Better Man – biopic full of symbolism and panache, even if it is drowning in self-reflection (UK cinemas from 26 December)

Better Man is like a giant apology to the people who were important to Robbie Williams’ life and career but suffered from him treating them shabbily. For much of the film, it also looks like it will be a giant reproach to his father, a figure of great if not sustained influence and profound disappointment.

The people Williams disappointed the most are shown the greatest kindness and remorse: particularly band mate Gary Barlow (played by Jake Simmance) and fiancée Nicole Appleton (Raechelle Banno).

No love is lost towards Take That’s creator and manager Nigel Martin-Smith (Damon Herriman), though what’s said and portrayed is tempered by Williams’ history of losing money to him in legal cases. Tom Budge enjoys some great scenes as the song-writer Guy Chambers who is perhaps the only person in the period covered by the film to ‘tame’ Williams (it stops around 2003).

That Williams is portrayed on-screen as a hairy chimpanzee is almost unnoticeable after a few minutes. While a reference to his self-proclaimed stunted evolution, the novel design decision succeeds on making the central figure recognisable on screen, whether dancing with Take That, or seen in a crowd of people. Yet the audience aren’t asked to process a child actor handing the role onto a teenager. The chimp simply gets larger and older. We’re not asked to compare an actor’s facial features (Jonno Davies) with the original: there’s enough of that going on with the other members of Take That, All Saints, producers, Michael Aspel and the Gallagher brothers. Another side effect of the chimp persona is that it keeps a focus on the actor’s eyes: bright, tearful, scared, high.

Director Michael Gracey adds his trademark panache to the movie, creating a vibrant and voluminous dance scene in Regent Street around the song Rock DJ, a beautifully choreographed dance between Williams and Appleton accompanied by She’s The One, a melancholic introduction to Angels that coincides with the funeral of his much-loved Nan (Alison Steadman), and a performance of Let Me Entertain You at Knebworth that morphs into a fantasy battle scene fighting his demons that could be from a Marvel movie or a gory video game.

Having once subjected a youth fellowship group to an evening picking out theological insights from the lyrics of songs on Williams’ second solo album I’ve Been Expecting You, including the now deleted Jesus in a Camper Van track – a copy of the handout lurks in a cardboard box somewhere in the flat – I was always likely to enjoy this film.

I love the storytelling, the sense of symbolism, the reflection (albeit tempered by the knowledge that the central character’s involvement means that there could be a lot of historical revisionism and some ego-stroking at play), the arc of redemption (even if it is overplayed) and the last four lines of dialogue could have been helpfully dropped from the 145-minute-long bladder-busting film. (I should admit that I haven’t yet enjoyed/endured the four hours of Robbie Williams documentary on Netflix… which might sate my appetite for any further regurgitation of the cabaret artist’s self-loathing and self-reflection. Will the artist’s strong vocals throughout the film lead to an appearance on the ‘legends’ slot at Glastonbury over the next year or two?)

Better Man is about dreams and ambition, tempered and undermined by self-doubt, addiction and depression. The artist has plenty to say, and definitely takes the opportunity to frame his story.

 

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The Magician’s Nephew – a fantasy tale of world-jumping and witnessing the creation of Narnia (Sanctuary Theatre until Saturday 4 January)

Truth be told, The Magician’s Nephew is a rather odd prequel, almost an afterthought to the better known The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe which was published five years earlier and forms most people’s gateway to CS Lewis’ Narnia chronicles.

Digory and Polly (who lives next door) have been exploring the shared attic that runs above their terraced houses. A miscalculation of distance means that they find themselves popping up in Uncle Andrew’s normally locked study. The magician (of sorts) tricks Polly into touching a ring with a yellow jewel which transports her to another place. Digory ends up following her, with a pair of green rings in his pocket to help them home. They discover a multiverse of places, awaken an evil queen, who follows them home to Earth from where she goes off in search of jewels and meets the long arm of the law. The process of getting her home sets of a chain of events and discoveries that will change Digory and Polly’s lives forever.

