January 19, 2023
In Bruges: Man Alive It's Like a Forking Fairytaleby Randi / December 11, 2019It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Dear Evan Hansen, now playing in London at the Noel Coward Theatre until the end of time if there’s justice.
Man alive does it feel good to see a flawless show in this old town! You know from my review of past productions of Dear Evan Hansen (off-Broadway and Broadway here) that I love this show. However, there were concerns among some (myself included) that the show might rely on the talents of original star Ben Platt to succeed as much as it did. His is a singular talent that seems born for this role, and the role tailor-made for him, so it seemed valid to wonder if his incredible performance was what made the show great. While Benny boy is definitely the definitive Evan, and no one can match his vocal ability in this role – in particular his ability to sing and emote through snot-dripping tears – it’s safe to say the success of this phenomenal musical does not rely on him, and the West End is doing it proud.
Dear Evan Hansen tells the story of – you guessed it – Evan Hansen, a high school outcast with no friends, a single parent working overtime to pay the bills, and a broken arm. When a fellow student commits suicide, there’s A Misunderstanding that the deceased and Evan were friends, and the grieving family is so overjoyed at the thought of their son having had a friend that Evan goes along – and builds – the lie instead of coming clean. He benefits in many ways from prolonging his lie, but of course he can’t continue lying forever and in different ways to the family, his mom, and his friends. And this means it all goes to shit, which is when Platt did his aforementioned incredible snot-faced singing. Although Sam Tutty, our British Evan, doesn’t fall to as many wet pieces, his Evan is great (and we found ourselves weirdly feeling proud of him). He makes the journey so believable and real, and his timing and inflection may be even more impressive than his vocals. DEH is EMOSH and stunning in its mature handling of the subject matter while also managing to be hysterically funny at times. The emotional beats, the fun songs, the heartbreaking songs, the nuances that build these characters so fully – the creators did everything they could to establish a watertight show, and this cast and production team take it and run with it.
This is the extraordinary and rare show that has a fantastic score and equally strong (maybe even more gripping) book scenes, a feat rarely witnessed, all while capturing today’s yoots and their struggles in a way that’s relevant and modern without seeming condescending. Now that I know all the music so well, I could concentrate on the book scenes more and really appreciate how well written and well performed they were. And I am convinced even more that this is a flawless show. On this viewing, I was curious to see if I could find any merit to the complaints about Evan the character. Since DEH’s bow, we’ve had lots of fans arguing on message boards about how Evan deserves more punishment or how he’s an evil person or how he’s the villain in the story. I don’t know if it’s because they’re under 26 and their brains aren’t done yet but I cannot see how someone can watch this show and think anything close to that. It’s so obvious to see Evan’s struggle, with the part of him that knows he should tell the truth, with his desire to not cause the family any more pain, with his longing to belong, and wit his attempt to just make grieving people feel better. No, he’s not perfect, and his Act II spiral out of control as he takes down his first friends shows this, but it’s so obvious that his hostility is due to his lack of control in trying to do the right thing (also his baby teenage brain unable to handle all that is happening). People who think he’s evil clearly don’t watch The Good Place, where the most important thing is to try to be a good person. Evan is trying to do the right thing – he thinks what he has chosen is right because it makes the family feel better. And yeah he’s lying but he’s not a Kantian; he thinks that it’s for a good reason. It seems impossible to me not to empathize with his predicament, especially when you know what he’s been through himself.
Anyway, despite my incessant rantings about how British musical theatre does not compare to Broadway and how productions are just done better there because musicals are treated with more respect whereas here there’s this weird need for Brits to always assure the world that they value straight plays more AND the history of panto seems to bleed too much into their vision of musical theatre – well, that’s a long essay, apparently, for another day, so despite all that, this production is ace, as we Brits say. Tutty is giving the star turn of the year, and the supporting cast is equally good. Along with the absence of Platt, I was worried about the absence of Rachel Bay Jones as his mother, since her performance was pitch perfect and as usual she found more to the character than is written. While Rebecca McKinnis might not have uncovered as much between the lines or with her delivery as RBJ somehow magically did, she was no disappointment, and her ‘So Big/So Small’ was the most emotional part of the show, even more than Evan’s breakdown. It was perfect. If I did my own awards (should I do my own awards) they’d all be winners.
