HIGHLIGHT: In Conversation With Ruari Murchison – Set Designer for The Snowman

The beloved Christmas classic, The Snowman, is making its triumphant return to Sadler’s Wells’ Peacock Theatre, from November 18th to December 30th, marking its 26th annual performance. Directed by Bill Alexander, with lighting by Tim Mitchell and choreography by Robert North, the production is brought to life by the imaginative designs of Ruari Murchison.

You have worked on many different impressive productions across your career, such as Les Miserables at Nottingham Playhouse, and King Lear at West Yorkshire Playhouse. How did you first get into set and costume design and what tips would you give young people who are looking to get into the theatre industry?

It was difficult to get into theatre design when I was young. It remains difficult perhaps more so now partly because of fewer theatres being open, and there are therefore fewer opportunities about.

In my case, I studied Biochemistry at University and embarked on a PhD! There was therefore a reluctance in some quarters to take my desire to become a theatre designer seriously!

Luckily, I managed to engineer a meeting with Ralph Koltai- one of my heroes  in theatre design and he told me about an annual competition that the Arts Council ran. If you won it, you were sent to work for a year at a theatre in the theatre’s design department as an Assistant Designer. 

With Ralph’s help, I entered the competition and then was one of the lucky ones that won a bursary- that year there were 8 of us. Things have very much changed now, the Designers’ Award Scheme was discontinued long ago as were design departments. 

The only ‘competitive’ way in seems to be through the Linbury Prize. Entry conditions have changed today and it would be impossible for an independent designer as I was to actually enter the competition. An entrant has to be attached to a theatre design course already!

The best way today for someone wanting to get into theatre design is to go to one of the specialist Theatre Design courses run by different Universities. Their quality however is somewhat variable! So quite a lot of homework is needed.

What was the process like, translating the world of The Snowman from its original story, into its stage design? What were the key elements of the story you focused on and have you introduced any new design concepts to keep the production engaging for new and returning audiences?

Translating the world of The Snowman was unusual for both the Director Bill Alexander and me. The approach to each piece of work is usually very different to the last. We were both used to performance pieces with a script.  The Snowman has no words [apart from the Carol Singer Scene and “walking in the Air’]. It is essentially a ballet piece with a very strong narrative.

When we started working on the piece, Act 2 was flimsy. If you look at the film, it is a quick round dance and party for Snowmen, so a scenario for a longer Act 2 had to be devised. We have had 3 different Acts over the performance history of The Snowman. The current version uses the Act 2 from 2000 featuring Jack Frost and The Snow Princess.

Designing the production was quite involved: I watched the animation and studied the book thinking of the simplest ‘canvas’ to visually present The Snowman. Contractually, we had to stick as closely as possible to the visual presentation of both the book and the animation. This made it tricky as both have very different visual styles, appropriate to their forms but not necessarily friendly to a stage presentation. We arrived at a snowy landscape with the boy’s family house set upstage. Later when we visit the inside of the house, we changed the scale of the props and furniture, ‘magnifying’ them if you like and focusing on them a room at a time. We moved through the house in a succession of visual scenes with only the essentials present for each scene.

The costumes of The Snowman took a huge amount of work from the Wardrobe department. They are derived from a simple premise- that each costume had to be moved and danced in. 

I came up with the idea of using gathered net as the basic Snowman fabric. Simple but it takes about a mile of net strips to construct the basic costume with several different stiffnesses of net depending on where on the body it is used. It seems to work successfully, allowing a huge range of movement.

The same technique was applied to the animal costumes where the net looks like fur. In this case we had model heads made to my designs in a slightly cartoonish way. The human characters were stylised versions of ‘real’ clothes – they are vaguely 1950s-1960s in look to avoid the contemporary and to give a picture book animation feel they have been colour stylised.

The complete production has been colour ‘Pantoned’ with the set and props reduced to 12 colours with universal colour codes. It means that we can order repeat colours in for example paint in a universal colour system and know year on year that will be the same.            

The design of The Snowman is treasured by many people but we have constantly introduced technological improvements,  adhering strictly to the animation and book designs – where appropriate. Act 2 was originated by the team and could be more freely altered and developed.

