Review: Peter Pan at the National Theatre

Written for Theatre Bubble, December 2016

With Peter Pan seemingly the panto-of-choice this year (with a variety of adaptations over the country, and Mischief Theatre even dabbling with proceedings in Peter Pan Goes Wrong), it was always going to be a tall order for The National to present an adaptation worthy of the Olivier Stage. Turning to Sally Cookson’s 2012 iteration of J.M Barrie’s classic text was a nice touch – a differing, anarchic version of the piece that, while having the same degree of heart as the well-known tale, here embellishes the story with excerpts and ideas not readily known about the show – especially once it entered its Disney-fied state.

Sally Cookson, still revelling in the critical honeymoon of her 2014 Jane Eyre, here delivers an anarchic, creative and lucrative Pan, replete with ropes, puppets, shadow effects and, consistently, humour. This is a devised piece, capable of both indulging in Pan’s exploits while ready to challenge or critique existing issues whenever necessary. Beyond that, this was a show with heart, one ready to make audiences of different backgrounds laugh, be it through the classic slapstick, the subtle wordplay, or the meta-theatrical ‘magic rope’ that replaced the archetypal fairy dust.

This was also a much more melancholic version of Pan – with details lifted directly from Barrie’s writings and concoctions. For instance, Pan’s backstory (as a boy who learns to fly around Kensington Gardens, before returning to his home to find his mother barring the windows and preventing entry), were newly brought to light in some of the show’s ‘downtime’ scenes (among the visual spectacles). The same applied to the Lost Boys – children who had fallen from their mother’s prams, rescued from Pan and whisked away to Netherland. These were touching, heartwarming moments that struck chords in all the right places – for both kids and families alike.

Some choices were equally commendable (though at times tricky). Anna Francolini’s Hook, (returning to Barrie’s original conception of Hook as being a female, doubling for Mrs Darling, rather than the typical tyrannical pirate) gave the pirate a nuanced, intriguing depth – amplifying the familial dimensions of the plays, especially with the repeat mentions of mothers. Further to this, Cookson’s embellishing of Peter’s language with a subtle, militaristic tone was fun and new – little boys would always love to play soldiers with each other, running comms or giving orders. Fresh visions of old tales. Some issues were slightly trickily sidestepped – particularly the burning and controversial presence of ‘the Indians’ so hamfistedly presented by both Disney and in Joe Wright’s recent Pan. Here the characters are cut almost entirely, replaced by a pack of wolves led by a proudly Scottish Tiger Lilly (played by Lois Chimimba, who had a solid turn in this summer’s Diary of a Mad Man (opposite Liam Brennan) at the Traverse) in what seemed to be a clear parallel with Princess Mononoke.

The Olivier’s vast, resolve-bearing stage was given the typical design flourishes by Michael Vale (a frequent Cookson collaborator, responsible for the wonderful wooden constructions on Eyre) with a Jackson Pollock-esque paint splash coating the floor, a playful, childlike visual theme that was as energetic as those that occupied its stage. While the music (importantly with musicians onstage throughout) added a punk-ish, rocky fun to proceedings, some of the songs performed by the cast felt somewhat less comfortably placed and may have upset the show’s much-needed rhythmic pace at key moments.

Though this is Pan’s show on the title, it is Wendy that gets the pivotal role in the plot – one Madeleine Worrall accomplishes with ease. After a star turn as Jane Eyre, her return to Cookson’s side was a delightful choice, and the two seem to run in tandem through this show. Worrall’s comfortability and grace, while still bearing the requisite childishness, made the show all the more magical. Wendy is our way into Peter’s world – she’s also the character we leave with when we exit the theatre.

Among these stories of wolves, mermaids, pirates and mothers, replete with a revolving set and musical numbers, there seems to be almost no space left for the main boy himself – though this did not stop Paul Hilton from seizing every moment. Dressed almost like a mashup cosplay tribute to Jim Carrey’s roles as the Riddler and the Mask with hints of David Tennant’s Doctor, Hilton flies across the stage in a vibrant green three-piece, constantly defying the need to grow up while inhabiting a costume almost parodic of a working gentleman’s attire.

If the National were to do a Christmas show, there’s little more that could be expected. A memorable, visual feast that, while having some rough edges, has more than enough heart to capture the imaginations of any audience.