INFORMATION
The Noel Coward theatre is one of those ‘stalls is below ground’ theatres, so if you don’t like being below ground, sit in the circle. Also, the ladies bathroom is house right, right next to the circle entrance. If you go for stalls like we did (CRY ON US), there’s a ladies in the back of the theatre with 4 stalls??? Like good luck even getting back there at the interval. Or you can sit house right and run upstairs for the circle one. RENOVATE THESE THEATRES, GUYS.
Stagedoor: We waited for just under 10 minutes but it was too cold. If it’s too cold to wait, it’s too cold to make them talk to you.
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On Bear Ridge: Sometimes Captivating, Often Confusing
This past weekend, the new play On Bear Ridge played its final performance at London’s Royal Court Theatre after a planned one-month run. Written by Ed Thomas and co-directed by him and Vicky Featherstone, On Bear Ridge was co-produced by National Theatre Wales and I believe was Wales-inspired, as it’s apparently a ‘semi-autobiographical’ work from Thomas about places we leave behind.
I’m talking a lot about background details and not the actual play because I have no idea what it was about.
Sure, I understood the general vibe it was going for, I think, of how forces greater than us can change our lives without our consent, maybe of what home is. I felt the fear of a violent, authoritarian government and all the chaotic terror it brings. The beginning of the play threw out an intensity that was often riveting, thanks to a powerful monologue from John Daniel, played by an actor I was thinking was an older, more grizzled version of Rhys Ifans, best known to me as Hugh Grant’s roommate in Notting Hill. I found out after the show that it was indeed Rhys Ifans, who apparently started growing the beard since that movie’s premiere in 1999. Not knowing anything about the play, I was moved by his passionate account of his wife’s difficult labor and his life on Bear Ridge, but the pull of this section didn’t last. Honestly, once his wife Noni (Rakie Ayola) appeared, their lack of chemistry to make me believe they lived their lives together or knew each other at all was a little distracting, even more so than when he and Hugh’s kooky sister were suddenly into each other.
So John Daniel and Noni (making me think of Bubble Guppies when I needed a break) are in their little butcher shop at the top of a mountain, in an area called Bear Ridge, an area that has long been abandoned by everyone else as an authoritarian regime destroys thinking and dissent and I guess electricity and mountains? I loved how the disappearing walls of their store and home reflected how they were losing everything and muddled the lines of what was real. I did not love why their slaughterman/adopted son sort, Ifan (Sion Daniel Young), who is living with them does a whole monologue about how much slaughtering suits him (vegan warning for future productions). When a soldier (Jason Hughes) comes to their door and threatens to shoot, the group somehow bonds? sometimes? Clearly driven mad by his traumatic experiences, the soldier careens between thinking of these new friends as friends and considering them the enemy. The stress of watching this powder keg of a man destined to explode was sometimes thrilling, but sometimes too stressful.
As the characters talked about their histories of trauma and what was going on with their society, it was…unclear what was going on with their society. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a vague play, where the fuzziness is just fuzzy enough to allow it to speak to each audience member in a different way, to take away from it what they need. And this play accomplished that sometimes. What struck me was the hint of a fascist regime that had destroyed their home and killed their loved ones and continues to destroy any hint of dissent. But beyond that, what was really happening? How had they survived this long? What was real? Why is it 90% monologues when there are four characters onstage? And more than anything, why weren’t they leaving? Were they not able to, or was it all to stand their ground against a regime they couldn’t fight? I understand the latter, but the steadfastness of that sort of opposition wasn’t apparent. More ‘eh we live here’ than ‘THIS IS OUR HOME.’
Despite my ever increasing desire to stand up and shout ‘wait what is really happening just fill me in rill quick’, there were aspects I appreciated. Rhys, especially in the beginning, used his words and shouting and ENDLESS words in a interesting way that showed his compulsion to prove there was still a life force in him, especially in light of the talk of ‘the old language’. Ifan, on the other hand, seemed like a steady, more true-to-life character than him or anyone else on stage, and his realism was almost like a breather.
