Category: ARTS (2022)

Words by Ed King / Production pics by Johan Persson

“If Ghosts don’t exist, then why do people see them…?”

It’s a fair question, the eternal question, and for Danny Robins it has become an obsession underpinning a career. The one-time standup comedian has done OK from the undead, having penned and produced such well known podcasts as Haunted, The Battersea Poltergeist, and Uncanny.

But for most of us the idea of ghosts can produce fear, scorn, doubt, or even comfort, which is the game play for the four principal characters in 2:22 A Ghost Story – called as such because at 2:22am every morning Jenny (Fiona Wade) hears a man shuffling and crying in her daughter’s bedroom.

Her husband, Sam (George Rainsford), is away on a business trip and Jenny is left in a new and unfamiliar house alone … or is she?

The play is set in the living room and kitchen, with Sam’s old friend and possibly more, Lauren (Vera Chok), invited round for a dinner party, with the challenge being to stay up until the row of twos appear on the kitchen clock. Lauren’s brought Ben (Jay McGuiness) her new flame, thermostat expert, oh yeah and son of a medium – helpful when you literally offer a poltergeist a seat at the table.

Sam is ‘team sceptic’ and Jenny is ‘team believer’, phrases any listener of the podcast Uncanny will be all too familiar with, and Lauren and Ben are the grey area in between.

There’s character backstory that bring some familiar facets of the ghost delusion (hat tip to Dickie) to the fore, such as Jenny’s religious background and Sam’s unwavering need to prove his position – as well as Lauren’s need to challenge and Ben’s personal experience of fitting in.

But in essence it’s a discussion, one I’d suspect most people watching the play will have had at one point or another – otherwise they’d be in a different theatre. And the acting across the board is superb, with some standout first night confidence from Jay McGuiness – the cast member with more singing and dancing credits on his portfolio that down the line drama.

The lighting is simple and effective too, using blackouts (and I mean blackouts, I overheard one of the front of house staff kvetching about trying to find their way out of the stalls), lightning strike strobes, and framing the whole thing in a bold red border that creeps you out in between scenes.

I would have a word with whomever is operating the smoke machine though, which comes into play every time Ben pops backstage (the garden) for a cigarette, as they could do with taking their finger off the button a bit earlier – unless the laughs from the front row were some intended light relief.

Confidently directed by Matthew Dunster and Isobel Marr, firm hands with excellent credentials covering both established drama and new writing, this is a play that lives or dies (pun intended) on the strength of the script and those delivering it.

So, let’s look at that with the lights on. Save a few swear words that might surprise someone who followed the 12+ age guidance to the letter, it’s brilliant.

It’s not Shakespeare or Pinter, and it’s not trying to be – 2:22 A Ghost Story is a play about a possibly haunted house in modern day Greater London and the relationships between and behind the people on stage experiencing it – and by proxy, us all off stage too. And it works.

In fact, the weakest moment is the one bit I can’t tell you about, but you’ll probably love it (I can be ‘team sceptic’ when it comes to script writing) and by the time the penny drops it won’t affect your night out either way.

2:22 A Ghost Story is an engaging, funny, sometimes scary look at paranormal phenomena – beautifully acted by the 2024 cast. And if you’ve been interested enough in ghosts and ghost stories to read this review, you’ll love it.

2:22 A Ghost Story runs at The Alexandra Theatre in Birmingham until 20 January, with a BSL performance at 2:30pm on Saturday 20 January. For more information and direct links to online ticket sales, visit: www.222aghoststory.com

For more from The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, visit: www.atgtickets.com/venues/the-alexandra-theatre-birmingham/

Words & pic of cast by Amelia Daly

The pantomime, a cherished English tradition often underestimated in its artistry, set the stage for a magical evening as we settled into our seats at Sutton Town Hall for Talegate Theatre’s production of Jack and the Beanstalk.

Anticipating an enchanting Christmas-filled performance, the dimming lights accentuated the glow of head crowns and scattered plastic toys throughout the audience. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, particularly among the children perched on the edge of their seats, eagerly awaiting the show to commence.

Danny Mills, with his impeccable outfits and comedic ability, undeniably stole the show with his spot-on portrayal of the Dame, captivating the audience with every appearance. His comedic timing delivered the classic panto lines with ease whilst still making us feel shocked. And, adding another string to his bow, the majority of the diverse array of outfits worn by Mills were handmade by the talented actor himself. Stepping onto the stage in a striking cow-print ensemble, complete with a stylish hat and a ‘hot to trot’ necklace, Mills seamlessly blended camp and fashion.

The rest of the cast varied in quality; some of the singing fell short, and the acting was occasionally unconvincing. However, the ‘art of panto’ was mastered by certain cast members more effectively than others. Notably, Billy, portrayed by Tommy Murry, captured the essence of high energy and slapstick timing admirably. Jack, played by Harry Hindley, showcased commendable singing ability and portrayed believable character moments. Although both of their dancing lacked consistency and occasionally fell out of sync.

