The Man in the Grand Circle

The American Clock – The Old Vic

Set in the post-crash 1930s America, it’s not hard to see why this lesser-known Arthur Miller play from 1980 will resonate with a 21st Century audience still feeling the effects of the 2008 financial crisis.

Subtitled “A Vaudeville”, Rachel Chavkin’s production uses period songs and superb choreography to guide us through the personal and political upheavals of The Great Depression.

The story follows the fortunes of the Baum family, New Yorkers who lose their wealth in the 1929 crash, with Miller channelling his own childhood experiences through the character of Lee.

Clarke Peters is superb as the play’s omniscient narrator and “investment genius” Arthur Robertson, a man who foresaw the crash. There’s a touching early scene in which he advises a shoeshine boy to sell his stocks before it’s too late. The financial meltdown itself is effectively conveyed through a montage of crackly radio clips.

The American Clock is for the most part a sonic and visual delight with some striking set pieces. The on-stage musicians, led by Jim Henson, add lashings of atmosphere. I particularly enjoyed Ewan Wardrop’s tap dance routine as Ted Quinn, the chairman of General Electric. Francesca Mills is also memorable in multiple roles (seven, according to the cast list).

Ewan Wardrop and the cast of The American Clock at The Old Vic. Photos by Manuel Harlan — Photo by Manuel Harlan

But the use of three sets of actors to play the same members of the Baum family – often on stage simultaneously – felt muddled and distracting in a tale which already has so many characters.

The whole experience lasts three hours. There were moments in the less energetic second half where I wanted the hands of the clock to move faster.

This is the first of two Miller productions at the Old Vic this year. The more famous one, All My Sons, arrives in April.

The American Clock is at The Old Vic until 30 March

The Girl on the Train – Richmond Theatre

Given its subject matter, it seems appropriate that I saw this production in Richmond, the affluent London borough which sits on one of the main commuter lines into Waterloo.

Paula Hawkins’ 2015 bestselling novel has already been made into a film starring Emily Blunt, and now it’s been adapted for the stage with EastEnders star Samantha Womack as the story’s unreliable narrator Rachel Watson.

Familiar as the plot and characters may be to fans of the book and film, Anthony Banks’ production deftly delivers new surprises and slick visuals. The scenes of Rachel staring out from the window of a moving train are particularly well done.

Womack is utterly convincing as the alcoholic and emotionally damaged Rachel, whom we first encounter throwing up into a pizza box in her messy flat.

The story sees Rachel become obsessively involved in the lives of her ex-husband and his new wife, and their neighbour Scott Hipwell (Corrie’s Oliver Farnworth), whose wife Megan (Kirsty Oswald) has disappeared.

I particular enjoyed the sparky relationship that develops between Rachel and the policeman assigned to the case, DI Gaskill (John Dougall – excellent).

“I was telling you the truth,” Rachel tells him. “I just didn’t realise I was lying.”

With its multiple sets, and atmospheric design, this is thrilling ride that beats the morning commute any day of the week.

At Richmond Theatre until 16 February and touring through to July

When We Have Sufficiently Tortured Each Other – National Theatre (Dorfman)

It made a lot of headlines, but what it was that caused an audience member to “faint” during a preview of Martin Crimp’s new play at the National is hard to fathom.

True, there’s plenty of weird sado-masochism on display in the double garage where the story unfolds, but it’s no worse than anything you might stumble across on Netflix.

Maybe it was the sight of Cate Blanchett dressed as a maid squirting the Audi parked on the stage with shaving foam. Surely some contravention of motoring etiquette.

Blanchett is, of course, the reason that tickets for this sold-out show were allotted by ballot. She’s the reason that the queue for day tickets starts at about 3am in sub-zero temperatures (it’s true, I know someone who did it).

She and Stephen Dillane play a couple who – along with some invited friends – act out an S&M fantasy based upon Samuel Richardson’s 18th Century novel Pamela.

The sexual power shifts constantly between the two, both of whom are in stockings and suspenders. Genders, clothes, wigs and bodily fluids are swapped. Blood is spilt.

The intimate Dorfman Theatre is perfect for this kind of stuff. Under Katie Mitchell’s direction, it’s thrilling to see Blanchett and Dillane giving it their all up close. Jessica Gunning is excellent too in the Mrs Jewkes housekeeper role.

But the sexual power play just goes on and on. It feels like a 10 minute drama workshop stretched out to two hours.

