January 19, 2023
Talking Bout That Big Black Queer-Ass American Broadway Show: We Saw 'A Strange Loop'by Randi / September 1, 2022It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show just feels right to talk about during the High Holidays.
The first act of Rose is riveting theatre. Martin Sherman’s two-hander (that’s one actor) doesn’t feel like theatre at all; it feels like you are listening to your (probably not your your, statistically speaking) Jewish grandmother (but decades ago) recount her harrowing life of persecution. It’s written well, so that it keeps moving forward at the right pace and keeps interest up, and it’s performed exceptionally, by Dame Maureen Lipman who if she wasn’t already a dame would be made a dame for how dame good she is in this.
Telling her story, the Dame’s Rose starts in the 1920s as a little Ukrainian girl growing up with a dying dad and a severe mom as pogroms hit her shtetl. She moves to the big city of Warsaw to help her brother and his new wife and to flee the violence, but then of course violence starts there and they get moved into the infamous ghetto, and then it’s the Holocaust big time and it’s heartbreak after heartbreak and you’re like how much shit can one single woman face and you realize how many single people experienced all this suffering and it is A. LOT.
And yet, it’s not done in a way that’s just a sadness dump, which is so easily could be. Or as a ‘look how bad we’ve had it’ dump (though holy hell it’s true). In telling her history, she exemplifies all the great things about Jewishness: the humor, the darker humor, the argumentativeness, the love of playing devil’s advocate (it’s called something different in Jewish obviously but not sure what), the physical communication styles (not just Italians!), the strength, the community, and of course the importance of memories and how memory shapes us. This tale is meaningful for having us remember the history, and also for being so unapologetically Jewish.
All in the first hour plus, we cover the pogroms of the 1920s, the Holocaust, the post-Holocaust camps that many countries were responsible for – like the British, stop lying about how great they were – and then the struggle for war refugees to get to the promised land, Israel, and all the forces – like the British – that forcibly, often fatally, stopped them. I’m sure there are many people in each audience that don’t realize just how insanely awful good-seeming nations were to the Jews after the war ended, and that British soldiers eagerly killed survivors rather than let them step onto the land they were indigenous to because of the British Mandate and their complicity in the massacres of the Jewish minority population (if you don’t know all about this history but say things like ‘the current situation is not complicated!’ then I don’t know how to help you). But Rose survives all this, barely, losing everyone she knows and loves to be the one who makes it. Her recounting of what happened to her daughter is so raw yet so subtle, it feels intrusive to listen to. She builds a new family, she finds success, she grows older, all in the first act. Honestly, when the first act ended I thought it was the end of the 2 and 1/2 hour show and I did amazingly at holding my bladder. But no, all of that happens in just one act somehow. It’s the kind of interval where a lot of people just sit silently (while I climb over them to get to the toilet).
Man I’m going on about the first act, huh. It’s because it was special. It would have been something if that was the whole show, this tale of one woman’s strength through persecution and suffering to represent so many similar tales that it’s an amalgam of. The second act, though, tries to do too much. For a show that starts with the pogroms of the 1920s, it is insane that it also tries to cover the modern crisis in the Middle East. This attempt feels like one meant to appease – who, I have no idea – by saying ‘we realize that in talking about Jews all night we better share the other side!’, the other side of what being the important question, but I got that feeling, like they felt the need to both-sides the topic of Jewish oppression. Of course, a full and honest (and well-informed) look at the crisis would be important, but it felt tacked on, a weird addition to this particular show, and like a sort of apology for taking up all this time making a fuss about Jewish suffering. Also, on a dramatic level, it was a strange turnabout from being all about Rose’s journey from her perspective, being directly in all this terrible action and direct suffering, to then have her tell us thirdhand about what’s happening to other people via people related to her. It would be nearly impossible for what feels like a weirdly intentioned CYA addendum to have the same emotional impact or the same integrity as the personal part that came before, and so of course it doesn’t.
INFORMATION
The show runs 2 1/2 hours.
The Park Theatre is an absolute shit show. The circle/mezz level uses those terrible seats, I don’t know what it’s called, where you don’t have your own seat but squeeze onto a longer row kind of jawn with strangers and your ENTIRE ROW has to stand up and lift the seat for anyone to walk by because there’s no legroom. Also, the Park’s website seat map is a travesty because it shows aisles at the far ends but there’s no actual exit over there, and if I worked for the ADA I would sue them for that. ALSO what kind of theatre has a bar space as its only entry/exit and PUTS A BIG LONG TABLE RIGHT IN THE CENTER OF THAT SPACE? a fire hazard omfg anyway thank god the show was good because I am probably not going to be invited back after this rant.
