How is London’s “School of Rock” Holding Up Two Years Later?by Randi / July 26, 2018
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about ‘Consent’ in London’s West End, playing at the Harold Pinter Theatre until August 11.
The last time I was in London’s Harold Pinter Theatre was for the sublimely disappointing ‘Oslo’, which featured just as much screaming as ‘Consent’. However, the key difference is that the screaming in ‘Consent’ feels earned, and completely necessary. (Hey while you’re here open that ‘Oslo’ review in a new tab because it’s remarkable.) Also making this an entirely different experience? ‘Consent’ was riveting. This well written, incisive new play by Nina Raine made me feel miserable the entire time, but in a great way that good plays are supposed to. It’s timely (I don’t want to be the 1000th reviewer to mention the #MeToo movement in a review for this play but look I just did), it’s well acted, and it will make you feel like everything is hopeless and everyone is a monster and it’s best to just sit in the dark alone quietly for most of your life. Like a good play should!
‘Consent’ follows the lives of a group of barristers, probably in their late 30s, as they deal with their workload and their marriages and the fact that spoiler they are all terrible people. There are two married couples, one single barrister friend, and one outlier actress friend. The barristers joke about their cases – most are in crime – from the first person, i.e. “What have you been working on lately?” “Oh I’ve been killing pensioners, raping a few people” – things like that. Dark humor in people who work in dark fields is nothing new, a common coping mechanism. But to see it put so bluntly, so cavalierly, is an early shock into this play. And the joking doesn’t really seem to be a way for them to deal with all their feelings. They genuinely seem not to care about the awful crimes they’re arguing. And sure you can’t take everything in work personally or emotionally, but the complete lack of empathy is a vital look into their humanity, which informs how they try cases. Of course, the worst-seeming men at the start are the defense attorneys.
Now, it goes without saying that the accused need to have representation, and fair representation at that, to promote their best interests in court and to serve justice overall. Defense attorneys are important and necessary to our criminal justice system. (I’m conflating US and UK law in this area because it’s similar enough.) But defense attorneys for accused rapists are a special breed. I have witnessed a lot of rape trials, a lot a lot, and during an internship for a public prosecutor I was involved in a lot of those trials. So I think it’s fair to say I’m more of an expert than the average person on the legal aspects of this play. And Nina Raine has nailed the coldness, the sickening twisting of words, the unfair focus on negligible details that every defense attorney I’ve seen in a rape case will employ. It’s hard to think about, but most of them were pure evil. And I really mean those words. The worst of humanity I could ever imagine have been in those court rooms with me. I remember a case that was lost because the defense attorney got the jury to laugh at a gay witness, the roommate of the rape victim. He kept making gay jokes and ‘prancing’ about when he repeated parts of the witness’s testimony, and since the judge and jury were some of the many, many shitty people on this planet, they thought it was hilarious and ‘voted’ for the funny lawyer. It’s not an issue of putting up the best case for their client, which is their job. It’s that they seem to revel in the unnecessary, unsettling glee they find in demolishing already fragile witnesses (victims), in using their words and their trauma against them to prove a point – that it doesn’t matter if you were raped; all that matters is whether you are presentable, well spoken, and completely faultless in every aspect of your life. And it’s definitely not about getting at the truth, which is rarely the point of any trial.
And ‘Consent’ captured this ease of evil more than any other work I’ve seen try to. Quickly, the marriages are revealed to be on shaky ground, which is not surprising when dealing with people without the ability to empathize. Ed, our main man (Stephen Campbell Moore, terrific and terrifying), is alarming in his calculated, supremely logical look at the world, which works to win him cases but unsettles his wife Kitty (the excellent Claudie Blakley (and yes that’s spelled right I know the e and the l look like they should be swapped but alas I cannot change her name)). He’s the guy who uses logic to kill empathy and truth when it doesn’t make enough logical sense for him, and he values dispassionate logic over the truth when said truth is the kind that demands an emotional response. His absolute lack of empathy struck me right to my core, and watching him both at work and at home made me feel the same powerless yet overwhelming rage I would feel in court. I was glad when Kitty would yell at him the things I wanted to yell out (and from a front row seat, I really almost did), and I was glad that she seemed to have the right footing in such a difficult relationship. But the second act proves that she’s not the moral savior I wanted her to be, which is both disappointing and more realistic. No one is perfect, although it in this play it’s more like everyone is actually a shithead.
The other married barrister couple is Rachel (Sian Clifford) and Jake (Adam James, who my brain kept trying to make into Michael C. Hall). Jake is revealed early on to be cheating on his wife, but he’s not sorry for his actions, only sorry he got caught. He’s very clear on that and doesn’t understand why anyone would fault him for his stance. And he’s the kind of guy that would frame his argument in such a way that it would leave you without a response, almost thinking that maybe he was right – the kind of guy that’s a good barrister, and an asshole. Rachel is the one on the other side, a prosecutor, so I also put the unfair burden on her that I initially put on Kitty – that they’d be my female voices of reason against the men. Of course, people are more complicated than that, and she also let me down, with her second act opinions when it comes to the title of the play. White women, am I right!