I was desperately hoping for the garage sex games to be interrupted by a neighbour coming round to borrow a ladder.

And I don’t mean one in Dillane’s stockings.

Original Death Rabbit – Jermyn Street Theatre

“Mental health is a really difficult issue.” It’s a line you hear a lot in Original Death Rabbit. It’s the one you take home with you. And not only because it’s delivered by a vodka-swigging woman in a bunny onesie.

Rose Heiney’s play, which started life on BBC Radio 4, is getting its stage premiere at Jermyn Street Theatre, the perfect venue for such an intimate monologue about a woman’s struggle with internet fame and social media addiction.

Kimberley Nixon plays the Original Death Rabbit of the title. She’s instantly likeable in her stained pink onesie (with ears) as she tells her webcam the story of how she became a meme. For 90 minutes the theatre audience become her thousands of anonymous online followers.

It’s sad, funny, tragic – and not necessarily in that order. The onesie, we learn, was given to her as an ironic present after she wrote a 5,000 word university paper lambasting Playboy bunnies.

Nixon is brilliant, gliding expertly from jokes about Richard Curtis films into much darker territory. Her excitement is tangible as she talks about joining Twitter and “feels godlike” as she quickly attracts followers. She becomes “wired on approval”. The flashes of anger and pain, when they emerge, feel real.

Louie Whitemore’s set is wonderfully detailed messy flat, complete with movie posters, books and assorted vodka bottles. Nixon uses it to the full. One patch of wall even doubles as a laptop screen.

The day after press night I was passing a pub and noticed a poster in the window advertising a “Onesie Party”. The picture showed a woman in a pink bunny outfit.

My advice: don’t go to that, hop along to this instead.

Original Death Rabbit is at the Jermyn Street Theatre, London until 9 February

A Very Very Very Theatrical Top 10

It’s New Year’s Eve, so there’s just time for another list. Here are the 10 shows that stood out for me in 2018, in the order that I saw them.

My Mum’s a Twat – Royal Court
Network – National Theatre
Quiz – Noel Coward Theatre
The Lieutenant of Inishmore – Noel Coward Theatre
Fun Home – Young Vic
The Jungle – Playhouse Theatre
Exit the King – National Theatre
Antony and Cleopatra – National Theatre
Company – Gielgud Theatre
A Very Very Very Dark Matter – Bridge Theatre

As a massive Brief Encounter fan, I’d like to give a special mention to the revival of Emma Rice’s stage version at the Empire Cinema in London and to Posting Letters to the Moon, which I saw at the Mill at Sonning shortly afterwards. A perfect double bill.

Happy theatrical New Year!

The Cane – Royal Court

“Why would they attack the most popular teacher in the school?” That’s the question posed at the beginning of this tense three-hander by Mark Ravenhill. The answer, of course, is in the title.

Alun Armstrong plays Edward, a teacher on the brink of retirement, whose home is besieged by a baying mob of children and adults. A brick has been lobbed through the window. There’s never any doubt that worse is to come.

But is the real enemy already inside the house? Edward, and his nervous wife Maureen (Maggie Steed), are being visited by their estranged daughter Anna (Nicola Walker).

“It was impossible to love you,” her mother tells her coldly, as she recounts how Anna ran amok with an axe as a child. The wall in the drab living room still bears the scars.

Walker, brilliant in the role, is the real focal point of the play. Anna asks questions like a detective rather than a daughter. She’s keen to help fix the the ugly situation outside, yet fails to recall her own adolescent rage.

Director Vicky Featherstone expertly turns up the tension as revelations about the past (and the contents of the attic) emerge. Even though the ending is easy to predict, it’s still shocking to witness.

In a social media age when five year old tweets can wreck a career or a job application, Ravenhill asks some searching questions about past actions affecting the present, and the nature of responsibility.

The Tell-Tale Heart – National Theatre (Dorfman)

Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, this new play written and directed by Anthony Neilson offers plenty of Christmas-time chills.

It’s hard to describe the story in much detail without giving spoilers. In brief, a playwright (Tamara Lawrence) rents an attic room in Brighton to work on her next play and forms a relationship with her landlady (Imogen Doel), who wears an eye mask for reasons she doesn’t like to discuss.

Fans of the original Poe tale (printed in the programme) will know it doesn’t end well.