However, there was a lot of filler, which is hard to do for a 90 minute show. For example, I didn’t think the revelation about Ifan’s relationship with John Daniel’s and Noni’s son added anything. And of course I didn’t, like, love all the talk about slaughtering. (When Noni chimes in that they always did it humanely, it was impossible for me not to have the standard argument in my head about how there’s no such thing as humane meat BUT I DIGRESS.) (Also when John Daniel says “a dog may look up at you, a cat may look down at you, but a pig will look you right in the eye and you have to respect that” I couldn’t help but begin another argument beginning with THEN HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM? But I digress.) Due to the monologue heavy script, it was exhausting to watch, and felt longer than its run time. Usually when I am exhausted watching a play, I immediately go ‘I can’t imagine how hard it is for these actors to do this every day.’ And while that is true here, I think it may have been more exhausting for us to try to a) keep up with all the subtle hints at filling in the plot gaps and try to make order out of an anarchic tonne of information thrown at us, and b) stay on track listening to endless monologues. Towards the end, it felt like walls of text thrown at us, and while they were well done and well performed, too many of them at once is, indeed, exhausting, especially when you are desperate for a solid fact.
INFORMATION
The Royal Court Theatre is wonderfully located RIGHT next to the Sloane Square tube station, which is appreciated when it rains all the time. The building itself feels less well considered since the only bathrooms are downstairs on the far side of a big busy bar area and to get there you have to push through crowds of people enjoying the bar and not even there for the show which is like WHAT NO.
Also as usual London audiences laugh at the strangest, most disturbing moments, like when the soldier admits he just saw his commander commit suicide and he is falling apart and…they laugh, and not in a nervous way, in a ‘why are London audiences so freaking weird with what they consider funny’ way. BUT I DIGRESS.
“Urinetown” in the West End: A Privilege to See
This is my nightmare, honestly. No exaggeration, do you know how much I pee? In the dystopian society of “Urinetown”, it is indeed ‘a privilege to pee’: You have to pay at a public utility each and every time you have to use the bathroom. Because of a 20-year drought, there are no more private bathrooms, and because it’s a dystopia, if you pee in the woods or in a bush or relieve yourself in any way (even accidents) without paying your fee, you get “sent to Urinetown”. It’s in quotes because it is indeed a euphemism for something horrible.
Who does all of that money go to? Why, obviously a private corporation! “Urinetown” was written by Mark Hollman and Greg Kotis before its first production in 2001, so these guys were Nostradamus levels of prescient. Okay maybe not Nostradamus because corporate takeover was happening then too but now it’s like crazy so this show seems even more appropriate and smart than it did back then. The superbly named Urine Good Company, run by evil mastermind Caldwell B. Cladwell (played wonderfully by British comedian Phill Jupitus), implements utility price hikes at its will, pays off all the weasely politicians to push terrible legislation through, and sends poor people who can’t pay for their morning pee off to Urinetown. He bad.
Or is he? One of the most interesting aspects of this show is how they blur all the lines distinguishing between the good guys and the bad guys. Cladwell may be a mean man responsible for lots of deaths, but his public bathroom system exists for a reason: There is extremely little water in the ground, and it has to be regulated. If toilet usage went up too much, the fragile water supply would be destroyed, hence his price hikes and strict rules for using the utilities. Now sure, people should still be able to pee in bushes without causing serious damage, but I didn’t see any shrubbery. Also, it would smell. Cladwell prides himself on keeping water in the ground and pee off the street.
Adding to the horror of this society is that no one actually knows what Urinetown is, except for apparently two policemen, who take victims there, and Cladwell, who invented it. The public assumes it’s a terrible sort of exile, a place even worse than the town we see, but it’s more than that. I feel I shouldn’t say.