Glyn Robbins’ 1988 stage adaption stays true to the novel’s structure and story. The Sanctuary Theatre’s stage is nearly unrecognisable, covered in a lush forest. Uncle Andrew’s first entrance – played by Fra Gunn (The Safety Catch) – is a glorious jump scare. The malign inventor is played as a selfish coward who lets the children take on the risk of travelling through new worlds using the rings he has created. Nephew Digory (Dylan Breen) is a likeable lad – much less irritating than the character I remember from Lewis’ novel – who quickly overcomes his fear to pursue Polly and bring her hope of rescue.

Polly (Bernadette McKeating) is sparky and full of joy. Elaine Duncan plays a range of roles including Aunt Letitia (who cares for Digory’s sick mother) and a cab driver who gets dragged into the madness after the interval. Colette Lennon Dougal is Queen Jadis, an implacably impatient monarch who has previously wielded absolute power (by uttering the ‘deplorable word’) and brings humour to the scenes when the children return home to Earth and she comes face to face with the ‘magician’ and a chariot that looks awfully like a horse and carriage.

If the opening 45 minutes set up the portal travelling (with rings and puddle-jumping) and establish the motivation of the characters in an orderly fashion, the second half throws so many other ingredients into the mix that the scenes resemble a hard-to-discern-quite-what-you’re-eating hash. There is a lot to process.

Lewis uses The Magician’s Nephew to tell the genesis story of Narnia, created by the lion Aslan. Queen Jadis brings evil into the pristine world. (She’ll ultimately become the White Witch.) Her early encounter with Aslan brings about the lamppost that will become crucial to later chronicles.

On stage, this means that the talking lion – interestingly voiced as a chorus of cast voices – is soon joined by other talking animals: the cabby’s horse Strawberry, a beaver, a rabbit, … but disappointingly never the guinea pig that Uncle Andrew first sent into the portal with a yellow ring strapped to its back.

The shifting between human and animal roles is messy (and two switched-off mics on stands don’t help with the differentiation of roles). If this was your first and only encounter with Narnia, then a weakness in Robbins’ script – never mind Lewis’ original novel – is that the powerful majesty of Aslan is lost, and the standalone coherence and significance of the animals, the lamppost, Jadis, and the newly crowned human King and Queen is somewhat bewildering.)

The soundscape is rich and detailed and brings a lot of warmth and atmosphere to the production, though could have usefully been looped at a low volume under some scenes to establish an aural signature for the different worlds as an add-on to the thematic lighting. Only Digory’s accent seems cemented in Belfast (that’s where Uncle Andrew’s home has been reset in this production) leaving the others sounding too posh and English for the setting.

Director Patsy Montgomery-Hughes uses the available space well, with under-stage action, short scenes in the raised tech area at the back of the theatre, and an elevated level at the back of the main stage for Aslan’s first entrance.

The line “Can you feel the wind on your cheeks?” made me laugh and I inwardly heckled back “it’s just the draughty theatre”. It’s good to see the architect’s plans for how the theatre space will be refashioned and improved displayed in the foyer. Do wrap up well if you’re attending a show.

The Magician’s Nephew is a quirky choice for an end of year production. It is child-friendly, but quite serious and very old-fashioned, without the seasonal jollity that families might expect to find in a theatre. Glyn Robbins adapted another three of the chronicles – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Horse and His Boy, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader – so perhaps Bright Umbrella Drama Company will revisit the Belfast-born writer and theologian over the next few years.

The Magician’s Nephew continues in the east Belfast Sanctuary Theatre until Saturday 4 January.

Photo credit: Melissa Gordon, Gorgeous Photography

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Elvis Yourself A Merry Little Christmas – the cruelty of mortality cuts through, laced with levity and tied up in a festive bow (CCurran Productions at The MAC until Tuesday 31 December)

It’s the eve of Christmas Day and Frankie’s big birthday. Played by Rhodri Lewis, Frankie is trying to forget about his troubles while waiting to board a delayed flight from Barra Best Regional Airport to Las Vegas on a pilgrimage to meet ‘the King’. Younger cousin Marty (Patrick Buchanan) is travelling with him, but he’s preoccupied, expecting to hear back about a recent job interview.