The choice of casting a woman, Rachel Richards, as the villain Slimeball was a refreshing departure from the norm and added a unique dimension. However, Richards failed to evoke a sense of intimidation; the antagonist lacked the menacing presence needed to elicit fear – even that onstage anticipation as an audience shouts out where the enemy may or may not be standing.

Nevertheless, the giant was genuinely scary, and the costumed performers shined, including the cow that, at times, stole the spotlight with their physical performance. The dance musical number stood out as another highlight, flawlessly performed by a group of incredibly heartwarming and adorable young dancers who – alongside Mills – confidently stole the show.

The obligatory inclusion of audience participation, especially the game of catch and throwing a necklace full of toilet rolls, brought a delightful interactive element that connected well with the crowd. (Perhaps my personal experience enhanced the enjoyment, as I happened to be an adept catcher of the toilet roll, making it a particularly memorable and engaging moment for me.)

However, at the beginning of the second act, when Jack and Billy successfully reached the top of the beanstalk, the humour took an unfortunate turn with repeated fat jokes aimed at the Dame. And in the context of 2023, such jokes feel cheap, outdated, and lacking humour.

While pantomimes often embrace plot holes and playfully poke fun at themselves, the notion that the Dame couldn’t ascend a ‘magic’ beanstalk due to a certain size felt strained. Especially considering that a four-legged cow effortlessly navigated the same beanstalk several times.

Overall, Talegate Theatre’s production of Jack in the Beanstalk at Sutton Town Hall was a delightful night that perfectly encapsulated what a local pantomime should be — a fantastic dose of Christmas fun. The show catered wonderfully to a diverse audience, ensuring enjoyment for every member of the family. Regardless of whether the actors hit every mark, the cast were great at creating a fun atmosphere.

If I were a resident of the Royal Town, or could get my way to Sutton Town Hall, I would undoubtedly make the trip to experience this festive piece of joy during the holiday season.

Jack and the Beanstalk runs at Sutton Coldfield Town Hall until 31 December, as presented by Talegate Theatre Productions – with tickets priced from £19/26 (children aged 2-16) and £26/29 (adults).

For more information and links to online ticket sales visit: www.suttoncoldfieldtownhall.com/pantomime-2023

For more on Talegate Theatre Productions visit: www.talegatetheatre.co.uk

For more from Sutton Coldfield Town Hall visit: www.suttoncoldfieldtownhall.com

Words by Jimmy Dougan (follow him on Letterboxd here) / Press images courtesy of Netflix

Mulling over Maestro, Bradley Cooper’s sophomore directorial effort for Netflix, the Yiddish word chutzpah sprang to mind.

As one of the most prolific composers and conductors in the history of classical music, Leonard Bernstein oozed chutzpah. But Cooper is clearly aiming to give the titular maestro a run for his money; not only has he co-authored the script with Josh Singer, but he’s also donned a prosthetic nose and cast himself as Bernstein. It’s an audacious gamble, and one which – just about – pays off.

Maestro is splendid filmmaking, emotionally rousing and psychologically involving. But Cooper is so blatantly awed by Bernstein that it ultimately grows just a tad tiresome. You respect his performance but are always conscious that you are, ultimately, watching somebody play pretend. In the context of the film Cooper has crafted, however, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Cooper and Singer’s script employs a horseshoe structure; we first see an aged Bernstein speaking about his deceased wife, before leaping back to 1943 when a young Bernstein is told that, with only a few hours’ notice and zero rehearsal time, he will be conducting the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. Cooper renders the scene with breathless, zingy excitement; in one take we miraculously travel from Bernstein’s bed, through the bowels of Carnegie Hall, up to its Parquet before soaring over the auditorium and to the waiting conductor’s stand.

Another wonderful sequence comes shortly afterwards where we see Bernstein at lunch with friends, including the woman he will marry, Felicia Montealegre Cohen (Carey Mulligan). Bernstein is advised to shorten his name to Burns, thereby omitting his Jewishness from his own name, and to give up his writing for musical theatre.

But Felicia wants to hear “that musical theatre stuff” and the two whisk themselves away to a Broadway stage where they find themselves entangled with a performance of Bernstein’s ballet Fancy Free. My mother, who came to the screening with me, spoke quietly to the screen: “I used to love this one when I was little.”

As Bernstein and Felicia find themselves drawn into the dance, the sequence – which captures the highs and lows of their courtship – grows increasingly foreboding. Maestro suggests that love and fidelity are a sort of dance. Two people pushing and pulling away from and towards each other; in the film, Bernstein with his ego and Felicia with her poise often resemble two bombs being transported alongside each other with great care.

