Tag: Amelia Jane Hankin

Sing Yer Heart Out For The Lads at the Spiegeltent Chichester

Sing Yer Heart Out For The Lads

Spigeltent, Chichester Festival Theatre, 17th October 2019

There are a few candidates for my favourite play of 2019. Lynn Nottage’s stunning Sweat at the Donmar Warehouse, or either of the revivals of the Miller classics at the Old and Young Vics respectively, All My Sons and Death of a Salesman. Still TBD but this revival of Roy Williams’s 2002 play about racism, nationalism, football and aggressive masculinity will run them close. So far I have only seen this and RW’s previous offering, The Firm, but I am most definitely a fan. He writes about stuff that matters, politics, race, institutions, friendship, identity and obvs, Marvin Gaye, with big gestures and authentic dialogue. As far as I can tell his work pulls no punches, literally in some cases, and he doesn’t hold back from examining uncomfortable truths about our society. The good news is that TRSE is set to revive Sucker Punch next year directed by Roy Alexander Weise and that Rafe Spall will star in the monologue RW has co-written with Clint Dyer at the NT, Death of England.

Spiegeltents are wood and canvas tents which originated in Belgium in the C19 for the purpose of travelling entertainment. Perfect for housing the replica of the King George pub, designed by Joanna Scotcher, in which SYHOFTL is set, on the afternoon of Saturday the 7th October 2000 for the England-Germany World Cup qualifier at Wembley (the one after which Keegan walked as manager). Or at least the tent would be if it wasn’t lashing down with rain outside. Of course this was one of those days where the deluge was followed and preceded by clear skies, (that’s climate change for you), but I am pleased to report that the tent, bar a bit of shaking, stood up to the storm. What it did mean is that for 5 minutes or so the cast had to bellow to make themselves heard and it added another dose of ferocity to what is already a play steeped in violence. Terrific atmosphere.

It opens with Jimmy (Martyn Ellis, more usually a musicals man), the father of landlady Gina (Sian Reese-Williams) pottering in the pub ahead of the match. Now this being South West London, (I want to call it as a non-gentrified of Fulham), everyone has a full on Eastenders type accent, quite something coming from as Welsh as it gets, Ms Reese-Williams, who excels here. They are joined by her lippy teenage son Glen (Billy Kennedy) and her ex Mark (Mark Springer) who recently left the army. When they leave Glen, desperate to be accepted on the “street”, is left with two of his new friends Duane (Harold Addo) and tough-guy Bad “T” (Dajay Brown) who bully Glen and try to steal drinks from the bar. Gina returns and chides them. One by one the rest of the pub team regulars turn up, in England kit regalia, to watch the match. Pub football team captain Lawrie (Richard Riddell) who is looking for a fight and nakedly racist, his conciliatory ex copper brother Lee (Alexander Cobb), the mendacious Alan (Michael Hodgson) who, it transpires, is a local councillor for far right political party Britain First, Becks (James Jack Ryan), Jess (Kirsty J Curtis), Phil (Rob Compton) and finally Barry (Makir Ahmed), Mark’s conflicted younger brother.

Against the backdrop of the game, banter turns to threat, debate to violence, fuelled by alcohol. The tenor of the dialogue reflects this. It is, at times, funny, as well as viscerally disturbing, and the cast, superbly marshalled by director Nicole Charles whose last outing was Emilia at the Globe, completely immerse themselves in their roles. This is vital theatre, not just because of the staging, but also because it dares to expose the reality of racism and misogyny in C21 Britain. I have rarely seen a trio of performances more affecting than those of Richard Riddell, whose twitching belligerence seems to hid some deeper resentment, Mark Springer whose spell as a squaddie leaves him aggrieved and determined to confront the racism of his former friends, and Michael Hodgson whose needling of Mark and whose warped arguments are especially unnerving. (He also stood out as first the Porter and then Duke Capulet in the last RSC season).