Review: Hedda Gabler at the National

Written for Theatre Bubble, December 2016

As becomes increasingly clear with more of Ivo Van Hove’s work (including his current Hedda Gabler at the National), this is a director who seems to play his performances as if they were a game of chess – jostling the characters around, trying out different combinations before clinching a final, inevitable finale that seems so unstoppable that it becomes almost anti-climactic – as a master tactician would simply go through the motions during his final moves. It was the case in his View when it received overwhelmingly positive reception – a blood soaked torrent of water saw a rapid finish to Eddie’s decline in what had previously been a slow, skulking build-up.

The same is true here (and pardon for the smallest hint of spoilers, perhaps skip this paragraph) – Ruth Wilson’s Hedda reaches her eventual end with a sudden, shocking certainty – van Hove laying all the foundations and simply letting the ball roll for itself. It’s a meticulous, tested method, and one few directors are capable of, but it means that, to a certain extent, the real thrill for the performance comes in the middle, in the wake of the second act, when the characters perform their final shuffle before settling into a final position.

What characters these are too – each taking Ibsen’s original series of bureaucrats and academics and adding crises of modernity and vigour. A lot of this is aided by An D’Huy’s subtly marvellous costumes –  Blazer / jean combos are all the rage for the men, while Wilson’s loose, peach dress floats with a shimmering immateriality. In fact, the subtlest star here is Jan Versweyveld’s set – a neo-Bohemian whitewash of liminality, an apartment unfurnished yet entirely inhabited, where the characters constantly exist either at dusk or daybreak. Silhouettes are key here – the vertical blinds of the stage right window shimmer as if faint prison bars, showing Hedda’s apparent captivity, while at one point Wilson pulls out her dress, leaving a faint echo of an expectant mother on the wall behind her – nothing short of visionary.

Patrick Marber has certainly tackled Ibsen’s work satisfyingly – renovating, embellishing and stripping where necessary. Few lines feel anachronistic in this modern version, and for the most part the cast carry a natural poise throughout. Wilson seems to revel in her part, receding and emerging like some form of tide, showing Gabler’s distinct, personal conflict as well as her eventual heartbreak as, on the midst of an incredibly internalised success, has her ambitions snatched away. The complexities of the piece could not feel more distinct at certain moments. While Rafe Spall’s hulking Brack performs serviceably, Chukwudi Iwuji fulfils Luvborg’s reputation in spades – a character that, so lauded before he even arrives, can easily feel underwhelming. Thankfully this was not the case.

With Peter Pan soaring across the Olivier and Love providing a performance worlds away from Gabler, the true variety and versatility of the National is as distinct as ever. Any of these shows is well worth watching – a hopeful sign for the year to come.

Hedda Gabler will also be running on NTLive on 9th March

Review: Nice Fish at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Written for Theatre Bubble, December 2016

Nice Fish is a show that ‘owes’ – its theatrical success is in part due to its fundamental life as a service to a person or artistic movement. It inhabits a space of being made feasible only through existing artistic endeavours and personal experiences. This debt to other factors seeps through the edges, like water over thawing frost, becoming more and more transparent, clearer, over time.

Rightly so – and this is a fact the show can only be lauded for. Immersing itself deeply in the prose poems of Louis Jenkins, what emerges from writer and star Mark Rylance is something far from tangible, yet always wonderfully enchanting and bold. Rylance has transported the untethered (and often hilarious) musings of Jenkins to an isolated, empty canvas of a frozen Minnesota lake, creating a mosaic and slowly metamorphizing patchwork of episodes that embellish both the characters that we find and the context in which they live.

It’s unconventional, refreshingly so – aided in spades by Rylance’s almost tone-perfect performance as ‘Ron’. Knowing when to press the mute button, this is a part delivered delicately, coaxing out ripples of laughter as if on a whim. There’s a reason, after all, that the actor is revered. His physicality, especially in the plays melting moments, is truly transformative – it was exciting to see this on show in a play that often places dialogue over movement. If Rylance is to be commended (as he invariably will be) so too must Jim Lichscheidl’s Erik, who delivers some of Jenkins’s prose with a natural ease – getting some of the biggest laughs of the night as his character’s existential angst unravels itself.

Director Claire van Kampen strings all of these parcellations together in a way that never feels unnatural or forced, granting the audience time to digest and mull where necessary. Often the show feels melancholic, sometimes tinging on anarchic – all seeping and spilling into one another. This can jar on occasion, but attempting to place all of Jenkins’ work in such a way will often result in some tight squeezes.