The other friends are Zara (Clare Foster), the goofy (pitch perfect) actress friend, and Tim (Lee Ingleby), the awkward barrister who seems hapless but ‘nice’, but shows he sucks just as much. That everyone kind of sucks at times and you want to punch them all at times and you also just see them as normal sometimes all makes ‘Consent’ so convincing, and everyone so real. They’re all people you probably know in real life.
But the best part of the play is when it actually shows the rape trial, where Ed is defending and Tim is prosecuting. Heather Craney plays the victim, Gayle, and she is everything. I was crying through most of the exquisite first act because of how accurate it all was. Gayle meets Tim literally two minutes before the trial starts. She knows nothing about what’s going to happen or what she’s supposed to do because no one ever cared to inform her. It is the prosecution’s job to make sure the victim knows what to do and does it well, since she is the main part of the state’s case. But just because they should ensure that she is fully informed and ready to testify doesn’t mean it always happens. And Tim’s failure here is an example of that. Busy lawyers who think they have a handle on the facts, and who don’t see any value in devoting time and effort to such a case, might only meet the confused victim out in the hallway before the trial starts, where she might hear for the very first time that anything not in her initial statement to the police, made in the aftermath of debilitating trauma, is inadmissible. And yes that’s a bad lawyer who would do that, but it doesn’t stop it from happening – or being allowed to happen. Such is the case with Tim and Gayle. The short exchange they have says so much about the system: Gayle asks if Tim’s her lawyer, and he laughs that no silly, he’s the lawyer for the Crown. Gayle asks who her lawyer is, and Tim has to explain that she doesn’t have one, she’s just a witness against the accused. But he has a lawyer, right? Well of course he does. And his lawyer is ready to tear down everything the unprepared Gayle says, the silly woman who thought that the truth would be all that was required of her.
The genius of this play is that the failings of the judicial system reflect the personal failings in the people who work in the law. And this makes sense, after all, since society’s structures and systems will reflect the society that made them. This is the most depressing thought from the play, that the systems that are supposed to serve us really won’t improve if humanity doesn’t improve.
I wish that they kept up this theme in the second act, which is much weaker than the first as it mainly focuses on the relationships of the characters and puts the legal stuff aside. I’m obviously biased in my desire for more of the interplay between the two, but when the interpersonal relationships all blow up and there’s so much screaming and crying and so much emotion (so much), it becomes overwhelming. It would have been better, and easier to take in, if it were tempered with more glimpses into the law to provide small respites from all the heated arguments.
But as it is, ‘Consent’ is a really brilliant play. It’s not the GREATEST THING EVER, as I was left wondering at intermission whether it just might be, but it’s quite well done and so well written. The acting was so effective, I felt like all the trauma was my own. All these people are terrible, yet normal. Which scares me. Is everyone a monster? Does every person cheat? Like every single one? Because that’s what this play is telling me. I mean I know I’m mean on this blog sometimes (because it’s mine and I can do what I want with it) but I’m not a monster, I believe victims, and I don’t think I would find joy in emotionally torturing someone I love. But that’s just me I guess!
INFORMATION
The play is at the Harold Pinter Theatre until August 11. It runs about two and a half hours, with the first act almost 90 minutes and the second much shorter. There was an announcement at the start that one set piece was malfunctioning and so stagehands would be onstage more than usual to move sets, but it was all just loose furniture so I’m not sure how it would have been done without stagehands. Anyway go see it.
AUDIENCE
Typical English play audience, skewing older with lots of chatter among the older ladies. “Oh dear now he’s gone and done that.” “Oh dear he said it he finally said it.” SHUSHHHHHHHHHH. The very old man next to me asked if I was enjoying it at the interval and I said yes it’s quite good and he asked, “are you a lawyer?” and I said “yes?” and he said “I thought you might be!” and now every second of my life will be spent thinking, how…?
Now, it goes without saying that the accused need to have representation, and fair representation at that, to promote their best interests in court and to serve justice overall. Defense attorneys are important and necessary to our criminal justice system. (I’m conflating US and UK law in this area because it’s similar enough.) But defense attorneys for accused rapists are a special breed. I have witnessed a lot of rape trials, a lot a lot, and during an internship for a public prosecutor I was involved in a lot of those trials. So I think it’s fair to say I’m more of an expert than the average person on the legal aspects of this play. And Nina Raine has nailed the coldness, the sickening twisting of words, the unfair focus on negligible details that every defense attorney I’ve seen in a rape case will employ. It’s hard to think about, but most of them were pure evil. And I really mean those words. The worst of humanity I could ever imagine have been in those court rooms with me. I remember a case that was lost because the defense attorney got the jury to laugh at a gay witness, the roommate of the rape victim. He kept making gay jokes and ‘prancing’ about when he repeated parts of the witness’s testimony, and since the judge and jury were some of the many, many shitty people on this planet, they thought it was hilarious and ‘voted’ for the funny lawyer. It’s not an issue of putting up the best case for their client, which is their job. It’s that they seem to revel in the unnecessary, unsettling glee they find in demolishing already fragile witnesses (victims), in using their words and their trauma against them to prove a point – that it doesn’t matter if you were raped; all that matters is whether you are presentable, well spoken, and completely faultless in every aspect of your life. And it’s definitely not about getting at the truth, which is rarely the point of any trial.
