Review The Cardinal

The Cardinal
by James Shirley

Les Liaisons Dangereuses
http://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/

We have to admit our knowledge of theatre history has hitherto jumped from the Revenge Tragedies to the Restoration plays, and left out the drama of the Caroline era. That is, the era when Charles I ruled before Oliver Cromwell engineered Chaxit and closed down the theatres.

So we are indebted to director Justin Audibert and his cast of James Shirley's 1641 tragicomedy for a sure-footed introduction to this witty chessboard of a play, The Cardinal.

Set in a Spanish court, yes, there's a more than an echo of John Webster's The Duchess Of Malfi with a touch of Measure For Measure.

But playwright Shirley turns out to be a real discovery for us. His own chequered background as a Catholic convert and the uncertain times in which he lived produces a shrewd assmilation of past masterpieces, but also a grasp of contemporary politics, a refreshing attitude to women and lucid, pointed verses.

The widowed Duchess Rosaura (Natalie Simpson), beautiful and smart niece of the King of Navarre (Ashley Cook) has been promised that she can marry the man of her choice. Nevertheless she finds herself coerced into a marriage with rough-hewn Columbo (Jay Saighal), the nephew of the scheming Cardinal (Stephen Boxer).

By hook or by crook she determines to marry the handsome Count D'Alvaraz (Marcus Griffiths) and, by legitimate if tricksy means, achieves her goal except that on her wedding day ...

Ah, dear blog reader, you'll have to skidaddle to Elephant and Castle's Newington Causeway and Southwark Playhouse to find out the often murderous twists and turns which have all the cliffhangers of a boxed set thriller.

Simpson (last seen as Cordelia in the RSC's King Lear) is a slender but tough Duchess, as sharp as the silver edge of a rapier matching the cynical wit of Boxer's scarlet-robed Cardinal with a wily but sceptical turn of phrase.

Timothy Speyer also gives good value as the Secretary evaluating a quick-changing situation. Ashley Cook's King has the stillness and dignity of a portrait amidst a fast moving plot when the country was still weighing up the worth of their own monarch. 

Shirley himself gained the favour of, without being fully a part of the court of, Charles I and his French wife Henrietta Maria.

There is a particular astuteness and scepticism which marks Shirley, also a grammarian and schoolmaster as well as a playwright, apart from those other playwrights he draws upon, making him appeal to a modern sensibility.

Anna Reid's light gray marble set gives a sense of the echoing halls of the Caroline era where swords clash in Bret Yount's excitingly choreographed fights   And surely those were not the chimes of Big Ben we heard in the midst of the chorals in Max Pappenheim's subtle echoing soundscape?

For a new perspective on an era and a remarkably clear-sighted play given a production of elegance and wry humour, we eschew the scarlet for a green light.    

Review Raising Martha

Raising Martha
by David Spicer

Shallow Grave
https://www.parktheatre.co.uk/

Traffic Light Theatregoer here - your detective inspector of plays. And here's a clue that's been mildly puzzling for your theatrical bobby and her thespian vehicle.

School dissection of frogs - that had disappeared from TLT's curriculum by the time she got to Biology GCE.  So the mention of 'O' Levels rather than GCSEs certainly felt strange in David Spicer's intermittently funny farce at the Park Theatre set in a contemporary farm for breeding frogs  so that school kids can cut them up.

Hands up all schools which still dissect frogs?

We're not sure they still exist, so it's not surprising that Gerry Duffy (Stephen Boxer), a tune in, drop out left over beatnik from the '60s and '70s, has decided to diversify after jointly inheriting the farm from his deceased mother, the eponymous Martha.

It's the grave of Martha, the frog farming matriarch, which has also been targeted by clod digging and hopping eternal student-type animal activists. That's Jago (Joel Fry), so aggressive we wondered he might be an agent provocateur (we're not giving anything away), and his passively sweet accomplice Marc (Tom Bennett). They're out to close down the farm using Martha's remains as a ransom bargaining chip dug up on the upper tier of designer Rebecca Brower's two-tier set.   

Then back to Gerry who, as we have said, has seen the market for dissection and vivisection vanish  Ah, maybe he's gone into farming culinary veterbrates, you may think. But no. Be prepared to suspend disbelief again. Using the  dwindling market for educational frogs as a front (?!!!),  he's gone straight across to breeding psychoactive toads alongside growing pot, producing a particularly hallucinogenic form of wacky baccy.

