THEATRE REVIEW: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time

Apollo Theatre

19 April

Booking until Autumn 2014

Any director who puts a real-life, totally adorable little puppy into their production is very canny. The squeals and "awwws" reverberating around the audience were a sign of a very happy audience indeed. Yet this adaptation of Mark Haddon's award-winning novel doesn't need to rely on gimmicks or fluffy animals; this is a stellar production packed with terrific – and totally believable – performances, genius stagecraft and affectionate warmth.

Coverage of the show has focused a great deal on the lead performance of Luke Treadaway as fifteen-year-old Christopher. In this instance, the hype is most definitely justified. Treadaway – who, at the age of twenty-eight, becomes a surprisingly credible teenager – has perfected his role, which he delivers with intelligence and sensitivity that never seeks to romanticise or trivialise his character's situation. He doesn't hold back on the details in portraying the symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome. The scene in which Ed (Christopher's father) must remove his son's vomit-covered clothes is touching in its care and delicacy, and well-judged in length: by not rushing through it, the painstaking processes which this level of care can involve were poignantly played out. Similarly, the detail with which Treadaway imbues the role is excellent, with habits such as scratching his head or playing with his hoodie ties, using small actions to create a rounded and believable depiction. Treadaway may be playing a young character, but he takes a mature approach to the role, exploring its depths and also its humour – the dialogue is often laugh-out-loud funny and Treadaway's puzzled seriousness is entertaining, whilst always ensuring that nobody was laughing at Asperger's. The performance treads that careful line of humour and respect, of comedy and sensitivity. There is truth and warmth in it, and it never threatens to be disrespectful. The Olivier award for best actor could not have found a more deserving recipient.

Luke Treadaway - credit: Festival Du Film Britannique de Dinard 2011

Yet as praise is heaped upon Luke Treadaway, it's important to remember this is not a one-man show. Many of the cast take on a range of small parts, proving adept at shifting from role to role, accent to accent. Niamh Cusack drives the show forward as she reads Christopher's account of the story and oversees the putting on of his 'play' – the play, of course, which we are currently watching. This allows for some comic moments where characters, and most of all pedantic 'director' Christopher, apparently step out of their role in the retelling, yet remain in character as far as the audience is concerned. Although Cusack's is the least flashy role, hers is a performance to reflect on. She is probably the only person in the play who really 'gets' Christopher, yet this is never explicitly discussed: it doesn't have to be, as we gradually realise the importance of her quiet but vital support.

In turn, this highlights the troubled journey of parents Ed and Judy who, despite their deep love, sometimes struggle to understand – and to cope with – their son's emotions and decisions. Most impressive is the bravery of author Mark Haddon and playwright Simon Stephens who do not shy away from the real difficulties of bringing up a child with Asperger's. Although things are certainly looking up by the curtain call, there is no perfect 'happy ever after' ending, and this refusal to gloss over the hardships is rewarded with brilliant performances from Seán Gleeson and Holly Aird – particularly the latter, whose portrayal of a mother who could not cope with what life threw at her is bravely honest and at times heart-wrenching.

The performances in this production would on their own create an inspiring, moving and truly fantastic play. But it is the staging that adds that touch of magic. Everything is actually pretty simple, but the way it works is absolute genius. From Christopher's dreams of being an astronaut, to the creation of a hectic Paddington station with a relatively small cast, to the set-up of an extensive train set across the stage, Christopher's world is evoked through his eyes with impressive skill and imagination. A broad smile spread across my face at the appearance of an 'escalator' on the back wall of the stage, as the creative team exceeded my expectations once again by a country mile. Everything worked in harmony faultlessly: a rare achievement.

It's hard to praise this show enough: every element comes together to produce a truly wonderful evening of theatre, and proves once again what a gem the National Theatre is in the crown of London theatre. If this is anything to go by, it is a real shame that Marianne Elliott has ruled herself out of the running of artistic director, because her creation here is a true triumph. The atmosphere of delight as Luke Treadaway delivered the epilogue and confetti fluttered to the floor of the Apollo was something special.

THEATRE (P)REVIEW: Port

National Theatre (Lyttelton Theatre)

22 January 2013

Photo: fsse8info

N.B. These comments refer to the first preview night of Port on 22nd Jan. In general I agree with articles like this one by Jake Orr for AYT - http://www.ayoungertheatre.com/should-bloggers-review-previews-i-say-no/) - previews are by no means a finished product, and the success of a production only truly becomes apparent in front of a live audience, however meticulously rehearsed. Having said that, the only ticket I managed to get hold of was for this preview performance, so for practical reasons it's that one I'll be writing about; as such I've tried to focus on core elements of the piece rather than features that I'd expect to be altered (and I've put it in the title, to appease any complainers).

First performed in 2002, this revival of Simon Stephens' Port could, on paper, be mistaken for a new piece of writing: its rather bleak yet darkly humorous coming-of-age tale of a young woman attempting to escape her troubled upbringing still feels credible and - to coin a horribly overused term - relevant in its themes and explorations. However, despite some impressive performances and intelligent staging, this production failed to grip me entirely, and seems to be missing a spark of brilliance and excitement that Stephens' work so often promises.

At the heart of it all is a wonderful performance by Kate O'Flynn as the vulnerable but spirited Racheal. Embodying the combination of humour and gloom to perfection, she shines equally brightly as an over-confident 11-year-old, a desperate 17-year-old and a hopeful 24-year-old. The ever-tricky transition from childhood to adulthood is accomplished flawlessly: O'Flynn may be assisted here with some simple but effective costume changes carried out seamlessly on stage, but when compared to the somewhat less believable transition of her brother Billy (Mike Noble), her adaptability as an actress is evident. On the whole Noble gives a solid performance which flourishes more strongly as the play progresses, but his credibility as a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old is rather lacking. Elsewhere, Calum Callaghan strikes a beautifully balanced note as a sensitive but down-to-earth Danny, while the doubling of the consistently powerful Jack Deam is effective in demonstrating the cyclical nature of violence and oppression in Racheal's life.

This cycle is evident in the parallels which emerge throughout the work, as the cleverly shifting sets and the actors' movements carry echoes of previous scenes. Beginning and ending in the same location perhaps suggests stagnancy, yet the differing tones of the episodes lend the work a sense of progression which, overall, it is in danger of lacking. While the two scenes between Danny and Racheal move from a hopeful new romance to a realisation of a missed opportunity, the return to the car park where Racheal's story began depicts the changes her hard life has enacted upon her. Yet the emotion this elicits is rather strangled by a corny ending - no doubt it is intended to be uplifting, but the literal sunrise feels like overkill.

It's strange and a little disappointing that a production with fine performances and clearly affecting themes did not carry much force or impact. Perhaps my reaction would have been markedly different in 2002; perhaps it is a sign that audiences are becoming more and more resistant to the 'shock factor'. The instances of domestic abuse would be shocking if they were happening in reality - as indeed, they do. Yet I am forced to confront the fact that I wasn't shocked at watching this on stage; it seemed, horrible as it is to state, predictable, expected, unsurprising - something that these themes should never be. It was this sense of predictability that prevented this production from totally engaging me and producing real fireworks, a point which, beyond the realms of this particular production, raises some interesting questions about the desensitisation of audiences today.