Laughing Boy (Jermyn Street, London, then Bath)
Verdict: The power of love
Connor’s mum, Sara, calls her son LB, short for Laughing Boy. Also London Buses, which her fun, funny child cuddled as others kids cuddle teddies. He hated shops, loud noise and darkness. He was ‘quirky’, says Sara, an Oxford academic, smiling through tears. Autistic, epileptic, Connor saw things in his own way. He could be a ‘handful’, but he was easy to love.
Notice the past tense. Aged 18, Connor left his special school, where he was safe and happy, and moved into the next phase of ‘care’: an Assessment and Treatment Unit run by Southern Health. He was never assessed. He was ‘treated’ with sedatives. Reports of his seizures were ignored. Locked in a bathroom, while his supervisor ordered groceries on-line, he drowned.
Stephen Unwin’s devastating dramatisation of his mother’s published memoir begins on that unforgettable scorching day in 2013.
So starts Sara’s tireless, fearless mission to expose the scandal of neglect and indifference which lead to Connor’s entirely preventable death while under NHS ‘care’. It culminates — and the irony is savage — with a tense, sickening scene in which Sara herself is put on trial, accused of going to work, instead of staying at home with her son, judged ‘monstrous’ by his case-worker.
Connor’s mum, Sara, calls her son LB, short for Laughing Boy. Also London Buses, which her fun, funny child cuddled as others kids cuddle teddies. He hated shops, loud noise and darkness
He was ‘quirky’, says Sara (pictured, Janie Dee), an Oxford academic, smiling through tears. Autistic, epileptic, Connor saw things in his own way. He could be a ‘handful’, but he was easy to love
Blurry images of children singing, of a smiling little Connor are projected on a curved white wall — like the end of a bath. Treasured videos. But Connor himself is ever-present, played by Alfie Friedman, intensely alive, asking questions, making statements, always ending in the word ‘Mum’. The connection between them is extraordinary, as is Janie Dee’s performance as his doggedly determined mother, her searing grief contained, her fury and frustration spilling over.
Almost unbearable, but essential campaigning theatre.
Jermyn Street Theatre to May 31; Theatre Royal, Bath, June 4-8.
ON TOUR…
BY VERONICA LEE
Moby Dick
Verdict: A whale of a tale
Retelling Herman Melville’s 19th-century novel about one man’s obsession with the eponymous whale is no mean feat, and Sebastian Armesto’s adaptation certainly has a good try. On Kate Bunce’s set of wooden planks, scaffolding and a sailcloth, he and director Jesse Jones spin the yarn — with its famous opening line ‘Call me Ishmael’ — using words, movement and music (mostly sea-shanties) with a nine-strong cast of actor-musicians.
Despite being a bracing story set mostly on the high seas, the first act moves slowly as Ishmael (Mark Arends) tell us why he’s about to board a whaling ship, and how his friendship with harpooner Queequeg (Tom Swale) began.
Retelling Herman Melville’s 19th-century novel about one man’s obsession with the eponymous whale is no mean feat, and Sebastian Armesto’s adaptation certainly has a good try
Despite being a bracing story set mostly on the high seas, the first act moves slowly as Ishmael (Mark Arends, pictured) tell us why he’s about to board a whaling ship, and how his friendship with harpooner Queequeg (Tom Swale) began
Once we’re under sail things move more briskly and we see Ahab (Guy Rhys), captain of the Pequod, becoming ever more obsessed with finding the elusive Moby Dick. He’s intent on getting revenge on the leviathan that took his leg, and the play’s two big scenes — encounters with sperm whales on the ocean waves — are genuinely thrilling: one ending with the stage bathed in red light, signifying the gory mess that killing one of these huge beasts involved.
The programme notes indicate the creative team’s wish to draw parallels between the wanton killing of whales in the 19th century and environmental destruction in the 21st. But happily Simple8’s touring production, in association with Royal & Derngate, doesn’t dwell on the political; rather it efficiently parlays the human weakness at the heart of Melville’s book.
As first mate Starbuck (Hannah Emanuel) points out: ‘Let Ahab beware of Ahab.’ And it’s the captain’s single-minded pursuit that will do for them all.
Moby Dick is touring until June 22 (simple8.co.uk)
BY VERONICA LEE
Frankie Goes To Bollywood
Verdict: Razzle but no dazzle
As with Bollywood movies, writer/director Pravesh Kumar packs a lot into his new musical, an entertaining but uneven mix of homage, satire, music and comedy.
Orphaned British-Asian Frankie (Laila Zaidi) works at her local cinema in Milton Keynes with her ‘sister-cousin’ Goldy (Katie Stasi); a chance meeting there with Bollywood director Prem (an underused Navin Kundra) takes her to Mumbai, to star in a film.
Her fantasy of India’s gargantuan film industry welcoming her into its bosom soon turns into a nightmare when she discovers it’s riven with misogyny and nepotism, and peopled by men like Raju King (Shakil Hussain, doing a marvellous turn as a big-on-ego, short-on-talent leading man).
While Mr Kumar takes his time to lay out the many strands in the story (the evening could do with a judicious cut), Frankie’s transition from sweet teen to stroppy diva happens too suddenly to be plausible — even if it is, like so much else in this busy production, entirely predictable.
As with Bollywood movies, writer/director Pravesh Kumar packs a lot into his new musical, an entertaining but uneven mix of homage, satire, music and comedy
Orphaned British-Asian Frankie (Laila Zaidi) works at her local cinema in Milton Keynes with her ‘sister-cousin’ Goldy (Katie Stasi); a chance meeting there with Bollywood director Prem (an underused Navin Kundra) takes her to Mumbai, to star in a film
That’s frustrating, as the writer is making some interesting points about belonging and identity, and how women are treated not just in Bollywood but in Indian society, which laps up the industry’s output while not, he suggests, questioning its unrealistic portrayal of women and relationships.
The character Malika (a strong Helen K. Wint), for example, is Raju’s leading lady but she’s quickly swept aside when the younger Frankie comes along.
Andy Kumar’s costume designs add lustre — saris unrolling to form a film backdrop when the action moves to Mumbai is an inspired touch — and the talented cast elevate the otherwise unmemorable songs: a mix of stirring pop ballads and Bollywood beats by Niraj Chag and Tasha Taylor Johnson. Ms Zaidi and Ms Stasi, meanwhile, are superb.
For tour dates see rifcotheatre.com
