THEATRE REVIEW: TRUMPETS AND RASPBERRIES

SquareOne Entertainment

by Katie Smyth

Rosa Brodie is having a bad time of it. It has been months since her husband Tony left her to take up jogging and wheatgerm with twenty years younger Lucy, “The Bitch,” and a relentless course of voodoo and book collecting have so far failed to return her beloved. Then one day Rosa is called on to identify the charred body of her rogue hubbie, so badly disfigured in a terrorist skirmish which led to his boss’ abduction, that only his “wee ears” are recognisable. But hope remains. A team of talented surgeons led by an eccentric German with a penchant for sedatives, sepositories and socialist women set about rebuilding Tony’s mangled face using the tissue from his buttocks.

All starts swimmingly and on the long road to recovery the former Fiat worker and union rep even extends his vocabulary to include “astronaut” and “concupiscence,” much to the frustration of his sloganeering spouse. The problem is he simply cannot recognise the woman he now calls madam as his wife. Matters are further complicated when a stranger with an identical face turns up and the investigation into Sir John Lamb’s abduction draws uncomfortably close.

In this intriguing, skillfully characterised McAvoy adaptation, The Lyceum masterfully transposes Dario Fo’s Italian farce to an Edinburgh sometime in the near future. Here David Cameron is Prime Minister, Paris Hilton a US senator and vibrating trams lend furniture a life of their own. Infidelity, mistaken identity and the ramblings of rehabilitation leave the audience gasping for breath in this rumbustious romp. Never has a meat grinder caused so many shoulders to shake, as the hapless Rosa force feeds Tony sausage through his nose. An inspired climax to the Lyceum’s impressive season.

Trumpets and Raspberries is showing at Edinburgh's Royal Lyceum until Sat 10 May

THEATRE REVIEW: VANITY FAIR

By Katie Smyth

SquareOne Entertainment


Every day the news seems to herald one financial catastrophe after another. It has become ever more difficult to flick through the channels without hearing the FTSE closed today down by however many points, something or other was hedged while the Bank of England plans to free up however much liquidity to aid such and such. For those of us not well versed in the jargon of finance the overall effect is too often one of frustration, confusion or, worst of all, apathy. To stave off business information saturation some may run for the theatre, where for two hours at least we can surely forget the impending doom, no? Not according to Steve McNicoll, currently starring on stage at Edinburgh’s Lyceum. To him the present credit crunch has reached its theatrical incarnation in Vanity Fair. Here McNicoll and his co-star Sophia Linden tell SquareOne why they believe this nineteenth century masterpiece is enjoying continued social relevance.

To many people the works of William Makepeace Thackeray are entities firmly rooted in the past and as such any dramatic adaptation can be blithely consigned to the wasteland of the Sunday night period drama slot. Something to curl up in front of for two hours as corsets, breaches and starched petticoats wash over us in a haze of taffeta and lace. Such is the common misconception of those entering the Lyceum’s auditorium according to Sophia Linden, the 24 year old actress presently bewitching all in the central role of Becky Sharp. She explains this adaptation presents Thackeray’s sprawling novel in a much more stylised form.

For those unfamiliar, Vanity Fair examines the petty intrigues of “Society” against the backdrop of Waterloo. The action follows the lives of Amelia Sedley and Becky Sharp. While Amelia commits herself to a life of misery marrying the worthless cad George Osborne, the penniless Becky sets out using her feminine charms to entrap Captain Crawley and together the pair carve out a place in society, living on “nothing a year.”

Edinburgh seems to have caught the Vanity Fair bug so what accounts for the apparent continued cultural relevance of such an historical play? While McNicoll and Linden both heartily laud its success they experience an artistic clash of opinion in explaining it. For him Vanity Fair works so well in today’s society because it addresses the issues of financial strife. For her it’s all about the cult of celebrity.

The practice of living on borrowed money is nothing new, a fact Thackeray knew only too well. The author writes with full authority on the plights of his characters, warning the reader that to emulate the man who lives on nothing a year, “will cost you something considerable.”

The contemporanity of the various characters’ precarious financial positions is not lost on McNicoll. He claims, “Vanity Fair deals with issues that are still very much with us, especially the credit crunch.” The play took to the stage the same week as the Bear Stearns crisis and McNicoll draws comparisons between that situation and the one his character’s father, Old Mr Sedley, finds himself in. McNicoll claims that just like modern investors Sedley too has bought into an insecure market so that when the various battles of the Napoleonic Wars strike his capital is shaken and eventually collapses. McNicoll claims, “With people today living on borrowed money how could Vanity Fair fail to be of relevance?”

