Shipwreck at the Almeida Theatre: A Messy Look at the World Post-Trumpby Randi / March 14, 2019It’s Theatre Tuesday! Today’s show is Equus, playing at the Theatre Royal Stratford East in London until Saturday.
Equus, often referred to as the play about horse-blinding, is (obviously) not one that I ever actively wanted to see, not even when it starred Daniel Radcliffe in the role that famously gets nekkid (in fact, as much as I love Danny Rads I do not want to see baby boy HP naked). Not only is there the animal cruelty that kicks off the action, there’s also insinuation (at the very least) of bestiality and some bizarre af conversations about religion and worship. Not to mention gutting children as part of ritual sacrifice! Suffice it to say, I was ready to avoid another production of this intense show. But then I noticed all those dastardly other critics raving about how amazing this production is, and how it’s the best production of this enduring work that you will probably ever see in your lifetime. So I had to see the big forking thing! And you know what? It is disturbing, it is unsettling, it is alarming, and it is quite possibly the best production of Equus you will ever see in your lifetime.
I know, that’s some serious praise for a play that could be called by the (hilarious) nickname for the 2018 Best Picture winner if you replace ‘horse’ for ‘fish’ (and ‘play’ for ‘movie’ obviously). Despite the outrageousness of the topics raised, all the shocking, provocative bits fit together with all the deep psychological questions like puzzle pieces that together fascinate by asking what is normal and who gets to decide. Equus, written by Peter Shaffer, is such a weird, intense show, but with impeccable direction by Ned Bennett and stellar, incredibly physical performances, it feels significant and vital in its scrutiny of what causes psychological issues and whether they are indeed abnormal. Although it got a bit close for my taste at almost excusing the actions depicted, the play effectively forced a deeper look at what constitutes wrong vs. right, normal vs. abnormal, and evil vs. sickness.
Equus concerns the aftermath of a horrific event: when teenager Alan Strang blinds six horses at a stables in his English countryside town. I know, if you are not a maniac, you’re like what a forking asshole, send that kid into a hole and seal it shut! But instead of being imprisoned, he is sent to an inpatient psychiatric facility under the treatment of Dr. Martin Dysart, because some people think that sending every troubled person to prison to rot and waste resources and never have the chance to get needed treatment or other kinds of help might not be the smartest thing to do as an overused default! I know!
As the troubled teen Alan, the actor Ethan Kai is riveting. Kai possesses that magic presence, I don’t know if it’s his offset eyes or his wild curls (curlygirl method?), but he demands your attention regardless of whether he’s speaking. This is some perfect casting. He’s terrifying in his intensity and you hate him for his evil actions but you also want to figure out why and how he got so broken. I’m not gonna go so far as to say you root for him, but you start to kind of care. As does his doctor, played by Zubin Varla (who we last saw as the father in Fun Home), who so strongly feels a connection to this kid that he begins to question why he is the one considered normal while Alan is the troubled one. Why, Dysart asks us, is a guy who has wasted his life doing the same routine, never feeling anything but what comes from the mundane acts of everyday life, the one considered normal, correct, someone who has succeeded, when he himself feels like a failure for that very monotony. Although Kai has the more obviously difficult, dynamic role, Varla has an equally challenging task with Dysart, who is even-keeled but having revelations that threaten his natural state. Varla sometimes veered into comedic faces and voices to handle this character’s changing thoughts, which didn’t jive with me, but that’s a tiny quibble.
