Currently at the King’s Head Theatre, Diary of A Nobody is a wonderful mix of the best bits of Python-esque slapstick, multi-performances reminiscent of the Reduced Shakespeare Company, and an extremely tight design that only adds to the purposeful haphazard nature of the production.
Don’t miss this amazing production. The Railway Children is a fabulous few hours of entertainment that adults and children alike will enjoy. Embrace your inner child and enjoy the world of The Railway Children.
It’s gentle, fascinating stuff. Watching these two very different men bond over nothing really, except their maleness, and trade banter, bad jokes and tidbits of personal history – it’s like eavesdropping on a conversation at a Pub. Except that it is endlessly interesting, very funny and full of insight into the way lives are lived differently depending on circumstance and income.
Harmon writes vicious dialogue fearlessly and with potent froth. The characters are clearly defined by their speech and each seems real, accessible – possibly someone you might know. There are several real surprises along the way and not much ends up as it first seems. It is a sharp, clever piece of writing.
Some of the performances are deliberately bigger, determinedly more overtly comic, less confrontational than they were at the Donmar. This lessens the dramatic sense of the play in unsatisfactory ways, while ostensibly appealing, presumably, to the expected middle class audiences in the West End. Some of the acting remains first-rate and the inherent power of the writing, while diminished, is far from lost. Lewis Reeves, Richard Cant and Matt Bardock are even better than they were at the Donmar
Donahoe’s skill and effortless charisma has been inspirational. The play has shown, brightly and clearly, how no one is immune from the possibility of depression or thoughts of suicide and that everyone should be on the lookout – because everyone can help. There is just as much to laugh and smile about as there is to think deeply about.
At first glance it is a simple historical tale with a couple of central star turns; unremarkable fodder but capable of reaching glitzy heights. Ellis sees beyond that though, and although the casting is undeniably starry, this is a thoughtful, incisive and ultimately shattering meditation on tolerance, convention, acceptance and love.
Derek McLane provides a set which looks like the shattered innards of a grand piano. The proscenium is framed by bits of piano, and the back wall is almost entirely taken up by a tangle of piano wires – they stand in for the Woods in some ways. But the overall result is that the audience is constantly reminded that they are not watching a musical; they are inside one.
