Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel is about two flawed individuals whose pride and wayward spirits must be curbed before they can learn to rely on God’s love and on each other. At the story's heart is the need to learn Christian humility and to submit the self to a higher moral purpose. It is a sentiment unlikely to resonate with a contemporary secular audience, which may explain why the novel is more often remembered or presented as a tempestuous love story between two strong-willed characters. This latest musical version does grapple with Brontë’s religious themes, notably through its presentation of Helen Burns as Jane’s role model and the recurring emphasis on forgiveness in her signature song. The reconciliation between Jane and her childhood tormentor, Mrs Reed, similarly brings Brontë’s moral concerns to the fore, as do songs such as “My Maker” and “Children of God”. Yet these elements sit somewhat uneasily alongside the bodice-ripper of a romance that audiences are more likely t...

Step into the refreshment room at Milford Junction railway station and you are likely to overhear some interesting snippets of conversation. The voices belong to the characters of Noël Coward’s Still Life , which has transferred to Theatre Royal Drury Lane from the Mill at Sonning. Written in 1936 and later immortalised by David Lean’s classic film Brief Encounter , Coward’s short play is presented as an intimate immersive experience, complete with afternoon tea. It is a clever and convincing combination. Theatre Royal Drury Lane is a lovely setting, with its bar transformed into a charming station refreshment room, while the audience becomes the actors' fellow passengers and customers. Having tea while watching first-rate theatre seems entirely natural, and both the tea and the drama are particularly good. The savouries, scones and sweets are on a level with some of the nicer teas in London, and Coward's drama is wonderfully romantic and wistful. The quality of the performance...

When a young white American couple become lost in a black neighbourhood while searching for a restaurant, they are attacked by a stranger. However, what initially appears to be a fairly straightforward crime drama takes on another dimension when the assault is investigated by an ambitious young black female reporter who is increasingly at odds with her colleagues. From questions about black identity and assimilation into white society to the role and responsibilities of a free press, The Story tackles a wide range of issues, all woven into a crime plot with so many twists and turns that it can become difficult to follow. Add to this some complex characters whose backstories could each have provided sufficient material for a play in its own right, and two hours on stage simply does not provide enough time for author Tracey Scott Wilson to develop all the plot strands, themes and characters she wants to explore. Nor does Director Clint Dyer's staging make it any easier for the audie...

Brian Friel’s version of Turgenev’s A Month in the Country is more sexually and psychologically explicit than the original, with the character of Natalya firmly at its centre. Her boredom, sense of entitlement and neediness become the driving forces of a drama in which desire, jealousy and emotional frustration steadily destabilise a superficially tranquil household. Friel makes the play leaner, livelier and considerably funnier than the original. Turgenev regarded his plays as works to be read rather than performed, and Friel cuts the wordiness while bringing the characters’ suppressed feelings sharply to the surface. However, he retains Turgenev’s rich imagery. The curtain rises on a card game in which the comic tutor Schaaf declares that hearts are trump, neatly prefiguring the romantic entanglements to come. Aleksey’s kite, a symbol of youthful freedom and carefree abandon, vividly suggests why Natalya is increasingly attracted to the young tutor. Indeed, his exuberance stands in ...

A caveat that generally applies to fringe theatre is that when a show is written by, directed by and stars the same person, they have probably taken on too much. Arnold Wesker wrote Annie Wobbler for Nichola McAuliffe in 1981, but it is difficult to discern how much of the original remains in this updated version, and there is no credit given to whoever revised the work. The play consists of three vignettes: Anna, Annabelle and Annie. The brief opening section, Anna, concerns a young woman who, despite graduating from university with honours, is insecure about a date she is about to go on. The character is not developed beyond a rather simplistic stereotype before we move on to the longest section of the show. The novelist Annabelle initially appears as a scatty tippler, silly and self-absorbed as she responds to questions from an offstage interviewer. Later, for no apparent reason, she metamorphoses into an assertive, testy, exercise-obsessed woman who goes through her gym routine wh...

