The piece follows the plot of the film relatively closely – a group of gangsters weasel their way into an old lady’s spare room, pretending to be musicians, to plan a daring heist, but when the old lady starts to deduce what is going on, the criminals turn on each other with deadly purpose. Where Linehan expands upon the original, he removes all scenes not directly in on or around the house itself, giving himself some leeway to write new comic moments – most of which carry his trademark wit and surreal touch. He also approaches the scenes with a TV writer’s accuracy: jokes interlink, running gags all have their punchline – in short, it is a very well-constructed adaptation.

However, the pacy dynamism of TV doesn’t translate to the stage as well as could be expected – the piece feels oddly laboured where it should zing along. The blame for this cannot be laid squarely at Linehan’s feet, as there are no obvious lapses in the bounciness of the writing, but the actors do seem to have a difficult time giving the piece the energy it deserves. While the character work of all involved is lovely, especially the interplay of Marcia Warren as Mrs Wilberforce, who has found a delightful anti-Marple turn to the character, and Peter Capaldi’s dastardly, peculiarly accented Professor Marcus, their scenes in particular often seem to drag.

It could be that Sean Foley’s direction focused a little more on the stagecraft than the performers, as every single aspect of sound, light, set and costume is incredibly well-realised. The set, built on two revolves, shows the wonderfully weird house of Mrs Wilberforce – where the film hinted at the subsidence the house was under, this set is all strange lines and angles, with most actors performing on a slope more often than not. The farce is only enhanced by the multiple gangways, doorways and hideaways, all of which are used to great effect by the performers – this is, truly, a remarkable achievement. The revolve, instead of trying to move us away from the house and into new scenes, simply places us outside it, which is used to show a number of effects, including the heist itself (done charmingly with toy cars and trains) and a couple of scenes on the roof. This, combined with excellent stage effects, sound, lighting effects and other technical flim-flam, makes for a really exciting evening – while we may know what is coming, we simply cannot guess how they will do it.

However, were actors given the short shrift next to such technical frippery? While I cannot say, the final polish does seem to be missing from the piece. Also, it runs at just over two hours, which is bordering on too long for a farce – the original film runs at just under an hour and a half, and feels much more complete as a product. I suppose it’s inevitable to compare an adaptation to its original, and it’s a shame that The Ladykillers doesn’t have quite the killer instinct of its cinematic parent; nonetheless, a great show and well worth the visit.

Once again, I’m blown away by the simple strength of what we do – how, if you put a group of talented and open people in a room, they can come together to create evocative, powerful and mind-blowing work. I had the luck this year to work with 3 large groups of talented individuals to put together different pieces, and in each case the experience was enjoyable, creative and fulfilling. In a recent example, my work with E Minor on Something’s Got the Elephant was a great example of like-minded individuals all using their own strengths to build something out of nothing in a fraction of the time one would hope for, with nothing more than postivity and gusto to drive them forward. It’s what this industry is built on, and what makes me proud to be a part of it.

However, there is a terrible flipside to this – as always, it is someone’s job to be in charge of this ball of creative energy, and it is by no means an easy task – keeping everything profitable and leading towards a concrete goal is never easy with creatives! Now, this can be handled well, as with the superlative The Shakespeare Conspiracy, where production gave creative space and freedom, but still drove to a solid goal, or not. One project (which shall remain nameless) that I was involved with this year turned out to be less than well produced – production tried to keep things in order by being strict and policing company members, whilst underhandedly paying some and not others, lying to people’s faces, which only ended up with bad blood and an unfortunate mess of a final piece, as seeming creative freedom was slowly chipped away in favour of acrimonious searching-for-blame and finger pointing – a real shame. I’ve always contended that a producer’s job is an impossibly hard straddling of a professional/creative line, but this year has proved to me more than ever that there is ‘good’ and ‘bad’ producing – I’d love to define it more than that, but it’s only possible in hindsight in specific situations.

