Theatre review: Closer, Donmar Warehouse

Rufus Sewell and Nancy Carroll in Closer at the Donmar Warehouse

Rufus Sewell and Nancy Carroll in Closer at the Donmar Warehouse

First performed at the National Theatre in 1997, Closer was written in a time when popular culture was teeming with studies of overly-sexed, overly-stressed, overly-self-obsessed people and their relationships. This was an era of This Life and Queer as Folk, TV programmes where the world for the under 35s was both hugely fun and horribly messy and hurtful.

Marber’s tale of sex and love has survived the best part of two decades better than many of us, in fact, in a time when internet dating and Tinder seem to magnify the differences between what men and women want, Closer could be seen as even more pertinent. In 20 years, men and women are still doing badly timed dances around each other because ultimately neither gender knows what beat we’re dancing.

Closer is about love, sex and London – and not the shiny Michelin star laden capital of the 21st century, but the slightly bleary eyed city that saw out the millennium. Against this slightly grubby background is this weary, crude and poignantly funny tale of four people trying to reconcile the ultimate mundanity of love. The two female leads were transformed into glamorous Americans in Steven Soderbergh’s 2004 film, but they make far more sense as spiky British women more used to failure.

Marber’s story directed by David Leveaux’s on Bunny Christie’s stark set should be a depressing watch – essentially, it’s saying, heterosexual men and women may be deeply attracted to each other, but they are doomed to misunderstand each other. But the script is shot full of enough wit and Leveaux keeps any arm-flailing at bay for it to be an absorbing and intelligent watch.

The four-hander follows (deeply, or just normally?) two flawed couples over several years, all grasping for love that they can never quite seize. Daniel Woolf  (Oliver Chris) is at once a hopeless romantic and an utter rat in the way these two characteristics are often flipsides of each other. He meets Alice Ayres (Rachel Redford), a young, beautiful orphan, when he scraps her off the street after she’s knocked down by a taxi. Dan, an obituary writer who dreams of becoming a novelist, takes her to hospital where Alice chooses to fall in love with him because he cuts the crusts off his sandwiches. He’s bewitched by her youth and kookiness and despite having a girlfriend, believes her to be the one. Alice is briefly treated by Larry (Rufus Sewell), a dermatologist who, in one of the many coincidences the play hangs on, Dan will, a few years later, set up with Anna – who he is now in love with – via a very funny exchange in an internet chat room. Dan first met Anna when she was taking his picture for the sleeve of his forthcoming novel that he’s finally written it. As he is prone to, Dan has become infatuated with Anna and so begins a circle of obsession and attraction between the four characters.

The characters are pretty damning representation of the human race, but they are not cardboard cutout villains, their very human flaws don’t distract from the appeal and the brilliance of a script full of those moments that resonant so much that you want to punch the air and shout ‘Yes. This’.

Marber’s brutal dialogue requires some pretty robust acting and the cast largely handler the script with conviction. Nancy Carroll was captivating as Anna, whose brittle efficiency hides a vulnerability that Carroll’s expressive eyes give away and I loved Rufus Sewell as Larry, a nice comic cadence cutting through the self importance of the other characters.

The Donmar’s production of Closer was good enough that the play’s niggles (the idea that Anna wouldn’t run a mile from a strange man in an aquarium who calls her a “cum-hungry bitch” even if he did look like Rufus Sewell; the beauty of the two women being so central to the story; what do these people talk about when they’re not arguing or snogging?) didn’t grate. As the production comes to an end, it remains to be seen if Marber’s play can survive another 17 years will as much spirit.

Closer | Donmar Warehouse | Until 4 April 2015

by Suzanne Elliott

Theatre Review: Charles III, Almeida Theatre

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Charles III was a very different play to the one I was expecting to see. I had read the (glowing) reviews and seen the promo pictures of the characters in Spitting Image masks and assumed it was a farce with a biting satirical edge. There was even a time that I thought it was a musical.

Maybe the real life Prince Charles was partly to blame for my pre-show assumptions,after all if any member of the royal family is rich for satire and mockery it’s our heir to the throne with his bah-humbug attitude to modern architecture (modern anything?) and his infamous convos with plants. But Mike Bartlett’s penned Charles III is far better than a rollicking farce – although it is often crying-with-laughter funny – it’s played with a seriousness and realism that surprised and impressed me.

Jocelyn Pooks rousing, majestic music accompanies the dramatic opening scene as the royals and assorted big wigs assemble for Elizabeth II’s funeral, setting the tone for a play that is compelling, emotional and thrilling. His mum still barely cold, Charles, even before he’s officially got that longed for crown on his head, is kicking up a fuss about the seen-and-not-heard nature of his role as head of state. Things go from awkward to very messy in a few days and by the second half it’s gone a bit V for Vendetta.

Everything about this new play by Barnett is brilliantly realised, from the instantly recognisable royals who grow out of their media-given straight jackets as the play develops, to the scenario of a tank in the grounds of Buckingham Palace. None of it seemed ludicrous even when we were laughing at what seemed absurd (I admit to laughing at the tank bit with some trepidation; would I look back at this moment when there was an actual tank sitting on the foreground of Buckingham Palace and wonder what was so funny?).

I loved, loved, loved Richard Goulding’s Prince Harry who grew from the tabloid fool we know (and in many cases, love) him for today, to a sensible duty-first second son, sprouting heartfelt blank verse like his name sake Prince Hal after he’s dumped Falstaff and is trying to get into his dad’s good books. And talking of Shakespeare, his influence is all over this, from Hamlet to Richard II and, in my mind most of all, King Lear, his poetry and supernatural plot lines haunt Rupert Goold’s production. Perhaps Shakespeare is most apparent when the political turns personal, because like all stories about princes, it’s the torment of the man versus the royal figure that ultimately leads to their downfall.

Tim Piggott-Smith is brilliant at playing parts where he’s both sympathetic and enormously frustrating, a skill he’s once again called on as Charles III. He’s fantastic as a man who is led by principle to the detriment of all else. He’s confused, bordering on the brink of madness, unable to comprehend the world around him like a better dress Lear. His face as he realises he’ll never be the king he’d hope to be is heartbreaking.

Lydia Wilson gives Kate Middleton a voice for the first time and what a voice; in Mike Bartlett’s play the future queen is a steely intelligent tour de force behind that glossy hair. I thought her character was brilliantly brought to life and completely believable. I hope the real Kate has half as much drive and intelligence as Wilson’s. Oliver Chris’ William was at first a Tim-nice-but-dim who soon stepped up to do his duty, politely of course, again squeeze your eyes half shut and he could have been Wills (with rather more hair).

Charles III is the kind of play we need right now, clever, witty, full of spark, critical without being sarky. Its triumphant run at the Almeida Theatre ends in two days, but I don’t think we’ve seen the last of this play.

Charles III finishes at the Almeida Theatre on Saturday 31 May, but returns to the Wyndhams Theatre in the West End briefly in September. For more information visit http://www.almeida.co.uk/event/kingcharleswe.

by Suzanne Elliott