It quickly becomes evident that Cooper is far more interested in Felicia’s psychological interior than he is interested in depicting the chronology of Bernstein’s career. Thankfully, Mulligan is luminous. She has always been a radiantly empathetic actress, and her eyes are two deep wells of unspoken feeling. It’s a devastating performance.

Bernstein talks: he talks and talks and talks. Felicia, on the other hand, is quieter and more contemplative. This difference gradually comes to suggest that not speaking is a kind of sound in itself. When should you not speak? Is it better to lie or to remain silent? A shame, then, that with regards to Bernstein’s sexuality the film does neither.

As an example: before he answers that fateful phone call in 1943, we hear Bernstein in bed with the clarinettist David Oppenheim (Matt Bomer), who is so thinly sketched as to barely register as a character. In 1971 Bernstein took 24-year-old music director Tom Cothran (Gideon Glick) as his lover. Worse than Bomer, Glick’s character is reduced to a twinkish femme for Mulligan to scowl at. It does both Glick and Mulligan a disservice.

The strangest – and most evidently deliberate – decision the film makes is to downplay Bernstein’s Jewishness and wholly omit his relationship with the state of Israel and the Israel Philharmonic. Though Bernstein’s concert in Beersheba in 1948 is worthy of a motion picture by itself, Maestro occasionally resembles a carefully assembled highlights reel, and it’s no coincidence that it’s when it simply allows its actors to inhabit the historical circumstance that the film takes flight.

Take Maestro’s rendering of Bernstein’s legendary conducting of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony at Ely Cathedral in 1973. It is, let me be very clear, one of the most extraordinary moments of cinema I have ever born witness to. If, like me, you believe that cinema exists to remind us why we have souls, then Christmas has come early; Cooper nails Bernstein’s frenzied conducting, Steve Morrow’s sound mixing has you hearing the beating of angel’s wings.

And it plays in full, six and a bit minutes, uninterrupted. No tricks of the camera. Just Cooper trying to inhabit the flesh and blood of a man he so clearly adores. He never will, however, which makes the act of him trying all the more beautiful.

You gotta hand it to him, that’s chutzpah.

Maestro – official trailer

Maestro is showing in selected cinemas across the UK – and available to stream via Netflix. For more info and links to streaming services: www.maestrofilmofficial.com

Words by Amelia Daly / Production pics by Paul Cotas

The Bodyguard musical starts with a bang, both literally and figuratively.

Just as everyone took their seats at the gala night, we heard gunshots, setting the tone for an evening that promises fun and killer tension. The opening number is sexy and fiery, with live pyro engulfing the stage, creating an intense and captivating atmosphere.

Emily Williams, portraying Rachel Marron, steps onto the stage. Her costume could use some refitting but her voice more than compensates, leaving everyone spellbound by her lungs.

Based on the 90s film, the story follows Marron, a superstar in need. A relentless stalker plagues her, so in comes Frank Farmer portrayed by Ayden Callaghan (known from Emmerdale and Hollyoaks) as her hired bodyguard. Their inevitable love story begins to unfold amidst thrilling moments, including a love triangle with her sister, and a soundtrack filled with Whitney Houston’s iconic discography.

Emily Williams’ incredible voice not only shines but also takes command of the stage, creating a mesmerising experience for the audience. But while her accent remains consistently impressive, the same might not be said for the rest of the cast.

Williams also excels in portraying a convincing mother, instilling genuine fear for both her family’s safety and her own. Her performance is a testament to her ability to convey authenticity and emotional depth. But while her character feels believable, there are moments when supporting actors let the production down.

Emily-Mae, who plays Marron’s sister, delivers an incredible performance in both acting and singing, fully immersing herself in the character and every emotional moment. Both actors induce goosebumps with their breathtaking voices.

However, the soundtrack’s immense popularity sometimes overshadows the acting scenes, making one yearn for the musical numbers to resume. It is no surprise The Bodyguard has the best-selling soundtrack of all time.

In 2023, the musical might feel slightly outdated. Some jokes miss their mark, and the use of massive projections of the leads’ faces during scene changes lacks some emotional depth.

When Rachel is in trouble a somewhat cliche slow-motion sequence occurs, diminishing the gravity of the moment and hampering the actors’ performances. I feel, however, that the production intentionally embraces these tropes and understands its purpose and target audience.

The second act begins with the bodyguard in bed and Marron fawning over him. I couldn’t help but giggle as I remember the review I received in the interval toilets queue: “He is not a great actor but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed’. Callaghan’s performance summed up perfectly; his accent and acting was questionable, soapy at many points and lacking intention for a majority of lines. But they got around the fact that he couldn’t sing by adding in a fun and intimate karaoke scene, which worked well.

Sex sells and it is definitely a selling point here. The actor who plays the stalker may only have a few lines but he makes up for it with topless scenes. Sensually pulling out a knife and running it down his shoulders, making murder very sexy.