The original design of Snowman was sensitive to the look of the animation and Book drawings bearing in mind that it was now a theatre production. We could have used far more projections for example than we did but it would have seemed a confusion of styles. There are many occasions when The Snowman and Boy have to interact with props and set – therefore one had to have those items present onstage. One might have preferred not to have them but the scenario asked for these specifics and although not in my natural design vocabulary, they had to be honoured.

We have constantly updated items in the design as new materials become available. Stretch materials have become far more readily available and have been introduced replacing older versions of the costumes. Different ways to launder and clean costumes have been introduced. The animal heads are refurbished every 5 years and only recently- after 20 years did we renew them. 

The working drawings on the production have been collated and digitised. As there are several set design versions- [3 different sized touring versions as well as the Peacock version]. Various technical innovations in lighting equipment and computerised flying have been introduced but all in as unobtrusive way as possible.

 The Snowman is an iconic and beloved holiday favourite. What design choices did you make to evoke that magic wintery feel? Is there any new technology you use in regards to stagecraft and special effects?

 About 6 years ago we introduced computerised flying into the production. This means a much smoother flying sequence of the Boy and the Snowman.

Of course the aim has always been to make the production look as simple and clear as possible. BUT it is an incredibly complicated piece of theatre – set to music! A few years ago on a first night. part of the flying system got tangled with the lines supporting one of the portals on the set. The show was stopped and the set pieces separated but it then took around 20 minutes to reset the production [lighting, sound fly cues etc]. So complicated were the cues at that point in the show! We were only 5 minutes from the end!

One therefore has to be wary of introducing too much technology into any production. One thing is certain, it will ALWAYS go wrong at some point! Sometimes It is better to rely on old fashioned manpower.

In what ways did you collaborate with other creative team members such as the choreographer Robert North or the lighting designer Tim Mitchell? Is there anyone you hope to collaborate with in the future?

The production of Snowman was only the 2nd production that I had done with Bill Alexander at the time. Since then [more than 25 years] we have collaborated very frequently, not just in the UK but in many other countries.

Tim Mitchell and I had already worked on a number of productions when he came on board to work on The Snowman. His work as a lighting designer was essential to help tell the story of The Snowman. The lighting had to tell us things about, for example the room that we were in, or the fact that a fire was causing the Snowman to melt, that the Snowman has ‘hot legs’ after the motorcycle ride etc. In a production like this, a close collaborator is essential as a lighting designer. It is very much active story-telling and not just illumination of a scene.

What influences your practice and in what ways do you stay inspired and creatively engaged with the world around you?

I go regularly to the theatre to see different styles of production- drama, dance, opera musicals etc. in this country and abroad. In addition I go to art galleries to see their standard collections and originated exhibitions. Also I see films of many genres regularly. Constant reading of modern and historical fiction is an integral part of my life as well as actively being involved in teaching young practitioners- designer and more especially technical students in all aspects of the theatre process.

REVIEW: MÁM

Rating: 4 out of 5.

MÁM shows just how transfixing the communion between movement and music can be

Choreographed by Michael Keegan-Dolan, and produced by the dance company Teaċ Daṁsa, MÁM returns to Sadler’s Wells this month, an other-worldly exploration of human connection and rural Irish life.

Last summer, I actually spent two weeks travelling around the Dingle Peninsula, where Teaċ Daṁsa are based. While watching MÁM, I was reminded of why I fell in love with that corner of Ireland. There is a heaviness you feel while there; it’s a country with such a rich, ancient history, and West Kerry especially, is an area full of monastic sites, old oratories, and long forgotten settlements. When there, you really do feel a sense of magic, of old mythology and folklore, and of ancestral tradition. MÁM, conceived and created in West Kerry, captured this feeling for me. The word MÁM, translated from Irish Gaelic, can mean a few different things, but primarily translates to ‘mountain pass’. While visiting the Dingle Peninsula, we drove through An Chonair, or Conor Pass, one of Ireland’s highest mountain passes. It was narrow and treacherous, and as you try to focus on the road, you are also craning your neck to look at the towering glacial rock face above and below you. You feel in danger, but you feel exhilarated and in awe. Watching MÁM felt a bit like that. After all, it was a dance born from a place which is, in areas, isolated and inhabitable, but also stunningly beautiful. MÁM captured this physical vulnerability; it was an performance of pure energy – the twelve dancers chucked themselves across the stage, spinning, twisting, tossing their bodies to and fro, hoping that another would be there to catch them.