As the pair pass the time drinking in the Keep Er Lit lounge – resplendent with Christmas trees, a handy guitar, and benches that look like they were last seen in Great Victoria Street station – a raft of other colourful hallions wander through. Welcome to Elvis Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.

Caroline Curran’s skilful character acting brings to life a creepy airport cleaner with a wandering eye and a squeaky mop bucket (the best prop of the night), along with members of a giddy party heading stateside to celebrate Joanne’s recent divorce. There are wigs galore, and mannerisms to match. And let’s not forget the puntastic but somewhat wobbly reindeer who has lost his stressed Santa.

The audience giggle away at the characterisations and the whizzing one-liners. The Elvis fans quickly identify themselves when Frankie/Lewis begins to croon. While there’s a discernible build-up, hinting at Frankie’s in-depth knowledge of Presley’s back catalogue, the first proper song comes quite late in the one-hour show, and I’d have appreciated a burst of the King to snack on in the first half hour.

Health, happiness, employment, relationships, travel. Caroline Curran’s festival show touches on universal issues and stressors that will be familiar to everyone in the audience. So many will know about living with or caring for someone who has OCD or dementia. While laced with levity, the cruelty of mortality cuts through the script and the performances.

The finale features a trio of impersonators with combed back black hair, sunglasses, outlandish outfits, and clap-along hits. The show is a fond reminder of the importance of extended family and friendships, people who can be relied upon when times are tight.

Elvis Yourself A Merry Little Christmas is a CCurran Production and directed by Dominic Montague. The show runs at the MAC until Tuesday 31 December.

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Sleeping Beauty – quality pantomime that packs a punch without burning a hole in your pocket (Brassneck at St Comgall’s until Sunday 22 December)

Brassneck Theatre Company are back with their ‘People’s Panto’ after the success of Cinderella at The Devenish Hotel last year. Ticket prices have remained the same (£8 children/£12 adults) but the venue has switched to St Comgall’s off Divis Street.

Fairy Up-Liquid waves her magic bubble wand and transports us back to The Felons nearly 16 years ago when her niece Our Ora (‘Aurora’) was christened. Horrible sister Mallory put a curse on the wain and a finger prick will lead to death on her 16th birthday unless she’s kissed by her true love. So for more than a decade, Our Ora has been hiding out in Lisburn (well, Poleglass). But now, her potentially fatal birthday party is only around the corner.

Writer Neil Keery has once again rustled up a script that is packed with panto punch and this year tells the story of Sleeping Beauty. Early on we get a sense of the updated tone of the show when the audience are reminded that barely any of them has seen a spinning wheel so that can hardly be the cause of the titular character’s misfortune.

Keery also stars as the dame, barracking the audience to their utter delight. The evil, cackling, catfishing sister Mallory – “like a dirty cold sore, always turning up when you’re not wanted” – is brought to life by an animated Rosie McClelland (who also designed the costumes). Vicky Allen plays a crow, a spaced-out apprentice baddie called Wingnut who gets a lovely second act duet with Ora. Darren Franklin is cast as hunky Sailor Twift, a big pop sensation who Ora (Sharon Duffy) duets with online and later gets to meet.

Directors Fionnuala Kennedy and Tony Devlin have the cast of five bouncing around the stage, popping out of nowhere to emphasise regular moments of political commentary, and singing and dancing their way through Katie Richardson’s boppy playlist of original music and TikTok hits. Adults will pick up on the jokes that sail over the children’s heads (like the new recipe website, OnlyFlans). Youngsters will regularly break loose from their parents’ grip and gather at the front of the stage in awe at the colourful goings on. While chaotic, it’s a sign that the show is reaching its audience.

I attended a Saturday matinee and the audience was full of families, grandparents, residents from a local centre, and there was even a shoutout for 96 year old Rose who got a special chorus of Happy Birthday.

The harsh acoustic properties of the St Comgall’s enclosed courtyard venue, on top of the raucous audience, work against lyrical clarity during the songs, but the dialogue is very clear.

Favourite moments include McClelland’s Scottish accent when Mallory pretends to be a mobile ear piercer from Clure’s Accessories and anytime Allen gets to dance like a crow. The modern take on the ancient tale calls out the ‘prince’ (in this case, pop idol) when he attempts to kiss a sleeping girl without her consent, and another more wholesome solution has to be found to wake narcoleptic Ora.