One of the cops is also the narrator. He’s pretty funny and scary at the same time, but I got distracted by how strangely he pronounced some words in his attempt to turn his British accent into an American accent and then into a New York accent. People, there is no reason for this show to be American. The whole world is suffering and drying up in this show, so if they wanted it to be British they could have and then I wouldn’t have been distracted by accent issues. Of course, then it wouldn’t make sense when Cladwell talks about how much money he spent on his daughter’s college education; that’s an American thing.
His daughter is Hope Cladwell, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young girl who wants everyone to be happy!!! and who expects to take over her father’s company before her eyes are opened to the world of poverty and anguish that he is extorting. She falls in love with a young man, Bobby Strong, who works in one of the poorest public utilities, and Bobby shows her the real world and how awful it is. Together, along with a rag tag group of povers who look like zombies, they resolve to bring down Urine Good Company and let everybody pee for free! Yay! Peeing for free is the dream. I guess that’s another reason they didn’t set it in Britain – there are so many ‘public’ bathrooms that you actually have to pay for here*. Already. It’s starting.
*In fact, Greg Kotis got the idea for “Urinetown” when he was traveling through Europe and encountered all the pay toilets. How scary is that! It really is real.
Bobby is played by Matthew Seadon-Young, and he’s fantastic. He looks kind of like Superman but wearing his Clark Kent glasses. He sings really well and dances so furiously that an extended applause break was pretty much just to let him catch his breath. That extended applause came during the best number, “Run Freedom Run”, which kind of sounds like peeing yourself. It’s the most fun song in the show, done in a spiritual fashion, when the whole chorus gets to shine.
All the songs in this score, which won a Tony, have a clear purpose. I don’t remember thinking ‘they should have cut this’ at any point, meaning I wasn’t bored. The score is fun because all the songs are so different. You have the aforementioned high-pace spiritual. You have the lovely love song ‘Follow Your Heart’, with Bobby and Hope (a clear-voiced Rosanna Hyland) professing their love for each other, which made me think of the Love Theme from “The Hurt Locker: The Musical” (look it up). You have the dark and scary poor-chorus numbers ‘It’s a Privilege to Pee’ and ‘What is Urinetown’, the comic and ridiculous ‘Don’t be the Bunny’ by Cladwell, and more. None sounds like the other, or like anything else, and that is huge. The songs are much simpler than Sondheim, but it reminded me of his style because you don’t leave humming any easy melodies. There are no easy melodies here.
The book is structured as a look back on these sad times, with Officer Lockstock (not to be confused by his partner in fighting crime and committing crimes, Officer Barrel — GET IT?!) also acting as the narrator of this sad story. Little Sally, the most likable character in the show, is a poor spunky Annie-type girl who keeps asking Officer Lockstock why everything is so depressing and sad when this is a musical! And he responds that it’s not a happy musical. And Little Sally will say “But it’s still a musical!!” Karis Jack is fantastic here, in her West End debut. Lockstock is pretty good too but needs to work on the accent.
Obviously you root for the poor ‘good’ people against the evil corporation, and you are glad when the fighting is over and they come out on top. (Except for some of our main characters, who shockingly get sent to Urinetown. Not expected!) But more of this show’s twisted brilliance comes through in the epilogue. You had to pay for a reason, remember? There’s barely any water left. And without regulation, Hope’s new system of do what makes you happy!!! dries up everything pretty fast, resulting in a world that is, if possible, worse than what it was under corporate control. At least there was control there. That’s when they all realize that Urinetown, the horrible tortuous place they thought criminals (unpaying pee-ers) were exiled to, was actually where they lived now. They brought it upon themselves. (Also, Urinetown wasn’t that kind of exile, you learn in Act II. The truth is pretty grim.) It’s pretty freaking dark, right! Yet it’s so funny and enjoyable. This show is like a comedic “Sweeney Todd”. So much death, so much tragedy, and you laugh way too much. Definitely a must-see before it prematurely closes in a month. Anyway I have to go pee now. FOR FREE.
Adding to the horror of this society is that no one actually knows what Urinetown is, except for apparently two policemen, who take victims there, and Cladwell, who invented it. The public assumes it’s a terrible sort of exile, a place even worse than the town we see, but it’s more than that. I feel I shouldn’t say.