And ‘Consent’ captured this ease of evil more than any other work I’ve seen try to. Quickly, the marriages are revealed to be on shaky ground, which is not surprising when dealing with people without the ability to empathize. Ed, our main man (Stephen Campbell Moore, terrific and terrifying), is alarming in his calculated, supremely logical look at the world, which works to win him cases but unsettles his wife Kitty (the excellent Claudie Blakley (and yes that’s spelled right I know the e and the l look like they should be swapped but alas I cannot change her name)). He’s the guy who uses logic to kill empathy and truth when it doesn’t make enough logical sense for him, and he values dispassionate logic over the truth when said truth is the kind that demands an emotional response. His absolute lack of empathy struck me right to my core, and watching him both at work and at home made me feel the same powerless yet overwhelming rage I would feel in court. I was glad when Kitty would yell at him the things I wanted to yell out (and from a front row seat, I really almost did), and I was glad that she seemed to have the right footing in such a difficult relationship. But the second act proves that she’s not the moral savior I wanted her to be, which is both disappointing and more realistic. No one is perfect, although it in this play it’s more like everyone is actually a shithead.
The other married barrister couple is Rachel (Sian Clifford) and Jake (Adam James, who my brain kept trying to make into Michael C. Hall). Jake is revealed early on to be cheating on his wife, but he’s not sorry for his actions, only sorry he got caught. He’s very clear on that and doesn’t understand why anyone would fault him for his stance. And he’s the kind of guy that would frame his argument in such a way that it would leave you without a response, almost thinking that maybe he was right – the kind of guy that’s a good barrister, and an asshole. Rachel is the one on the other side, a prosecutor, so I also put the unfair burden on her that I initially put on Kitty – that they’d be my female voices of reason against the men. Of course, people are more complicated than that, and she also let me down, with her second act opinions when it comes to the title of the play. White women, am I right!
The other friends are Zara (Clare Foster), the goofy (pitch perfect) actress friend, and Tim (Lee Ingleby), the awkward barrister who seems hapless but ‘nice’, but shows he sucks just as much. That everyone kind of sucks at times and you want to punch them all at times and you also just see them as normal sometimes all makes ‘Consent’ so convincing, and everyone so real. They’re all people you probably know in real life.
But the best part of the play is when it actually shows the rape trial, where Ed is defending and Tim is prosecuting. Heather Craney plays the victim, Gayle, and she is everything. I was crying through most of the exquisite first act because of how accurate it all was. Gayle meets Tim literally two minutes before the trial starts. She knows nothing about what’s going to happen or what she’s supposed to do because no one ever cared to inform her. It is the prosecution’s job to make sure the victim knows what to do and does it well, since she is the main part of the state’s case. But just because they should ensure that she is fully informed and ready to testify doesn’t mean it always happens. And Tim’s failure here is an example of that. Busy lawyers who think they have a handle on the facts, and who don’t see any value in devoting time and effort to such a case, might only meet the confused victim out in the hallway before the trial starts, where she might hear for the very first time that anything not in her initial statement to the police, made in the aftermath of debilitating trauma, is inadmissible. And yes that’s a bad lawyer who would do that, but it doesn’t stop it from happening – or being allowed to happen. Such is the case with Tim and Gayle. The short exchange they have says so much about the system: Gayle asks if Tim’s her lawyer, and he laughs that no silly, he’s the lawyer for the Crown. Gayle asks who her lawyer is, and Tim has to explain that she doesn’t have one, she’s just a witness against the accused. But he has a lawyer, right? Well of course he does. And his lawyer is ready to tear down everything the unprepared Gayle says, the silly woman who thought that the truth would be all that was required of her.
The genius of this play is that the failings of the judicial system reflect the personal failings in the people who work in the law. And this makes sense, after all, since society’s structures and systems will reflect the society that made them. This is the most depressing thought from the play, that the systems that are supposed to serve us really won’t improve if humanity doesn’t improve.
I wish that they kept up this theme in the second act, which is much weaker than the first as it mainly focuses on the relationships of the characters and puts the legal stuff aside. I’m obviously biased in my desire for more of the interplay between the two, but when the interpersonal relationships all blow up and there’s so much screaming and crying and so much emotion (so much), it becomes overwhelming. It would have been better, and easier to take in, if it were tempered with more glimpses into the law to provide small respites from all the heated arguments.
But as it is, ‘Consent’ is a really brilliant play. It’s not the GREATEST THING EVER, as I was left wondering at intermission whether it just might be, but it’s quite well done and so well written. The acting was so effective, I felt like all the trauma was my own. All these people are terrible, yet normal. Which scares me. Is everyone a monster? Does every person cheat? Like every single one? Because that’s what this play is telling me. I mean I know I’m mean on this blog sometimes (because it’s mine and I can do what I want with it) but I’m not a monster, I believe victims, and I don’t think I would find joy in emotionally torturing someone I love. But that’s just me I guess!