Lawrence and Doel admirably handle the multi-layered plot’s blend of comedy and horror without tipping it into farce. And I very much enjoyed the dual nature of David Carlyle’s detective.

It does go a bit Twilight Zone at times, but there are genuine shocks and scares to be had here, not least from the ingenious lighting and set design. The playwright’s typewriter is a particular delight.

After this you’ll never look at eyes – or eggs – in the same way.

Summer and Smoke – Duke of York’s Theatre

You can almost feel the heat. With its stage bathed in orange light, this production of Tennessee Williams’ play – a transfer from the Almeida – brings a welcome blast of “August madness” to a wintery West End.

Summer and Smoke centres on vicar’s daughter Alma (Patsy Ferran) and her complex relationship with doctor John Buchanan (Matthew Needham).

The minimalist staging of Rebecca Frecknall’s production lets the lyricism and emotion shine through. The action takes place within a semi-circle of pianos – their innards revealed as if to reflect Alma’s exposed soul.

The cast is impressive throughout, but it’s Patsy Ferran’s performance that people will be talking about in years to come. I first interviewed Patsy when she won a Critics’ Circle Award for most promising newcomer in 2015. She kicked off my theatrical year in 2018 in Anoushka Warden’s excellent My Mum’s a Twat at the Royal Court.

Here’s she’s unforgettable from the play’s opening moment as Alma finds herself thrashing around in the grip of a panic attack. You can’t take your eyes off her for the next two hours.

I’ve already bought my tickets to see this remarkable talent in Frecknall’s Three Sisters at the Almeida in April. It can’t come soon enough.

Pinter at the Pinter: Landscape / A Kind of Alaska – Harold Pinter Theatre

When he launched his Pinter at the Pinter season, director Jamie Lloyd said he hoped theatregoers would experience something akin collecting vinyl: as they flicked through the playwright’s back catalogue they might stumble across some forgotten gems among the classics.

It’s a good analogy. I like to think of the 11 one-act plays that make up the third section of this Pinter season as tracks on a particularly eclectic LP.

Side One opens with a substantial piece, Landscape, in which Tamsin Greig and Keith Allen play a married couple who seem to be speaking to each other but remain forever disconnected.

I’m used to seeing Greig on stage in more comedic roles, but here she’s pushing the button marked heartbreak. Seated, her voice amplified by a microphone, she describes being on a beach and drawing two figures – “close but not touching” – in the sand. It’s a haunting metaphor for this couple lost in their own narratives.

If that sounds heavy going, there are laughs to be had in some of the shorter works that follow.

I particularly liked God’s District, in which Meera Syal plays a preacher “saving souls” in Putney, while Lee Evans closes the first half with Monologue, an involving piece in which he talks to a jacket hanging on a chair.

There are more delights on Side Two: Evans shines in the hilarious factory-set sketch Trouble in the Works. He even seems to corpse at one point amid the verbal gymnastics.

Tamsin Greig and Keith Allen are back for the closer, A Kind of Alaska. Greig plays Deborah, a woman who has emerged from a coma after 29 years but still thinks she’s 16, while Allen is the doctor who has to break the news that the world she knew has changed utterly. Pinter twists the emotion control up a notch with the arrival of Deborah’s now grown-up sister (Syal).

Not always an easy listen, this is an album worth repeated plays.

A Very Very Very Dark Matter – Bridge Theatre

Small skeletons. Time travel. Bloody Belgians.

Writer Martin McDonagh kicked off 2018 with one of the best movies of the year – Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri – and ends it with one of its weirdest plays.

Jim Broadbent plays Hans Christian Andersen, whose Very Very Very Dark secret is that he keeps imprisoned in a box in his attic in Copenhagen a small Congolese woman who writes all of his stories.

As if that’s not horrific enough, he’s also cut one of her legs off. Marjory, as he calls her, is played by newcomer Johnetta Eula’Mae Ackles. It’s an unforgettable performance in a play full of moments you’ll never unsee.

There are laughs aplenty to be had amid the horror. Not least Andersen’s visit to an effing and blinding Charles Dickens (Phil Daniels) with a dark secret of his own.

What’s it all about? Colonialism (the blood-drenched Belgians)? Fake news? Who cares? It’s got a haunted concertina. Somehow I haven’t yet got round to mentioning the gravel-throated narration by Tom Waits.

By the end it all feels like some kind of twisted pantomime. Perhaps that’s why I’ve booked to see it again at Christmas.