For me, MÁM is a wonderfully dark look into rural Irish life and community. It asks, how wild are we, or how wild can we be? The dancers form a representation of a community, a group of people, maybe family, maybe friends, maybe neighbours, who have come together to celebrate, to fight, to mourn, and to love. MÁM covers most bases of human emotion and is unafraid while doing so. A lot of the movement was violent and intense – the dancers stomped their feet and screamed out loud, it was exciting to watch. I have to mention, all dancers were equally impressive, however James Southward really stood out in regards to this; it was hard to look away from him.

The screaming and stomping brings me onto the score of MÁM. Music felt as important as the dancing in this piece, as anchoring the performance was Cormac Begley, a folk musician from West Kerry, who played the concertina shockingly well, while sat centre stage from start to end. Together with the orchestral collective, s t a r g a z e, the score consisted mostly of traditional Irish tunes, however the arrangement was playful, and inserts of jazzy, disjointed rhythms worked really well, weaved into the movements of the dancers. The score was clearly the result of a thought-out, collaborative process, and the way in which the dancers interacted with the musicians was something I’ve never really seen on stage before. It was fun, and full of joy.

The Dance, a film made by acclaimed director Pat Collins, follows the rehearsals of MÁM in the remote Irish county of West Kerry. It is a fiercely true and beautiful account of a magical work process, which had its world premiere at the BFI London Film Festival in 2021, and competed for the acclaimed Grierson Award for best documentary. Sadler’s Wells has made The Dance accessible on their Digital Stage until Friday 3 November 2023. Check it out here.

HIGHLIGHT: In Conversation With the Dancers of Michael Keegan-Dolan’s MÁM – Amit Noy & Bea C. Bidault

Amit and Bea, you are both dancers for Michael Keegan-Dolan’s MÁMopening at Sadler’s Wells Theatre on 5th October. How would you describe MÁM?

Amit: I think of MÁM as an experiment in how to be most alive. I can only describe MÁM from the inside, because that’s how I’ve experienced it.  Performing MÁM feels like participating in an atmospheric phenomenon—a hurricane, a tsunami, a flood. I compare it to a weather event because MÁM feels like something that happens to me as much as I happen to it. The work of the musicians with us (the dancers) activates something—you could call it energy, spirit, ancestrality, or just liveness. 

Bea: MÁM to me is a rite of passage. There are perhaps different stories happening at the same time. The music is one of them, Cormac plays the concertina bringing the tradition of his people and Ireland, he then is met by s t a r g a z e creating a conversation between tradition and modernity. The other one is Ellie, who witnesses everything that is unfolding around her. sometimes I think that perhaps everything that happens is her invocation, her dream or nightmare. And then there is the story of the dancers, that create a gathering of scenes that can be read in multiple ways. Jumping from the intimacy of an embrace to the rescue of a drowning man to then a fight in a pub. To me, maybe we (the dancers) are portraying the story of Ellie’s ancestors, maybe we are just memories, or maybe we are the representation of the adult world.

What’s the process been like, learning and performing the choreography, as well as working with Michael?

Amit: The creation process for MÁM was full of deep joy and generative challenge. There was something innate in me that recognised what we were doing together as a form of truth. In working with Michael, I have learnt so much about how to be in good relation; how to make things from a place of kindness and respect. 

Bea: I was not part of the creation process of MÁM, I joined the cast just after the pandemic because some of the dancers were not able to make it. Basically, I learned the choreography through a video recording of the show first, then I joined the rest of the cast for a couple of weeks in Madrid to perform at Teatros del Canal. I remember that we had to be wearing facemasks in the studio and we changed some of the kissing scenes for hugs instead. My time in Madrid learning the show was amazing. I had the best time with Michael and the team and everyone was super supportive and relaxed. Since then, I have learned other roles in the show, it’s always an exciting process to get to understand a little bit better the origin of a section or how the movements were created. There are many reasons why I love working with Michael, one of them is because he cares and is passionate about what he does.

Going back to the beginning of your careers, how did you both become interested in dance and what was the journey like pursuing it professionally?