At this point however McNicoll and Linden cross swords. Playing one of literature’s most infamous anti-heroines it comes as no surprise that Linden accounts for Vanity Fair’s continued relevance in the universal appeal of Becky Sharp: “Young women love Becky. She represents characters we see in the media today. Look at Jordan, Chantelle etc. These are women who know where they want to go with no real talent or trade in mind.” For Linden then Vanity Fair holds a mirror up to modern day life where meek women such as Amelia flounder while the ballsy, coquettish Becky-types trade on their pretty faces and sex appeal to woo society. Just as Becky carves out her niche in the Mayfair set Victoria Beckham has grappled her way to Hollywood on a pout and a marketable husband.

Whatever the secret to the play’s continued charm and appeal there is no denying its ability to captivate. Playing to sell-out audiences every night it is the combination of calculating protagonist and contemporary relevance that makes it a hit. Just don’t go if you’re seeking solace from the Stock Exchange.

Vanity Fair is playing at the Lyceum, Edinburgh until 12th April

ARTIFICIAL REALITY

by Katie Smyth


SquareOne Entertainment





Theatrical self-consciousness is nothing new. In Henry V, Shakespeare recognised the limitations of "this wooden O" by inciting his audience to believe itself to be on the field of Agincourt. Later, the advent of Modernism saw theatre throw off its cloak of naturalism and profess its falsity with a greater degree of openness than ever before. Today, gone are the days of entering the auditorium and suspending your disbelief.

Contemporary theatregoers are treated to stripped back sets and characters that often parody rather than play their parts to expose the performance to be nothing more than an act or representation of the real. In its past season Edinburgh's Lyceum Theatre has embraced such self-conscious drama, playing host to Brian Friel's Living Quarters and Pirendello's Six Characters in search of an Author. SquareOne Entertainment spoke to actor Ron Donachie who played the domineering father figure in each production to get to the crux of the matter and discover why drama which declares itself to be make-believe is proving so popular.

Striding into a quiet café, Donachie retains some of the militaristic air of his Living Quarters' character Commandant Frank Butler. His jaunty tam 'o shanter and billowing trench coat evoke something of the fictional war hero. However, open and friendly, Donachie chats freely about the plays with none of his character's brusque reserve.

Living Quarters enthralled audiences last November when the Lyceum staged its UK premier. Based on the Greek Phaedran cycle it tells the story of Commandant Butler's return from a UN peace-keeping mission to his home barracks only to discover that in his absence his new wife Anna, thirty years his junior, has been sleeping with his estranged son.

Such a classic plot lends itself easily to naturalism and a straight performance yet in a departure from his Greek model, Friel wills into being the character of Sir, an omniscient narrator/director who, assisted by a ledger which has captured every word and significant glance, attempts to afford the family clarity allowing them to replay the events of that day. The resulting self-conscious performance where the characters attempt to take liberties with the plot and break the rules of the ledger borrows as much from Brecht as Euripides.

The desire of characters to alter their destiny was taken even further later in the Lyceum's season when it staged Pirendello's dadaist Six Characters in search of an Author. Unlike Living Quarters in which the action is temporarily suspended, the characters actually invade a rehearsal, stop proceedings and beg the director and his troop of actors to tell their stories.

Donachie explains more: "this is a very sophisticated piece and people tend to get hung up on the legend surrounding it. There's a confusion between art and reality." Yet while Living Quarters drew glittering praise, it seems the blurring between stage and auditorium proved too much in the Pirendello.

Reviews varied in warmth and it appears some audience members were still too committed to suspending their disbelief and buying into the drama as real. Young playwright Hana Mackechnie found plenty to criticise in an apparent departure from realism. Having accepted the presentation that the entire plot was a rehearsal with the "characters" taking over, Mackechnie was disappointed when normal theatrical conventions appeared again: "I don't like that they had the curtain call because it was meant to be a rehearsal. Why did they break the illusion?" Donachie puts her confusion and disappointment down to audiences being unable to distinguish the self-conscious theatre it sees on the stage from the naturalistic performance it expects to see. Or to put it his way, "well that's just bollocks isn't it?"

Yet despite the switherings of certain theatregoers unable or unwilling to let go of their grounding in naturalism, the ever-present self-conscious drama looks set to stay at the Lyceum. In the current run of Vanity Fair, Becky Sharpe and chums delight whilst consistently reminding us that they are simply presenting a version of events. Theatre in Edinburgh has never looked more artificial, more stripped back and more aware of its limitations. And perhaps therein lies its strength.

Break the illusion yourself by going to the Lyceum: www.lyceum.org.uk