I believe this show was sold out before the run opened. The potentially juicy mix of Sir Ian McKellen starring in the new Mark Ravenhill play (Shopping and Fucking, Some Explicit Polaroids) was a big draw for London theatre goers. So scoring a ticket became an all day task, checking in with the box office periodically throughout the day for returns. Fortunately, two became available 15 minutes before showtime, and luckily, Mondays are apparently cheaper! So, good news for me.

Despite the somewhat mixed reviews, I loved this show. It was dark, gritty, hard to watch, and quintessentially English. They love their depressing shows here, and so do I!

The play exists in a scary future dystopia, in which the government is an even scarier beast than it is today. A black man appears in red garments, which could be either hopital scrubs or a prison uniform. He has arrived to receive The Cut. The reason why he’s being given this procedure are unclear (criminal? genetic inferiority? purging of classes and or races?) as are the results (death? lobotomy?) This man actually wants the procedure, as he’s looking forward to the absolute freedom it will allow him. McKellen’s character (Paul) hates his job, believes it is barbaric, and hides it from his wife and sons. In the first scene, John, the prisoner/patient, explains why he wants the cut, and the two of them engage in dialogue. Paul begs John to shoot him, to end his miserable existence because he’s unable to do it himself. John continues to beg for the cut, as Paul resists. John explains his case to Paul, eventually leading to Paul’s breaking point, where he caves, and begrudgingly administers the barbaric, bloody cut, and John, twitching, thanks him.

Scene two is Paul at home with his wife, a vapid, soulless shrew who speaks snidely to the housekeeper, naps all afternoon, and pops prescriptions like candy. Very well cast in the role is Deborah Findalay. We know she suspects what her husband does, but their communication is horrid. He wants to tell her something he knows she already suspects, and can’t. The scene reads as a little dance they play around each other each night. At one point he comes close to telling her, and she keeps interrupting him, and he breaks down sobbing. She hits and kicks him screaming, “You disgust me when you’re like this!” after which he tells her he loves her repeatedly, and she just looks at him and changes the subject. A tragically complex relationship.

Scene three, and the government has been overthrown. Paul is in jail for his actions, and his son visits him there. His own son tells him he is evil. Paul stands firm on his original statements that “at the end of the day, I am a good man.” He was only doing his job. And he explains to his son the very nature of revolution, and that someday, his son may find himself doing something for good, that others will consider evil. The play ends with Paul alone in his jail cell, contemplative.

McKellen’s performance is sheer perfection. His emotional breakdown was the best crying I’ve seen on stage. I could see how the ambiguity of the subject matter would be troubling for some, but even so, the show is worth seeing just for his genius performance.

It’s a very strange subject for a play, and quite a departure from what I know of Ravenhill. The production itself is very intimate, and uses silence itself as a weapon against our ears. You can actually hear the tension. The use of loud underscoring and sound effects add to the jarring, surreal, otherworldliness.

The show is really hard to watch, as you feel such sympathy for Paul. After seeing V For Vendetta the night before, I am wondering if the subject matter of government revolutions is a new trend in entertainment. Is this perhaps a sign of the times? Well, if good theatre is a by-product of reactions like America’s Patriot Act, I’m glad something good is coming of the loss of our freedoms.

Simon McBurney, actor/director/theatremaker, is the founder of Theatre de Complicite, a company known for their edgy, forward thinking, physical stage creations. This production of Measure For Measure at the Royal National Theatre was a joint venture between Complicite and the National. Couple those elements with one of Shakespeare’s most troubling, yet brilliant scripts, and you have a match made in theatre-heaven.

I had the opportunity to see Complicite’s production of Mnemonic twice, as I was such a fan of McBurney’s specific style of storytelling. I knew he would apply a similar asthetic to Shakespeare. The best thing about this production was it’s pacing. All but the most vital of passages were cut, leaving the absolute best 135 (uninterrupted) minutes of action. All the flowery, poetic, difficult to understand passages were cut. And yes, while that is what makes Shakespeare great, it’s also what makes him stuffy and incomprehensible. There wasn’t a line in this production that left me thinking, “Huh? What? Well, it sounded pretty…”

The acting, of course, was top notch. A nod to Naomi Frederick, as the virtuous Isabella. The role reads as a weak ingenue, with whom I’ve never sympathized. The casting of Frederick, a balzy, loud, powerhouse of an actress, almost lesbian-ish, was a bold and interesting choice, and created depth to this character I’ve never seen. Similarly, Angus Wright as the slimy Angelo, is not just a one dimensional villain. You almost feel sorry for the sicko. Almost.