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Translations at the National Theatre: Harrowing Tale of Ireland & England
Man alive, if you didn’t hate England after last week’s election, you definitely will after seeing Translations, the classic play by Brian Friel that is basically the stage version of the quote “You be careful out among them English.” (The actual quote is ‘the English’ but most people remember it as ‘them English’ because it’s so much better.) Translations tells of the folk who run and attend a hedge school in the Irish community of Baile Beag in 1833. They seem to be having a grand old time learning and living their lives, until the English military comes in supposedly to map their area and record the right translations of the farm-county names. But you can’t trust the English, as they come to know, and as the ‘translations’ become ‘renaming’ their locales, and as ‘renaming’ becomes, well, executing English military control. With well realized characters and a captivating style and story, Translations is a fantastic show and this revival could not be better.
So, your first question first: a hedge school (according to our friend wikipedia because I never heard the term before) was a small informal (and I guess illegal?) school that secretly educated kids from ‘non-conforming faiths’ (catholic and presby/anything but Anglican). They generally provided rudimentary primary school education for children – historians estimate for up to 400,000 students by the 1820s. Sometimes, they provided a higher level of education, and our hedge school run by Manus (Seamus O’Hara) and Hugh (Ciaran Hinds, heyyyy) seemed a mix of both: their students shout out the Greek or Latin etymologies of words used in regular conversation, they quote the Aeneid and the Odyssey, they talk of Greek mythology like they are friends with the gods (and at least our loony old man student Jimmy Jack (Dermot Crowley) believed he was), but then they also work on their times tables. So a general school of all things, and eventually, because of the damn English, a school of hard knocks?
When the English arrive with their mapmaking plan, their translator for the local language is Owen (Fra Fee, one of the best names), Hugh’s son and Manus’s brother, back after years establishing himself in the big cities. Owen doesn’t seem to mind erasing interesting old Irish names, with histories that locals like to share with each other so someone remembers, for English-friendly boring shit like White Plains and River Cross or whatever bullshit they came up with to replace like Billarendy Kragger. While he seems to be missing any respect for where he came from in his desire to change/better himself and his country, his partner in mapcrime, Lieutenant Yolland (Jack Bardoe), has a well-meaning but overly romanticized notion of ‘loving’ Ireland and the language, and the two surprising positions make for interesting subtle conflict. I also loved the subtle showing of the students feeling inferior and uneducated in front of the Englishmen since they couldn’t speak English, despite their ability to talk about the Greek gods and Latin poets and word origins like its nothing and despite the Englishmen’s inability to even recognize a Latin phrase. How did this assumption that English people are smarter begin? That’s some white nonsense.
Making for not so subtle conflict is the romance between the Lootellan and Maire, my hair twin, who always seemed destined to marry Manus but things a-change when the English come a-courting. Unforch for all, the Lootellan goes missing, and his military buddies, like all military buddies, are not happy and so they threaten increasing amounts of action/crime/murder until he is found, the gd fascists. The rapid development of drama and terror in act two is alarming, especially since it so worryingly relates to those in power today. The final image is so harrowing, earning a rare ‘faaaaak’ from me in the blackout before curtain call.
But aside from the distress of connecting the action to our crumbling society, Translations is terrific theatre. All the acting was strong, and some of my favorites I didn’t even mention yet (like the mute-but-working-on-it Sarah, played by Liadan Dunlea). With perfect timing, there was so much unexpected humor, and laugh-out-loud moments with the back-and-forth translations. The world they created was full, absorbing, and epic-feeling right off the bat, and it felt important, especially in trying to understand English history. I feel like this is the show for Irish people who felt overlooked by The Ferryman.
INFORMATION
Unfortunately, this ends its run tomorrow, December 18. but there are tickets available for tonight and tomorrow night so hop to it.
This is playing in the Olivier theatre inside the National Theatre (there are a few theatres in there).
DO NOT bring bags bigger than like a sheet of paper? About? Or they give you shit and might make you check it. Luckily I remembered and brought a little bag.
Act one is one hour and 20 minutes. Act two is under an hour and the 7:30pm curtain ended at 10:05pm.
There are toilets on the mezzanine level between the stalls doors level and the circle doors level, and these are always crowded because the people going up to the circle don’t realize that there are more toilets once you enter the circle doors and it’s awesomeeee. If you know. which I do. I also think the circle is better for this theatre because it’s a GD BARN (enormous) and you get a better view. Also if you sit in the front row of the circle your view begins at the tip of the stage, which is incredible for my blood pressure because it means you can’t see anyone in the stalls using their phones, the English bastards.
