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.

The Brian Matthew Story

The perfect voice for radio. This is said about a lot of people. For Brian Matthew though, it was never more true. The Radio 2 stalwart, who passed away recently at the age of 88, spoke in such a distinct tone. His was a lovely and smooth, a warm and friendly, voice. It is one I will sorely miss, having grown up listening to his Sounds of the ’60s show on Saturday mornings ever since I can remember. Even before this though, the broadcasting history of this great gentleman, as heard on the Easter holiday documentary The Brian Matthew Story, is something to behold.

Having been introduced to jazz and swing by his late father, Brian applied to join the Forces Radio during his time as a quartermaster sergeant with the Ordnance Corp. Having heard nothing for months after applying however, he auditioned and accepted a place at RADA, turning his attention to acting, and subsequently he became an Old Vic player. But radio came calling two years later. Brian accepted a job in Dutch radio, a placement which eventually led to him presenting a programme for the BBC’s World of Jazz. Thus, his journey onto the BBC airwaves began, becoming an announcer on shows such as Take it From Here and Hancock’s Half Hour. He would also become the announcer/ presenter for a show called Saturday Skiffle Club (later renamed Saturday Club), a two-hour live music show that, perhaps most famously, introduced Britain to a certain four-piece band called The Beatles.

Saturday Club is probably the most well-known of Matthew’s shows. Sounds of the ’60s would certainly be the other. It is the longest-running single show on Radio 2, with Matthew only recently stepping down due to ill health. Listeners held him in genuine affection. The show itself was full of the best hits of the decade, plus a few hidden gems and rare recordings that Matthew loved to include. I will always remember him as the sound of my Saturday mornings, getting up to travel the length of North Wales for swimming galas during my teens. Like a hot cup of tea, Brian Matthew’s voice was warm and comforting, the perfect start to every weekend.

Like Desmond Carrington: All Time Great, broadcast a couple of months ago, The Brian Matthew Story offered a standard chronological journey through the Radio 2 presenter’s life. It charted his early years, his history in broadcasting, and paid special tribute through the words and memories of those who knew him best. It was a gentle, insightful and humble journey, perfect for a Sunday evening.

Like Carrington, David Jacobs and Terry Wogan, Brian Matthew becomes another of that talented older generation to depart the radio family. He will be sorely missed. The Brian Matthew Story wasn’t advertised with any great fanfare, but it was a gentle and somewhat poignant tribute to a great and lovely man.

Featured image (C) BBC

La Boheme – WNO

Having recently been introduced to Jonathan Larson’s musical Rent, I was really intrigued to see a performance of its original source material. La Boheme is currently being performed by the Welsh National Opera (WNO) as part of their ‘Love’s Poisoned Chalice’ season. Set here on the eve of the First World War, it is essentially a love story between down-on-his-luck poet Rodolfo and his next door neighbour, a seamstress called Mimi. However, as is evident from the season’s title, those first passions of love do not necessarily last.

As soon as the curtain rises on this WNO production, the most striking thing for me is the enclosed nature of the set. We begin in the bedsit of Rodolfo and his three bohemian chums – Marcello, Schaunard and Colline. The mirrored walls either side make for an intimate setting. The presence of a battered chair, blanket and disused stove immediately convey the penniless existence of these four friends. They even have to resort to burning Rodolfo’s manuscript to get some heat, the smell of which, being seated in the front row, hits your nose sharply. The lighting too is used to brilliant effect, creating a dinghy and rather dank atmosphere. This becomes much more beautifully subtle however, with a gorgeously purple tinge, when Mimi first visits Rodolfo to ask for some light when her candle burns out. What follows is a gorgeously intimate scene, complete with a wistful and dreamy score as the two become ever more romantically inclined.

I believe that the best orchestral performances that accompany live-action theatre are those in which the music and onstage action blend together so seamlessly that you forget that the accompanying score is live. This was exactly my experience whilst watching La Boheme. Manlio Benzi does a brilliant job in conducting his team of musicians to produce a very emotive and atmospheric score. This has the effect of drawing out even further the already passionate performances of the lead actors. Marina Costa-Jackson, in particular, is on sparkling form as Mimi. Hers is an impassioned and heartfelt performance. She creates such beautiful harmonies alongside Dominik Chenes (Rodolfo). The two are a delight to listen to, and to watch.