McBurney himself played Vincentio, the Duke, who — although he does not have the largest role — exists as the protagonist within the play. I am so, so glad that he chose to address the largest problem within this “problem play”: the ending. Isabella’s brother Claudio is freed from prison, and her virginity is no longer at risk as payment for his freedom. However, after the Duke arrives as her savior, he then forces her to sleep with him instead! Most productions gloss over this detail, having the ingenue swoon into the arms of her savior. In this production, however, it reads how I’ve always felt it should go: that the Duke saved her from having to give it up to Angelo, just so he could have her to himself. So the hero is just as much a slimeball as the villain. And that’s why I like this play so much. It shows everyone from the prostitutes & criminals to the government & the media as flawed people. There is no clear definition of good and evil; everyone is flawed.

The production values, of course, were on par with anything you’d expect from the National Theatre. Visually, the play existed in a dark, harsh, unpleasant, bleak, bare world. Very little in the way of set. The technical star of this show was the collaboration between the sound and lights. Often, light changes were accompanied by a jarring sound effect, further adding to the unpleasantness. And the minimal set pieces allowed for actors to use their bodies and elements of mime, which is a standard of Complicite productions.

A modern, sleek, dark production of a show which explores the connections between sex, power, and punishment. Themes that are still as relevant today as they were in Shakespeare’s time. And that’s why we still love the Bard.

I had heard that this Sondheim favorite of mine was being done in the Fringe in London, so I was a bit wary of it’s quality. After all, it is rarely done, due to its difficult score and casting limitations. Then I heard that the show was completely sold out for its entire run, and transferring to the West End in May. As this is its last week in the Fringe, and I won’t be here in May, this was my last chance. I put my name on the list for return seats, and luckily, Chris & I were the last two seated. Sadly, we were ushered into the two crappiest seats in the house, all the way to the side in the front row; an extremely limited view at full price. I suppose we were lucky to get in at all, but they were officially the worst seats I’ve ever had.

The quality of the show quickly turned my mood around as soon as I saw the video projections come to life in the first scene. The show is technically difficult because George Seurat’s masterpiece painting (A Sunday Afternoon on the island of La Grande Jatte) literally comes to life on stage. In the original production they used set pieces and backdrops (in addition to people). This version beautifully uses video projections on the set, which begins and ends stark white. This beautifully echo’s George’s first and final lines; “White. A blank page or canvas…So many possibilities.”

Another challenge the show faces is the fact that everyone in act one is in France in the 1800’s. Everyone in act 2 is in New York, circa 1980. So costumes, accents, dialects, posture: everything is completely different, and is a huge challenge for actors. In particular, the role of Dot is one of the most challenging, really, in any show. Anna Jane Casey does a superb job as a playful woman desperately in love with a man who cannot love her back. Tragic, and so truthful is her situation. Then she comes back in act 2 as a 90 year old Southern woman (having spoken with her own, Manchester accent previously) - Dot’s daughter Marie, who is pictured as the baby in Seurat’s painting. To boot, the role is a nightmare, vocally - high belting and lots of drama. Sadly, she is being replaced for the West End run, presumably for bigger name.

Similarly, Daniel Evans masters his roles. First, as Seurat, who is depicted as a neurotic, cold genius, then as his great grandson (also George) battling the New York art scene. And in true Sonheim style, vocally, the role is another nightmare. It’s written for a high tenor who can sing fast patter songs, baritone arias, as well as a song in which he voices two dogs in conversation, on falsetto, one bass - and Evans nails it. I’ve rarely seen an actor so suited to a role as Evans is to Seurat. He captures the coldness while still creating a sympathetic character. Thankfully, he will be continuing on with the show.

It is really such a pleasure to hear this score live. The pit orchestra doesn’t miss a note or a dynamic change. A strong relationship with the musicians and actors is extremely important for this show. Much of the time, what is happening onstage is being echoed musically. While painting, each brush stoke is represented by a staccato note - recreating musically Seurat’s pointilism through the music. The actors and musicians are perfectly in synch.

This is a mostly flawless production of a very difficult play. The major theme is the artistic process, and it’s difficulties. Anyone that’s ever attempted to create art can sympathize with both Georges’ internal struggles. Clearly, Sondheim himself must feel a great empathy with his lead character. Art is hard. It is hard work. But in life, it’s all we really have. That and family. Those are the only things we leave behind when we die. This sentiment is explained by Marie in act 2’s “Children and Art.” The show makes me want to rush out into the streets, singing loudly, and painting everything I see.

