Theatre Review: Here Lies Love, National Theatre

Natalie Mendoza (Imelda Marcos) in Here Lies Love. Credit Tristram Kenton

Natalie Mendoza (Imelda Marcos) in Here Lies Love. Credit Tristram Kenton

If there’s one thing everyone knows about the Former First Lady of the Philippines, Imelda Marcos, it’s that she loved shoes.

There are no mention of shoes in Here Lies Love (the inscription Imelda once said she wanted on her gravestone), but the David Byrne and Fatboy Slim penned musical about Imelda’s colourful life will certainly have you metaphorically donning your dancing shoes.

Here Lies Love is a frenetic, energetic slice of pure fun (and a little history). It follows Imelda from her humble-ish roots in the small town of Tacloban where her family were well to do enough to keep a servant, Estrella Cumpas (an endearing Gia Macuja Atchison), but not rich enough to pay her. Imelda dreamt big from the beginning and after winning (in this version, according to Wikipedia she actually came second) the local beauty contest and being dumped by first love Ninoy Aquino (Dean John-Wilson) for being too tall, she heads off to Manila where she catches the eye of budding politician Ferdinand Marcos (Mark Bautista).

Based on a concept album written by Talking Heads‘ David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, Here Lies Love is full of sassy charm and feels genuinely different. What it might lack in West End polish, it makes up for in enthusiasm and (largely) properly good songs. There are a couple of the usual musical meh numbers, but if you don’t come away singing title track ‘Here Lies Love’ you have a harder heart that Imelda at her most ruthless.Even I, who is allergic to forced clap-a-longs and queasy about over zealous theatrics, found myself bopping along (safely in my seat).

The set is a nightclub, complete with rotating platforms, inspired by Imelda famously converting one of her New York houses into a disco (OF COURSE) and Alex Timbers’s pacey direction immerses the audience into the camp frivolity. I was sitting, but down in the stalls the audience find themselves on the dancefloor and it was an awful lot of fun watching  British theatre goers shuffle self-consciously from my position on the balcony.The staging also features video projections and newsreel footage of the time – there’s a LOT going on.

Here Lies Love may be fabulous fun, but it has also has heart. Natalie Mandoza plays Imelda Marcos with force, but also reveals the First Lady’s tender side with some rousing ballads and the lyrics convey the human story behind the ruthless politician.

But above all, Here Lies Love is an energetic and exciting production and a dose of disco tonic.

Here Lies Love is at the National Theatre until 8 January 2015. For tickets and more information, visit www.nationaltheatre.org.uk.

by Suzanne Elliott

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Theatre Review: The Rivals, Arcola Theatre

Iain  Batchelor as Captain Jack Absolute in The Rivals at the Arcola Theatre

Iain Batchelor as Captain Jack Absolute in The Rivals at the Arcola Theatre

As Jane Austen showed, Regency Bath with its petty snobberies and bored, gouty bourgeoise was ripe for satirical picking. Richard Sheridan takes Austen’s gentle satire and cranks it up to 11, poking fun at the newly wealthy middle classes and minor aristocrats in The Rivals, a play brimming with playfulness of language and cocky bravado. The Arcola Theatre’s revival of it is every bit as fun as it should be, brightening up a filthy afternoon in Dalston (no easy feat).

Upper class Lydia Languish’s (Jenny Rainsford) head is full of romantic novels and longs to suffer for love like the heroines in the books she borrows from the circulating library (“vile places indeed!”). Happily for Lydia she  falls in love with a man she believes to be an impoverished officer, who goes by the hugely unromantic name of Ensign Beverley, who she is plotting to elope with.

Of course her posh relations, of which she only seems to have one, her aunt Mrs Malaprop (yes, her of using words in the wrong context fame) really won’t stand for her niece gallivanting off with a lowly red coat. In reality, Mrs Malaprop (Gemma Jones) actually has nothing to worry about as Beverley is actually the far richer – and much more plausibly named – Jack Absolute – who is having an absolute ball teasing his beloved with his great ruse (remember, these are the days before Pointless).

Jack’s wheeze hits a major stumbling block when his rather severe father, Sir Anthony Absolute (Nicholas Le Prevost), informs his son that he has arranged a marriage for him. Furious, Jack quarrels with his father before learning that he’s fated to be married to none other than… yes, Lydia Languish. Well I never!