INFORMATION
The play is at the Harold Pinter Theatre until August 11. It runs about two and a half hours, with the first act almost 90 minutes and the second much shorter. There was an announcement at the start that one set piece was malfunctioning and so stagehands would be onstage more than usual to move sets, but it was all just loose furniture so I’m not sure how it would have been done without stagehands. Anyway go see it.
AUDIENCE
Typical English play audience, skewing older with lots of chatter among the older ladies. “Oh dear now he’s gone and done that.” “Oh dear he said it he finally said it.” SHUSHHHHHHHHHH. The very old man next to me asked if I was enjoying it at the interval and I said yes it’s quite good and he asked, “are you a lawyer?” and I said “yes?” and he said “I thought you might be!” and now every second of my life will be spent thinking, how…?
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“Everyman” at the National Theatre: Worth Seeing For Chiwetel, But Disappointing
The show “Everyman” is about probably every human’s nightmare – facing untimely death – but the first 10 minutes are literally my nightmare. It’s a loud rave in a dark, creepy, possibly swanky club with inst-inst-inst music and well-to-do assholes doing drugs and taking selfies of how messed up and fun and awesome they are while lights are flashing and people are drinking more than they’re breathing and tossing their garbage on the floor and it’s just all awful and that’s my nightmare.
But it’s an effective opening of indulgent horrors, showing how our main character, Everyman (Chiwetel Ejiofor), has a certain kind of unaware, boorish, privileged lifestyle, spending his money and not really caring about much else. He passes out at the club and wakes up as the cleaning woman (who turns out to be God, naturally) is mopping up the disgusting floor, and he offers her some money to apologize for her job. But then he meets a man in a white jumpsuit who introduces himself as Death (Dermot Crowley, so good), and announces that Everyman’s time is up. This play is about how Everyman, sometimes horrifyingly called ‘Ev’ like it’s his actual name, deals with his impending doom.
“Everyman” is an update of the 15th century morality play titled “Somonyng [Summoning] of Everyman”, an allegory about humanity and death and how you have to do good deeds to attain salvation. It sounds like a great piece prime for updating to our modern times, with the lesson that no matter what, all you are left with to present to God for final judgment is a recounting of your good deeds.
It’s such an overdone topic, man’s struggle with his own mortality, and so this update needed to be handled in a fresh way to be worth doing. I assumed that the revival of it would bring about a relevant reimagining that made it original. But despite the we’re so cool vibe of the opening, nothing Everyman did in the face of death was new or original. He freaked out, and that was pretty much it.
One interesting aspect was that the original 15th text was rhyming, so this modern update also rhymed. But oof. They should have called Lin-Manuel. Some of the rhymes were embarrassing. One line went something like “Ev, mate, we’re totally your fandom, but all of this is just…random.” I apologize to the person sitting in front of me for throwing up on you.
So Everyman was super upset, naturally, and tried to get out of it. He tried to get his family to vouch for him, then his friends, none of whom seemed to care that much.
Everyman’s mother was good but had awful lines. She made jokes about her daughter-caregiver (the good child, as it were) being a lesbian, and the audience loved it, which was super weird. How messed up is that? It didn’t even contribute any meaningful character development or anything, just cheap laughter. Another joke was about how the daughter was vegan and how at least Ev doesn’t have to cook for a vegan, thank his lucky stars, or eat tofu scramble. The audience DIED at the tofu scramble joke. Again, didn’t add anything, just was super lame and cringeworthy. I was really surprised that they took this ancient work and updated it not with worthwhile insights but with cheap jokes, especially when the play is about using your life as best you can, being a good person while you are alive, and yet the only person in the show being a good person is used as a punching bag. And the most bothersome part is that this wasn’t done intentionally! It wasn’t like the creative team realized at all what they were doing, as clever as that could have been – a show about shitty people wasting life while making fun of the only person trying to do good could send a really powerful message about how we treat and think of others. But that wasn’t what they were going for here, it was clear, because the very brief jabs were clearly just to make the audience laugh, not to imply any deeper meaning. Which is a missed opportunity for actual depth.
No, this show was all about Everyman’s reaction to his death, not about other characters’ interactions or reveals. He freaked out pretty consistently. After trying to persuade the people in his life to help him, he tried to use his vast material wealth as a thing that God would give a shit about; obviously that backfired. Finally, he befriends a homeless man and learns a tiny bit about being a good person? But not really. I mean he realizes that he wasn’t much of one.
The most promising scene came when Everyman says goodbye to the embodiments of all his senses and abilities (taste, touch, knowledge, &c.). It was like the human-live action version of “Inside Out”. That’s a really cool idea but I wish it was better done. After like 100 minutes of loud tearful desperate cries with no level changes, no variation, when he just continued yelling crying at his attributes it wasn’t as heavy as it should have been. Chiwetel was good, and it was wonderful to see this great actor live onstage (long ‘i’ live; he doesn’t live). But the performance and the show seemed pretty one note, trying to sustain an intensified level of energy that just felt flat with no variation.