What brought this production to a higher level of theatre was the direction. Ned Bennett’s vision focused on an empty, stark stage, literally no set pieces to start except a mug for ashes (there was too much onstage cigarette smoking, btw; I’m over this as a way to develop a character). As the show unfolded, an entire effective world was built with lighting, physical movement, and creative set work. The expert use of lighting, the impressive backstage mechanics sending whatever was needed through the flowing curtains on each side, and the use of minimal but effective set pieces (like the sand castles that were shoved out, wow) all created an unbelievable sense of world cohesion and beyond creative stage magicians. More than anything, the magic on that stage came from the actors’ movement. Shelly Maxwell’s movement direction helped the actors behave scarily like horses, especially the standout Ira Mandela Siobhan as the most beloved horse Nugget. He begins the show slowly morphing and moving exactly like a horse, which is the moment when I thought ‘oh this shit’s gonna be SPELLBINDING.’ And it was, especially when he was onstage. He must be a dancer of some sort. Man those shoulder blades can TURN. When he and the other main horse dude (Keith Gilmore), as nurses, picked up Alan while he was curled in a ball like he was an immovable object, I almost gasped. That was some amazing shit! And the two of them, whenever it was their turn to be a horse (sometimes with the other as rider, I can’t even fathom how strong they are), were so convincing and committed, I would put them up against the War Horse puppet any day.
Even though this is exactly the sort of play that gives me endless agita, Equus is one of the rare masterworks that makes the agita worthwhile and essential and important, in no small part because of how it is directed here. I have never been so struck by how flawless, innovative, imaginative direction can so transform a show. Equus is a psychological thriller but not in the usual sense – instead of a murderer on the loose or something like a typical thriller, it’s literally a thriller about psychology, about how a person can get so forked up, whether it’s because of his parents, because of religion, because of nature, or a mixture of all these possibilities. Sure the more theoretical discussions about what can be worshipped and how (hint: probably not horses, probably not with bestiality) are off the forking rails if you take a step back, but when you are immersed in the world of the show, they can convince you that all of these thoughts and ideas can be profound and not just troubling.
INFORMATION
Equus is playing at the Theatre Royal Stratford East until Saturday, March 23.
Theatre Royal Stratford East is outside the Westfield mall area of Stratford in East London. You know, the region that is always hella crowded with yoots hanging at the mall. YOOTS. It’s also one of the worst section in London for homelessness, which boggles my mind because I don’t understand how a developed country can allow its citizens to be homeless and just not do shit about it. It’s like government officials were the ones brutally blinded by an unstable teenager!
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Edinburgh Fringe Part 1: The Scottish Plays: “Burn”, “Land”, “The Last Return”
Woot I’m back from my weekend at the Edinburgh Fringe! We saw 9 shows these past few days (that is…exhausting! especially considering they all went at least 15 minutes long! we had to run across town a lot!) so I’m gonna talk about 3 at a time. First up, the Scottish Plays: Alan Cumming’s ode to Rabbie Burns; a promising but early-stages new musical ostensibly about Land but so far not; and the weirdest f-ing non-Beckett Beckett I’ve ever seen. Okay that last one isn’t Scottish per se but the leading accent was, so I’m going with it.
“Burn” by Alan Cumming and Steven Hoggett
If Scotland does an American-style president and VP combo when it goes independent, the first administration should be President Nicola Sturgeon and VP Alan Cumming. And at the inauguration Alan can be like “I saved every letter you wrote meee”. No but this g-d national treasure is giving his all yet again on the stage, as he always does, this time as the other Scottish national treasure Robert Burns (Rabbie). Burns is celebrated in Scotland for his poetry about haggis and women and Scotland, and in the rest of the world for writing Auld Lang Syne (it’s Scots and it means roughly ‘for old times’ sake’, Sally!).
“Burn” is an hour-long two-hander (just Alan) (he has two hands) using all the words of Burns to tell his life story (ish), with some funky modern dance and bold lighting that sometimes worked. The production boasts some truly great stagecraft, including a feather quill writing by itself and one of my favorite trustfalls I’ve ever seen in a theatre, so well done to Alan and the unseen cast member catching him in the darkened upstage. LOVES IT!