Maybe it has something to do with professionalism, which has also reared it’s head more than once this year, again in both positive and negative ways. Obviously, a professional attitude is an important part of working in theatre, but where does that line fall? None of us behave professionally at all times, certainly outside of a work environment, so what does that mean for our work? A surprising number of people seem to think that professionalism outsources ideas of cameraderie, friendship and even romance, whenever and however they occur, and are quick to punish for such ‘unprofessional’ behaviour. However, the self-same don’t take the time to write or sign contracts, furnish a team properly or assign roles – in which case, each argument made seems petty and unreasonable, or at least, a slight becomes personal and not professional.

There is also the question of discontinuation – is it really professional to leave a project? I had to leave a piece which wasn’t working this year, but it was done from a professional standpoint – targets weren’t being met, and the agreement I had made with the producer was being violated – in which case, the break wasn’t acrimonious or difficult. But when, on another project, a team member simply didn’t deign his additions valuable and declined to return, there was no professional distance – the dispute became personal and thus ugly.

It reminds me, again (and painfully), that this is a business of half-truths and broken promises. People can be professional and respectable all they want, but it’s who you work with that decides on the professionality of that relationship. I value hugely the people I’ve worked with this year who’ve been basically honest, who’ve upheld their end of a bargain as I’ve upheld mine, who’ve promised what they can deliver and not what they hope to, and who’ve been genuine in their dealings – I value them even more the more I see how rare these traits are.

Finally, as ever, being on the cusp of developing new projects, I’m consistently reminded of how many people there are out there that want to take you for a ride. I want to send out a clear message to all young people trying to get into this industry – working for free is something that must be very carefully handled. There’s nothing wrong with it, in principle, as sometimes we all have to work in kind to help develop our careers, but they are more people than you’d think out there who are just trying to get unpaid labour when they can full well afford it – which is just insulting. Surely your time is worth your expenses? Or at least cash-in-hand or something to help you live? We’re not talking enough to pay your rent, but a little grace, a little confidence to show their appreciation – this should be doable within most budgets beyond the most basic of fringe pieces! Look out for the following: people with lots of expensive tech, or who take you out to expensive restaurants or private members clubs – if they can afford a £50 lunch or a £500 speaker, they can afford to pay their workers. If not – their priorities may just be in the wrong place…

Still, both personal and creative tumults have taught me to keep positive and keep working, and that’s still my biggest piece of advice – try, try and try again. You’re not a Jedi, you don’t have the choice between ‘do’ or ‘do not’ – there is always ‘try’.

Crazy for You is the classic story of boy meets girl, all set to the background of musical theatre – Bobby, a New York banker, dreams of performing on stage, but is turned down once again, leading to an ill-advised trip to a backwater town for his day job. While there, he revitalises the town with a stage show (pretending to be the infamous impresario Bela Zangler), and falls in love with Polly, the daughter of the theatre owner. However, the arrival of Zangler himself only complicates matters further, although this isn’t the kind of show where the guy doesn’t get the girl in the end!

There’s so little here to critique – the show is relentlessly cheery and engaging from the start, with excellent choreography and singing dragging along any grumpy audience member in no time. The focus on tap-dancing does lag after a little while, but is completely revitalised by a couple of truly remarkable group numbers – I Got Rhythm and Stiff Upper Lip in particular are beautifully realised. The only other major issue is the shoe-horning of songs – being a collection of songs from classic Gershwin musicals drawn together into a single piece, Crazy for You does suffer a little from the sometimes abstruse leap into song or odd feeling of having heard a certain song before in a different context – at no point more realised than Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me.

However, as stated above, these really are just niggles – they don’t impede enjoyment in any way, and this is still an excellent Christmas show for any London theatre-goers – the quality of music and performance is high, the whole affair is extremely fun and bouncy, and the romantic story is sweet and endearing – what more can you want from the West End?

LOWDOWN

Sally Woodcock’s debut piece is a striking piece about the state of modern Africa, told through a crisp, witty love triangle. Crossing racial and ethical boundaries, it flirts with political incorrectness while indulging all manner of casual assumptions about what it means to be African and live in Africa. The script zings beautifully, the story is complex and interesting, and this inaugural production is exceptionally well realised. Unfortunately, a weak and clichéd ending does end the evening on a sour note, but this is still a powerful and striking production – a huge success for the Finborough and their continued commitment to new writing of the highest quality.