Sleeping Beauty continues at St Comgall’s until Sunday 22 December.

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The Marian Hotel – so much was unspoken, so much was suspected but not shared (Sole Purpose Productions at the Lyric Theatre)

Caitriona Cunningham’s play begins with the residents of the Marianvale Mother and Baby Home entering the set in shadow. It’s an appropriate visual metaphor for what is to come over the next few months of their lives, events and actions that will cast a shadow over the years and decades to come.

Kitty is from Derry, but she’s going to spend the next few months confined in the home in Newry. She’s introduced to life in the home by Sister Celeste (Maureen Wilkinson), a no-nonsense, standoffish nun, who gives a cursory explanation of the expected routine, before handing the 19-year-old off to existing residents to fill her in on the detail of what’s expected. The quieter Sister Rosanne (Maeve Connelly) stands to one side, distant but showing signs of actual humanity.

The notion of secrecy – not using their real first names and not discussing family details – is stressed from the start. Phone calls from the outside are allowed but discouraged. The idea that “we’re not in jail you know” does little to dispel the feeling that the young women have lost all control of their destiny: they’re now slaves to the home, expected to work in the laundry and follow the rules. It’s spartan: this is no hotel. There are no prenatal classes or preparation. And the only medication handed out is to make the women sleep at night and cause no trouble.

Aoibh Johnson gives Kitty a youthful optimism that never lapses into total naivety. She’s playing a version of the playwright who gave birth to her daughter in the home. Feisty Sarah (Shannon Wilkinson) sees herself fighting for Irish freedom: yet she’s been trapped by the church, the state and society. She wails with pain when she realises her newborn child has been removed without her knowledge or permission. Roma Harvey’s Sinead is a young widow. Now that she is pregnant again, she’s condemned as an unmarried mother who is beyond help and worthy of being shamed. Caroline (Una Morrison) is serious and fervent, almost modelled on wee Clare in Derry Girls. Multi-generational trauma is examined through a parallel story line featuring Jackie (Sorcha Shanahan) who is trying to find her birth mother.

The absence of men on set is startling, reinforcing how there were few to no consequences for the men involved in the babymaking, while the women were shamed, isolated, confined and then robbed of their offspring. Somehow these women are covering up other people’s sins, and being (further) abused in the process.

So much was unspoken. So much was suspected but not shared.

After a slightly unsteady and limbering start, the jigsaw pieces begin to fall into place firmly with the arrival of young pregnant Ellen. She’s not even a teenager. It’s the first moment when the characters step outside their own misery and the scales lift from their eyes. How is she pregnant? And why is someone so young being sent to live here? Rachel Harley injects Ellen with a tangible vulnerability and it’s distressing to realise that her character might be running back into the hands of an abuser. For all Caroline’s uptight manner, she’s the one that gets closest to befriending Ellen, with Una Morrison taking her character on a lovely journey of change.

Robert Attewell’s spartan set serves the touring production well. Two long wooden benches are shifted around the stage by the cast, and even stood up on their ends, to give shape to bedrooms, sitting rooms and a hospital ward. The scene changes are a physical task that echoes their work in the laundry and the lack of concern for the pregnant women.

One character proclaims with hope: “and then we have the whole of our lives in front of us”. But the final what-happens-next scene is beyond heartbreaking.

The Marian Hotel was produced by Sole Purpose Productions and produced and directed by Patricia Byrne. The play together with the associated exhibitions and talks have shone a light and opened up conversations on a shameful period of Irish social history. Hopefully they will form a line in the sand that will never be reached.

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A Christmas Carol – a joyous evening watching Scrooge face up to his demons (Lyric Theatre until Saturday 11 January)

My eyes normally roll when I discover a venue is planning to produce A Christmas Carol. It’s a beast of a book to adapt, with three ghostly visitations, each with numerous scenes to trudge through. Charles Dickens was being paid by the word, and he wrote his serialised stories for a newspaper audience who had to come back each week for another twist in the tale, much like modern day streaming audiences faced with a good show that doesn’t allow for binging.

