
Christmas is rapidly approaching and with almost all our reviews published for the year (bar maybe one or two), we thought it was high time for Sarah Crompton to pick her top shows of the year! We’ll also be publishing our list of the best-reviewed shows from the year from across the UK, so stay tuned for that!
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I’ve chosen productions that continue to haunt me in December. This revival of Sarah Kane’s final, posthumously published play does exactly that. I think about it all the time. The original cast of Daniel Evans, Jo McInnes and Madeleine Potter made its themes of depression and mental illness sing differently but just as strongly. The moment at the end when the curtains are opened and light floods into the room is one of the greatest of the year.
Broadway star and Golden Globe winner Rachel Zegler stepping out onto the London Palladium’s balcony to sing “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” might have seemed like a gimmick, but it became something else. As crowds gathered to hear her sing each night, Jamie Lloyd’s production became the talking point of the year, an assertion of the power of theatre to reach out and involve everyone. It was also a cracking, stripped back production, with a fabulous Che in Diego Andres Rodriguez and extraordinary choreography from Fabian Aloise.
I know it’s cheating to put three Almeida productions in one entry, but what a year the north London theatre has had. Each of these productions lingers in the memory for different reasons: Omar Elerian’s production of Ionesco’s Rhinoceros made a haunting statement about conformity and featured a tormented performance from Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù; Romans by Alice Birch and starring Kyle Soller, was a riveting, complex study of masculinity, and utterly compelling; Moon for the Misbegotten featured three of the performances of the year from David Threlfall, Michael Shannon and above all Ruth Wilson as the tragic trio at the heart of Eugene O’Neill’s mighty, rambling play.
More performances to remember from Bryan Cranston, Paapa Essideu and Marianne Jean-Baptiste in particular in Ivo van Hove’s towering rethinking of Arthur Miller, reconfiguring a suburban drama in post-war America as an expressionistic tragedy, full of a sense of loss and family relationships torn apart. Both specific and universal, it showed the director and his cast at their very best.
The surprise of the year was what seemed like a fairly standard revival of Edmond Rostand’s classic drama about a poet and fighter with a big nose, turned into one of the most moving and involving nights of theatre. This was partly thanks to Adrian Lester’s performance in the title role, making his RSC debut and his return to theatre after many years away. But it was a pitch perfect production in every way, from Simon Evans’ direction and the adaptation by him and Debris Stevenson, to the costumes by Grace Smart and above all Alex Baranowski’s music.
Playwright Ava Pickett has had an astonishing year, with two extraordinary good plays. 1536 took a group of three friends in Tudor England and set them gossiping about the execution of Anne Boleyn as if it was an event unfolding today. The absolute reality of the dialogue revealed so much about their lives and drew unobtrusive parallels with the restrictions on women then and now. Emma, in contrast, dragged Jane Austen kicking and screaming into contemporary Essex and found perfect parallels for the lives of all the characters, while never losing the sense of moral worth that impels the book.
Conor McPherson’s The Weir was an instant sensation when it premiered in 1997. But this revival, directed by the playwright and starring Brendan Gleeson, found new strains and meanings within its simple construct of a group of people meeting in a pub, telling one another ghost stories. Gleeson was sensational; still and watchful, his presence lending gravity and an almost Beckett-like meaning to his words. In a strong group, Kate Phillips was also outstanding. Devastingly good.
Two big-budget musicals closed out the year, and they could not be more different. Michael Bond’s furry national treasure was brought to life with gasp-inducing brilliance under the stewardship of director Luke Sheppard, composer and lyricist Tom Fletcher and writer Jessica Swale, set for what is sure to be a long run at the Savoy Theatre. In a complete contrast, Jordan Fein’s production of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods only opened in December, but it’s not just its closeness that makes me think of it so fondly. Fein’s direction recognises that this show that appears to be about fairytales, is really about families, longing, and loss. On Tom Scutt’s magnificent set, which literally creates the woods, the makes each character matter, their doubts and fears real, helped by an extraordinary cast led by Jamie Parker, Katie Brayben and a sardonic witch in the shape of Kate Fleetwood. Glorious.
I’ve gone on and on about how much I love David Adjmi’s play which follows the progress of a band, locked in a studio for a year trying to make their critical second album. I love its immersive quality, the way that David Zinn’s set recreates a recording studio and the band (actors Nia Towle, Lucy Karczewski, Jack Riddiford, Zachary Hart and Chris Stack) play the instruments and songs live. But I also adore the way that it is about so many things, above all the sheer drudgery of creative effort, the price of art, the value of love.
Lynette Linton’s production of Lynn Nottage’s Intimate Apparel made for one of the most extraordinary nights in the theatre, as the audience leaned forward, reacting to every twist and turn of the plot. This level of engagement was prompted by the sheer power of the story telling as Samira Wiley’s struggling seamstress dreams of finding love and empowerment and is betrayed by a man she hopes will love her. The production had a dreamlike quality, helped by Alex Berry’s set, and Jai Morjaria’s rich lighting, but also by its own belief in the characters it was bringing to life on stage in front of your eyes. It was full of fabric, texture and silken delicacy. Utterly fabulous.