Todd Rosenthal delivers a fun design in the form of a slanted ice sheet, concealing various hidden contraptions and wonderful puppetry interludes from Mohsen Nouri. (On a side note, Rosenthal’s backdrop also had a passing resemblance to a vintage New-Who adversary). Each in turn layered Nice Fish with additional nuance and wonder, constructed a sheet of ice that, while sometimes dangerous and hostile, is also homely and enchanting.

Interview: Playwright Stuart Slade

Written for Theatre Bubble, 2016

‘I was waiting for a play date with my daughter on Fulham Common when the planes were flying over us’, Stuart Slade, writer of the critically acclaimed BU21remembers, ‘and my daughter (now 6) turns to me and asks ‘Daddy, what would happen if one of those planes crashed?’’. It was at this moment when the show, dealing thoroughly and comprehensively with the topic of terrorism in modern cities by imagining a shot-down aircraft colliding with West London, came to the writer.

‘Terrorism is everywhere – all you have to do is look on TV every day and there’s another attack. It’s undeniably there’. Through his studies of the events in Ukraine, Lockerbie and, perhaps the closest to home, 7/7, Slade coaxed out an icy paradox at the heart of responses to these attacks – they created a distinct form of solidarity, while also marginalising minority groups. ‘Trauma can bring people together and divide them’, as Slade sees it – two sides of the same coin. This is made all the more pronounced in the modern age – the Ukraine attacks, Slade remembers, saw harrowing and often graphic images all over social media – it was here that some of the plane’s victims found out about deceased relatives.

It’s strange, therefore for such a dark subject to also be injected with some vibrantly funny moments – almost anachronistically so. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be as terrified as on the press night for BU21’, Slade recalls, when the show opened at Theatre503 back in March: ‘it could have been career ending’. Of course, it wasn’t – earning rave reviews and audience approval, combining dark, bleak humor with suffering and healing. The show took on extra symbolic relevance when, midway through its run, Brussels saw one of the largest attacks on European soil, the biggest terrorist act committed in Belgian history. BU21 is a show that, though with a local, London orientation, has an international pertinence, having now been performed in Italy, Spain, with Australia and Germany to follow. Slade acknowledges that, despite the fact the show is about terrorism, it’s also about the human stories that come before, during and after – something that isn’t ‘fictional but incredibly natural. How disparate individuals cope’.

But this is just one facet of the show – it also sees a deep sense of introspection and audience interrogation, in a-near metatheatrical sense. The way Slade puts it – ‘we watch a lot of Kane and Shakespeare and the horror there is supposed to be cathartic – I never understood that. If we’re complicit with horrors on the stage, then we have to acknowledge it – otherwise it can sometimes become nothing more than misery porn.’ It’s a clear concern and one that Slade deals with comfortably, having one character break the fourth wall a certain time into the play and begin asking why exactly audiences have paid to see such a show, considering its content. It’s a bold sentiment, and one that theatremakers need to continue to ask themselves.

As for the UK’s adaptation, the show is about to be transplanted from Clapham’s Theatre503 to the central Trafalgar Studios – an exciting development for the project and the first time Slade has performed in the centre. ‘It’s a massive step moving to the Trafalgar – it’s interesting as the whole area feels more politically charged. The thrust stage is different to Theatre503’s end-on stage. Half way through the play the audience begin notionally inhabiting a PTSD group so it works there – the audience feel more a part of the show than ever.’ Slade’s nerves are eased somewhat by the fact that he’s still working with the same creative team, including 5 of the 6 original performers and director and long-term collaborator Dan Pick.

Despite the transfer to the centre, Slade is keen to emphasise just how critical Theatre503 was both to his own success and that of the show. ‘I started writing plays about 4 years ago’, he notes, ‘I didn’t want my daughter thinking I only wrote commercials’. Theatre503, especially the work of the likes of Steve Harper and the Rapid Response Sessions at 503, helped Slade find both his voice and, more importantly a team. They’ve been, in a nutshell, ‘massively supportive…people care. It’s the best place to do your first share’. The physical venue itself also gave the play something unexpectedly apt: ‘the thin walls, letting in the sirens of police cars and ambulances, gave the show a sense of immediacy’ – one that invariably gave the show the relevant tone and impact.

BU21’s move to the Trafalgar Studios is an exciting prospect, one that will no doubt invite a new generation of theatregoers to collaborate in his strikingly important world and hopefully, begin to question some of their assumptions regarding terrorism and the trauma that ensues.