RW also packs in plenty of plot, which I can see some might feel veers towards the melodramatic; the arrival of the coppers after Glen’s phone is nicked, as well as Sharon (Jennifer Daley), Duane’s Mum, at the end of the first act, (and which memorably here, saw a police car actually arrive outside the tent), and even more so the tragic conclusion. But it certainly gets you on the edge of your seat.

You don’t need to be reminded that racism is still associated with football. And the kind of attitudes and behaviours that are depicted in SYHOFTL are also still prevalent. Relevance, character, language and spectacle make this production a classic. What’s more, for once, I was one of the older members in this matinee audience. I can see why the this might have frightened the pensioner horses of Chichester but the students, for I am pretty sure that’s who they were, were transfixed.

I understand the Spiegeltent went on to host a variety of one-nighters after the run of SYHOFTL. If you ask me there must surely be case for bringing this production up to the big smoke as has happened with so many CFT productions. I can see an ideal pitch on the South Bank next door to the National. In which case I implore you to grab a ticket. In an ideal world an enterprising producer would find a way to overcome the health and safety and blocking issues and stage this in a pub. Downstairs from a theatre upstairs would be a neat inversion. Imagine this in the Latchmere below the 503. What would be a real shame is if this superb realisation of this modern classic didn’t reach an extended audience.

The Fishermen at the Arcola Theatre review ****

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The Fishermen

Arcola Theatre, 20th September 2018

Good to see the Arcola downstairs space filled to bursting for Gbolahan Obiesesan’s adaptation of Chigozie Obioma’s 2015 novel, a rapid transfer after a successful run in Edinburgh and then Manchester. Pretty clear that everyone in the audience was wowed by what they saw. The story has been stripped back to just two actors, here Michael Ajao and Valentine Olukoga, who, in a triumph of shape-shifting, take on all the characters. This is set against the most pared back of designs, a sort of raised deck taijitu, separated by metal poles. It really is one of the most plainly effective sets I have seen in a long time, symbolising the symbiosis of the two brothers whose journey the play describes. Bravo Amelia Jane Hankin who I see is also designing the set for the kids’ version of Comedy of Errors in Stratford. The lighting of Amy Mae and sound of Adam McCready are equally effective.

The two brothers, Ben and Obembe Agwu, reunite to go fishing in the Omi-Ala river where they were brought up. They proceed to act out, in flashbacks, the story of a prophecy, from village misfit Abulu, that foretold the dramatic events that broke up their family. Abulu, Mum, Dad, the two fated elder brothers, Ikenna and Boja, villagers, authority figures, soldiers, all come vividly to life, even as the two men disagree about what exactly happened. There are flashes of humour, suspense and, at times, real fear. We get a sense of what matters to them, now and in the past, and of how their lives in southern Nigeria, and the history of the country, the clash between tradition and modernity, has played out in the last couple of decades. I gather Mr Obiesesan has pruned the novel somewhat, but still preserved the conceit of Igbo oral storytelling, and cleverly given voice to the memories of two, rather than just one, of the brothers. The idea of a prophecy bringing down a family and of a father whose hubris is reflected in the ambitions he has for his children, couldn’t be more Greek, but this is very far from classical tragedy though it is certainly mythic in ambition if not length (in places it is almost too quick).

Above all though what really makes this work is some extraordinary inventive theatre to bring the text to life. Director Jack McNamara delivers remarkable idea after idea and the two brilliant actors, especially in their physicality, charisma and palpable bond, are more than able to convert these ideas into thrilling drama. the re-imagined fight between the two eldest brothers was a stand-out. I see Mr McNamara is signed up to direct the adaptation of Don DeLillo’s Love Lies Bleeding at the Print Room, which I look forward to, and, on the strength of this production (which is now touring), I would snap up tickets to anything his company, New Perspectives, based in Nottingham, serves up. And I would expect to see a lot, lot more of both of this actors.

I don’t read many books. I have no choice but to read this though.