There is a great deal to admire about She Called Me Mother, a play which gives a voice to the homeless and victims of abuse. Funny, poignant, and often distressing, Michelle Inniss’s debut piece explores her characters’ memories to compellingly visceral effect.
Master of the Macabre, now showing at The Vaults Theatre until 1 November, is a curious and entertaining evening. There are some fun thrills and tricks along the way, but ultimately it sort of falls flat, when it comes to its story and delivery.
Whilst I don’t think What Am I Doing?: Tales From a Worrying Actor quite fulfilled its promise of exploring the essence of worrying, Gregory Hazel’s easy charisma, coupled with consistently entertaining anecdotes, made for an enjoyable one man show. Constructed as a collection of songs and monologues, the show thrives on Hazel’s ability to poke fun at himself. Though the music sometimes lacked a personal touch, his storytelling offered a memorable insight into the absurdities of his profession, and its associated anxieties.
Holland Taylor is in exceptional form as the coiled, steely Abby. She manages to humanise a thoroughly inhuman creature, making her likeable despite Abby’s more loathsome attributes. This is a real testament to Taylor’s finely honed skills – she truly makes something out of nothing. In particular, in one key scene, late in the play, she is marvellously unsentimental when the text (and the audience the night I was there) seems to beg for maudlin excess.
Director Andy Blankenbuehler has achieved something remarkable and electrifying here. Together with David Korins (Scenic design), Jeff Croiter (Lighting design) and Paloma Young (Costume design), Blankenbuehler creates a theatrical language and feel which is seductive and powerful. At most times, the sense of theatre, music and war co-exist, permanently reminding of the scars of battle borne by the musicians whose story lies at the heart of the musical. Occasionally scenes or vignettes jolt you from the happy place of clubs and nightspots swinging and evoke a world of dog tags and distress. It’s smoothly and smartly done; perfectly executed.
In sum this is a show that deserves all the plaudits that have come its way and should receive a long run both at the King’s Cross Theatre and in even larger West End venues.
Henry VI stands out as the play in this triptych that most benefits from Barton’s editing and clarifications. Characters and scenes are cut away in profusion to reveal a focus on the nature of good and bad governance.
Trying to highlight individual performances or individual songs is pointless, this is a show to be savoured as whole, not just once but many times.
