According to research, millennials in rich countries are having sex less these days. But they were prepared to talk more about it. So, it is no surprise to see a story about what happens when a series of no-strings-attached encounters start to become attachments. And the conversations arising from it. Such is the premise of After Sex, Siofra Dromgoole’s two-hander of the conversations afterwards. It’s not particularly sexy or erotic, and the snappy pacing and short scenes sometimes make you wish they stayed longer to finish the conversation. Nevertheless, it is still a funny and, at times, bittersweet picture of single lives in the big city. It’s currently playing at the Arcola Theatre . He is bi and works for her in an office job. She is neither ready for a commitment nor to let the office know what’s happening. He isn’t prepared to tell his mum there’s someone special in his life. He doesn’t speak to his dad, so his mum is his world. It’s a perfect relationship/arrangement. Or so it
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On long runs and intervals: 90 minutes straight through
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When is too much of a good thing, too much? I love going out to the theatre, but there is nothing more I love than hearing that what I am seeing is ninety minutes straight through. The fun of going out, the magic of theatre, brilliant performances, terrific writing... All in an hour and a half.
I was thinking about this during the week when at The Maids at Trafalgar Studios I misread the play length. I thought it was one hour fifteen but it actually was one hour fifty. "Do make sure you go to the bathroom beforehand," I thought I heard the usher say in a motherly voice. I'm sure they didn't say that but that is what I heard.
The Maids is a stylish new translation where two maids plot macabre ways of killing their mistress. It is a new translation of the Jean Genet play by Benedict Andrews and playwright Andrew Upton. It was first staged by Sydney Theatre Company in 2013.
In this production Uzo Aduba (from Netflix’s Orange Is the New Black) and Zawe Ashton (Fresh Meat) plot the downfall of Laura Carmichael (Lady Edith Downton Abbey). It is a bit of a star fest (particularly for fans of any of these television shows). The choice of casting firmly puts economic servitude at the front of your mind.
But that is not all the piece has to say. The performances are incredible for their unrelenting intensity and depravity. And throughout its twists and turns you feel the pain under the lightly padded seating of Trafalgar Studios. This makes the climax of the piece less engaging as one tries favouring one strained buttock over the other. It isn't the seating at fault. There just becomes a limit to how long you can be sitting down trying to keep still wherever you may be.
If they choose to insert an interval it would be hard to see where it would fit best. An interval would interrupt the flow of the piece. The tension that builds would be lost. Audience members aghast at the incessant use of the C-bomb and having flower petals swept up in their faces, may have taken the opportunity to leave. Perhaps a better solution would be to trim some of the earlier scenes.
There is an argument that the ninety minute play is the best length for audiences weaned on one hour television dramas. Maybe so, but there is also some basic logistics at work. If you need to commute and it is a school (work) night, it makes sense to get home at a reasonable hour. And a play that finishes around 9pm will let you do that.
Sometimes it is just not possible to stick to a shorter timescale when the subject demands for it. The current revival of My Mother Said I Never Should at the St James Theatre shows that when the subject matter is epic and the casting is right, you could stay all night to watch it. Even the better West End musicals add in unnecessary numbers and endless exposition. It is as if they make you want to feel that you have got your money's worth after paying those high prices.
But still I will always look forward to the short piece. After all even if the piece is not your cup of tea, you can be assured that it will soon be all over. And if it's great you will be yearning for more. Neither is a bad thing to be feeling leaving the theatre.
David McVicar's oddly modern production of Rigoletto is back at the Royal Opera House . This modern and minimalist dark production has evolved over the years. It is better lit now but there is still an orgy and full frontal nudity within the first thirty minutes. This enables anyone not in the stalls an excellent view of a flaccid penis and a nicely shaved bush. But as time goes it seems more and more superfluous to the main focus of this tragedy of a court jester who seeks revenge. Here is hoping that the production continues to evolve... Conductor John Eliot Gardiner keeps the music well paced. Dimitri Platanias in the title role sounded great and received a rapturous applause for his interpretation of the role. You get a sense more of the doting father rather than the court jester or cursed man here. Vittorio Grigolo plays the Duke and sounds too lovely to be the cad the role calls for, but it is hard not to like when he is on stage anyway. And it is easier to understan
Nowadays no self-respecting gay play can be staged without full frontal nudity of some kind. It feels like the default response for the modern gay play now that gay rights are no longer an issue . Afterglow, currently playing at Southwark Playhouse , serves it up in spades. From the beginning, three men are in a bed, naked. There’s what appears to be a very brief exhalation of ecstasy, before the obligatory rush to the shower. But the gratuitous nudity and excellent performances can’t conceal this is a pretty conventional and predictable story about a fantasy couple. The three men in the simultaneous orgasm at the start of the piece are Josh, Alex and Darius. Josh and Alex seem to live in a New York world where they can afford a rooftop apartment in Manhattan while holding jobs as a theatre director and a grad student in chemistry. As writer S. Asher Gelman based it on his own experiences, perhaps gay plays with full frontal nudity are the way to achieve financial security
Damn Yankees at the Landor Theatre is one hell of a fun, sexy show. A great cast of dancers and singers give this show about a man who sells his soul to get on his beloved baseball team (and give them a chance of winning) new legs and balls. It also helps to up the ante with the sexiness with some healthy doses of cleavage and legs (and that's just the men). The musical is a retelling of the Faust story set in the 1950s when the New York Yankees dominated the game.