But how will he get round the slippery problem of Lydia loving his poorer alter ego? And there’s also the problem of another real life rival, the rather boarish Bob Acres (Justin Edwards) who is determined to see off this upstart Beverley. Cue plenty of farcical mix-ups that encompass their small society including the romantically jealous Faulkland and his exasperated fiancee Julia, impoverished Irish gentleman Sir Lucius O’Trigger and several servants including Lucy who stirs the misunderstandings up to a roiling boil.

The story is delightfully and brilliantly daft, Sheridan’s genuinely funny script sends up 18th century society like a Jane Austen after a bottle of Port. As sparkling witty as Sheridan’s script is though, this play needs fine comic actors to pull it off, any hint of self-consciousness would render The Rivals toe-curling embarrassing to watch. The cast in Selina Cadell’s production tackle the story with bravado, pulling out the humour with some brilliantly judged campness and arch-knowingness. Gemma Jones (Spooks’ evil Connie) has fun with a pink-haired Mrs Malaprop and Jenny Rainsford is dramatically pouty mouthed as the spoilt Lydia. Justine Mitchell impresses as Julia who must convince her silly fiancé that she does love him with many flowery speeches. Iain Batchelor is an exuberant Jack Absolute brimming with cheeky charm and a convincing cockiness. You want to cheer when all’s well that ends well. Which of course it is.

The Rivals is on until 15th November at the Arcola Theatre. For tickets and more information visit www.arcolatheatre.com.

by Suzanne Elliott 

Book Review: Us by David Nicholls

Us by David Nicholls published by Hodder & Stoughton

Us by David Nicholls published by Hodder & Stoughton

I’ve always stayed clear of David Nicholls’ novels out of sheer prejudice, not letting actual plot facts get in the way of his reputation for bouncy, implausible romantic storylines. I dismissed One Day as schmaltzy and unrealistic without even reading a synopsis. And having seen the film of Starter for Ten, I believed my quota for warmly funny, quirky stories about happiness against the odds had been fulfilled.

But Us sounded harder nosed, it had after all been longlisted for the Man Booker Prize and we all know that novels don’t get a whiff of a Big Prize without a dose of misery to elevate it to Proper Literature status.

Us is very far from Thomas Hardy-bleak, but it’s a novel that combines humour with life’s harder moments, a half smile with teary eyes. Us is Douglas Petersen’s story of his relationship with Connie that at the beginning of the novel is on very shaky ground after she announces her intention to leave him after nearly a quarter of a century of marriage. Can a pre-planned family Grand Tour of Europe persuade Connie not to throw in the martial towel? It’s unlikely, but Douglas isn’t about to let the woman he adores slip from his life. So off we pop to the continent as we follow the Petersens on their often chaotic, but hugely entertaining journey across Europe’s great cities.

Douglas is a proper – not a trendy – geek, a biochemist with a real zeal for fly-fires. Connie is – of course, we are in Nicholls’ land –  the complete opposite, a free-wheeling artist who is late for flights and leaves the dishes until the morning. I came to realise quite quickly that Nicholls has no interest in challenging stereotypes. All the characters behave true to form from the anally-retentive scientist to the boho-artist, while Connie and Douglas’s teenage son, Albie, is moody, messy and often malicious (to his father anyway). This adherence to stereotype isn’t as annoying or as formulaic as it sounds because the story that Nicholls conjures up around this cast of cliches is heartwarming, engaging and occasionally embarrassing-yourself-on-the-bus funny.

Petersen doesn’t get it all his own way. Nicholls has given his one-personal narration enough rope to hang himself at times (see the ‘the glitter wars’ chapter ).  Like all the best storytellers Nicholls allows Douglas to develop without telling the reader what he’s like and as such, you’re never quite sure whose side you are on. Connie can be smug and self-obsessed. Her dismissal of science as boring and her frustration at Douglas’ struggle with culture (he does try) smack of an art school try-hard and for all her bohemian ways she seems rather priggish and unopen to ideas outside of her arty box. But, god, Douglas must  be a hard man to live with, despite his good intentions, his moodiness and self-righteousness emanate from the pages. In short, these are all too human characters and you feel their trials keenly.

Like Douglas Petersen, Nicholls isn’t a showy writer, but his style is far from pedestrian. It’s a brilliantly structured novel that flips between the present and the past, giving the reader enough clues to the outcome of both in the oscillating chapters to keep us eager for more details and givs the narrative a crucial structural reality.

I loved Us, it could be frustrating, it could be a little bit cutesy and slightly too ‘nice’ (the ending feels right in the context of the novel, but the outside world wouldn’t be so kind ) but it’s an ultimately joyful, funny exploration of a successfully, unsuccessful family.

Us by David Nicholls is published by Hodder & Stoughton.

by Suzanne Elliott