RCS

Glasgow

3rd November

****

One of my all-time favourite novels since childhood was Robert Louis Stevenson’s intriguing tale of Dr Henry Jekyll and his metamorphosis into the ugly and cruel antithesis of all that is good and pure – Mr Edward Hyde. This story sits somewhere between the queer, freakish Grimms’ fairy tales that I absorbed from a young age and the ultra-violence portrayed in Anthony Burgess’ “A Clockwork Orange” which fascinated me during my twenties. The opportunity to see this “feverish nightmare”, brought to life by directors Lucien MacDougall and Benedicte Seierup inside the grand surroundings of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, was too good an opportunity to let slip past.

Turning a 20^th century definitive horror story into a fresh 21^st century triumph was never going to be an easy task. Any adaptation of a classic novel requires new-fangled, innovative designs which steer close enough to the original narrative but subsequently also manages to delve into previously unvisited possibilities. Couple this with the recent watershed furore currently surrounding Charlie Higson’s own transformation of Stevenson’s tale being screened on ITV, then an interesting night awaited us.

Whether or not MacDougall and Seierup signed a pact with the devil before the show will never be known, but the dense fog served up on a bleak November day in Glasgow was befitting of the story which awaited us. Seated around the perimeter of a set which consisted solely of a bed and a short ramp, the stage was effectively a blank canvas in which the cast painted themselves upon. Using Louis’ fever to exemplary effect, Ryan Havelin awakened the “bogey dream” in which the author conjured the story from, whilst fellow cast members replayed the nightmare effect by dressing in pyjamas and dressing gowns, bare-footed the duration of the play. This illusory idea worked gloriously in welcoming Chloe-Ann Taylor’s nightmarish, bestial and somewhat hirsute portrayal of Edward Hyde opposite co-lead Conor Hinds as the likeable but pliable Dr Henry Jekyll. Using Louis cleverly as a narrator and a character within the context of some of his own feverish disintegrations, the show was capable of flitting in and out of dialogue between characters and towards audience with general ease.

What was most exceptional about the play was the sound, lighting, and inclusion of a large screen to digitalise horror scenes, the internal struggles of the psyche, and even shadow theatre to bring Hyde’s monster alive in ways that Taylor’s contorted face could not. Rumbling growls and rubber masks aside, nothing was more spine-tingling than a scene entailing a monster-under-the-bed situation which made full use of the split-screen, split-personality, and split-narrative with alarming effect. Catherine Barr’s sharp execution as Gabriel Utterson the lawyer and Colleen Cameron’s take on Dr Lanyon were refreshing female depictions of male characters within the tale that carried the story, faithful to the original text, in ways that one feels a masculine portrayal would have worked to a lesser effect. A great deal of what also worked so well in this play were the relationships – the symmetrical narration of Jekyll and Hyde, the dynamics of Louis’ little notes being passed as letters to members of cast – like online props being tweeted; a script being invoked from his sickness. Letters read from ‘living’ cast members were mirrored by the ghosts of those who had perished – echoing the warnings and concerns that had stirred inside them, prior to reaching their graves.

The music of Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra were also used to chilling effect as Hyde’s reptilian character came to the fore – a marching drumbeat in tandem with the twitching, edgy cast members who bore teeth in a freakish manner to illustrate the Satanic urges inside this creature. Just as queer at times were Havelin’s impressions of Louis, spinning into delirium, psychobabble, tongue lolling and hysterical giggles as Lanyon meets his unfortunate denouement. The parallelism between Louis, the writer, with his creations is so negligible that one struggles to divide the story from the reality – something which the Royal Conservatoire cast and production team have to take enormous credit for. Nothing is quite as scary as real life, and this four-night adaptation crams a lifetime of Hallowe’ens into a ninety-minute account of disturbing, phantasmagorical horror. Nightmares never looked so appealing. FOUR STARS

Reviewer : Stephen Watt

This inspired production (directed by Guy Retallack) of Frank Capra’s classic film is staged as a radio play. Set in the forties, the director captures the era perfectly by transforming the film into a ‘wireless’ piece and using live sound effects to compliment the action. Actors play various roles and move in and out with ease. They do so effortlessly and effectively, for example Ernie the taxi driver also plays the younger George Bailey. Show casing their wide variety of acting skills and abilities.

Reviewer : Stephanie McDaid

Play, Pie, Pint

Oran Mor, Glasgow

2nd-6th November

£12

Eloquently Weegie couple James  Baxter and love of his life wife Aggie Baxter enchant us on an epic foray through post NHS medical care in this gem that is set in the 2040’s. This is a time where cotton wool costs £14 a packet and is compared to, ‘ a wee bit preserved from Maggie Thatcher’s pubic hair.’

Aggie (Maureen Carr) is terminally ill but she’s not suffering this without the irony splattered patter that has been honed to side-splitting accuracy from her lifetime of living with husband Jim (George Docherty), the fixer –  the fixer of hoovers, ‘That only took thirty minutes.’  Aggie complains that it has been more like thirty years since she saw that hoover and Jim with lightning speed retorts, ‘Aye, but it took thirty uninterrupted minutes.’ Not wishing to spoil the priceless banter that occurs between this couple who have found themselves let down hugely by their Health, hope and happiness medical insurance package that doesn’t cover cancer, I cannot recommend enough an appointment with, ‘ Heart of gold, mouth of filth, perfect Govan lady’ and Jim, her wannabe surgeon husband.

This is the funniest play I have seen in this Autumn’s excellent offerings at Oran Mor where we are always entertained and challenged in some form or another. How can you not engage with Aggie when her harsh humour is contested by Jim, ‘Maybe you could try shouting at the cancer till it fucks off.’ Writer Gary McNair takes on and vents the anger we all feel at the socio-political scandal that is happening to our healthcare, already involved in privatising cancer and end of life care in Staffordshire to bidding US companies such as Optum (currently facing hospice-packing allegations). McNair does this with humour which packs the biggest punch. How this play is funny given the very real terror of what we are facing is entirely due to McNair’s colloquies which make you laugh, think and want to be pro-active.

Not complacent – seeing this will make you want to help the future Aggies who lament about our era, ‘ They sold it off and we let them. We didn’t need to make it so easy for them.’ Don’t let this third offering by Gary McNair for pass you by. FIVE STARS

Reviewer: Clare Crines