Amit: I grew up in Hawai’i, and I fell in love with hula—the indigenous Hawaiian artform—as soon as I was sentient. The issue of professionalisation—of having to make a living—only came up later, after a very deep love had already been developed. I knew I was going to spend my life dancing years before I realised it was possible to be paid for it. As I have started working professionally, I am learning that the skills that will sustain me within this precarious and inconstant line of work are: resourcefulness, an ability to juggle multiple things at once, communicating as honestly and directly as possible, and attempting to lead with love and commitment. 

Bea: I became interested in dance really late. I was in my first year at Uni in Barcelona, not enjoying studying Business and Management. So, I decided to join a dance school part-time to do Musical Theatre. It was then, when I was watching a contemporary dance routine, that I decided that I wanted to do that. The following year I quit Uni and joined the school to train and be a dancer. I trained every day from 9 am till 6 pm, I also started teaching pretty soon, so most of the days I was finishing at 8 pm. 
I think that my curiosity in movement and the joy and freedom I found in dance was one of the things that kept me going, and also, the way that you connect with others through dance. I feel very lucky to have found beautiful people and friends throughout my career.

Many of our readers are young and interested in the creative sectors, so what advice do you have for aspiring dancers hoping to work in the industry?

Amit: There are many, many ways to work in dance! Try to figure out how you’d like to work, and then find those that are doing that, and get close to them.

Bea: I would say that there is no rush and that enjoying the journey is important. Every experience and every person you meet can make you grow as a person and as an artist, and that never ends. I also think that understanding how you want to be a dancer and contribute or what you like can also be helpful in order to create.

Why should people be interested in dance, and why should someone go to see MÁM specifically?

Amit: I think watching dancing is an opportunity to see people at their most alive, and therefore to feel your own capacity for living anew. I can think of no better work than MÁM to give you this form of experience.

Bea: Dance communicates things that are not possible to explain in words. we don’t know why we dance but we have been for thousands and thousands of years. Dance offers a way to connect and empathise with each other. I think it provides hope for the future and can give us an insight into who we are and who we want to be. MÁM can do exactly that, it is an amalgam of different scenes that can relate to each of us because it taps into universal social aspects related to life, such as death, celebration and love. These are stories that surround us and are threaded in our traditions and societies. I think the show can bring you joy, it can make you sad or fearsome, it can make you feel brave. It can ignite in each of us hope and the spirit for action and therefore spirit for change.

Bea C. Bidault is originally from Barcelona and based in London, works as a dance performer, teacher and choreographer.

Amit Noy is a performer and dance maker living in Aotearoa, New Zealand, who grew up in Oahu, Hawai’i and Aotearoa to Latine and Israeli parents.

The Dance, a film made by acclaimed director Pat Collins, follows the rehearsals of MÁM in the remote Irish county of West Kerry. It is a fiercely true and beautiful account of a magical work process, which had its world premiere at the BFI London Film Festival in 2021, and competed for the acclaimed Grierson Award for best documentary. Sadler’s Wells has made The Dance accessible on their Digital Stage until Friday 3 November 2023. Check it out here.

REVIEW: Pygmalion

Rating: 3 out of 5.

The cast shines in this revival which slightly missed the mark

Patsy Ferran and Bertie Carvel star in the revival of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, a play written in 1912, a classic tale of rags to riches, familiar to us, having inspired films such as My Fair Lady and Pretty Woman. Pygmalion follows the transformation of Eliza Doolittle (Patsy Ferran), from a working-class girl, selling flowers in Covent Garden, into a refined, presentable “lady”. Eliza’s story begins with her meeting the phonetics professor Henry Higgins (Bertie Carvel) and Colonel Pickering (Michael Gould). Higgins makes a bet with Pickering that through training and speech lessons, he could replace Eliza’s cockney accent and blasphemous language, with the speech and mannerisms of a high-class lady, and pass her off as a duchess in high society. Eliza is transformed and suddenly a new world is opened up to her; various parties, social opportunities, and romantic interests. As expected, this big change has its consequences, and as we follow the effects of Eliza’s new social status, we also observe the changing relationship between Eliza and Higgins, leading to questions concerning class, identity and power.

