Mulligan lights up this Hare classic
SKYLIGHT
Wyndham’s Theatre, London WC2
SI NCE T HE r i s e o f James Graham and his fascinating parliamentary play This House, David Hare is no longer the undisputed champion of political playwriting in this country. But director Stephen Daldry’s beautifully judged revival of Hare’s 1995 post-Thatcher play is a reminder of the finesse with which this heavyweight integrates political argument.
Bill Nighy is restaurant entrepreneur Tom and, in her West End debut, a captivating Carey Mulligan is idealistic school teacher Kyra with whom Tom had an affair. Bob Crowley’s terrific design centres on a high-rise block that overlooks the grubby interior of Kyra’s Kensal Rise flat, where all the action takes place. The block’s windows are brilliantly used to suggest the passage of time as lights go on and off and the sound of children fades in and out.
When the now-widowed Tom visits to reignite the relationship, the former lovers’ talk is not just of nostalgic memories about the days when Kyra worked in the family business, nor about her status as close family friend. It’s about the values that drive her to become a teacher of children in a deprived area and drive him to build an empire of posh restaurants in west London.
The evening is not only defined by two arguments, but by two very different acting styles. Mulligan is a joy to watch. There is a sorrowful stillness to her Kyra that suggests the deep wound sustained when she abruptly left Tom after his wife found out about the affair. Nighy’s Tom is the complete opposite. His voice is perfect, that of a by-the-boot-straps businessman who has made good. But physically it’s a puzzling performance. He darts around the stage, gesticulating with every syllable, kicking chairs and making sudden diversions that have no destination. Sometimes he stands with his back to the audience in a quasi rock-star pose.
I can see the need for contrast — it’s the clash of personality that makes them interesting. But Nighy’s posing needs reining in to prevent it from being distracting. Iron out some of that and you have a play that gets to the heart of the debate about addressing inequality in Britain, and also to the bruised hearts of two probably doomed lovers.
THE VALLEY OF ASTONISHMENT
Young Vic, London SE1
A NEW Peter Brook play is always keenly awaited. This one, which the 89-year-old director has co-written and co-directed with his long-time collaborator Marie-Helene Estienne, is the latest in a series of plays on neurology. It explores synaesthesia — enhanced responses to the world’s stimuli.
In some people, it results in an incredible ability to retain facts and sequences of numbers. In others, colours and tastes are triggered by words. None of this is easy to evoke. Brook regulars Kathryn Hunter, Marcello Magni and Jared McNeill play either those who have the condition or doctors who are researching it. The short and wistful play does give a sense of what a synaesthetic feels. But,of course,whatyouwantistounderstand the actual experience rather than than the emotions it triggers. On this, the show does its gentle best but ultimately leaves you less than astonished.
MAKING STALIN LAUGH
JW3, London NW3
IT MIGHT help to have more than a passing interest in Soviet politics to get the most out of David Schneider’s ambitious new play. Jewish artists such as the Moscow State Theatre’s Solomon Mikhoels, played here with great charisma by Darrell D’Silva, had extra reason to be afraid. Not only was there the risk of displeasing Stalin’s authorities with their art, but of playing to audiences for whom a good night out could equally mean a play or pogrom.
Schneider sets the action over a period of about a quarter-of-a-centu- ry, almost to the end of Stalin’s rule. And he skilfully sets out the political pressures and dangers under which Mikhoels and his company worked and survived. You can see why an RSC actor of D’Silva’s standing was attracted to a big, fat role such as this. According to Schneider, Mikhoels was as much a risk-taker artistically as he was a womaniser. With every production, he somehow had to reconcile staging a work that celebrated Jewishness without elevating Jews above, or even to the same level, as the rest of Soviet society.
Jewish suffering at the hands of the Nazis could be recognised but not singled out. Tricky. One wrong step and he or any member of his company would be arrested by the feared NKVD.
The result is a tense and dramatically fraught evening. Although well acted, Matthew Lloyd’s production lacks the ambition of Schneider’s script. This is a work deserving of a stage. It’s historically fascinating, and often absorbing. But you wonder if JW3, who commissioned it, has bitten off more than it can chew.