cast took their bows, I admit that I was slightly surprised. I was expecting an interval, to stay with these characters beyond 75 minutes. It is testament to Kane that they became so familiar and likeable, yet I couldn’t help feeling that there was more of their story to tell. As a result, I left feeling slightly dissatisfied: not what I wanted to feel.

Scarlett is a play hardwired in reality. It deals with identity and relationships in a very unassuming, conversational way. I don’t think it’s a standout production, but it certainly feels relevant. It may be short and sweet, but it has a lot to say about life, love and loss.

Born to Kill – Disturbingly Promising Drama

Born to Kill is Channel 4’s new psychological thriller. And boy, is it a disturbing one too. The climax to this debut episode was shocking, so much so that I had to look away. And even then, I felt sick afterwards. But this goes to prove the emotional power of this drama.

It is not an easy or comfortable watch. Even before the episode’s disturbing final scene, the sinister confidence of the drama’s protagonist, Sam, as we follow him through his daily life, is enough to leave you with an uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach. Sure, there is something quite noble in spending your time after school reading to hospital patients, but to sit and comb the hair of a dead man with such expressionless ease is something altogether more unsettling. The fact that a serene and beautiful soundtrack is played over this latter scene just makes you feel even more concerned about Sam’s mental state.

Jack Rowan excels in the lead role. He brings such a confident demeanor to his character that he makes Sam seem much older than a teenager. Whereas this would make some characters appear unrealistic as a result, the incongruity between the school uniform and Rowan’s demeanor actually adds to the sinister nature of the character. We see glimpses of the vulnerable teenager, as he holds back the tears at his friend James’ house and practices the story of his dad’s death in front of his bedroom mirror. It appears that his dad is an emotional trigger; indeed, we know that he is in prison for what sounds like a terrible crime. What it is, however, remains shrouded in mystery. This vulnerability is only fleeting however, and any empathy created remains firmly on the fence, even as the possibility of Sam having inherited some kind of evil disposition from his father is implicitly suggested. It remains to be seen how the nature vs nurture debate plays out in the remaining episodes. In spite of this, there is no getting away from Rowan’s success in creating a deeply troubling and threatening character.

There is a strong supporting cast alongside Rowan, with Romola Garai as Sam’s mother and Daniel Mays playing the father of Chrissy. The feisty and strong-willed daughter is played by Lara Peake, appearing in her first major role, and she captures perfectly the teenage angst and rebellion of Sam’s love interest. Judging by the early signs, I think there will be plenty of tension and fireworks to come if the simmering anger evident underneath these two characters keeps bubbling up to the surface.

Overall, Born to Kill‘s first episode was a remarkable one. The sinister undertones through the first hour only made the final scene even more shocking. It will be interesting to see where it goes from here, but if it gets anymore visually disturbing, I might have to turn off the TV, and that, for me, would be a rarity. If so, the jury’s out on whether the writers and director will have gone too far. Nevertheless, Born to Kill looks a disturbingly promising drama.