Now this is a classic story with predictable lessons on morality and social mobility, and it is a play which is over a hundred years old. Why Pygmalion? And what’s the actual relevance of it today? Directed by Richard Jones, the revival of Pgymalion, showing at The Old Vic, is an interesting move and I can imagine, to re-stage such a text must have been no mean feat. The world has changed majorly since 1912 and the play’s jokes, for example, take on a new irony in their 2023 context. Most of the jokes, and the text overall, is deeply misogynistic, something which Jones clearly plays around with. I guess while a lot of things has changed since 1912, some things have stayed the same, and maybe that’s the reason for the revival. There are still countless times when men take advantage of, or use their power to manipulate women; this is still commonplace in our society. So, the play’s explorations of gender relations may still be relevant, but what about class? Someone with a cockney accent or a regional dialect can still face discrimination today – ‘accent bias’ it’s called. Or especially if you have moved to the UK from another country, and English isn’t your native language. This is something which is explored in Pygmalion, but are all of these justifiable reasons enough for its revival? The social issues exposed by Pygmalion were just exposed even more by Jones, not through subtlety, but through over-acting and the camp performances of the cast; and is this the right way to go about reviving an old work? There was nothing particularly fresh about it, nothing new, or experimental. Now, I don’t think a play necessarily has to be any of these things to be considered good, however, doing something old and slightly fusty, such as Pygmalion, things need to be different. And I’m not sure exaggeration works here. It just meant the core and heart of the play gets slightly overlooked.

It also would have been better pulled off if the set were different. Everything felt off to me; the costume choices felt wrong and I failed to understand the pre-fab looking set. The moving colonnaded building felt a bit cringe-worthy, a long with the cardboard taxi. Things felt a bit inconsistent and messy, with a lot of styles and references chucked into one production. I think maybe the space was too big and the performances might have benefited from more intimate staging. Despite this, there were moments which I loved. The use of the spotlight during the rigorous vocal lessons Eliza was put through was fun and added to the comedic franticness of it, and the scene in which Eliza and Higgins argue after the Ambassador’s party was brilliant. The fire burning before them and the simple velvet curtains behind them, with minimal furniture, were all perfect choices, and elevated that scene which was a truly great example of the chemistry between Ferran and Carvel as well as their own individual acting skills. This is where the production shines – in the performances of Ferran and Carvel. Carvel played Higgins with such sliminess, giving, in the best way possible, a pathetic and uncomfortable performance which was so engrossing. Ferran was equally impressive, and was able to veer the play away from points at which it felt like a pantomime. The rest of the cast were also brilliant, so I would recommend seeing Pygmalion for the performances, as well as the jokes, which definitely got a few laughs, however, it’s still not enough to bring Shaw’s work truly to life.

REVIEW: Prom 70: Rachmaninov’s Third Piano Concerto

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A punky and impressive showcase from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic and Nobuyuki Tsujii

BBC’s penultimate Prom at the Royal Albert Hall saw the pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii take on Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 3, with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra led by Domingo Hindoyan. The programme was ambitious and impressive; the concerto was exciting and filled the space of the hall – aurally, but also its layered and varied sound took up the auditorium tonally and emotionally. Nobuyuki Tsujii, born blind, gained international recognition when he won the prestigious Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in 2009. His talent and technique are undoubtedly captivating to listen to and watch.

Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 3 was paired with Bernstein’s Symphonic Dances from “West Side Story”. I’m a huge “West Side Story” fan, so enjoyed this immensely. It was just the right choice to balance the Rachmaninov, playfully and keeping it light, working especially well in the Prom context. The additional piece, Gabriela Ortiz’s Clara, inspired by Clara Schumann, was spiky and a true delicacy to listen to. Although contemporary, it really reminded me of 20th c. avant-garde music, and balanced out the programme even further. In both the Ortiz and the Bernstein we got to see a lot of impressive moves from the percussion section, making us feel like we had gotten a taste of everything RLPO had to offer.

I would always recommend attending a Prom, to anyone, of any age. And what I loved about the Proms in general, is the diversity in age of the audiences. Looking around, I saw children, teenage schoolboys, young adults – it was so refreshing to see this at what is ultimately a classical music concert. I think there still is a lot of work to do with changing the perception of the classical world as being a somewhat exclusive and fusty place, however it’s getting there, and the BBC Proms are a great place to start.

