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King Lear – Duke of York’s Theatre Nobody can say my life in the London theatre is boring. This week I’ve seen what many consider to be the greatest play in the English language performed by what many consider to be the greatest living actor in the English theatre. I’ve roared with laughter at a terrific parody of the current big hit musical, and I’ve been entertained and confused by…..well, more on that later. I came away from Ian McKellen’s devastating Lear with tears running down my face and the sense that I never needed to see this play again in my lifetime. Tears? What’s wrong with you, woman, haven’t you ever seen this play before? Yes, many times but not like this. Didn’t you know what was going to happen? Cordelia’s dead, Regan and Goneril are dead, Fool is dead, Gloucester is blind, and, crucially, the old King is dying. England, so strong and arrogant at the start, is dead too, rent on the altar of hubris and mismanagement. I knew all this going in. So, what made me cry? McKellen’s face at the end of the play and Lear’s life, revisiting all the mistakes of his life from the thoughtless division of the kingdom, to the bombastic insistence on his daughters’ declarations of love, to his lack of understanding of Cordelia’s teenage rebellion, through all those disastrous consequences of his own actions that we have seen, mirrored in his face, and what is left is not resignation but regret. He should have done it all differently and somehow he makes us see that he knows that. McKellen’s dying Lear is not angry but sad, not resigned but devastated at his own failings. All this he shows us and his changing expressions reflect everything that Shakespeare has given him to do and say throughout the play. He knows, and Shakespeare knows, and we know, that it’s too late to change anything. Sinead Cusack’s elegant Kent, Danny Webb’s sinewy Gloucester and the exciting discovery of Anita-Joy Uwajeh’s Cordelia are standouts in Jonathan Mumby’s standout cast. It is impossible to ignore the parallels of what happens when a country’s leaders are preoccupied by political minutae such as who wipes his feet at the door. By such small stuff Lear’s England ceases to exist. Sound familiar? (Lies) £¥€$– Almeida Theatre Yes, those are currency symbols – pound, yen, euro, dollar – and collectively, if you read them right, they describe the world banking system according to the very clever Dutch company that conceived and produced this fascinating evening at the Almeida. I hesitate to call it a play but, whatever it is, it’s a lot of fun and highly informative. The audience is divided into players at gaming tables, each with a croupier-figure who directs the action, assisted by other shadowy figures who visit the tables with tempting financial instruments they try to sell us. The conceit is that we are all bankers who can bet, with chips of various denominations, on whether to invest in certain goods or services, depending on throws of the dice. Now, regular readers will know that, in general, I dislike audience participation and immersive theatre in equal measure. I reckon it’s the actors’ job to put on the play and mine to watch it. If I’m going to be called into service to make the play work then they’re going to have to pay me a performer’s salary to do it. Except this one. It’s impossible not to be drawn into the game as the Ontroerend Goed company have set it up. The odds and market prices are marked on a board and the participant bankers, that’s us, get to play with other peoples’ money, just like real bankers. The concept is so simple and so well designed that the movement of money – yours and everyone else’s – is exposed as the sleight of hand it undoubtedly is. There’s more to it than this but it’s a good game and a eye-opening lesson in the gamble otherwise known as international banking. £¥€$ made me want to take every penny I have and stuff it in a sock under the bed. It’s safer there. Spamilton – Menier Chocolate Factory New York theatregoers have long known that a new Forbidden Broadway, an invariably funny and irreverent lampoon of current theatre, is a ‘don’t miss’ event. Gerard Alessandrini has written and directed every version of this theatrical institution, he’s even done Forbidden Hollywood and countless other spinoffs. Forbidden Broadway in its various incarnations, constantly updated as new shows opened, has had a 30-year unbroken run in New York and is deeply loved by aficionados like me. Now he has brought his poisoned pen and vicious imagination (I mean this in a good way) to the most popular musical of our time – Hamilton – and Lin-Manuel Miranda should be both delighted and grateful that his marvellous show has been honoured in this way. Hamilton isn’t the only show subjected to Alessandrini’s barbs, he’s an equal opportunity parodist, but he saves his newest and freshest arrows for this one. An outstanding cast of five young singers (who must have an oxygen tank backstage) take on the dozens of songs and dances directed by Alessandrini and choreographed by his longtime colleague Gerry McIntyre without apparently drawing breath. Giving them a breather, in several very funny turns, are the experienced Sophie-Louise Dann and Damian Humbley who also manage to take the roof off the Choc Factory with their carefully judged send-ups of clearly recognisable stars. Spamilton is the funniest show currently playing and it has already had its run extended but I would be less than honest if I didn’t point out that it will mean a lot more if you’ve already seen Hamilton and even more if you’re a theatre nut with a special emphasis on musicals.
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AuthorRuth Leon is a writer and critic specialising in music and theatre. Archives
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