Image Credit Richard Hubert Smith

(5 / 5)

Taking two children (11 and 12) to see a production of the Dickens classic ‘A Christmas Carol’ and knowing nothing about the production was a risk.  I’d heard it was quite long, I was worried it might be very dour and maybe the language would be inaccessible for youngsters.  I’ve also experienced other Christmas productions which were quite ‘arty’ interpretations of classic tales (e.g. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – when during the interval I heard a child ask their parent ‘Mummy what’s an Aslan’?) and clearly went way above their heads.  So, I was fairly surprised to see a variety of instruments on and before the stage as we came into the comfortable auditorium.  I was also reassured to see a detailed set of a traditional snowy, Victorian street scene, as I’d feared a minimalist, abstract set that might not convey the oppressive Dickensian atmosphere.  The opening seconds of the performance also did not disappoint – a dramatic musical flourish and a burst of coloured light revealed the silhouette of our ‘protagonist’ complete with tilted top hat and heavy winter coat.  And that readers, was the end of all the traditionalism……

‘He’ was not a he at all – this Cardiff dwelling, Ebenezer Scrooge (or Ebbie) is a cello-playing, powerhouse of a woman with the stature and stage presence to intimidate all but the bravest of souls.  Hannah McPake strides around the stage, glaring and hollering at anyone who tries to drag her into the spirit of Christmas and merely laughs at the impending threat of her three night-time visitors. 

It’s difficult to know where to start reviewing the rest of the cast – each of them taking on at least two but most often four or five other characters through-out the show – but undoubtedly what they all have in common is an abundance of talent!  It is honestly breathtaking the quality of the acting, singing and musical skills we were treated to by this accomplished cast.  We had a harp, an accordion, a saxophone, we had puppets, we had slapstick comedy, tears and anguish, romance and West-End quality voices from a cast of only 8 and there wasn’t one amongst them that didn’t add to the richness of the experience we had in the Sherman Theatre that evening.

The subtle beauty of the ghost of Christmas past (Catrin Mai Edwards) – beautiful Welsh vocals and evocative storytelling had me transported to Victorian Cardiff and entranced.  Then, listed only as ‘Apprentice Actor’ in the programme, our hearts were all broken by the perfect tones of Madalena Juma as Ebbie’s Mum forced to give him up as she was sent to the Workhouse.  ‘Apprentice’ she may be, but she is definitely mastering her craft most ably as she held her own amongst this accomplished company.

After the emotion and the drama of the past, and still laughing in the face of her past crimes and misdemeanours, Ebbie and the audience are confronted with (or maybe ‘assaulted by’) the Ghost of Christmas Present…..what can I say about Owen Alun as the Ghost of Christmas Present?  There are no words – suffice to say that EVERYONE needs a ‘Ginger North Walian’ in their lives at Christmas (and frankly all year around!).  No spoilers here – you have to experience it!

In a very modern backstory, we got insight into the reasons behind Ebbie’s notorious miserliness and the drama was built as we thought the Ghost of Christmas Present had finally cracked through her hard shell and Ebbie would be saved from the torment and chains endured by her former business partner Marley, but alas she soon slipped back into her old ways.  Bring on the mighty Ghost of Christmas Future! 

The creativity of this production is wonderful – the four ghosts (including Marley of course) could not be more different – they are humorous, enchanting, ridiculous and terrifying and take the audience on a rollercoaster of emotion through-out the nearly two-hour production.  There is so much attention to detail in the set, the costumes, the vulnerable delicacy of the puppet children, the music and the songs – it combines to make a perfect evening.  Last Christmas I had the pleasure of seeing Disney’s Aladdin at another venue in Cardiff – the big budget spectacular was incredible and left me feeling joyous and uplifted, but I can honestly say that the exuberant feeling as I jumped to my feet to explode into applause with the rest of the audience after this production, was absolutely no less life-affirming and the first thing I did when I got home was have a look to see if there are still tickets available to go again!  This is pretty much a first for me – I don’t think I’ve seen any production twice in my life!  It was heartening to hear that my 11-year-old son and his friend loved it to, and he’d also be willing to spend another evening in the company of this incredible cast!  Oh, and if you’re wondering who his favourite character was?…….That well-known Dickens character – the business bauble!  You’ll just have to go and find out for yourself!