REVIEW: Academy of St Martin in the Fields & Stephen Stirling

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A moving and intimate performance, full of life, full of heart

Stepping into the church of St Martin-in-the-Fields is quite something. Located next to Trafalgar Square, its interior is spacious and on Thursday night, it was lit up beautifully, ready for the performance of the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, a chamber orchestra, and the brilliant horn soloist Stephen Stirling. What followed was pretty special. The programme consisted of an interesting range of pieces, from a mixture of living and passed composers. Beginning with Grieg’s Holberg Suite, the tone was set and we were deliciously confronted with the velvety and surging sound of the Academy. The Holberg Suite is mesmerising in itself, but listening to the Academy and watching the strings move in such beautiful uniformity added to the dreaminess of it. Here I would like to mention the Guest Director of the night, Stephanie Gonley, who’s experience and technique shone throughout the programme.

Then came the gem of the night, Matthew Taylor’s Horn Concerto No. 2 performed by Stephen Stirling. Taylor completed the concerto in March 2023, consisting of three movements, each unique with its own style, pace, and sense of humour. In Taylor’s own words, he felt Stirling ‘was the most poetic of horn players and much of the concerto tries to reflect this’. I really enjoyed this piece. I’m not much of a musical expert, but I did spend the majority of my teenage years playing oboe in various orchestras, and I am able to grasp the talent, technique and effort that went into this performance. Stirling played with courage and a seemingly deep understanding of the musical journey he was telling. The oboe also took centre stage which I always like to see! The playfulness between the horn and oboe, as well as the cor Anglais, was a pleasure to listen to. It was an animated performance, full of life.

Another jewel of the night was Philip Herbert’s Elegy: In Memoriam – Stephen Lawrence. It was like water, rising and falling at all the right points, particularly moving when importantly reminded of the tragic murder of Stephen Lawerence. It was only strings playing during this piece, and I appreciated hearing just them and the power of sound they can create standing alone. Caroline Shaw’s Entr’acte also was a great choice to showcase what the ensemble can do. Clashy and warping, it felt refreshingly contemporary and experimental. A large chunk of the piece was just the plucking of strings which was fun to watch, petering out super slowly and gradually towards the end in such a stunning way by the cellist Will Schofield. Ending with Haydn’s ‘Philosopher’, which was paired deliberately with Taylor’s concerto, we got to enjoy some harpsichord playing by David Wright.

Overall, a brilliant evening of music, which showcased some great contemporary work from living composers and musicians. I found this choice to be notably successful, making the programme feel, not just alive, but intentional. It is important to hear classical music being created now, and it gives a concert a special feel of changeability and mutability that can only be achieved by having access to the composers, who are able to tweak and perfect their work in real time. Definitely check out all the pieces listed above and check out the Academy here: https://www.asmf.org/

REVIEW: The Garden of Words

Rating: 3 out of 5.

A melancholic and melodramatic stage adaptation of Makoto Shinkai’s anime story

The Park Theatre’s latest production, The Garden of Words, is a based on Makoto Shinkai’s beloved anime story and film, co-adapted for the stage by both Susan Momoko Hingley and Alexandra Rutter. An example of Anglo-Japanese theatre collaboration, cultural influences are blended together in this production, and listening to both the English and Japanese language on stage was particularly refreshing.

The plot follows the sensitive connection between Takao (Hiroko Berrecloth), a young teenager who aspires to learn shoemaking in Italy, and Yukari (Aki Nakagawa), an older mysterious woman he meets in a secluded Tokyo garden during rain showers. Five other cast members – Takao’s family members, other kids at school, teachers – circle around Takao and Yukari’s relationship as it grows and changes over time. All the characters are lonely in their own way, each having a personal story with potential, but unfortunately the characters, including Takao and Yukari, remained underdeveloped and unconvincing. This is due primarily to the script; the dialogue was often clunky and blunt, causing emotional moments to be these sudden, unjustifiable outbursts. The acting and line deliverance tended to veer towards being too over-the-top and unnatural. Pauses were misplaced resulting in a general feeling of awkwardness. All of this, along with too many rapid scene changes, made for the potential emotional impact certain moments to be cut short, as we were never really given a chance to become fully involved in any of the characters’ lives.