The most captivating part of this production for me has to be the atmospheric projections which, although composed of the most basic of graphics, nevertheless produce some stunning backdrops. The snowfall directly after the interval is captivating, and helps to produce a thoroughly bleak and heartbreaking scene. It sets up perfectly the fractures that have appeared in Rodolfo and Mimi’s relationship; it reflects the desperately ill health of Mimi herself.

La Boheme has a much more sombre and sad ending than Larson’s interpretation. There are similar themes surrounding love and money; tropes which appear familiar and, as such, one can make connections to – the use of candles, for instance. What strikes me most however, is how relevant the original appears to be, even as it reaches beyond its 100th birthday. It still has something very relevant to say without the need for a contemporary remake. It is perhaps why it remains so enduringly popular, evident in a packed out auditorium that was full of praise for this excellent production.

WNO have succeeded again in bringing an enjoyable and captivating opera to the Venue Cymru stage. If you have seen Rent, I would definitely recommend watching its original incarnation. If not, I can think of no better place to start than with this version of La Boheme. You might just appreciate Larson’s version all the more as a result.

Performed at Venue Cymru, Llandudno, North Wales, as part of WNO’s Spring 2017 season.

Featured Image (C) WNO

Junkyard: A New Musical – Theatr Clwyd

Please don’t misunderstand me when I say that Junkyard: A New Musical is a load of rubbish. It is by no means of poor quality, lacking in characterisation, or short on story. I am actually making reference to the dynamic and inventive set. It is made (almost entirely) of waste material: planks of wood, old tyres, thick blue twine. It is a representation of the ‘Adventure Playground’, an idea pioneered in the 1960s and ‘70s. It provided a space for kids to call their own, where they could embrace risk and unleash their creativity.

Writer and director Jack Thorne has made this the setting for his latest production, having been inspired by his father, Mick. As one of the first play leaders at an adventure playground in Bristol, Thorne pays tribute to him in the character of Rick. Played by Calum Callaghan, Rick is a laid-back, rather soft man who, nevertheless, has a big heart. He wants to build a ‘Junk Playground’ in Bristol and hopes to get a group of teenagers involved in the process. However, this rowdy group of misfits prove more challenging than expected. What follows is a tragi-comic story as the lives of these young people become inextricably entwined in the building of this unconventional structure.

Leading this group of kids is Fiz, an outspoken and confident young lady played to perfection by Erin Doherty. Doherty is a delight to watch. Utterly captivating, she makes Fiz an instantly loveable personality. Full of humour and expressive action, Doherty allows just the right amount of vulnerability to seep through. Her performance is enhanced by an incredibly strong supporting cast. Each brings such life and vitality to their characters that one could easily mistake this for a social documentary. I recognise in the passionate anger of Ginger (Josef Davies), the stuttering speech of Talc (Enyi Okoronkwo), and the crude insults of Higgy (Jack Riddiford), traits not only from my own teenage years but personalities that I came across during my own time as a (not very good) youth worker.

It is testament to the performances and quality of writing that one looks upon this as a marvellous work of social commentary. Yet what enhances this production to make it, in my opinion, a five-star play is the effective use of lighting and music. The opening sequence, repeated later in the play, is mesmerising. The use of torches and lighters immediately captures your attention and from then on, you are hooked. Stage-side throughout is a live band; always a winner in my book, but what makes this particular piece of musical theatre stand out is its intriguing blend of speech and lyrics. It uses a similar technique to the sung verbatim in London Road, yet here it is largely the internal thoughts and emotions of the characters that are sung as part of a more traditional narrative script.

There is plenty of humour in Junkyard. Some people may find the language a bit too crude or near-the-knuckle at times. There is also quite a lot of swearing. Again, some people might find this excessive. But I think it adds real charm to the whole thing. Its sense of realism cannot be questioned. It is a really immersive piece of theatre. It is challenging too. It makes you reconsider the very notion of what a playground is, how it is treated, and who it’s for.

Junkyards may be a load of rubbish, but this one is a work of art.