BU21 opens at the Trafalgar Studios from the 4^th January.

Video Content – La Soiree, Boy With Beer

I’ve had a wonderful few weeks working on a few new theatrical projects: check out the videos here! The Boy With Beer Video is edging on 1000 hits – always a good figure!

Review: Half a Sixpence

Written for Theatre Bubble, 19th November 2016

Even in these direr of times, Julian Fellowes seems to have the unerring knack of warming our cockles, soothing our ails with plush, twee stories of times gone by, filled with exuberant romances and witty circumstances. His successes with Downton, Titanic, more recently in School of Rock, have turned his shows into landmark events of West End theatre – putting a new player on the central London billings for a few months.

Half a Sixpence has taken this exuberantly positive mentality (again, somewhat anachronistic given the current global circumstances) and run with them, introducing us to a bombastic experience of sights, sounds and exceptional choreography. The play has had a direct transfer from Chichester and the momentum is clear to see – the cast bounding across the stage with an unlimited sense of excitement. The newly discovered Charlie Stemp as the central role of Arthur Kipps is a particular ball of energy – likeable and boyish yet always on the right side of charm.

The plot is, though rarely rudimentary, by no means complex. Kipps, gifted with a fortune, is now thrust into a position of having to choose between two women – both, for sure, sympathetic, likeable human beings – though both from very different social circumstances. The commentary on class seems almost like a lovable tribute to our most beloved G&S rather than an actual meaningful discussion.

There is a ‘but’ to proceedings, and it is a rather big ‘but’. The whole cast, all 30 performers, are white (feel free to check the Cast page on their website to make sure) in what seems to be one of the least diverse casting decisions of modern memory. Going over the play this feels entirely unnecessary – there are a number of characters that could easily have been portrayed by people of colour – the fact that none are is almost staggering. There is a serious issue here that needs to be addressed – a telling sign of the mentality of some of the West End’s leading producers.

It was hard to go beyond this, but it is worth offering praise in some areas – Andrew Wright’s choreography, for instance, was an exciting visual treat, with some recurring motifs, always engaging, exciting and, pivotally fun. The same can be said of the design for the show (across the board) – never feeling like it needs to overdo itself, though also always creating the correct tone of charm and reckless abandon that allows Half a Sixpence to carve out its niche.

Interview: Amit Lahav, Artistic Director Of Gecko Theatre

‘Gecko shows have a long lifespan’. It’s an apt reflection from Amit Lahav, Artistic Director of the Company, chatting the day after the opening performance at the temporary base in Nuffield during the current tour. Often in development for over three or so years, Gecko’s performances invariably travel the world, wowing audiences in multiple continents, often simultaneously with two casts attached to different projects. It’s a track record that is rarely matched, with the company having spent more than a decade working on a number of titles, seeing them cultivate a specific prestigious standing.

A lot of this is invariably down to Lahav’s steerage, on top of his highly specialised company-based process. Gecko defies any form of conventional system for creating shows, instead depending on something far more ‘organic’. ‘You never know what a Gecko show will become’, he admits – a tantalising prospect for the creation process. It’s in the exploration that the Gecko shows thrive, rather than conforming to some overall agenda or concept. ‘You aren’t trying to service anything, you have to wait to see how it’ll resonate. There’s no script.’ In Lahav’s eyes, ’sound, choreography, design, these things all have to grow as one’, as was the case with Institute, currently touring the UK (before a scheduled departure for Sydney, (and beyond)).

Institute confronts (though never tries, suitably, to solve) mental health issues that can permeate through mundane and everyday life, sometimes finding visual beauty in the midst of intense emotional crises. It’s a deeply intrinsic piece now passing its second birthday, having received critical and audience acclaim in its time. Important as that is, Lahav is key to make sure the show continues to develop – organically. ‘The artistic rhythms have their own life, they lead themselves. Changes only happen when the show demands it, for example if something becomes stagnant – then it’s about bringing it back to life.’

A complex task, made all the more difficult given that this is a performance that succeeds, to a greater extent, when it allows audiences to take what they want from it. Nothing is certain in Institute – there is no consistent language spoken (or as Lahav puts it, ‘audiences have to come to realise they won’t understand everything that’s being said’), the show operates elusively, with the set, the lighting moving and transforming just as the characters do. This is entirely deliberate, and instrumental to Lahav’s process. ‘What the people make of the show belongs to them’, he states – ‘it’s almost entirely poetic and can be endlessly interpreted personally’. It’s a prominent mission statement, and one that Gecko have carried throughout their lucrative lifespan.