However, despite this, the enchanting visuals of the set design, by Cindy Lin, were really beautiful. The idea of a rain-soaked Japanese garden was executed superbly. Along with Mark Choi’s score, the lighting design by Rajiv Pattani and the sound design by Nicola T. Chang, one really felt transported in those certain garden scenes. The projection of rain drops on the stage floor, and the fluttering projected background of wisteria for example, worked well – at times it did feel as though rain was falling upon us. These garden scenes also involved the use of puppetry which was one of my favourite aspects of the production. I adored Mikayla Teodoro’s puppet bird, which was flown with such elegance across the stage by a cast member, adding a sprinkle of magic to the scene.

The Garden of Words is a visually delightful and ambitious stage adaptation of such a well known anime, so if you are a fan, I do encourage you to see it. While the script has its weaknesses, the overall impression is one of beauty and a unique exploration and crossover of culture and different artistic mediums.

The Garden of Words is at the Park Theatre until 9th September.

REVIEW: Matthew Bourne’s Romeo and Juliet

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

A stunning and timely dance adaptation of the world’s greatest love story

From the get go, I had goosebumps. Opening with Prokofiev’s terrific ‘Dance of the Knights’, the show continued with passion and astounding elegance. Not having adapted Shakespeare before, Matthew Bourne has done so with success in his reinterpretation of Romeo and Juliet, showing at Sadler’s Wells now until 2nd September. Bourne reimagines the classic story and turns it into something utterly modern, compelling, and inventive.

Set to Prokofiev’s score, (with a live orchestra, which I loved), we follow the doomed fate of Romeo and Juliet, however instead of the expected Montagues VS Capulets, Bourne has chosen to replace the feuding families with a generation of teenagers, separated by the gender binaries. The set, designed by Lez Brotherston, is a static, white tiled, metal fenced institution, with the words ‘Verona Institute’ painted on the railings, and two central barred doors with the labels ‘Boys’ and ‘Girls’ above them. In Bourne’s words, “the Verona Institute is an imaginary place where young people seem to be incarcerated – is it a borstal? A school? A prison? A hospital? Or a place where some kind of brutal social experiment is taking place?”. It really is that ambiguous – we have no idea what sort of place these young people, all dressed in white, are inhabiting. For me, this kind of intentional ambiguity makes for an almost dystopian, futuristic feel – not being based in any specific era, or location, the stage feels like a limbo land where bad things happen. It really reminded me of films like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and even Shutter Island.

Bourne explores what kinds of suffering and violence happen as a result of putting all these young people together, using the traditional plot and characters of Shakespeare’s story, controlled by the older generations, surveilled, and kept in the isolated, simple gender categories of ‘boys’ and girls’. In a way, this becomes more important than the actual relationship between Romeo and Juliet. The primary exploration of the performance is arguably the damaging consequences of the constant monitoring and control of younger generations who seek to challenge the barriers and limitations put in place by their elders. As Bourne states, it is “a stripped back Romeo and Juliet for, and about, a new generation”. And speaking from a younger perspective myself, Bourne does just that. He has steered contemporary dance in the direction it needs to go. He has retold a classic, long dominated by fusty and predictable retellings, and made it into something for and about young people, which resists catering for older audiences. I found there was something deeply relatable about the performance, something my generation can connect to. Its the emotional violence and confusion that young people suffer from, coming from older notions surrounding gender, expression, and freedom. The story of Romeo and Juliet allowed Bourne to also address issues surrounding mental health, homophobia, and abuse – all incredibly important issues that both young, and old, people are dealing with right now.

Both Romeo and Juliet, played by Paris Fitzpatrick and Cordelia Braithwaite, danced beautifully, embodying the uncontainable energy of adolescence which you rarely see so well executed on stage. The scenes in which they can’t keep their hands off each other, so wrapped up in lust and discovery, is conveyed through dance, silent expressions just using the movement of the body. It was so wonderful to watch. Terry Davies’s playful rearrangement of Prokofiev’s score only added to the youthful spirit of the story, along with the set, poking fun, possibly, at more established ways of doing things.

Whatever age you are, please don’t miss this! Not just important in the sociocultural sense, Matthew Bourne’s Romeo and Juliet is a display of marvellous choreography and story-telling.