This is a play – by JM Barrie, the author of ‘Peter Pan’ – that shouldn’t work today. First produced in 1920, it puts stereotypical characters into conventional settings and develops conversations between them in dated, middle class English. There is no direct conflict and the use of clichéd idiom and vocabulary is stifling. On top of this, the plot splits between two very different places and then takes fifty years to completely unravel.

Yet it does work. Barrie prompts you into reconsidering some time-honoured and appropriate literary themes. This may be because in ‘Mary Rose’ he deploys a crude form of surrealism, using it to open up another dimension behind the mind-numbing realism.

A little girl goes missing on a small island during a family holiday. After a month she reappears, unharmed and unconscious any time has passed. Since her parents are overjoyed to have her back, this mystery is accepted. Because it is never explained, though, sitting in the audience you try to rationalise it. Is it a reference to the number of children who died in childhood before the advent of modern medicine and hospital treatment – and of how a century ago parents simply had to cope?

Because of their daughter’s brush with death, the parents in the play are overly protective of her. They worry about her getting married. She does, however, and at first everything goes well – she has a baby boy – but when she persuades her husband to take her back to the island where she once disappeared – she disappears again, this time apparently for good.

You puzzle over Barrie’s intention. You think perhaps now he is referring to how often women died in childbirth before antibiotics were discovered. But huge numbers of young people had died in the flu epidemic that followed the First World War. A lot of households had to deal with losing their daughters as well as losing their sons. The mystery in the play echoes a social environment where a generation grew up with its members not having known one or both of their parents.

‘Mary Rose’ doesn’t wallow in sorrow. Mary’s parents and husband get on with their lives. The family maid becomes a surrogate daughter and is promoted to being a paid companion for Mary’s mother. But, in yet another twist irreconcilable with everyday reality, Mary returns after a quarter of a century. She is unchanged and, again, doesn’t know what has happened. Of course, everyone close to her has aged to the point at which she cannot recognise them – even though they all recognise her. Trying to grasp the situation, you consider the issue of mental stability. Mary is like someone who has gone mad, still believing herself to be young when she is middle-aged. The unhappy atmosphere in the family re-union thus becomes realistic and credible, even though the route the story has taken to set it up has been fantastic.

To round the play off, the story fast forwards in a movement reminiscent of ‘The Winter’s Tale’ –
‘Impute it not a crime
To me or my swift passage that I slide
O’er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried
Of that wide gap, since it is in my power
To o’erthrow law and in one self-born hour
To plant and o’erwhelm custom.’

Only Barrie’s story skips another twenty-five years, to the return of Mary’s son, Harry, to the house of his grandparents. There he encounters his mother, now a ghost.

A play which reminds you of the quote you learned for your A level English exam can’t be all bad. ‘Mary Rose’ is not on the scale of a Shakespearean play, but it gets away with what might just be a device – the use of unreal passages of time – to force consideration of family life – at this point, a kind of climax – reconciliation. The long-lost son is allowed a (brief) meeting with the mother he never knew, while she discovers her son has led a full life, a discovery that allows her to disappear forever – happy at last. Barrie succeeds in infusing his story with some poetry – as he had earlier with ‘Peter Pan’.

You could leave the theatre thinking about how surrealism never really got going in England, perhaps because of our insular attitude towards Europe, perhaps because our intelligentsia didn’t speak any foreign languages. You might also want to wonder why Barrie, who was very well connected with the other literary figures of his day, is no rival for Chekov, who was born in the same year. He’s hardly an English Ibsen, either. But whether you’re interested in its background or not, the York Actors Collective deserves congratulations for reviving a play that is so little known. (They won’t have earned much for their work, either, as it only resulted in a short run in a studio space.)

The Collective managed to wring the few laughs there are from the script. They made the stuffed shirt characters more or less sympathetic. The scenes didn’t drag as they might have done and the conversations, although clunky and predictable, rattled along without the need for overacting. The addition of a slight Australian accent for Harry, and a Hebridan brogue for Cameron, the gillie who accompanies Mary and her family to the little island, added colour. I didn’t find the portrayal of Mary’s husband, Simon, convincing but it is nightmare role to play, as he – a naval officer – is completely devoid of personality. The set was minimal but adequate for a studio production. The period atmosphere was caught by a few items of furniture and the appropriate clothing.

