Skip to main content

Arsenic and Old Lace, stage tour 2006, Dir Robin Herford

Following Franz Capra's wonderful film starring Cary Grant is a tough call, but this is a well staged play. The set is a delight with a staircase, landing, windows and doors that provide plenty of interest before the actors begin.

Wayne Sleep plays the part of the unscrupulous surgeon, Dr Einstein and, being so tiny, is contrasted well against the enormously tall Damien Myerscough as Jonathan, for good comic effect. Myerscough uses some nice quirks which make the audience laugh, and plays the violent and disturbed criminal very well - not an easy role when expected to be menacing and laughable by turns.

Louise Jameson and Sherrie Hewson are cast as the two elderly spinsters, Martha and Abby Brewster, and whilst Hewson is spot on, Jameson is miscast. Hewson plays her role with an engaging sweetness and carries off innocent eccentricity perfectly, incorporating elderly body movements and mannerisms which are never overdone. Hewson is an experienced comedy actress. Jameson is more used to acting in Shakespearean drama, and looks too glamorous for this role, with blonde hair and an elegant posture. Her only concession to acting the part of an elderly woman is wearing glasses, because her body movements are agile and quite lively which betray youthful fitness. At one point, she bounds across the stage to open the door which looks incongruous. Playing 'old' roles is hard and requires more effort than this. Frequently her accent slips back into her own English from the staged American which is a distraction.

Quinn Patrick is excellent as Teddy, the deluded nephew who thinks he is Theodore Roosevelt and has a compelling stage presence, and Ian Targett as Mortimer almost identically tracks Grant's performance, mannerism for mannerism which is comforting, and he does well but lacks Grant's boyish appeal. It's fun, but Cary Grant is the master at these situation comedies and the Capra film still gets my vote.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. Dir Mike Leigh. 2008

Simple, retarded asthmatic gasps and giggles her way through this nonsensical film from Mike Leigh. 30 year old Poppy’s arrested development is masked by her carer who provides meals and stability. This form of care in the community works well so that Poppy is able to extend her adolescence in this flat-sharing arrangement by climbing into bed with her carer and exhibiting teenage tactile behaviour. Her flatmate is tolerant, even when getting no answers as to where Poppy has been and whether or not she’s ok. To Poppy’s credit she holds down a job. Inconceivably a primary school teacher, she is left in a position of responsibility with young children for long periods without supervision. However, classroom activities are restricted to making masks out of brown paper bags in case anyone thought primary school teaching involved real work. Leigh raises the possibility of serious subject matter when a boy begins to bully others. Without parental involvement, a Socia...

ACCATONE! Dir Piers Paulo Pasolini. 1961

Accatone! (1961) is the first film by director Piers Paulo Pasolini and re-relased as part of a box set of his work. Accatone! features a pitiless, self-serving, manipulative young pimp living in the slums and rubble of Rome, whose lassitude is infectious. Images of his death recur throughout the film and he seems barely living. The exclamation mark in the title may be there to try and wake him up. Pasolini shot the film on the streets, using the people he found there rather than professional actors. The effect is a slow moving realism which casts the viewer as reluctant voyeur; it is impossible to gain any distance from the unrelenting sadism of hollow machismo. Seeing this film fifty years after it was made, the misogyny in this film is deeply disturbing; women are either Madonna, virgin or whore. Accatone says prostitution is ‘a mother’s situation’ which provides the mixed message that it’s selfless and necessary for survival, yet he and his friends view whores as trash; to...

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 23

Hot Bodies The heat is intense today. My car is blue with a black interior and the sun on the metal is fierce and punishing. Even with the window open there is no relief. The sunroof has to stay closed because the ferocity of the burning sun is beyond bearing. I’m showing a friendly, chatty elderly couple round a bungalow in suburban bungalow-land where there is no sound but the churning of some piece of workman’s equipment nearby. I stay with the plot all round the house, answering questions, being helpful, making suggestions, until we come to the front bedroom and I turn to admire the view. Across the road are two workmen on the flat roof of a garage. One of them is facing us, wearing a baseball cap and bent slightly forward. All I can see is his perfect flat stomach; so flat that, as he bends, there are neat creases in the brown skin, as neat as pencil lines. He has not an ounce of fat covering his slim, naked upper body and trickles of sweat make tracks through the dirt on th...