One of the cops is also the narrator. He’s pretty funny and scary at the same time, but I got distracted by how strangely he pronounced some words in his attempt to turn his British accent into an American accent and then into a New York accent. People, there is no reason for this show to be American. The whole world is suffering and drying up in this show, so if they wanted it to be British they could have and then I wouldn’t have been distracted by accent issues. Of course, then it wouldn’t make sense when Cladwell talks about how much money he spent on his daughter’s college education; that’s an American thing.
His daughter is Hope Cladwell, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young girl who wants everyone to be happy!!! and who expects to take over her father’s company before her eyes are opened to the world of poverty and anguish that he is extorting. She falls in love with a young man, Bobby Strong, who works in one of the poorest public utilities, and Bobby shows her the real world and how awful it is. Together, along with a rag tag group of povers who look like zombies, they resolve to bring down Urine Good Company and let everybody pee for free! Yay! Peeing for free is the dream. I guess that’s another reason they didn’t set it in Britain – there are so many ‘public’ bathrooms that you actually have to pay for here*. Already. It’s starting.
*In fact, Greg Kotis got the idea for “Urinetown” when he was traveling through Europe and encountered all the pay toilets. How scary is that! It really is real.
Bobby is played by Matthew Seadon-Young, and he’s fantastic. He looks kind of like Superman but wearing his Clark Kent glasses. He sings really well and dances so furiously that an extended applause break was pretty much just to let him catch his breath. That extended applause came during the best number, “Run Freedom Run”, which kind of sounds like peeing yourself. It’s the most fun song in the show, done in a spiritual fashion, when the whole chorus gets to shine.
All the songs in this score, which won a Tony, have a clear purpose. I don’t remember thinking ‘they should have cut this’ at any point, meaning I wasn’t bored. The score is fun because all the songs are so different. You have the aforementioned high-pace spiritual. You have the lovely love song ‘Follow Your Heart’, with Bobby and Hope (a clear-voiced Rosanna Hyland) professing their love for each other, which made me think of the Love Theme from “The Hurt Locker: The Musical” (look it up). You have the dark and scary poor-chorus numbers ‘It’s a Privilege to Pee’ and ‘What is Urinetown’, the comic and ridiculous ‘Don’t be the Bunny’ by Cladwell, and more. None sounds like the other, or like anything else, and that is huge. The songs are much simpler than Sondheim, but it reminded me of his style because you don’t leave humming any easy melodies. There are no easy melodies here.
The book is structured as a look back on these sad times, with Officer Lockstock (not to be confused by his partner in fighting crime and committing crimes, Officer Barrel — GET IT?!) also acting as the narrator of this sad story. Little Sally, the most likable character in the show, is a poor spunky Annie-type girl who keeps asking Officer Lockstock why everything is so depressing and sad when this is a musical! And he responds that it’s not a happy musical. And Little Sally will say “But it’s still a musical!!” Karis Jack is fantastic here, in her West End debut. Lockstock is pretty good too but needs to work on the accent.
Obviously you root for the poor ‘good’ people against the evil corporation, and you are glad when the fighting is over and they come out on top. (Except for some of our main characters, who shockingly get sent to Urinetown. Not expected!) But more of this show’s twisted brilliance comes through in the epilogue. You had to pay for a reason, remember? There’s barely any water left. And without regulation, Hope’s new system of do what makes you happy!!! dries up everything pretty fast, resulting in a world that is, if possible, worse than what it was under corporate control. At least there was control there. That’s when they all realize that Urinetown, the horrible tortuous place they thought criminals (unpaying pee-ers) were exiled to, was actually where they lived now. They brought it upon themselves. (Also, Urinetown wasn’t that kind of exile, you learn in Act II. The truth is pretty grim.) It’s pretty freaking dark, right! Yet it’s so funny and enjoyable. This show is like a comedic “Sweeney Todd”. So much death, so much tragedy, and you laugh way too much. Definitely a must-see before it prematurely closes in a month. Anyway I have to go pee now. FOR FREE.