REVIEW

Fanta Orange describes a love triangle between Roger, Regina and Ronnie – he a white African farmer, she his black house-girl and the latter a British Trustafarian working towards her PhD. Both women are pregnant – but the questions of rape and HIV both rear their ugly heads before too long. What could easily slip into cliché is held back by a lovely character and thematic interplay until the end, at which point the themes collide in an oddly placed surreal moment which crudely and implicitly states what was subtly alluded to before.

Sadly, this is the only real criticism that can be levelled at the piece – what started as a reflective slice-of-life ends up descending into a trite and simplistic overstatement of the play’s themes. The writing also slips uncomfortably into this oversimplified mode, with unconvincing lines and a bizarrely unreal scenario – a real shame considering the exceptional quality of the script beforehand and the production, which is a tour-de-force for all involved. Alex Marker’s design is incredible, seemingly expanding the intimate Finborough into a Nigerian plain with beautiful salt-texture watercolour backdrops, evocatively lit by Neill Brinkworth’s strongly naturalistic lighting design. Gareth Machin uses Tom Gibbons’ lovely African-drum inspired sound design to transition quickly between scenes, which are succintly and snappily directed. All three performers excel in their roles (particularly in their accent work), although special mention must be given to Kehinde Fadipe for her powerful and truthful portrayal of Regina.

In short, this is a remarkably strong production, with nigh-on all aspects deserving the highest of accolades. Cruel as it is to say, it misses the 5 star mark simply for its unfortunate ending, which feels like a vague attempt to make the piece more consciously “relevant” – a sad misstep in a piece that impresses throughout for its tact and subtlety. Nonetheless, this is an excellent beginning to the Finborough’s New Writing Season – one can only hope the following pieces are of a similar quality.

LOWDOWN

Among Restoration comedies, The Provoked Wife‘s notoriety is often attributed to its difficult subject matter: in the 1700s, women were expected to be virtuous and honourable, while men could do, within reason, whatever they pleased – how then do we judge a ‘provoked’ woman, unhappily married, engaging in an affair? What may have shocked then seems fairly tame today, but nonetheless sits awkwardly in between – luckily for this plucky production, that awkwardness is used to excellent effect to push the farcical, ribald comedy of the piece. The result is fun and engaging, if still a little mired in its own social mores.

REVIEW

The Provoked Wife takes a bold look at marital politics, with the marriage of Sir John and Lady Brute being at the centrepiece: an unhappy yet unbreakable match for both parties. Lady Brute looks to cuckold her husband with the romantic Constant (with the help of her cousin Bellinda), but his rakish friend Heartfee and the conniving Lady Fancifull confuse the issue, all to the consternation of Sir John – but how can love triumph when marriage is just a social convention?

Sir John Vanburgh’s play is clearly a punishing indictment of the conventions of romance, marriage and courtship of his time – an unhappy marriage cannot be broken, so how can the partners ever achieve true happiness? In a man’s case, whorehouses and alcohol are nigh-on expected, while a woman must remain virtuous and true – thus the decision to set a piece from the woman’s perspective leads to an interesting insight into the personal, ethical and social conflicts raised.

That being said, Perfect Mayhem (and Joss Bennathan)’s decision to set the play in the 1920s did confuse the issue somewhat – not that divorce was acceptable by then, but female emancipation had certainly moved on since the 1700s! It certainly befits the style and speed of the piece, and there are some lovely echoes of Coward and Wodehouse, but the social aspects of the show start to lose all credence.

However, the 1920s setting does also give the production carte blanche to experiment with setting, costume and stagecraft – the deceptively simple sets and costumes, with plenty of easy manoeuverability from one set into another, allow the play to flow beautifully from scene to scene, fitting perfectly with the clipped and snappy delivery so befitting a 1920s period piece. The actors seem to be relishing this Cowardian delivery almost as much as the audience enjoy hearing it, and the potentially clunky amalgamation of script and setting seems unimportant during the longer scenes of excellent witty banter.

So, an uneasy marriage, but a forgiveable one – the show is riotously good fun and the performers all excel, the direction is snappy and forthright, the staging clever and the subtle lighting effects inspired. There is little here to fault (bar an awkward moment in the far upstage right corner that was probably invisible to 2/3rds of the audience), and it is a show well worth seeing – although this is a comedy in need of some bite!