A key to giving audiences the scope to truly interpret and invest in shows is by guaranteeing that there is sense of artistic clarity – something that, to Lahav, many performances can often fail to convey. There seems to be a paradox, an enticing one at that in Gecko ideas – constructing these ambiguous, poetically elusive shows, while also guaranteeing that audiences always feel able and invited to bring their own ideas to the table, exiting the performance safe in the knowledge that their interpretation, whatever it may be, is always valid.

A key to this is through the aforementioned diverse use of linguistics that occurs in the performance. With the performers operating in a variety of languages, sometimes resorting to conversational gibberish, there’s a deliberate desire to avoid giving language too much credence. As Lahav puts it: ‘‘I don’t want to have a cerebral relationship with the audience that happens through language. Often language tends to be directive, but Gecko’s desire is to remove the anchoring – giving audiences a clear idea – you have to find another way to comprehend.’

He goes one step further, beyond the general theatrical impact that language can have. ‘Words are something to be distrustful of nowadays. They’re a powerful tool used by politicians and rarely coded in truth. A manipulative tool.’ Instead, it is the physicality of the performers that conveys the real messages in Institute – as it seems, for Gecko, ‘physicality is a truthful language’.

This is a powerful, important message that Lahav is commenting upon, and at no point does he make his distaste for the current Government less than opaque – talking with a conviction that can only be admired given the current circumstances of the arts in the United Kingdom. ‘We want to enable, give people a sense of empowerment to go and make work, to continue to be artists. It’s essential for the world.’ It’s this bold undertaking that charges both Lahav and his work  – he uses a recent example in Parliament to prove his point. ‘A few days ago a Scottish MP demanded that the Government respond to the release of I, Daniel Blake. The response was that it should be ignored – ‘it’s only fiction. Don’t look at it.’’ As artists, this form of sentiment from the establishment is incredibly troubling – if artists, filmmakers, even those who win the most prestigious prizes in their collective fields, are to be dismissed out of hand.

Gecko’s contribution to the current political circumstances have already begun – as Lahav puts it, ‘it’s our responsibility to share and, in its simplest form, we want to affect and change the world, however big you want to paint that picture.’ The company have initiated, alongside Ipswich Mind, using the themes and ideas of Institute to hold workshops directly discussing mental health issues. ‘It’s an unusual departure for Gecko to do these workshops’, Lahav notes, but ‘you have to keep open to these things. The workshops were never a plan when the show was first conceived, but for Lahav they can be an incredibly involving process. ‘We’re talking about emotional needs rather than talking about theatre-drama. Which is fascinating’. Within these workshops, participants are encouraged to physically, aurally demonstrate responses and ideas surrounding mental health, and, as a result, ‘touching people in a particular way.

Workshops like Gecko’s are something to be admired, no doubt, and Lahav has successfully used a critically acclaimed show to raise awareness for issues that, for all too long, have been dismissed out of hand. May other companies continue to carry the same torch.

Review: An Inspector Calls

Written for Theatre Bubble, November 11th

Stephen Daldry is truly reigning supreme right now (pun intended). Helming Netflix’s The Crown, the platform’s biggest financial endeavor to date, has gifted the director rave reviews, particularly his treatment of the relationship between the central monarchical couple. Turning his gaze back, therefore, to one of the most subtly socialist works of the twentieth century is an exhilaratingly left-field choice for the director (who oversaw the staggering redevelopment of the Royal Court in the 1990s), especially when his adaptation of Priestley’s work has now seen a number of iterations over the last couple of decades.

What Daldry continues to recognise however, is that as much as An Inspector Calls has now taken its place among the roster of dusty English language plays (confined to the GCSE set texts where it rubs shoulders with the likes of Earnest and Streetcar) there is truly something entirely subversive at the heart of the play – something that he is keen to coax out. It can be seen from the moment the curtain comes up – Ian Macneil’s set now suspending the Birling’s lavish room precariously from a scaffold, the characters almost on trial (Sheila Birling even comments on how the Inspector has given them the rope to hang themselves with). As it did in the early 1990s, here it frees up the play, giving it a barren, liminal environment of cobbled stones and cracked pavements to explore and digest the character actions and underlying themes.