Benedict Andrews’ new work is a reimagining of Ingmar Bergman’s classic 1966 film. The actress Elisabeth Vogler suddenly stops speaking while in the midst of playing Sophocles’ Electra . While there are various interpretations of Bergman’s film and Vogler’s silence, one of the most compelling is that Electra forces Vogler to confront two truths: the complexity of the divided self, with Electra and Clytemnestra becoming mirror images of each other in their need for vengeance; and the performative nature of all social interactions, including motherhood. Vogler’s withdrawal into silence begins a process which forces her to come to terms with both issues, while her nurse Alma becomes a projection of the parts of herself she has suppressed. As a further reflection of the themes of the divided self and the performative nature of human relationships, Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss alternate roles. On the night we attended, Blanchett played Electra/Vogler while Hoss was Clytemnestra/Alma. Togeth...

In a post-apocalyptic world, Reece and Ashton have taken refuge in an industrial lock-up. They pass the time recalling and re-enacting scenes from their past lives, “moments of hope”, as they describe them. Their situation recalls Beckett’s Vladimir and Estragon, except that here Godot actually arrives in the form of Presley, a mysterious figure who threatens to disrupt their isolated existence. At first, he joins in their ritual recollections, but eventually reveals darker intentions.  A Slow Fire is described as “part thriller, part excavation of the soul” and it delivers, to varying degrees, on both counts. Unfortunately, its thriller elements are undermined by a structural flaw. The first act takes too long to establish the premises, allowing the tension to dissipate, while the second act then accelerates abruptly as Presley attempts to seduce Reece into participating in his scheme. The result is not simply uneven pacing but an imbalance in the play’s dramatic architecture, wi...

Who Killed Marilyn? by Sharleen Cooper Cohen promises a fresh look at the circumstances surrounding Marilyn Monroe’s death. It also claims to tackle the perhaps more intriguing question: who was Marilyn? Instead, it serves up a standard stew of conspiracy theories, from the Kennedys and the Mafia to the murky machinations of the American establishment, along with some familiar pop psychology. Like many biographical dramas, it falls into the trap of telling rather than showing, awkwardly introducing events and characters in a way that feels forced rather than organic. Here the narrator is the dead Marilyn herself, played by Pixie Lott, who purports to reveal the woman behind the myth. Unfortunately, there is little revelation. Lott captures Monroe’s familiar voice, mannerisms and cinematic gestures, but the performance rarely escapes the caricature. It might have been far more intriguing to have this posthumous Marilyn deliberately distinguish herself from the screen persona she create...

The title of this one-man show comes from P. G. Wodehouse’s 1916 short story Jeeves Takes Charge while the original production drew on two of his stories. That title is an apt introduction to Wodehouse’s enduring comic world, in which Bertie Wooster is the quintessential upper-class twit, while Jeeves, his shrewd, all-knowing valet, evokes the venerable clever-slave archetype of Plautine comedy. The original show premiered at the Lyric Studio, Hammersmith, in 1980, with Edward Duke performing all the roles and Hugh Wooldridge directing. It now returns with Sam Harrison taking on the formidable task of playing 22 characters, with Wooldridge once again at the helm. Harrison is more than up to the job. He slips effortlessly between characters, capturing the rhythms and mannerisms of Wodehouse while drawing us into a world of gentle humour, elaborate misunderstandings and satisfyingly predictable plots. There is a particular pleasure in watching him conjure an entire cast from thin air, w...

Mike Leigh's acerbic 1977 comedy about the social aspirations and spiritual emptiness of British suburbia gets a first-rate resurrection in this new production, directed by Nadia Fall. The dark parallel between the unseen Abigail and her unbridled teenage revels and the concealed marital tensions and clandestine sexuality that pervade Beverly's pretentious soirée is neatly drawn. The setting is a masterclass in period detail. Peter McKintosh's terrific set, crammed with furnishings and status symbols, creates a claustrophobic world in which every ornament, glass and canapé becomes a badge of social standing. His costumes are equally telling, capturing the fashions and ambitions of a Britain caught between old-fashioned respectability and the new consumer culture. This is Beverly's evening, and Tamzin Outhwaite makes the most of it. She wrings laughs from the most straightforward line, deploying a repertoire of expansive gestures and imperious glances. She dominates the ...