Yet after Everyman exhausts all his avenues of redemption and faces Death for good, Death tells him that his struggle really touched him. I was confused. How was his reaction different from anyone else’s? It seemed textbook, to react to death with unhappiness and anger, freaking out, trying to make bargains, trying to get people in your life to stand up for you. Like what else do people do? I didn’t get why Death, and also God, actually, (the cleaning woman, remember, which was clever) were impressed by his reaction. They still killed him, but they maybe felt bad about it? It was weird!
A lot of people seemed to be really touched by this story, which surprised me. Like I think I heard crying. Maybe I just think about this dreary stuff more frequently than others, so it wasn’t a novelty? I’m way existential. But no, everyone thinks about it at least a tiny bit, and nothing in this show offered anything new to the subject. Be a good person, it said, do good deeds, but even if you don’t, we will be impressed with how much you don’t want to die? I think that’s what it was saying.
It’s such an overdone topic, man’s struggle with his own mortality, and so this update needed to be handled in a fresh way to be worth doing. I assumed that the revival of it would bring about a relevant reimagining that made it original. But despite the we’re so cool vibe of the opening, nothing Everyman did in the face of death was new or original. He freaked out, and that was pretty much it.
One interesting aspect was that the original 15th text was rhyming, so this modern update also rhymed. But oof. They should have called Lin-Manuel. Some of the rhymes were embarrassing. One line went something like “Ev, mate, we’re totally your fandom, but all of this is just…random.” I apologize to the person sitting in front of me for throwing up on you.
So Everyman was super upset, naturally, and tried to get out of it. He tried to get his family to vouch for him, then his friends, none of whom seemed to care that much.
Everyman’s mother was good but had awful lines. She made jokes about her daughter-caregiver (the good child, as it were) being a lesbian, and the audience loved it, which was super weird. How messed up is that? It didn’t even contribute any meaningful character development or anything, just cheap laughter. Another joke was about how the daughter was vegan and how at least Ev doesn’t have to cook for a vegan, thank his lucky stars, or eat tofu scramble. The audience DIED at the tofu scramble joke. Again, didn’t add anything, just was super lame and cringeworthy. I was really surprised that they took this ancient work and updated it not with worthwhile insights but with cheap jokes, especially when the play is about using your life as best you can, being a good person while you are alive, and yet the only person in the show being a good person is used as a punching bag. And the most bothersome part is that this wasn’t done intentionally! It wasn’t like the creative team realized at all what they were doing, as clever as that could have been – a show about shitty people wasting life while making fun of the only person trying to do good could send a really powerful message about how we treat and think of others. But that wasn’t what they were going for here, it was clear, because the very brief jabs were clearly just to make the audience laugh, not to imply any deeper meaning. Which is a missed opportunity for actual depth.
No, this show was all about Everyman’s reaction to his death, not about other characters’ interactions or reveals. He freaked out pretty consistently. After trying to persuade the people in his life to help him, he tried to use his vast material wealth as a thing that God would give a shit about; obviously that backfired. Finally, he befriends a homeless man and learns a tiny bit about being a good person? But not really. I mean he realizes that he wasn’t much of one.
The most promising scene came when Everyman says goodbye to the embodiments of all his senses and abilities (taste, touch, knowledge, &c.). It was like the human-live action version of “Inside Out”. That’s a really cool idea but I wish it was better done. After like 100 minutes of loud tearful desperate cries with no level changes, no variation, when he just continued yelling crying at his attributes it wasn’t as heavy as it should have been. Chiwetel was good, and it was wonderful to see this great actor live onstage (long ‘i’ live; he doesn’t live). But the performance and the show seemed pretty one note, trying to sustain an intensified level of energy that just felt flat with no variation.
Yet after Everyman exhausts all his avenues of redemption and faces Death for good, Death tells him that his struggle really touched him. I was confused. How was his reaction different from anyone else’s? It seemed textbook, to react to death with unhappiness and anger, freaking out, trying to make bargains, trying to get people in your life to stand up for you. Like what else do people do? I didn’t get why Death, and also God, actually, (the cleaning woman, remember, which was clever) were impressed by his reaction. They still killed him, but they maybe felt bad about it? It was weird!
A lot of people seemed to be really touched by this story, which surprised me. Like I think I heard crying. Maybe I just think about this dreary stuff more frequently than others, so it wasn’t a novelty? I’m way existential. But no, everyone thinks about it at least a tiny bit, and nothing in this show offered anything new to the subject. Be a good person, it said, do good deeds, but even if you don’t, we will be impressed with how much you don’t want to die? I think that’s what it was saying.
Everything’s Coming Up Imelda! “Gypsy” is Finally Back in London
Yes that is signed by Imelda!
After a 40-year absence from the West End, one of the most important American musicals is finally back. And it’s the best musical currently playing in this town that favors its straight plays. Imelda Staunton takes on the iconic (beyond iconic) role of Mamma Rose, and it’s not like anyone ever doubted her abilities or anything, but she kills it. And I’m not just saying that because she would make me write the rest of this blog with my own blood if I said anything bad about her like she did to Harry.