The visuals and Alan’s recitations were wonderful, but I felt unsatisfied in terms of actual substance about Burns. I felt I didn’t learn about his character, what kind of person he was. And maybe we don’t know and that’s unfair to have expected! But I did find myself wondering, throughout the changing tones, ‘wait so was he a good witch or a bad witch?’ I would have liked a personality-driven narrative, but regardless, it was a swell time, even with the weird modern dance that usually I’d be reacting to the same way I do modern art. But with Alan’s giving his trademark 110%, it’s hard not to enjoy the swift hour. Also, he’s pretty much giving a stump speech for Scottish independence, complete with the biggest Scottish flag you’ve ever seen, worn as a cape, obvs.
INFORMATION: After leaving the Edinburgh Fringe, Alan is taking “Burn” on a wee tour of Scotland. I saw it this past weekend in Perth, at the Perth Theatre. Best seat for getting to the toilet: House Right aisle, first few rows (the exit door is at the bottom of that side). They are in Inverness next week, pretty!
“LAND”, by Bethany Tennick, Fraser Scott, and Iona Ramsay
Full disclosure, when I saw there was a new musical at the Fringe from one of the two INCREDIBLE girls behind “Islander”, I legit yelped. “Islander” was one of the greatest pieces of art I’ve ever seen, no exag. I thought, if this new show is half as good, I’m in for a treat. And I’m so glad I saw it because it has some moments of beauty, but it does need a lot of work.
Land, a ‘Scottish folk musical’ as it was billed, is meant to explore our relationship with the earth, death, and generational difference, asking us to reexamine our connection to the planet and climate. With that kind of description, going in I naturally had this notion that it would be sort of climate change-y, about the ‘land’ as in the planet. But although it may have intended to touch on that metaphorically, I wouldn’t have known the show had anything to do with it if they hadn’t said in the materials. Essentially, it was about an older man and a younger man, in two different storylines. The storylines got confused easily and often, and more than a few theatregoers leaving the venue afterwards were expressing their frustration at how unclear the two plotlines were. (I eavesdrop!) The show “seeks to explore our heritage and legacy”, but really, all it was was the relationships between these two pairs of men. Those relationships gave rise to some beautiful, raw human moments, for sure, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. In fact, some were truly lovely and honest, and moving. But those were brilliant moments in terms of human connection, not anything deeper in terms of culture and, well, the land to speak of.
The music was pleasant, and some moments of brilliance shone through, proving the potential of this show. But the story needs to be cleaned up first, and then magnified and deepened to provide that sense of connection to the metaphorical themes that they are going for. As it stands, it’s not really about the land, or the planet, or the climate, but it has lovely moments between the two men, whichever two characters they may have been. And all three performers are giving great performances. It’s definitely worth seeing, but I am extremely eager to see its next iteration, which I’m hopeful will happen, and will improve upon what’s there now.
INFORMATION: Land is playing in a small EXTREMELY HOT room in the Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose venue, in the Dram room (suh kyut). There’s no air flow! Toilets are all the way in the basement.
“The Last Return”, by Sonya Kelly
When I tell you I had agita during and then after this show FOR HOURS. HOO BOY. Imagine the most frustrating episode of “Curb”, multiply that cringe by a factor of 10, and then imagine you’re sitting on one of those ‘productivity’ toilets that tilt forward and make your legs painfully cramp after 5 minutes. That’s this show. It’s not bad, I’m not saying it was bad, because it was interesting and provocative, I think?, but I am saying that it caused me health problems.
‘The Last Return’ takes place in the foyer of a theatre venue, on the last night of the run of the Oppenheimer, the most important lauded must-see production in this unknown city. People are queuing for last-minute returns, as it’s obviously sold out. An old man, a professor of Oppenheimer actually, is first in line, so if any ticket holders decide not to come out in the rain, he’s sure to get a seat. OR SO YOU’D THINK. An insane Scottish version of Will Ferrell as Janet Reno mixed with Dana Carvey’s Church Lady comes in next and stirs some shit up, aghast that the old man apparently told #2 in line, a young girl, that it was okay to leave her backpack to mark her place in the queue and then enjoy her time off in the cafe. I mean rightly so — when in a queue situation like this it’s okay to ask someone to watch your spot if you have to pee but not to fuck off for an hour in a cafe. As Scottish Will-Dana-Church lady says, the whole point of committing to this queueing is to give up your freedom to do anything else with your time.