Also at one end of the circle bar now there’s a water machine for filling your bottles or cups! Whee! The line for that at the interval was longer than the bar line which like good for the world but bad for me.
Young Marx at London’s Bridge Theatre: Who Knew Communism Was So Fun?
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “Young Marx” at the Bridge Theatre in London, running until December 31 so hurry up!
Apparently, communism is a (mostly) joyous romp that provides a ton of comedic fodder. I didn’t know this, but now that a play about it made me laugh for two hours, I might be sold! “Young Marx” at London’s brand new Bridge Theatre, under the south bank side of Tower Bridge, impresses by being both dramatically solid and comedically hysterical. I would not be surprised if the runner-up for the title was a Jeb! The Musical-inspired “Communism!” I realize that nothing about this is related to Borat, but I can’t help hearing him say “Great success!” in reply to that equally valid title.
Apparently, communism is a (mostly) joyous romp that provides a ton of comedic fodder. I didn’t know this, but now that a play about it made me laugh for two hours, I might be sold! “Young Marx” at London’s brand new Bridge Theatre, under the south bank side of Tower Bridge, impresses by being both dramatically solid and comedically hysterical. I would not be surprised if the runner-up for the title was a Jeb! The Musical-inspired “Communism!” I realize that nothing about this is related to Borat, but I can’t help hearing him say “Great success!” in reply to that equally valid title.
“Young Marx” tells the story of Karl Marx, famous anti-capitalism pro-socialism philosopher and writer &c., during his time living in London. It sounds pretty dull, at least to me, not really knowing anything other than the widely known basics about Marx. But you don’t have to know anything to enjoy this, and it is so damn enjoyable. Sure there are tons of little jokes that, if you are more familiar with his work (or with the German language) you might give a little (silent!) nod of recognition and appreciation, but even the most uninformed simpleton (me) off the street would be able to not only keep up the pace but also be fully invested in the show.
The clever play comes from writers Richard Bean and Clive Coleman, who I would take a chance on assuming knocked a couple back while writing this, but then again they are British, so that’s not really an assumption at all. But it really seems like they had fun with this, which lets the audience have fun too. And they’re no strangers to comedy. Richard Bean wrote one of the funniest plays I’ve ever seen – “One Man Two Guvnors” – which put James Corden on the map for Americans (should we thank him or….), like really a spit-take kind of show. Then again, he also wrote “Made in Dagenham” which I virulently despised with every fiber of my being…but I guess that’s kind of funny! You didn’t mean for that to be so terrible, did you! But it was! That’s funny!
As for Clive Coleman, this just in he has the career path I want: he was an English lawyer, then became a legal correspondent on the news (the news!), and then starting writing for sitcoms (TELEVISION!) and comedies and now has this very decent credit to his name in a theatre with amaaazing bathrooms (see below). I MEAN, here’s the path, let’s follow it. “The way is clear! The light is good!” &c.
Honestly, speaking of one, I could see this being a musical. There aren’t many new musical comedies with a classic feel. It could be so funny, although I don’t know how open to having Karl Marx jump into a tap break the snooty London theatergoers would be.
But jump around he does, in all sorts of hilarious twists and hijinx. Karl is played by the great Rory Kinnear, who you would definitely 100% recognize but I would say about 90% of you would be like ‘oh I know him from…what do I know him from?’ He’s one of those faces that you know but he’s not exactly a household name outside of the UK. Anyway, you know him from the three Daniel Craig James Bond films. He’s one of those guys that isn’t Bond or Judi Dench.
Karl’s wife, Jenny von Westphalen, was a member of the Prussian aristocracy. Her family was maaad. She and Karl and their babies and their maid lived in squalor, with bailiffs coming every day to take more of their possessions to put against his debt. The show opens with Karl trying to hock one of his wife’s most prized possessions, a silver Argyll teapot or something (they just refer to it as the Argyll is that a thing) worth more money than he’s probably ever seen (or wants to see! Money evil burn the money burn the witch! I need to reread him I guesss) in order to pay off some of those debts, or maybe to buy food for his family. But the pawnshopper thinks he stole it, this poor man coming in with a piece like that, and calls the cops on him, but of course Rory hops around this way and that and hijinkilly outsmarts and outruns the cops. Jenny, obviously long-suffering but fully committed to fighting for socialism (which means, from the looks of it, simply living in squalor), helps her husband hide from the fuzz repeatedly in a manner it’s obvious has been done hundreds of times – in the fireplace, then in the cupboard, to very amusing result. Jenny is played by Nancy Carroll, who did a very good ‘ugh I hate having to give these bailiffs all my fancy dresses when I could still be rich af in Germany but ughhh I guess it’s for a good cause hooray for communism but also I’m going to flirt with this other rich guy just to make my husband feel bad about not providing for me despite that being impossible to do without buying into the capitalist system’ wife.
