Author: dougiebannon

Trevor Nunn has directed every Shakespeare play, and a fair few of Chekov’s. And plenty more to boot. He is Artistic Director of the Theatre Royal Haymarket, having previously been in the same position at the RSC and the National Theatre. In short, a play adapted and directed by him is an event in and of itself. That it is Uncle Vanya, a play which has so far eluded him, makes it even more so. And it pays off, in spades. The Orange Tree is just such a wonderful setting for this claustrophobic play oscillating between boredom and passion, love, tenderness and murderous rage, and Nunn’s direction is immersive placing every audience member as a fly on the wall. 

Such is the intensity of the interactions onstage that the play constantly feels pacey and well timed, the proximity of the characters before us feels like a pressure cooker about to explode. Through this, Vanya’s acerbic interactions with other members of the household feel like attempts at release that might bring the whole façade crashing down. James Lance’s Vanya is, yes, despairing but also witty, caustic and eventually tragic – he makes a dislikeable character sympathetic. But rarely are any of the characters able to enjoy the space they all so blatantly require, and this is a wonderful ensemble piece. Nunn’s direction does a wonderful job of illuminating what connects all the characters in the play: the wastage of time. Vanya feels directly placed in the action between Mikhail Astrov, 12 years younger (Andrew Richardson, wonderfully lost and inspiring at the same time) and the older Professor Serebryakov (William Chubb, who brings a wonderful pathos and understanding to what in other circumstances can act merely as Vanya’s foil). 

The same is reflected in the female characters, each a reflection of the other’s former or future self. Lily Sacofsky is an empowered and grounded Elena, as opposed to all the over-affectionate and desperate men she is surrounded with. That she finds herself falling for Astrov is almost a tragedy in itself. Susan Tracy is hilarious, if often missed as Maria Voynitsky, Vanya’s Mother. Such is the fate of the old in this play, they seem to be either forgotten, dismissed or chased away with gunfire. Maybe that’s why all the characters seem to be so preoccupied with aging. Max Pappenheim’s sound design in this regard is delicate and gorgeous – the addition of a barely audible tick of the clock as time slouches interminably onward. Lush. Completing another trio of self-reflective characters is Sonya in which role Madeleine Gray is utterly magnetic. It was in a first act scene with Sacofsky that the performance really felt as if it took off. Suddenly an engine started in the performance and we, the audience, were all along for the ride. 

This was not my first time seeing Chekov, nor my first time seeing Uncle Vanya, but it was the first time I have felt watching it that time just flew. It was funny, it was vital, it was alive, it was FUNNY! Let’s pray the days of British Chekov performances which wallow in despair without finding the humour are gone. It makes it better! Vanya’s remorse and embarrassment at the end of the play are made all the more potent because of his sarcasm and ripping humour in the earlier scenes. Nunn’s well balanced, beautifully acted, gorgeously designed Vanya was well worth the wait – and the sustained applause, which dragged Lance and Gray back out after the curtain call, is a testament to the fact. This is simply a wonderful show.

Ephemeral Ensemble have created something wonderful. By focusing on the work of forensic anthropologists in Latin America and inspired by the testimonies of refugees and migrants, they have managed to shed light on the revolutionary actions of all of those who have fought against tyrannical regimes and lost their lives in the process. Using a few well-placed props, puppetry and Alex Paton’s onstage score, not just a whole world, but a whole history is brought back to life. 

The show itself is only an hour in length, and zips by with direction by Ramon Ayres which feels thoughtful without being slow. Beginning with an introduction, a getting-to-know the audience and us getting to know the performers (Andres Valesquez, Eyglo Belafonte and Louise Wilcox – all wonderful), there is a sense of communion being forged before we collectively go on a journey together. The house lights go off and we are welcomed into, firstly, the world of the scientist then, through the discovery of a jacket, into the life of its original wearer. 

