The Guardian - 01.08.2019

• The Guardian
  Thursday 1 August 2019 13
  Live reviews

PHOTOGRAPHS: PAMELA RAITH; TRISTRAM KENTON/THE GUARDIAN; MANUEL HARLAN

The show is packed with sly

moments of physical comedy that

constantly poke fun at the potential

chaos behind the collaborative

process. Actors awkwardly

transition from one role to the next:

a comedy henchman fi nishes his skit

and spins back towards the piano; a

soulful jazz pianist suddenly fi nds

himself in a suit of armour, blinking

under the spotlights; a percussionist

realises he is needed centre stage,

yelps and scurries off into the wings.

This gleeful spontaneity also

lights up the central romance

between actors and ex-lovers Lilli

and Fred who are forced to play the

Bard’s Kate and Petruchio night

after night, one year on from their

divorce. The sparring between this

couple can often seem cruel, but

Rebecca Trehearn’s Lilli and David

Ricardo-Pearce’s Fred are tender

and cheeky. Both do their best

work back stage , sitting at opposite

dressing tables and staring at each

other’s refl ections as they try to act

away their emotions.

Trehearn is a study in steely

serenity as she storms through

rehearsals with a stony expression

on her face. Yet when she sings, what

a transformation! Her vocal control

is exquisite – you never doubt she’ll

hit each note perfectly – yet she also

demonstrates freedom. Her version

of So in Love hums with a feeling

of release: here is a person fi nally

allowing herself to be known.

Meanwhile, Fred makes love

to the audience, his fellow actors

and anyone else who’ll listen.

Ricardo-Pearce is that rare breed:

a male actor happy to laugh at

himself. His big number – Where Is

the Life That I Led? – is a joy, as he

weaves among the crowd, hamming

it up to his heart’s content. But it is

the moments when the show boating

stops that silence us. Stripped

of his costume, Ricardo-Pearce

sings So in Love. He hugs himself

and stands on an empty stage,

a moment of truth in a life spent

playing somebody else.

Miriam Gillinson

Theatre

Kiss Me, Kate

Theatre

Southern Belles

‘B

rush up your

Shakespeare,

start quoting

him now ” – or

so the famous

song goes. This

absurdly talented cast must have

also brushed up on their singing,

dancing and instrumental skills

• director Paul Hart has created
  the fi rst actor-musician version of
  Kiss Me, Kate with a tiny team of
  just 12. The big ensemble numbers
  are a little ragged , but the result of
  this bold new approach is a chorus
  completely in tune with each other.
  Here is a version of Cole Porter’s
  jazz-infl ected romantic comedy
  that celebrates the pure joy of
  theatrical collaboration.
  Sam and Bella Spewack ’s
  sophisticated play-within-a-play
  book and Cole Porter’s exquisitely
  varied score – which includes
  Latin pastiche, vaudeville show
  tunes and steamy jazz songs – is a
  challenge for even the largest cast on
  a big budget. But Hart’s production

makes a virtue out of its limitations.

Choreographer Oti Mabuse

has little space to play with but

uses it brilliantly. Too Darn Hot is

a study in frustrated dynamism,

as André Fabien Francis and the

dancers rush up to the edges of

the stage, intent on expressing

themselves despite the protests

raging outside their theatre.

Kimmy Edwards runs rings around

the chorus during Always True

to You in My Fashion , weaving

her way through the musicians

on stage and leading them in

a dizzying dance of seduction.

D

on’t leave at the

interval. The fi rst

of this double bill

of queer one-act

plays by Tennessee

Williams is

sluggish and shy, leaving you

wondering why the King’s

Head bothered to revive it. But

the second, never performed

in Williams’s lifetime because

of its overtly gay characters,

is a bullet of a show with a

shattering lead performance.

Something Unspoken, the fi rst

play of the night, is a tentative

dip into the relationship between

wealthy Cornelia ( Annabel

Leventon ) and Grace (Fiona

Marr), her meek secretary of 15

years. On Sarah Mercad’s pastel-

pink set, the pyjama-clad pair

gingerly skirt the topic of romance,

all the while interrupted by a

repeatedly ringing phone. Williams

cautiously toys with reputation

and loyalty, and drops delicate

imagery into their language – Grace

compares the way they’ve aged,

her hair grey cobwebs to Cor nelia’s

silver – but the lyrical allusiveness

quickly becomes monotonous. With

little tension and low stakes, there

is not much here to make us care.

Director Jamie Armitage has

clearly given more time to refi ning

the second piece, And Tell Sad

Stories of the Deaths of Queens.

Luke Mullins glows as Candy,

a cross-dressing queen who picks

up Karl, an emotionally bruised

sailor (George Fletcher). Innocent

fl irtation quickly dissipates

and the potential for physical

violence pulsates as Karl becomes

ravenously cruel. Yet the humour

never fades, as Candy uses one-

liners as armour. The pacing is

delicious, veering between tau t

and tender.

Mullins is astounding, with

Candy desperately trying to

control what she can’t by throwing

tenderness at Karl’s aggression.

The physicality of pain is agonising;

when Candy tells Karl she’s sick,

she touches the same place under

her ribs as she does to describe the

depth of her loneliness, curling over

as if she has been punctured.

Joining them are Ben Chinapen

and Michael Burrows, whose

delicate music accompanies the

evening. When Candy is broken,

alone and blue as can be, they rush

on stage to comfort her. After all

she’s been through, it’s hard not to

want to do the same.

K a t e W y v e r

★★★☆☆

Royal Exchange, Manchester

Until 10 August

Theatre

There Is a Light

That Never

Goes Out

T

oday, computers

are taking our jobs.

At the turn of the

19 th century, it was

the power loom

doing workers

out of a living. “Luddite” might

now be synonymous with

“backward-looking”, but – as

Kandinsky’s new show recognises

• the machine-smashing radicals of
  the 1800s hold lessons for another
  age of automation.
  Co-creators James Yeatman
  and Lauren Mooney stop short of
  drawing direct parallels with robot
  workers or zero-hours contracts.
  Instead, historical events are
  staged in a contemporary idiom,
  inviting connections without
  pressing them. Actors dress and talk
  like inhabitants of the 21st century
  while the story remains rooted in
  the carefully researched upheavals
  of 200 years ago.
  On and around the tilted red
  platform of Naomi Kuyc k Cohen
  and Joshua Gadsby’s striking set, an
  impressive ensemble weave together
  the frayed threads of historical
  record. Ghosts stir in the very walls
  as the actors playfully re-enact an
  1812 riot that took place in the Royal
  Exchange. Manchester’s radical
  past is reanimated by the roar of
  disgruntled crowds in Pete Malkin’s
  ever-shifting sound design.
  This is history as storytelling,
  fi lling in the gaps left by fi rst-hand
  accounts. Kandinsky thrillingly
  evoke the rebellious hearsay of the
  time, as tales of the luddites pass
  from mouth to mouth and actors
  take turns in the heavy hat and coat
  of the mythical leader Ned Ludd.
  The air crackles with defi ance.
  But much like the l uddite
  movement, the show fi zzles out
  in its fi nal moments. Abandoning
  theatricality, the stark fi nale shrugs
  its way off the stage, leaving only
  a lingering question mark over the
  virtues of apparent progress.
  Catherine Love

★★★★☆

Watermill, Newbury

Until 21 September

★★★☆☆

King’s Head, London

Until 24 August

It is packed w ith

physical comedy

that pokes fun at

the chaos

Completely

in tune ...

Kiss Me, Kate

Crackling with defi ance ...

There Is a Light ...

Taut drama ...

George Fletcher

and Luke Mullins

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