We have to admit, even in the fantastic world of farce, we were a little bemused by this leap (leap, geddit, ribbit?) in logic, but we were willing to suspend disbelief. Even if the never-mentioned leap in electricity and water usage and the bills might have been a clue for the blundering but politically savvy Ortonesque Detective Inspective Clout (Drop The Dead Donkey's Jeff Rawle).  After all, it could be a Gerry hallucination in his drug-addled existence.

Besides all this, there's Gerry's brother, co-beneficiary and snobbish would-be entrepreneur Roger (Julian) who has a hate-hate relationship with his brother, and Roger's daughter Caro (Gwyneth Keyworth) who has her own agenda in this amphibian environment.  

Director Michael Fentiman, along with the cast, have obviously put in a lot of very hard work to keep the momentum of this farce going. But there's no disguising a script where often the gags and set-ups have come first, shoehorned in rather than placed for coherent reasons, even in this caricatured environment.

There are also more cryptic serious elements introduced regarding policing and even an askance look at the Cold War. But these do not feel especially organically thought through in the plot. And some parts of the plot, such as the six-foot amphibians, feel more suited to sketch comedy, radio or cartoon than a stage play

It may have worked for us if it had been shorter and tighter. But as a two-act comedy, it is a play held together by the fragile algae of an energetic cast and diligent direction. So it's an amber light for a froggy piece that doesn't manage to reach princely status, but remains a bit of a tadpole.

Review The Inn At Lydda

The Inn At Lydda
by John Wolfson

Citizen Caesar
http://www.shakespearesglobe.com/

Ah, better late than never, TLT and her automotive sidekick had the immense pleasure of attending for the first time the Sam Wannamaker Playhouse the intimate wood-panelled, candle-lit indoor theatre adjacently attached to the main Globe theatre.

The occasion was The Inn At Lydda, a 1999 play by American John Wolfson -  picking up from a hint in  New Testament Apocrypha - which imagines a meeting between the emperor Tiberius (Stephen Boxer) and Jesus (Samuel Collings) at a Judean hostelry.

Influenced by Jean Giraudoux's La Guerre De Troie N'Aura Pas Lieu (an A level set text for TLT which has entered her thoughts lately as being due a modern translation!), the play even more obviously is a Shavian-like riff with traces of Shakespeare with echoes near the end of Chekhov. But you don't need to know all this to enjoy the mix of serious reflection and light touch Pythonesque/Carry On humour.

The three wise men, Balthasar (Richard Bremmer), Caspar (Joseph Marcell) and Melchior (Kevin Moore) have been on the road for thiry three years and now find themselves once again about to encounter Jesus, an  "old friend in trouble".

 The word resurrection is never used - there are only ambiguously supernatural or magical events with simple but effective use of the beeswax candle chandeliers rising and falling and often subtle music composed by Nick Powell..

Jesus is also the object of the despotic but dying Emperor Tiberius's voyage. The Imperial ruler has left his island retreat, dragging along his physician cum astronomer cum magician Thrysullus (David Cardy) in the hope that the Judean healer will give him a new lease of life.

Here, there and roundabout lurks the dark brooding red-swathed figure of apostle John (Matthew Romain) swinging round the pillars, not bringing the good news of the Gospel but the dire apocolyptic predictions of Revelations.

Yet everyone is cut adrift by the actions of one Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem who has carried out run of the mill executions to stop perceived threats to the Roman Empire. Everyone except Caligula (Philip Cumbus) who like some latter day pop star is doing a "singing tour of Europe", ordering sex on tap from both sexes and waiting for his chance to fill Tiberius's sandals and be "elected" by the Senate.

It could have been a heavy handed clunky mix of the serious and the comic. Yet it's directed iwth a delicate touch by Andy Jordan and somehow works in a fluent production which manages to bring tension to pre-destined events including in the words of the play "the come back" of Jesus.

At the same time, there's enough clarity,  characterfulness and coherence in the carefully-crafted text to bring thoughtfulness, reversals and conundrums with a distinctly modern tinge. It may be a slight play but it's an amber/green light for an enjoyable and thoughtful evening.