Junkyard: A New Musical runs until 15th April 2017 at Theatr Clwyd, Mold, North Wales

Featured Image (C) Theatr Clwyd

The Replacement – BBC One

The BBC1 drama The Replacement can be summed up in three words: gripping and tense. Writer and Director Joe Ahearne has created a simmering pot of suspicion that makes for a fabulously enjoyable three hours of television. It weaves a fantastic web of intrigue and doubt as pregnant mum Ellen (played by Morven Christie) suspects that not is all as it seems with Paula (Vicky McClure), the person drafted in to cover her maternity leave.

Throughout the first hour, the camera is used to good effect. The many close-ups note the subtleties in Ellen’s movement and expression as Paula begins to get under her skin. When it zooms in, from the point-of-view of Ellen, on Paula, it causes us to suspect McClure’s overly-friendly character. The panning shots are especially effective in the storytelling, their slow movements across the scene to the accompanying soundtrack, with its sinister tones, conveying a real sense of dark mystery.

As the drama moves on, the questions only keep coming. Ahearne manages to keep the viewer guessing right up to the third episode, when things take a far more sinister turn. Both Christie and McClure come into their own here, although they are excellent throughout as the two lead characters. Christie plays emotional vulnerability well; McClure’s stare is disturbingly vacant. As the titles suggest, this has something of a classic Agatha Christie mystery about it. It is testament to the quality of the writing that I found myself swaying between the two women, suspicious of either one or the other, changing my mind throughout.

The only disappointment to this otherwise excellent three-parter was its ending. It felt incredibly rushed; the loose ends were tied up in seconds. It was as if it had originally been four episodes that, at the last minute, had been cut to three. But otherwise, this was a gripping drama, reminiscent of Doctor Foster in terms of its slow burning apprehension, revealing close-ups and foreboding soundtrack.

It’s a pity it ended rather abruptly. But in terms of the BBC’s offering so far in 2017, it is certainly up at the top for entertaining and enjoyable drama.

Hedda Gabler – National Theatre Live

There are some nice aesthetic touches in the National Theatre’s screening of Hedda Gabler.

As Ruth Wilson, who plays the lead role, informs us in the interval, the set is a representation of Hedda’s brain. It is largely unfurnished – there is a piano, a sofa, a few pots filled with flowers, and an intercom at which a maid sits, allowing the play’s characters in and out. The walls are white, the floor bare; the light from the sliding door stage-side is the only decoration of note. Throughout the play, this fully-glazed door is used to excellent effect. The blinds opened and drawn across it act as a conduit for Hedda’s mental state. When open, they allow light in; when closed, they produce darkness; and when slatted, they create shadows across the stage akin to prison bars. This is a woman trapped within herself.

The emotional turmoil of Hedda is brilliantly portrayed by Wilson. She pours her heart and soul into this performance and is utterly compelling. Alongside Rafe Spall (Brack), the two of them together deliver such a commanding and accomplished piece of theatre in the final act, it is worth trudging through a fairly flat, unengaging first half. Unlike Chukwudi Iwuji, who I thought gave an arresting performance as Lovborg, I struggled with Kyle Soller’s Americanised portrayal of Tesman. I think it was because he seemed to play him too confidently – he never struck me as anything less than a successful and financially stable individual which, of course, he is not meant to be.

As for the screening itself, director Ivo Van Hove appeared to be keen to use the camera to good effect. There were very few close-up shots, whereas extreme long shots appeared frequently. These did take away a little of the dialogue, yet at the same time, the appearance of the whole stage conveyed the tangible confines of Hedda’s mind. Van Hove also seemed keen to use a haunting soundtrack over some of these scenes, particularly where Wilson stands as a lone figure. Such melancholic ballads as Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah and Nina Simone’s rendition of Wild in the Wind bring more than a touch of despair. It is heart-breaking.

It is by no means a masterpiece. Yet Van Hove’s adaptation does deliver some sublime moments of theatre, particularly when Wilson and Spall are together. The drama does take a while to get going, yet when it does finally get off the ground, it soars. There is even a spot of live DIY before the final curtain (more meaningful and relevant than you might think).

Overall, Van Hove’s Hedda Gabler falls into the category of a three-star play. Neither sneeringly awful nor amazingly praiseworthy. Simply a good watch.