From there, the texts plays out with its inevitable tragedy, reminding us of the thousands of Eva Smiths, John Smiths, that consistently see their lives undermined and suppressed by property-owners and self-obsessed individuals vying for knighthoods and social standing. It all feels all the more pertinent now the oak-panelled set has been deliberately eschewed.

Instrumental to the success of this particular revival is Liam Brennan’s central Goole – never the aloof, reserved gentleman that haunts the local lamppost, but here vibrant, humming, frustrated and, instrumentally, alive. Having seen Brennan’s turn in Diary of a Madman over the summer, seeing him come to the West End is an exciting treat – here is an actor that will have an invariably successful time in the coming few years. Around him Daldry amasses a legion of the forgotten, of the scorned, those left out in the cold by war and social persecution.

The remainder of the cast acquit themselves splendidly – building upon Priestley’s established figures, willing to both subvert and characterise these characters archetypes. Special mention must go to Barbara Marten – at first some ice-hewn figure but then slowly melts as the show progresses – the strangest notion of captivating.

At times, it all feels rather anachronistic in the ornate Playhouse – the eventual cramped wasteland feeling at odds with the interior design – it is obvious why the play succeeded so magnificently on the National’s stage. Perhaps a venue like the New London may have been more apt in giving the show the space to flex its muscles. Either way, this is a resounding piece of landmark theatre and, like all good landmarks, deserves to be revisited at regular occasions.

Review: The Red Barn

Written for Theatre Bubble, November 3rd 

David Hare’s latest, The Red Barn (adapted from the novel by George Simenon) is a play that yearns to be cinematic. Sliding apertures, each capable of travelling  the length and height of the stage, obscure the audience’s perceptions at various intervals, narrowing down on key details or creating an intense, claustrophobic context. It’s almost reminiscent of the cinematography of the incredible new TV adaptation of the Coen Brother’s Fargo,narrowing, shifting the frame across the screen, as though the monitor and the content are in some way disconnected. Certainly innovative, but this constant fluctuation did lead to some issues, as will be discussed further below.

Hare’s work is, for the most part, as fluid and punchy as a Hare script always is, delivered by a magnificent cast. Mark Strong, still riding the critical acclaim-wave of van Hove’s View from the Bridge, makes the emotional and mental turmoil of the central Donald Dodd an effortless symptom of a tortured man, capable of stepping into a supporting role for his co-stars whenever necessary. Elizabeth Debicki, a sure-fire rising star after some superb turns in The Night Manager and, before, that, The Great Gatsby (roped also into the Marvel fold with a turn in the Guardians of the Galaxy sequel, the programme notes) carries herself with some haughty, elusive composure, a constant source of intrigue. The quiet backbone of the show comes for the most part from Hope Davis – a character consistently analysed, debated and insulted, yet always pressing on, motivations always questioned yet rarely stated.

A shame, therefore, that Hare has the occasional fumble in his transformation of Simenon’s work. The casual mention of Dodd’s older brother, pigeonholed into a conversation with his father, feels intensely overworked and out of place, never before mentioned (and never again). The show’s ending, while thrilling, almost felt like a leap too far – as if something went unsaid. The dark irony of one of the character’s fate was, with every pun intended, eye-opening – this was a tale driven by the narrative; the darker subtexts that bubbled below simply the effects of it. Despite Hare’s insistence to the contrary, it was evident just how underdeveloped some of the female characters felt – passed off as enigmas or elusive may provide exciting developments for the plot, but not for sculpting real human beings.

Icke’s vision for the show was one of an intense thriller, perhaps akin almost to a Tarantino-placed snowstorm. The initial momentum of this vision melted away with the winter snow, leaving something with a more significant dip in energy in its wake. A symptom of the text, perhaps, but rarely remedied in execution.

The real winner is, of course, the tech – a mammoth effort that once again highlights the creative flexibility of the Lyttelton stage.  Bunny Christie’s design is vivaciously thorough – all of Dodd’s life, every room he frequents, is packed out with details from the Johnny Walker Whiskey through to the family portrait hanging above the crackling fireplace. This wasn’t just set design, it was world building.

An opportunity squandered perhaps, but an exciting experience nonetheless. The Red Barn is the sort of show the National relishes – star calibre with an intriguing plot. Ticking the boxes for a night of entertainment, but little beyond this.

Video: Edinburgh Fringe 2016 Work

This summer I ran a couple of shows across Edinburgh and made video content either for these shows or simply for my own entertainment.

See the results below!