Theatres shouldn’t run too many revivals at the expense of new work, but there are a number of plays out there which are unfamiliar to the general public. Given the right kind of treatment, venues will benefit from putting them on. We saw this with the National’s ‘An Inspector Calls’ a few years ago and also with Theatr Clwyd’s production of ‘Rope’ in July this year. More, please.

(4.5 / 5)

‘Don’t. Breathe. A. Word,’ is the advice given to all those who may enter the Western Studio at the Wales Millennium Centre to watch ‘Pontypool;’ a brand new stage adaptation by Hefin Robinson, directed by Dan Phillips and based on the cult horror story by Tony Burgess.

The original novel took place in Pontypool but in Ontario, Canada, whereas this production definitely is a lot more local!

Washed up radio DJ, Grant Mazzy is trying to ‘take no prisoners’ and whip up the local community into action through his radio slot. There’s only one problem; he’s used to the listeners of Islington and now he’s ended up in a basement in Pontypool delivering his ‘Mazzy’s musings’ on Beacon Radio. Producer Rhiannon has certainly got her hands full with him and Megan, the assistant, is just trying to keep the show on track. Mazzy wants to deliver hard hitting radio, which isn’t easy when you must interview the cast of the local, gender blind production of Lawrence of Arabia…

Production Images Credit Kirsten McTernan

The action, all delivered in the basement radio station, really amps up as they start to receive news of a local ‘riot’ at the doctor’s surgery, which turns out to be a lot more than it first seems. Not being familiar with the cult horror novel means that every twist and turn of this production was a complete surprise to me but even those familiar with the story will be met with a fresh, local but universal story that is brought bang up to the 21st century with Rhiannon demanding Mazzy STOP using the word ‘woke’ and references to the last time we got locked down. The writing is fantastic, and I highly commend Hefin’s adaptation; the humour is fast paced and relentless, the language is witty and smart and the relationships between the characters are totally believable. Even when the action starts to ramp up, the direction by Dan Phillips has clearly been worked to toe the line between drama and comedy, its expertly walked and even in the horrific moments, the comedy still flows!

The casting is spot on; Carwyn Jones is the voice of Ken Loney, ‘the eye in the sky’ reporting on the weather in Pontypool from his ‘sun helicopter…’ Although we never see him, the voiceover is excellent, the comedy ably aided by the clever sound effects. His later phone calls to the station are perfectly counterbalanced to the earlier humour, with voice alone sending shivers down the spines of the audience. Ioan Hefin is ‘dodgy’ Dr Harry Phillips, again balancing comic chops with great acting ability in the more serious moments. He is the lynchpin to the play, providing us with in turns hilarious and in turns dramatic moments of explanation.

Rhiannon Briar is brought to life by Victoria John; she captures the frustration of the producer stuck with the radio ‘star’ with big ambitions of ‘shaking things up.’ The clashes with Mazzy are delivered with panache and Victoria gives us brilliant angry chemistry with Mazzy. They are the quintessential odd couple of the play. Without giving too much away, Mail O’Donnell’s portrayal of Megan Davies, the radio assistant, is a role of two parts! Her physicality is exceptional, and she ably delivers the vision of Movement and Intimacy Director, Lucy Glassbrook. Her realisation of the character and her twists and turns is delivered expertly right up to its explosive conclusion…

Finally, the radio DJ himself, the voice of Pontypool, Grant Mazzy is brought to life by Lloyd Hutchinson. Lloyd owns the stage and his radio booth, prowling across the stage with his agenda ready and waiting to be delivered to the willing (or unwilling) listeners of Beacon Radio. He sends the audience into fits of laughter with facial expressions and movements alone; he also sends a shiver down our spines with those expressions and silences too. I was so impressed by his ability to have me giggling one moment and with my heart in the mouth the next.

A special mention must go to the make up and special effects, which totally blew me away. The make up is brilliant; huge congratulations to the Marcus Whitney and assistant, Kristie Stanway. I honestly had no idea how the team would bring this horror classic to life onstage, but I was in awe. I can’t say too much, but the make up and effects are visceral and drew gasps (and sounds of disgust!) from the captivated audience.

A huge congratulations to all involved with this expert adaptation; what a phenomenal version, with a distinct national flavour but universal appeal. Don’t miss this and do not let Pontypool fall silent. ‘Don’t. Breathe. A. Word…’ or should I say… ‘Dim. Gair. Wrth Neb…’

You can find out more and book tickets here