Having been spoiled by the greatest diva Patti LuPone as Mamma Rose in only the past decade, I had very high expectations for Imelda. Hell, Patti LuPone’s mere existence has given me high expectations for every facet of life, from dinner parties to toothbrushing. No one can try to rival Patti’s goddamn beautiful brassy voice on the big singing numbers; she LuPWNs everyone. But Imelda didn’t have to give us a big diva voice to effectively show us her crazy. While I did find myself yearning to listen to Patti’s cast recording later, Imelda’s acting, especially in her ballsiest moments, was off the charts impressive. Very often, I was transported to their world in the 1920s and ‘30s, forgetting that I was watching an actress I’ve adored for so long and sometimes forgetting to blink.
In case you don’t know, “Gypsy” tells the story of Rose, the original awful pushy stage mother whose name has become synonymous with awful pushy stage mothers, who will do anything to make her daughter a star. At first, she focuses her life and all of her being on June, the talented daughter, while pushing Louise, the not-so, to the side. (Or to the chorus as one of the boys in June’s act.) The family along with random boys (named after the towns they were picked up in, I love that) travel the country for years and years to perform at vaudeville halls for whatever they can get. June finally has enough when she’s at some grown-up age (they never really are sure of how old they are), and she and the boy that Louise had a crush on, Tulsa, elope. Poor Louise. Rose switches her focus to her remaining daughter, vowing to talent her up and make her a star. However, vaudeville is dying, and when their shitty act gets accidentally booked at a burlesque hall, everything changes. Louise almost accidentally finds her kind-of-creepy calling in a world where she doesn’t need or want her mother around anymore, and Rose realizes that her entire life was spent pushing her girls to stardom when obviously she just wanted fame for herself and never got it. So sad but so crazy.
Lots of important people say that “Gypsy” is the greatest American musical. I think it’s one of the most important, and definitely Rose is one of if not the most important female characters in the canon, but the show is not the best. It’s great, but there’s so much clutter – I had forgotten how much of the show is the stupid kids’ act. Oh my goodness! Baby June & Her Newsboys! Extra Extra! Look at the headline! Dainty June & Her Farmboys! Oh my god it gets ANNOYING. 70% of the first act is the kids performing. And 60% of Act II is the grow-up kids act with Louise as the star. We hear the act’s one song about 90 times, and then of course we hear “Let Me Entertain You” 99 times. I could sense my husband starting to hulk out when it literally became a stress test gone insane. Luckily, the parts that aren’t the kids performances are superb. It’s so funny, that the dramatic arc of the family dynamic is classic and brilliant, while the majority of the show, the pacing, the structure, is all these dumb kids. Once you make it through that, though, you are rewarded with some of the most compelling musical numbers ever. “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, and “Rose’s Turn” are of course the big three, the core of Rose’s performance that all need to be absolutely nailed, and Imelda nailed them. I never knew she could sing at all, and I was blown away by how it wasn’t even singing, it was just a continuation of her character.
So many of the other smaller songs are equally memorable and beautiful. We have “Small World”, “Together Wherever We Go”, “If Mama Was Married”, the latter of which gives us our one and only glimpse into the sister relationship and it always makes me want to see more of that. you wonder how much Rose created a divide between the girls and whether they could have bonded over complaining about her if given the chance to be friends. Although I suppose when June secretly marries the boy Louise had a crush on, the relationship is beyond strained.
Speaking of Tulsa, man that is such a good role for an up and coming young man. You show off your dancing and a little singing for like, 10 minutes, and then you are gone for the rest of the show. I love how subtle Louise’s falling for him is. It increases the emotional heft of her performance to feel that you’ve sensed a secret longing of someone onstage without overtly being told as such, like you form a connection with Louise and thus feel for her even more. The 2008 Broadway revival (Patti’s) spoiled me with Laura Benanti, who showed Louise’s emotional journey so subtly and exquisitely that she set the bar insanely high for future Gypsies. Also, her moos, as one of Dainty June’s farm animals, cannot be beat. (“Mu MOO mu moo.” She deserved a Tony just for that. It cracks me up.) Lara Pulver, the West End’s Gypsy, does a fine job in showing us Louise’s journey, and her voice is beautiful. My favorite moment of hers was her “Little Lamb”, a song I always forget about, but it’s really lovely and moving while being so so simple. But there’s nothing to Pulver’s performance that we aren’t explicitly shown, no deeper emotional levels or subtlety. I felt at times (as I so often do here) that her focus on keeping her American accent in check hindered her ability to fully be in character and show us more to Louise. Like, Gypsy Rose Lee isn’t some woodland sprite who lives a life of joy surrounded by singing butterflies, but that’s what she would have us believe at the end of this, that she was finally sincerely happy. There was no necessary edge to this proclamation of happiness, no bite undercutting it. And we need that.
The role of Herbie, Rose’s longtime, long-suffering partner, is equally important, and Peter Davison was very good, although he sounded eerily close to Gene Hackman’s chain-smoking tobacco magnate in “Heartbreakers”. However, he seemed almost too strong to be hurt by Rose, and when he finally finally leaves her for good, you are not upset because you are just happy for him! Yay Herbie! Run don’t walk and so on! I think that scene is supposed to be a bit more crushing though. When Herbie seems weaker, it is, because it’s easier to see that he really does love Rose for some reason. But this Herbie was a little too normal, and there’s no normal in “Gypsy”.