REVIEW: 2:22 A Ghost Story

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

A spooky story with a brilliant cast who deliver spine-chilling scares and expert eeriness

Continuing its West End run, 2:22 A Ghost Story, now at the Apollo Theatre, is a brilliant production written by Danny Robins which expertly blends fear and fascination, delivering an engaging story and an evening of guaranteed entertainment. 2:22 tells a gripping tale, which takes place during a dinner party at Sam and Jenny’s new under-construction home. With their friends Lauren and Ben, tensions rise as Jenny reveals the scary, haunting experiences she’s been having during the night. The stage becomes a battle-ground where skepticism and science clash with fear and the supernatural. The shocking screams interspersed between scenes only help to further escalate the tension of such an adrenaline-filled plot, and as time ticks on, the four friends must confront whatever presence is haunting Jenny, resulting in a night of terror and revelation.

The current cast consists of Jenny played by Jamie Winstone (Kidulthood, Dead Set, Babs), Sam played by Clifford Samuel (McMafia, Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll), Ben played by Ricky Champ (Him & Her, Plebs, Game of Thrones), and Lauren played by Frankie Bridge (member of The Saturdays), however on the particular evening I attended, Lauren was played by Gemma Yates (1-800-D-DIRECT) who provided an incredible performance. The whole cast excelled in their roles but Ricky Champ was especially impressive, executing his lines with perfect comedic timing and body expression.

What stood out across the play, was the convincing and well-played relationships between the characters. The central focus of the story was on the haunting entity, however the emotional responses to such a paranormal situation provided an opportunity for the dynamics between the couples to be deeply explored. And they were. The chemistry on stage between all characters was authentic and relatable. The cast also skilfully navigated the stage during the dinner party in the living space of Sam and Jenny’s home, really becoming part of the stunningly detailed set design by Anna Fleishle. The character’s movements felt natural, the ways in which they interacted with the functioning props, like the fridge or the kettle or the waste-bin, really heightened that sense of domestic realism, which made the story even more frightening.

2:22 A Ghost Story has maintained interest and intrigue throughout its seasons at the Noel Coward, Gielgud, Criterion and Lyric Theatre, and through many new casts. Now at the Apollo Theatre until the 17th September, I recommend catching it to experience the current cast and an exciting modern ghost story!

REVIEW: Faulty Towers the Dining Experience

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A hilarious dining adventure and a nostalgic tribute to the legendary sitcom

Faulty Towers the Dining Experience offers an uproarious homage to the timeless 70s sitcom, Fawlty Towers, transforming a hotel restaurant into an immersive stage. Presented by Interactive Theatre International, this dinner-show delivers an unforgettable evening of laughter, driven by impeccable character portrayals, brilliant improvisation, and a wave of nostalgic hilarity that leaves guests thoroughly entertained.

Basil Fawlty, played with impressive precision, welcomes each dining group with his trademark neurotic charm, drawing you into the performance. As well as Basil, Sybil and Manuel served up the three-course meal, each committed to their role and capturing their iconic voices and mannerisms. Throughout the performance, some classic scenes from the sitcom were recreated; from the infamous pet rat escapade to the fire drill chaos, for example. The restaurant became the stage as the cast effortlessly weaved in improvised interactions with the audience, adapting to unpredictable moments and responding with witty banter, which kept everyone engaged.

However it was noticeable that the dining experience lacked some of the clever subtlety and witty dialogue which is such a big part of why the sitcom is so brilliant. But this is understandable as given the nature of an interactive dinner-show with limited time for comedic set-pieces, the humour will naturally lean more towards general slapstick. The space itself was large and due to the audience being spread out on round tables across the room, it meant the cast members had to perform loud, somewhat basic skits, in order to be heard and understood by everyone in the room. The hilarity was still maintained, but it would have been interesting to watch some of the more nuanced scenes that define the sitcom itself.

Another aspect that fell slightly short was the three-course meal served during the show. While it didn’t detract from the overall experience, it was slightly below average, and lacked the finesse that one might expect from a ‘dining experience’. However, the food is not the main reason why fans choose to see the show – its more about comedy and laughter, than food and service.

Overall, the show was a triumph, and delivers a night of great fun with engaging character portrayals and brilliant improvisation. The cast’s ability to involve audience members without crossing the line into uncomfortable territory was well done, making everyone feel part of the comedy. It was an inclusive and entertaining experience that left everyone with a smile on their faces.