Marie Jones’ adaptation zips through the story, touching Scrooge with each lesson without waiting around to ram it home. And thankfully the playwright also swerves the temptation to go full tilt and preach against all capitalists, making the story all the more powerful and personal. Switching the action to Belfast could have been a risk, but her skill with writing in the vernacular makes it feel natural rather than a gimmick. We appreciate the reflections that someone is “as dour as a deathwatch drummer”!

The Lyric’s production is framed through the lens that the audience have turned up to watch The Pottinger Players presenting their version of A Christmas Carol. So as we enter the auditorium, the cast are assembling, tying on their aprons, ‘lighting’ the footlights, tuning their instruments, joshing with audience. The two main minstrels engage us with a bit of cringe-free community singing, while another cast member rushes around the stalls and the balconies looking for a missing turkey. One gentleman admitted he didn’t like Christmas, rewarded with the retort that “we’ve got the perfect cure for you”!

Stuart Marshall’s intricate set uses a forced perspective to create a Dickensian space between Pottinger’s Entry and Joy’s Entry. The slim fronts of houses and businesses pivot around to create the internal spaces. Everything seems to glide effortlessly. Each element has two or three purposes. It’s rich, atmospheric and unfussy. Characters appear out of nowhere, peering around corners, squeezing through gaps, popping out of trapdoors.

As the action begins, a polyphonic humming of Silent Night hints that music will be important to the story with Garth McConaghie’s sound design blending recordings, effects and live playing. Katie Shortt (flute, accordion and lots of percussion) and Conor Hinds (a chest-mounted violincello) are joined by other cast members who bring a trumpet, tambourine and more into the mix. There’s even a little dancing (choreographer: Fleur Mellor).

We learn that Jacob Marley is “tatty bread” (dead) and that Ebeneezer Scrooge “carries his own cold with him”. Soon we’ve met bubbly nephew Fred (played by a joyful Richard Clements) whose fulsome invitation to Christmas dinner is not unexpectedly declined. Matthew Forsythe plays Bob Cratchit, loyal to the core, even in the face of his employer’s miserable thriftiness. Jayne Wisener’s Mrs Cratchit is much more cynical and unforgiving, running the household and tending to her three children on Bob’s pittance of a wage. Mary Moulds (wearing great pigtails) plays daughter Martha and Jonny Grogan is Peter. Ellen Whitehead is superb as Tiny Tim, a chip of the father’s block.

As you’d expect, Scrooge has a restless night. A mesmerising performance by Dan Gordon gives the central character a biting force of nature when grumpy (equally so when he turns generous) yet leaves him fearful and totally out of his controlling comfort zone when confronted by the three spirits. Marty Maguire is on top form playing Marley and numerous other roles, standing up to Scrooge and bringing a lot of mirth and physical humour to the production.

The plot of A Christmas Carol is  familiar to most people. Realistically, there can be very few surprises in the direction of travel the story will take with any new production. (Though heading to Rathlin and the appearance of Mummers was nearly a ‘trip’ too far for the lighthouse scene.)

Jones and director Matthew McElhinney manage to construct particularly moving moments each time the Cratchit parents consider whether their Tim will be alive to enjoy many more Christmas seasons. Tim’s pram-wheeled guider was a quare yoke. Jones’ script is helped along by the nearly instantaneous scene changes, removing the pauses that tend to niggle and slow down shows. The third spirit, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, is silent and faceless. By this point, Scrooge is in a position to lead himself through the lessons that need to be learnt.

Parents should note the Lyric’s 8+ age advisory for this production. It’s not aimed at young toddlers, and they’ll understandably soon be bored and distracted. For the older children and adults, there’s always something going on.

McElhinney uses the cast of ten to fill the stage with action. There are some great physical effects. Watch out for faces appearing at (or through) doors, and the neatly constructed sleight of hand near the end when Scrooge is almost in two places at once. Yet there are no deliberate pauses to encourage audience adulation: these are just part of the magical world that has been created for our pleasure.

(The repeated references to Willie Drennan hark back to the son of the First Presbyterian Church (Rosemary Street) manse, a short-lived physician, writer and political activist from the early 1800s, rather than the modern-day musician who is very much alive!)