So at this point, I’m pretty agitated, and I have VERY strong thoughts, mostly because I’m thinking back on all the horrid times I’ve had waiting for rush tickets on Broadway, especially when the Ticket Lady onstage keeps telling the queuers that she’s ‘only the ticket seller and has nothing to do with organizing the returns queue’ etc. I’m reminded in particular of the worst experience I had with rushing for ‘Something Rotten’, when this awfully rotten girl, the only person to arrive before me, said ‘I’m holding a spot for a friend, is that okay?’ and I said sure because I heard there were always at least 10 rush tickets, and even if this bee word and her friend each got two, I’d still be fine, and also I wrongly assumed that the friend just popped out to get food or pee or something. And then an hour and 50 minutes later, when our line was super long and it was just about 10am, time for the box office to open, this bitch’s ‘friend’ showed up, except it was FIVE FUCKING FRIENDS. I was like, excuse me, ABSOLUTELY NOT, you can’t let five people in front of all of us, and this bee had the audacity to say ‘but I told you I was saving a spot!’ YEAH FOR ONE. I hope she is having a horrible life.
As you can see, I had lots of strong opinions about the queueing policies happening onstage given my history as well as my strong judgmental nature and my never-failing sense of what is right and what is wrong in a given situation.
But then, shit gets weird and I stopped being able to see myself in the characters, because it starts to out-Beckett Beckett and go full-out nonsense surrealism that you’re like, what? huh? nervous laughter? but WHY! An American soldier PARACHUTES into the line, a police helicopter starts shooting, a refugee woman lies about not understanding English and cheats her way to the front of the queue and, infuriatingly, wins? people start getting shot and killed and poisoned and the ticket lady does not GIVE. A. SHIT.
It is…a very strange play. And LISTEN, all these problems and all the problems I’ve had on Broadway could be solved with a deli-counter-style number machine CAN EVERYONE JUST DO THAT? LITERALLY LIVES WOULD BE SAVED.
Apparently, the creators meant for this show to be a commentary on refugee experiences, but aside from some harrowing facts the refugee character shares about her trials, I don’t understand what they were trying to say, because she comes out not…looking…great. Like I would believe that they were anti-refugee Tory scum writing this, the way she’s depicted, which I am absolutely sure was not the intention. So, I don’t know what they were trying to say, and I know they owe me some edibles, and I know it would have been 100% better if the Scottish Church Lady and the refugee lady killed each other leaving the ticket to be claimed by the girl who fucked off to the cafe the whole time and avoided all the chaos, because that would have been some perfect nihilistic comedy, but instead they tried to do something emotional (is that what they were doing) that was entirely unearned after all this nonsense, and I’m not sure how I feel about this show, but I know it needs to be 15 minutes shorter and they need to pass the dutchie around afterwards, jfc.
INFORMATION: The show is playing in the Traverse 1 room of the Traverse Theatre, which is one of the nicer venues with some actual semblance of air flow, good toilets, and water pitchers on the bar. Like all Fringe shows, seating is first come, first served, with most holding good aisle seats by the exit as ‘reserved’ but actually for last-minute comers, which is just unfair! Why should lates and last minutes get those sweet sweet right-by-the-exit seats? Le sigh! Also this was the most expensive ticket of our Fringe weekend, which I guess makes sense if you are paying by weight of absolute nonsensory.
Tom Stoppard’s New Epic Leopoldstadt is Just What this Town Needs
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Leopoldstadt, playing at London’s Wyndham’s Theatre in an open-ended run.