Seeing Sweeney Todd was the most important item on my agenda for the week I was home in NYC. Sondheim’s masterpiece is undoubtedly one of the greatest ever works of musical theatre. It’s also a personal favorite of mine. The lush, intense score, the story of revenge and rage, the villainous and cursed characters, the overall bleak portrayal of humankind - right up my alley. I was quite curious to see what had been done to improve upon the show. When you have a near perfect script/score, it’s hard to make it any better. So instead, they made it different.

John Doyle and his production team decided to strip away much of the show and present it very starkly. Visually, the production is purely minimalist. Movement, costume, blocking, props, and set are all scaled down to a very basic, small scale. The story can just as adequately be told through such limited means, surprisingly.

What really makes the production unique, however, is the fact that there is no pit orchestra. All the actors onstage are also playing the show at the same time they are acting in it. Casting must have been an absolute nightmare - I don’t know too many triple threats, especially when the threats happen to be actor/singer/violin virtuoso. Quite impressive indeed. As the cast only has 9 actors/musicians, the sound isn’t as loud as you’d expect. However, the use of string instruments and new arrangements of the pieces give some of the songs an eerie, horror-movie sounding effect that they’ve never had before. You don’t miss the use of extraneous ensemble members, who are mostly useless within the story anyway.

What is most impressive about the performances is that the actors never stop acting - even when they are playing through a piece and not involved in the scene. None of the actors ever leave the stage; they sit in chairs along the side of the stage with their instruments until they are needed in a scene, in which they sometimes will have and play their instruments, or at other times, they are just acting or singing. The brilliant bit of directing was the fact that while an actor is out of the scene, accompanying another character, they are reacting to whatever is happening in the scene at hand. The best example of this is Lauren Molina as Johanna. Brilliantly performed as an erratic youth, she is shaking with fear as she accompanies Todd on her cello during his Epiphany.

The other performers are equally strong. Of course, the stars of the show really are Patti LuPone as Mrs. Lovett and Michael Ceveris as Todd. She brings youth, scarcasm and sex appeal to Lovett, as well as other attributes I’d never thought of for the character. Competely different from Angela Lansbury’s interpretation. Ceveris also brings a touch of youth to his character, as well as a vulnerability rarely seen. I think the role is a bit out of his vocal range, though - I prefer hearing his lilting tenor, and Todd is a low baritone throughout.

An odd casting choice to have a young woman playing Pirelli, but somehow it works. Donna Lynne Champlin plays the eccentric Italian barber with pinache and humor. Even if her singing voice isn’t the greatest in this cast, she rules with her accordian. And piano. And violin.

Manoel Feliciano is a fantastic Tobias. And violinist. And pianist. Youthful, tragic, with brilliant diction.

A nod to Alexander Gemignani for playing the Beadle with such dour chilliness. The character is usually done flamboyantly and foppishly, and this was something completely different.

One complaint that people might have about the production is that the cast is not composed of the strongest singers in the world. In particular, Benjamin Magnuson as Antony is at best, an average vocalist. You forgive the cast for their occasional vocal shortcomings because they more than make up for it in other ways. The best singers, clearly, are LuPone and Cerveris, who spend the least time playing instruments. Although it’s cool to see Patti strut with her tuba, and it’s great to see Cerveris with his acoustic guitar on a couple numbers (he’s an accomplished rock guitarist).

One final bit worth mentioning is the show’s framing device. The show begins and ends with Tobias in a mental hospital, everyone around him in lab coats. As the characters are killed off one by one, their deaths are represented by them putting on a blood-soaked lab-coat, and Mrs. Lovett pouring blood from one bucket to another. Very effective and simple. So most likely, we are to assume that the show is happening in Tobias’s head, and that’s he’s remembering events past which made him go insane.

There is one strange set/lighting choice that is a bit distracting. The only set decoration is the back wall, on which there are shelves. The shelves are stacked with piles and piles of objects - dishes, books, toys, and mostly other unidentifiable things. During the Johanna-centric scenes, a spotlight appears on a doll in a birdcage. During the Mrs. Lovett scenes, a spotlight appears on a Virgin Mary statue (I think - hard to tell). During the Judge scenes, the spotlight appears on a cross. What doesn’t make sense is why they stop at that. Only a few characters seem to have their own mascots. It’s a neat idea, but they should have followed through with it and included everyone. I also wonder how it ties in with the Toby/asylum angle. A bit confusing.

As a whole, however, this production is a brilliant, sharp, new, interesting and modern interpretation of a classic. Not to be missed.