Overall, The Bodyguard capitalises on its strengths. It’s a fun, entertaining show with incredible music and dance numbers. However, some acting moments lack depth and intentionality from the main characters.

Still, it’s hard to deny the infectious joy of singing and dancing along to hits like ‘I Want to Dance with Somebody.’ It caters to a particular audience and does so successfully—what’s not to enjoy about that?

The Bodyguard runs at the Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, until 30 December – with a range of tickets from £13/26.50 to £83.50

For more information and links to online ticket sales visit www.atgtickets.com/shows/the-bodyguard/the-alexandra-theatre-birmingham

Words by Jimmy Dougan (follow him on Letterboxd here) / Press images courtesy of A24 Films

A quietly devastating new work from one of the clearest voices in contemporary cinema, Joanna Hogg’s The Eternal Daughter is a strange and aching examination of mothers and their daughters.

It emerges gradually, as if through a haze, to act as a wonderful epilogue to Hogg’s The Souvenir films, and boasts a performance of breathtaking complexity from Tilda Swinton playing both a mother and her daughter.

But, like all of Hogg’s films, what strikes me most about The Eternal Daughter is how unbearably personal it feels: Hogg holds the mirror up to herself. The result is a piece of pained autobiography which is certainly the zenith of Hogg’s filmography and is one of the best films of the year.

The Eternal Daughter follows a filmmaker called Julie (Tilda Swinton), who is bringing her elderly mother to a country house hotel for her birthday. Julie is the name used by Hogg in 2019’s The Souvenir and its 2022 sequel as a stand-in for herself.

In The Eternal Daughter we see that Julie, now middle-aged, is working on a screenplay about her mother, called Rosalind (also the name of the mother from The Souvenir films) but the relationship appears to be strained. We gather that there is too much to say and not enough time.

Hogg posits this film as a coda of sorts to The Souvenir, but where those films were defined too often by drab realism and occasionally functionality The Eternal Daughter sees Hogg toying with genre in playful and confounding ways.

The hotel has a weirdly Gothic quality, with doors opening and closing as if pushed by invisible hands. The receptionist (Carly Sophia Davies) is coldly unwelcoming. Julie and Rosalind are ostensibly the hotel’s only guests, but Julie is disturbed by bumps in the night in the upstairs rooms.

It’s not necessarily scary, but even on a second-viewing the film remained genuinely unsettling. Hogg, perhaps, could’ve pushed the chills more; The Eternal Daughter occasionally veers close to camp. The climactic dinner scene upset me deeply but elicited laughs from elsewhere in the theatre.

Not that The Eternal Daughter is devoid of the hallmarks of previous Hogg features. There is an emphasis on architecture and space: like in 2013’s Exhibition, in which cold modernist house signified romantic stagnation, the hotel here suggests the compartmentalisation of memory, its myriad rooms hinting towards buried traumas. Note too the one-sided phone calls and those wonderful medium shots which place us, like ghosts, as a third unseen observer.

Hogg has always suggested that past and present uneasily share the same spaces and the two melt into each other for unsettling results here. An ingenuous decision is that Swinton plays both Julie and Rosalind, yet they are never seen together.

Instead, Hogg and cinematographer Ed Rutherford shoot them in separate frames so that their psychological distance is made manifest by the edges of the image itself. It’s an audacious and startling leap for Swinton, and she plays it beautifully. Both women have the same voice and share physical mannerisms, sweetly gesturing to the ways we carry our parents in our very physicality.

The film is structured around a series of dinners in the hotel’s empty restaurant: in the Q&A I was lucky to attend, Swinton said that she’d spend the morning improvising as Julie and the afternoon improvising as Rosalind. Editor Helle Le Fevre and Hogg would then stitch these two conversations into one, giving the impression of a continuous conversation. These scenes have a shot-reverse-shot rhythm which is gently hypnotic and makes the film’s spookier trappings even more effective.

The Eternal Daughter is an astonishing feat of filmmaking, a labyrinthine examination of parents and what they pass onto their children, and an emotionally complex and stylistically radical image of an artist grappling with grief and middle age.

It suggests a melding of past and present not only in that it sees Hogg breaking into new ground whilst playing with the motifs of her previous works, but through Swinton’s genuine, corporeal embodiment of a mother and her daughter. Hogg, it’s painfully clear, is baring her very soul for us. We cannot look away.

The Eternal Daughter – official trailer

The Eternal Daughter is released by A24 and BBC Film across UK cinemas on 24 November 2023, running at The Mockingbird Cinema from 24 to 30 November.

For more info and online sales visit: www.mockingbirdcinema.com/production/the-eternal-daughter

For more on The Eternal Daughter visit www.a24films.com/films/the-eternal-daughter