After such a remarkable night, the ending left me kind of confused and cold. In the 2008 revival and in the versions I’m more familiar with, the ‘reconciliation’ between Rose and Louise is tentative, to say the least. I always thought the point was that Louise despised Rose or at least blamed her for everything terrible that has befallen the family, and for her private anguish. I remember Laura Benanti’s Louise laughing at Rose’s dream and the tension between the two still being fo’ serious. Rose is left kind of pathetically dragging behind. Here, instead, they seemed to fully make up, with Pulver’s Louise being like ‘Dude I’m SO happy there is NOTHING I’m hiding in my talk about happiness, just pure joy!’ and the last shot should have been Rose tripping-running to catch up to her star of a daughter (that was such a shockingly good image, like Rose was scurrying still to chase stardom), but instead the last shot is Louise putting her arm around her mother when she does catch up! What is that! There’s no happy mother-daughter ending in “Gypsy”! I was quite taken aback by this type of forgiveness-filled ending to what should be a wretched, regret-filled end for Rose. It’s much more dramatic and moving if there’s no forgiveness (like in life!). It an unfortunate final minute or so to two hours of splendid theatre, so it’s okay. Imelda’s performance is so unbelievable, it’s a must-see. It’s kind of hilarious that the Olivier Awards occurred only a few nights before this show opened, because the fact that there is anyone else, male of female, lead or supporting, performing on the West End and supposedly giving an award-worthy performance while Imelda is living and breathing this role is kind of ridiculous.
OH. There’s a live puppy. So it’s worth seeing for that. PUPPIEEEEEE!
AUDIENCE: Oh dammit. I mean. PEOPLE. You’d think the audience at “Gypsy” would be well-behaved. For the most part, they were okay…but they talked during the overtures. And I don’t mean people behind me were whispering and I could shush them easily (I mean, they were and I did, but that’s not the point.) EVERYONE in the whole theatre was talking at regular volume during the overture. And especially when it is so rare to be treated to the full overture nowadays (or even to have one in shows at all), that is a crying shame. (And it literally almost made me cry, it’s so frustrating.) People apparently thought it was just like ‘sit-down’ music and that the show didn’t start yet. Ughhhhahhhh the overture sets the tone of the show! It has begun, you ingrates! It happened at the start of Act II as well, with the shorter interlude still being too long for our audience to stay quiet. What is wrong with people? It actually got to the point where I was thisclose to standing up and yelling “SHUT YOUR DAMN FACEHOLES!” But I haven’t quite figured out when that is the less disturbing/more helpful action to take in a crap situation like that. One day, I hope to have the courage to actually do it. Actually, if we’re hoping for stuff, I hope for people to stop acting like idiots in the theatre, how about that.
In case you don’t know, “Gypsy” tells the story of Rose, the original awful pushy stage mother whose name has become synonymous with awful pushy stage mothers, who will do anything to make her daughter a star. At first, she focuses her life and all of her being on June, the talented daughter, while pushing Louise, the not-so, to the side. (Or to the chorus as one of the boys in June’s act.) The family along with random boys (named after the towns they were picked up in, I love that) travel the country for years and years to perform at vaudeville halls for whatever they can get. June finally has enough when she’s at some grown-up age (they never really are sure of how old they are), and she and the boy that Louise had a crush on, Tulsa, elope. Poor Louise. Rose switches her focus to her remaining daughter, vowing to talent her up and make her a star. However, vaudeville is dying, and when their shitty act gets accidentally booked at a burlesque hall, everything changes. Louise almost accidentally finds her kind-of-creepy calling in a world where she doesn’t need or want her mother around anymore, and Rose realizes that her entire life was spent pushing her girls to stardom when obviously she just wanted fame for herself and never got it. So sad but so crazy.
Lots of important people say that “Gypsy” is the greatest American musical. I think it’s one of the most important, and definitely Rose is one of if not the most important female characters in the canon, but the show is not the best. It’s great, but there’s so much clutter – I had forgotten how much of the show is the stupid kids’ act. Oh my goodness! Baby June & Her Newsboys! Extra Extra! Look at the headline! Dainty June & Her Farmboys! Oh my god it gets ANNOYING. 70% of the first act is the kids performing. And 60% of Act II is the grow-up kids act with Louise as the star. We hear the act’s one song about 90 times, and then of course we hear “Let Me Entertain You” 99 times. I could sense my husband starting to hulk out when it literally became a stress test gone insane. Luckily, the parts that aren’t the kids performances are superb. It’s so funny, that the dramatic arc of the family dynamic is classic and brilliant, while the majority of the show, the pacing, the structure, is all these dumb kids. Once you make it through that, though, you are rewarded with some of the most compelling musical numbers ever. “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, and “Rose’s Turn” are of course the big three, the core of Rose’s performance that all need to be absolutely nailed, and Imelda nailed them. I never knew she could sing at all, and I was blown away by how it wasn’t even singing, it was just a continuation of her character.
