The audience at Shoreditch Town Hall were in stitches and I’m pretty certain this is the funniest Shakespearean show you’ll see anytime soon.
I leave the auditorium feeling undecided about all of the characters. Who I like, who I dislike, why. I think in the end that’s what is really interesting about this magnificent magnifying glass onto fractious family life, that no character is good or right or easy to understand.
I’ll hesitate to say that, in the first moments of Sleepless, I misjudged the capability of the enthralling company and the mysteries they have to tell us.
We are transposed, in spoken word at least, to an urban jungle where each animal from the original story becomes a unique form of dance or movement.
Pixie Lott glitters as socialite Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And she makes the part more brazenly modern than the sophisticated glamour that Audrey Hepburn had in the 1961 film.
There were humorous one liners and the beginning was very touching but Turf spun too far away into the ridiculous to be particularly entertaining.
The Soul of Wittgenstein, by Ron Elisha, is a sensitive and clever two-hander set during the Second World War. A patient and his hospital attendant develop a deep relationship based on learning facts and discovering life.
Helen McCrory’s Hester leads the National Theatre’s The Deep Blue Sea through calm and tempest. I found reverie and respect, hurt and pining, and pin-pointed elegance in The Deep Blue Sea.
The multi-textured piece had the “suggestive power” of life at its most ephemeral and day-to-day, with its meaningless cut offs and meanings beyond words captured superlatively by Lovett and nuanced by his musical company.
There’s this base on Pluto. We’re stranded there. The world is set all wonky. Everything is very clean.