By the end, Scrooge is bringing joy to the entry in which the action is set. A Christmas Carol is one of Marie Jones’ best scripts. It’s warm, well-paced, pleasingly architected with callbacks to earlier phrases tying the story up into a neat package. The humour is infectious. The cast inhabit the characters with confidence. And the musical elements bolster the playful atmosphere. The Lyric Theatre’s A Christmas Carol is a great festive treat, not to be missed, and continues its run until Saturday 11 January.

Photo credit: Carrie Davenport

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Cinderella – wholesome ‘Ella benefits from overhead eavesdropping on her cussed step-sisters (Yellow Jumper Productions at Theatre At The Mill until 30 December)

Cinderella lives in the shadow of her two self-identifying ‘ugly’ stepsisters, Pimple and Dimple. Having met the tall, lanky, prince of Antrim & Newtownabbey Borough at the town market, Cinderella fully intends to go to the lavish Christmas party he’s throwing to find a wife. Sour Bake Stepma ran off to the sun leaving her household of daughters to fend for themselves. She video calls her children to coach them through a depraved plan to deprive Cinderella of the opportunity, and of daylight, by luring her down to the cellar to make a TikTok dance video and then locking her up. But good buddy Zip – complete with audience callout and actions – is hanging around eavesdropping and overhears their plans. With his help and the guidance of Fairy G, maybe Cinderella’s dreams can come true?

An opening musical number introduces some of the important characters. Lennin McClure plays Zip as well as the prince’s advisor Mucker. He quickly wows us ‘peeps in the seats’ with his acrobatics, before shimmying up to hang above the action listening to the evil plans being concocted. McClure’s aerial antics on the silks are likely to be unique across Christmas pantos in Northern Ireland this year. Joe Springhall plays the cool royal, channelling his inner Prince Harry. Together with Mucker, the pair end up throwing a couple of very different big royal balls.

The show’s titular character tries hard to stand up for herself. Ellen Hasson makes Cinderella sweet and sassy, a modern girl who takes small steps and guards her privacy rather than being rash and needy. But is wholesome charm a match for the cussed evil stepsisters Pimple (Cheryl O’Dwyer) and Dimple (Eimear O’Neill who double roles as Fairy G with a beautiful singing voice that blends so well with Cinderella/Hasson).

The general atmosphere of this family-friendly show is one of relaxed pandemonium. The noisy stalls are matched by the histrionics on stage, although some of the lyrics get lost under the pumping backing tracks. It’s a pantomime, so the script and sound effects go heavy on crowd-pleasing fart jokes, and given the questions I could overhear during the show, I fully expect one child sitting behind me to finally demand a detailed answer to her question “What’s IBS?” on the way home!

There are some lovely touches. Cinderella’s coach to the ball is very neatly lit and constructed. Light up glasses provide a fun party effect. And it snows, a necessary part of any serious show set at Christmas! The opening of the second act brings the action right into the auditorium and neatly counteracts any disruption from punters returning late from the bar. Later, a few audience members get their feet sized up against the abandoned glittery slipper. The appearance of a bird on stage is momentarily important to the plot but still bewildereds me!

Well-sung cover versions add energy to proceedings, and Raining Tacos was a huge hit with the young audience joining in and singing out without needing to be asked. The kitchen utensil guests at the ball were somewhat surreal but fired up the imagination of junior brains. The script is peppered with lots of local references that delight citizens of the borough, particularly when the lonely prince seeks a relationship that will be full of sparks and fireworks “like Rathcoole on the Eleventh Night”!

The five principle cast members are joined by another three in the ensemble (from a nine-strong rotating community cast). And at my show, the actors were aided during the second act by a good-spirited John in the stalls. Olivia Nash regularly beams in as Sour Bake Stepma from her sunny hotspot.

Cinderella was penned, produced, directed (and more) by Sarah Lyle, whose fingers may also have sewn some of the costumes. It’s a real labour of love, and audience members young and old had a blast when I was there for Saturday’s matinee. Cinderella is a panto with all the trimmings. The Yellow Jumper Productions’ show continues at Theatre at the Mill until Monday 30 December.

Photo credit: Gorgeous Photography (Melissa Gordon)

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