Operation Mincemeat @ The Fortune Theatre

Operation Mincemeat is absurdly funny. Starting from the premise of a very serious set of events — the allied effort to divert Nazi forces so they have a chance at landing in Sicily and turning the tides of WW2, some wildly clever satire, steeped with commentary on everything from classism to gender politics, the script is punch for punch an absolute joy.

It is well choreographed, well performed, and superbly directed. The willingness to shock the audience is high, and every moment earned (and enjoyed, both by performer and audience). I’ll not give away any spoilers, but just to say that gender swapping is used to underscore the satire expertly.

It is rare that I wholeheartedly recommend a musical. I fully recommend this one.

Matthew Bourne's The Midnight Bell @ Sadlers Wells Theatre

Full of Jazz era tales of love and connection across a lonely city, Matthew Bourne’s The Midnight Bell is a magnetic and captivating new work. Using Jazz standards lip synched by the dancers interlaced through the production to create narrative as well as commentary, the choreography moves through place and time with a heavy theatricality. The same spaces are used in an overlapping manner (reminiscent of the way Complicite use space) to great effect, creating a sense of togetherness in the loneliness the characters exude.

Beyond the choreography which was stunning, the use of the physical space, indeed transforming our perspective so that we see the same room from multiple angles, and the same activities which were hidden revealed. It is a truly stunning manipulation of perspective to create story of what is hidden, private, versus what is revealed.

Medea @ Coronet Theatre

I have read about Satoshi Miyagi’s work for some time now, so the opportunity to see his interpretation of Medea leapt at me. Framing the production in Meiji Japan, during Westernisation, was a powerful choice — but more importantly, positioning this story of a wronged woman seeking her revenge through only male voices, with the women becoming almost puppets, literal objects chosen and manipulated by the men, was brilliant.

The combination of movement, sound, music, and set was at times overwhelming and difficult to focus on, while at others utterly silent. The movement between these states incredibly intentional and specific. There was much to look at, and subtexts through physicality to help us see Miyagi’s commentary on the world it was representing layered and full of texture.

All of this together created some of the most stunning moments i have experienced in the theatre. In particular, the crux of the tragedy, when Medea is ready to kill her son, in pure, breakthtaking silence was suffocating in the most beautiful way. In short, Miyagi’s ability to play with the experience of time through sound and movement was absolutely masterful. See his work if you can.

Giant @ Harold Pinter Theatre

It is unusual to see an “issue play” that feels as though it properly explores all angles and points of view through its characters,. Giant is such a play, exploring the real historical moment when cherished children’s author Roald Dahl spoke out against Israeli aggression in Palestine, and received backlash. The script has a lot going on, and perhaps some elements of character and even setting I struggled to understand why they were chosen; the gardener for example, served little purpose other than to give the protagonist another older man to align himself with.

What was truly outstanding here was not the play, however, but John Lithgow’s performance. Nuanced and funny, while still being powerful and at times intimidating, Lithgow commanded the space. I have known his work primarily through tv sitcoms, so it was refreshing to get to see the depth of his skill live, and in a character who is so deeply challenging intellectually, with seemingly opposing viewpoints within himself. An absolutely extraordinary performance, sat within a decent play.

Similar to other such historical moment plays about big personalities, I do think that without Lithgow in the lead, the play would find itself rudderless.