So many of the other smaller songs are equally memorable and beautiful. We have “Small World”, “Together Wherever We Go”, “If Mama Was Married”, the latter of which gives us our one and only glimpse into the sister relationship and it always makes me want to see more of that. you wonder how much Rose created a divide between the girls and whether they could have bonded over complaining about her if given the chance to be friends. Although I suppose when June secretly marries the boy Louise had a crush on, the relationship is beyond strained.
Speaking of Tulsa, man that is such a good role for an up and coming young man. You show off your dancing and a little singing for like, 10 minutes, and then you are gone for the rest of the show. I love how subtle Louise’s falling for him is. It increases the emotional heft of her performance to feel that you’ve sensed a secret longing of someone onstage without overtly being told as such, like you form a connection with Louise and thus feel for her even more. The 2008 Broadway revival (Patti’s) spoiled me with Laura Benanti, who showed Louise’s emotional journey so subtly and exquisitely that she set the bar insanely high for future Gypsies. Also, her moos, as one of Dainty June’s farm animals, cannot be beat. (“Mu MOO mu moo.” She deserved a Tony just for that. It cracks me up.) Lara Pulver, the West End’s Gypsy, does a fine job in showing us Louise’s journey, and her voice is beautiful. My favorite moment of hers was her “Little Lamb”, a song I always forget about, but it’s really lovely and moving while being so so simple. But there’s nothing to Pulver’s performance that we aren’t explicitly shown, no deeper emotional levels or subtlety. I felt at times (as I so often do here) that her focus on keeping her American accent in check hindered her ability to fully be in character and show us more to Louise. Like, Gypsy Rose Lee isn’t some woodland sprite who lives a life of joy surrounded by singing butterflies, but that’s what she would have us believe at the end of this, that she was finally sincerely happy. There was no necessary edge to this proclamation of happiness, no bite undercutting it. And we need that.
The role of Herbie, Rose’s longtime, long-suffering partner, is equally important, and Peter Davison was very good, although he sounded eerily close to Gene Hackman’s chain-smoking tobacco magnate in “Heartbreakers”. However, he seemed almost too strong to be hurt by Rose, and when he finally finally leaves her for good, you are not upset because you are just happy for him! Yay Herbie! Run don’t walk and so on! I think that scene is supposed to be a bit more crushing though. When Herbie seems weaker, it is, because it’s easier to see that he really does love Rose for some reason. But this Herbie was a little too normal, and there’s no normal in “Gypsy”.
After such a remarkable night, the ending left me kind of confused and cold. In the 2008 revival and in the versions I’m more familiar with, the ‘reconciliation’ between Rose and Louise is tentative, to say the least. I always thought the point was that Louise despised Rose or at least blamed her for everything terrible that has befallen the family, and for her private anguish. I remember Laura Benanti’s Louise laughing at Rose’s dream and the tension between the two still being fo’ serious. Rose is left kind of pathetically dragging behind. Here, instead, they seemed to fully make up, with Pulver’s Louise being like ‘Dude I’m SO happy there is NOTHING I’m hiding in my talk about happiness, just pure joy!’ and the last shot should have been Rose tripping-running to catch up to her star of a daughter (that was such a shockingly good image, like Rose was scurrying still to chase stardom), but instead the last shot is Louise putting her arm around her mother when she does catch up! What is that! There’s no happy mother-daughter ending in “Gypsy”! I was quite taken aback by this type of forgiveness-filled ending to what should be a wretched, regret-filled end for Rose. It’s much more dramatic and moving if there’s no forgiveness (like in life!). It an unfortunate final minute or so to two hours of splendid theatre, so it’s okay. Imelda’s performance is so unbelievable, it’s a must-see. It’s kind of hilarious that the Olivier Awards occurred only a few nights before this show opened, because the fact that there is anyone else, male of female, lead or supporting, performing on the West End and supposedly giving an award-worthy performance while Imelda is living and breathing this role is kind of ridiculous.
OH. There’s a live puppy. So it’s worth seeing for that. PUPPIEEEEEE!
AUDIENCE: Oh dammit. I mean. PEOPLE. You’d think the audience at “Gypsy” would be well-behaved. For the most part, they were okay…but they talked during the overtures. And I don’t mean people behind me were whispering and I could shush them easily (I mean, they were and I did, but that’s not the point.) EVERYONE in the whole theatre was talking at regular volume during the overture. And especially when it is so rare to be treated to the full overture nowadays (or even to have one in shows at all), that is a crying shame. (And it literally almost made me cry, it’s so frustrating.) People apparently thought it was just like ‘sit-down’ music and that the show didn’t start yet. Ughhhhahhhh the overture sets the tone of the show! It has begun, you ingrates! It happened at the start of Act II as well, with the shorter interlude still being too long for our audience to stay quiet. What is wrong with people? It actually got to the point where I was thisclose to standing up and yelling “SHUT YOUR DAMN FACEHOLES!” But I haven’t quite figured out when that is the less disturbing/more helpful action to take in a crap situation like that. One day, I hope to have the courage to actually do it. Actually, if we’re hoping for stuff, I hope for people to stop acting like idiots in the theatre, how about that.