My favorite character was Oliver Chris’s (two first names!) portrayal of Friedrich Engels, Marx’s partner in crime and coauthor on a bunch of important works that I’ve definitely read. Engels was depicted as kind of suave and kind of goofy at the same time, indulging Karl’s way of life (poverty) by giving him money (Engels was loaded from his family, it appeared) whenever his children needed to eat or see a doctor and stuff so Marx would never need to get a real job and could just write and drink and smoke. Engels later goes to work at his father’s mill so he could keep sending money to Karl to support him while he worked, which is all kind of telling right, like that he needed an influx of cash from the capitalist pigs to let him keep writing about how terrible capitalism is? (Hypocrite, hypocrite tell you what he do.) The camaraderie between Karl and Engels was clear and fun and portrayed as kind of bros like they were Paul Rudd and Jason Segel in a movie. They played amusing little ditties on the piano while singing variations of what would be their Saturday morning cartoon theme song. Loves it!
“Young Marx” is so interesting because everything pretty much was true. And because it’s true, it wasn’t all happy fun. Like he has an affair with his maid and gets her pregnant, which is you know not the best thing to do to his unsmiling wife, and his young son Fauksy dies of illness, which I did NOT appreciate coming in a mostly comedic show. I wasn’t prepared for that shit, and it kind of didn’t pack the emotional punch they intended it to because it wasn’t an integral part of the plot. Sure it showed how much of an ass Karl could be, when he was late for his own son’s funeral, but it felt out of place. It was true though; Karl’s son Edgar died at 8, so sad. Even sadder, he had 7 children in real life (we only meet two) but only 3 survived to adulthood. Even sadder, they named four of their children Jenny. Communism is not creative, I guess.
Rory does an excellent job of carrying this show, proving why he is such an important actor here in the UK. He gives off a much more youthful vibe than I’m used to with him, I guess because the title calls for it, but it is very surprising and effective. Marx is not really that young in the time depicted but Rory gives off a youthful energy and enthusiasm in Marx that works to show his drive and zeal. He may not have shown the best work ethic or moral standards, but his passion for his beliefs was undeniable.
I was confused a little when the characters close to Marx kept referring to him as ‘Moor’ but apparently that was a true thing, and quite racist: His intimates used the nickname ‘Moor’ because he had a dark complexion and dark curly hair. I learned so much! What really stood out, though, was how clever Nicholas Hytner’s direction and staging were. In these scenes between Karl and his intimates, they would speak fluent English in their regular English accents. But as soon as a bailiff or someone not privy to their personal lives would enter the room, Marx & friends would start speaking broken English in German accents. So when they were shown to be speaking fluent English in the privacy of their home, we were to assume that they were really speaking German. Such genius! It worked so well, and showed so clearly how important it is for direction to elevate plays beyond what’s simply written on the page.
Hytner clearly considered his direction here, and it paid off with impeccable staging and clever decisions that gave the show so much of its dynamic energy. And it’s a good thing he worked so hard, because Hytner is a founder of the Bridge Theatre. And this is the first show ever playing at the Bridge! So much riding on this, and everyone did a fantastic job. I really am surprised at how much I enjoyed it. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and a future production or perhaps a transfer to the West End would be wise to make a few minor edits, but overall it’s an incredibly entertaining two hours about communists, people who don’t exactly scream ‘I’m so much fun’ but are shown to be just that.
INFORMATION
“Young Marx” is playing at the Bridge Theatre until December 31. Now that it’s open, the Bridge is the best physical venue in London. The bathrooms are well designed – there are SO MANY stalls, and so there was no intermission line. And, unlike most West End theatres, the line for the toilets does not go past the sinks, blocking everyone who needs to wash their hands from doing so. God whoever designed all the other theatres is REAL DUMB. AND, unlike ALL other West End theatres, the toilets actually flush. (The plumbing in this country is abysmal why does no one talk about it? Fix it! Anyway, point is, the Bridge is spectacular. There is a great lobby and bar on the main floor, with wifi (which they display the information for, so smart again) AND there are water taps with cups around. I hope this theatre does well and continues to have great shows because I would go just for the water and the toilets.