I mean, man alive. If you want to feel like you’ve been punched in the gut but are really grateful for it, then you are ready for Tom Stoppard’s new, and possibly his last, play Leopoldstadt. Following an extended Jewish family from 1899 in Vienna until, well, later, the play is a heavy exploration of how this family’s fortunes changed from one generation to the next and how their country treated them over time. The giant cast and the constantly changing ages of the characters prevent real attachment to any individual – or real grasping of who’s who – but the details are less important than the serious emotional pull created in this powerful work.
And that emotional heft is considerable. Despite not fully understanding how each relative was connected (there’s a family tree in the programme, but good luck keeping it all straight (you won’t!)), those particulars weren’t necessary to understand who these people were and to care in general about what was going to happen as we get further into the 20th century. The play achieves an almost immediate sense of intimacy with this family, helped by little glimpses of how all the members interact, throwing us right into their gatherings and conversations without wasting time explaining. The visuals help as well, with the lush Christmas celebration at the start and the same room slowly changing, and dwindling, scene by scene.
The family quickly feels familiar, even though with each scene change and time jump you have new faces to put to somewhat-old names as well as new names and faces to try to connect to those old names you sort of remember. (Don’t think about it too hard, too too hard.) When the names do stick, the payoff is remarkable (especially when you think e.g. ‘oh that little tot Heini is supes adorbs’ and then at the last part of the show you squeaky cry remembering who he is). We follow the family through a changing Vienna and a changing Leopoldstadt, the Jewish quarter, as they go from well-to-do members of the business community, to people forbidden from working, owning property, being citizens of their own land. You know what’s coming, but it never feels predictable, only powerful.
I’m fascinated by how a master playwright can take aspects of a show that would otherwise be somewhat trying and make it wonderful. The broken cup coming on the night of broken glass felt poetic and not at all transparent. There’s a lot of speechifying in this show, the sort where I’d often be like ‘ALRIGHT WRAP IT UP CUBA’ and think about how much more effective and efficient it would have been to express those ideas shared through dialogue or action. But the long monologues, especially between the two brothers in the first scene on what it means to be Jewish and never be able to stop being it, I found riveting. Despite several long speeches, breadth of characters instead of depth, and the overall feeling of impending doom, I never felt antsy (nor did I consider how I would fix this show, which as you know is one of my main hobbies).
As usual with plays of this subject matter, the relevance for society today is pretty overwhelming. It’s an important, powerful play that’s aware of its importance without being obvious about it. There’s so much for audiences to learn from it, especially London audiences (including one lesson from Fritz, an asshole for sure, as I wish more anti-Semites would take their lead from him and refuse to fight Jews. I mean that would help a lot of American rallies for one thing.)
All my belly-aching about how Jews and Jewishness are treated (spoiler: badly) in London theatre, and Stoppard comes along with a play doing everything right. Patrick Marber’s direction is great (jew!), Tom’s son Ed is acting in it (jew!), and not to assume things but at least some of the many Jewish-sounding names in the cast have to pan out (jews!). Aside from sobbing at the end so hard that I had literally yoga breathe to not make squeaky noises in the silent theatre, I left feeling pleased with what this powerful show does to improve London’s track record in this regard.
INFORMATION
The show is 2 ½ hours. Act I ended at 20:30 on the dot, so it’s a rare occurrence of a second act being longer but the play still being good.
We sat for the first time at Wyndham’s in the stalls boxes – it’s a private box but instead of up the sides of the theatre, it’s behind the last row of the stalls at ground level. None of the ushers seemed to know how to get to it (it has its own door from outside!) but luckily the house manager who took care of us was amazing. Weird, but we kind of loved it! There’s no one whispering behind you! No one around you bothering the everloving fork out of you! No one in front who you can see trying and failing to sneakily use their phones on their laps (although the people in front of us were full on Seinfeld-at-Schindler’s-Listing, which is forking nonsense. you’re at a HOLOCAUST SHOW. have some g-d DECENCY). Anyway would sit again.