The story jumps back and forth in time while slowly the history of the person who has been found comes to life, along with the continuing grief of the family who have no answers and no closure. This is most closely inspired by the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, and their protest in trying to recover their relatives from the Enforced Disappearances enacted upon them by Jorge Rafael Videla’s military dictatorship in Argentina. Josephine Tremmeling’s inspired lighting consistently feels inventive and exciting. I particularly enjoyed the use of projection and how it was often built onstage. So too with Paton’s music being built piece by repeating piece before us. This is theatre that shows you it’s belly and dares you to suspend your disbelief anyway. 

And why not? Isn’t that the job of the forensic anthropologist? Not to use magic, or the unknowable to construct a narrative, but piece by piece to uncover a story that otherwise would have been lost, and in doing so forming a historical memory of rebellion. And yet it is magical – the use of puppetry to tell of a meeting between the scientist and the person they uncover was truly emotional, dancing and music in place of protest highlighted the community and freedom available to those who rebel against oppression, confetti has never looked so brutal. Ephemeral Ensemble consistently challenge the audience to lean into the action and the payoff is raw, affecting and unapologetic. 

There are only so many ways I can say that this show needs to be seen with full houses by as many people as possible so suffice it to say that this is not one to miss. It’s running until the 10^th February at the New Diorama Theatre. Book it. Book it now. 

Annie Baker’s new play Infinite Life fulfils what is becoming a tradition for this multiple-award winning playwright in having its UK debut at the National Theatre. As with her other works, Baker manages to harness the power of everyday chatter and extract existentialism, longing, frailty and especially humour. The sheer amount of laughter she manages to sew into a play about pain is alone why this play is a must see.

I fear though I’m probably speaking to a distinct few. Mention Annie Baker’s name to some and cue the eruption of adoring rapture; others have yet to see a piece, or hear the name. It’s important then to assure new audiences that Annie Baker’s work does not require prior knowledge, or to be some sort of theatre buff to be able to “get” it. The play’s themes are intensely, even awkwardly, human. Even the wellness retreat, within which this play is set, was a former motel which backs onto a car park and a bakery – tortuous when you consider the residents’ diet of… well… water.

Indeed, this is a retreat which it seems promises a quick fix to all ailments. When Yvette (Mia Katigbak) lists of the litany of health problems, ailments, fears and a few hypochondriatic worries she has, it becomes a hypnotic spiral of nonsense words. The slow drip-feeding of each characters’ sickness contains increasingly seismic revelations about who they are and the frailty that is being thrust upon unwilling minds by bodies that are either aging or simply let-down by modern science. No surprise, although very funny, is the shocked reaction of the residents to the sole male, Nelson’s entrance (a mostly shirtless and laconic Pete Simpson) – the lack of research surrounding chronic pain in women, and specifically post-menopausal women, is constantly hovering in the background – the shadow of a medical establishment which has abandoned these people into the arms of fad diets and shaky science. 

It’s in desperation that Nelson and the other residents arrive at this centre, a theme of longing which Baker weaves through the whole play, not least with Sofi (a masterful Christina Kirk), whose remembrances of her time at the centre make up the play. The confused mix of desperate, painful, detached and sexually charged scenes unify to build an image of a person clutching at straws, relying finally on Cleansing and Wellness to tackle the weight of problems surrounding her. The episodic hourly stamps which punctuate the beginning of the play give the effect of a slow-paced, pedestrian no-man’s-land outside of regular life, and their disappearance lean the audience towards a floating timelessness only marked by the changes in lighting.

Director James Macdonald and Lighting Designer Isabella Byrd’s work in this regard is bold and uncompromising. Playing some scenes almost entirely in darkness lends us an intimate insight into these characters’ private lives where desires and flirtations abound, and the stark transitions to daytime leave a wincing impact which is strangely cold, considering the Northern California setting. It feels designed to unsettle and this effect lasts.

That the play seems a little slow moving at times is almost part of the charm – some Annie Baker plays are like a knickerbocker glory, all good but you’ve got to persevere to the end for the best bits. That being said, in treading the line between meaningful silences and nothing happening, we sometimes find ourselves on the wrong side. Mostly, however, this is a thought provoking, funny and unsettling play; Baker’s poignant meditation on the existential and gentle sending up of the everyday.