Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead - GRADS Theatre Company (9 October 2025)

Where to begin? Let's start with the sheer audacity of what playwright Tom Stoppard has accomplished. He's taken two minor characters from one of the most celebrated works of all time whose fates have been predetermined by no less than William Shakespeare, and put them front and centre in the story of their own demise. That it is witty, poignant, thought provoking, and the ending more than a little heart-breaking, is testament to the superb writing. Stoppard's love of language is instantly apparent as is his playfulness on so many levels as the duo bicker, play games, procrastinate and philosophise, unsure how to proceed after being summoned by the king. You see, there's this guy who's been moping around called Hamlet and, well, our heroes are tasked to ascertain what afflicts him. 

This wonderful premise allows Stoppard to riff on all manner of subjects from the nature of fate to the profession of acting itself. This is metatheatre writ large with a play within a play within a play that inverts Hamlet by relegating its key characters to bit players, recontextualises many of that play's key moments, and explores in more detail how the ill-fated duo come to such an ending as the title doth suggest. Oh, and there's this - it's smart and really funny. There are elements of madcap humour reminiscent of that great wave of British comedians from the sixties and early seventies (the play was first staged in 1966) who would become household names such as the Pythons. Some scenes are constructed as elaborate skits and there is plenty of physical comedy, in-jokes, mime, and sight gags. 

A play this layered and complex with rapid fire dialogue (and plenty of it), deft comic timing, and physical antics demands a lot from its two lead actors. I'm happy to announce that Alex Comstock as Guil... um... Rosencrantz, and Thomas Dimmick (Rosen... *ahem* ... Guildenstern) are more than up to the task. It's an impressive turn by both of them, immediately establishing a rhythm and genuine connection during the famous opening scene where the outcome of the repeated flip of a coin takes on portentous meaning... or not, depending on your point of view. 

Comstock's Rosencrantz is initially full of almost boyish enthusiasm and naivety which plays well against Dimmick's more assertive and thoughtful Guildenstern. There are times when this is flipped to great effect as their predicament deepens. Comstock mimics and cavorts with glee while Dimmick prowls and grimaces in existential dread. They deliver the banter dialogue with precision while luxuriating in beats where the pause, as counterpoint, is expertly deployed. They are also fabulously attired in Merri Ford's Elizabethan styled costumes with Dimmick echoing Joseph Fiennes' look from Shakespeare In Love (co-written by one T. Stoppard). The third act is particularly affecting as greater forces intervene with both actors communicating the exasperation and confusion over how it could all go so cruelly wrong for these affable courtiers.

Around our title characters swirl two sets of notable contingents - the Court from Hamlet including the prince (Leigh Fitzpatrick) who mouths the famous soliloquy, stage right, which is such a wonderfully subversive beat; and poor old Polonius (Neale Paterson) who amusingly gets wheeled out in a barrow holding a shovel after he's despatched; and the Tragedians under the lead of The Player (Jeff Watkins) who foreshadow events and provide meta commentary through acted scenes from a play... within a play... which is within another... ... play.  It's all glorious fun. Watkins brings the swagger and imbues The Player with vanity and insight while the Tragedians are a delight. Superb face makeup by Yvette Wetherilt and striking costuming by Ford, along with the vaudeville style antics of  Codey Finlay, Jordan D’Arcy, Daniel Suttner, Alex Ketko, and Tom Tasovac as Alfred, provide many memorable interactions. They work well as a company of players playing a... company of pla-- okay, you get it... with each having a highlight in portraying over-the-top deaths or heightened emotion. 

I was quite taken by the lighting design of Fiona Reid, notably in the third act when we're at sea on a boat at night. Wonderfully lit and atmospheric as the mood is contemplative and a key deception is revealed. There are also moments, earlier, when the whole stage is brightly illuminated as if there is a literal spotlight on the central characters.

I loved the back-and-forth dialogue, circular arguments, and japery but just as important is the use of silence as we empathise with the characters or feel their uncertainty. Director Tony Petani and co-director Emily Keys also aren't afraid to slow things down and take advantage of the large performance space of the New Fortune Theatre. Characters traverse the stage like chess pieces, unhurried and deliberate. As the duos' dilemma deepens though the action becomes more frantic and theatrical. 

This is an excellent production of a notable play that mirrors one of the most famous plays of all time. There truly are no small roles, only two minor characters thrust into the spotlight where the periphery becomes centre stage and the toss of a coin is something more than random chance. It's funny, provocative, and a pure delight to watch exceptional writing executed with such flair and attention to detail in all departments.  

The Lisbon Traviata - Garrick Theatre (14 April 2024)

Ah, the opera! An art form full of heightened storytelling, glorious voices, big emotions, and sublime music. Love, jealousy, lust, betrayal, comic misunderstandings, and tragedy all writ large, "often at the same time" as *Eric Idle might say. In that world composers, conductors, musicians, and singers can become immortal. Stars such as influential opera singer Maria Callas who shone as bright as any during the mid-20th century. 

Now, a recent attendance at a performance of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro notwithstanding, I cannot claim to be an opera fan let alone an aficionado. This is not the case for two of the characters in playwright Terrence McNally's love letter to Callas. They are immersed in opera - they exchange rapid fire references to performances and recordings down to the exact date and location as they disparage other opera luminaries whilst adoring Callas as an unimpeachable goddess. It's very specific and while I catch many of the obvious references most sail waaaaaaaaay over my head. 

Two things come from this. Firstly, kudos to actors Adam Poole (Stephen) and Martyn Churcher (Mendy) who plough through a staggering amount of names, places, titles, and operatic ephemera, oftentimes singing excerpts from the pieces they are discussing. The second is, I need something to ground myself in this arcane setting as we settle into Stephen and Mendy's discourse which comprises the bulk of the first half. Sure, there's way more going on but we'll get to that a little later. For now, I'm trying to navigate my way to a place of perspective even though I may not grasp the specifics.

In this I am helped by a brief pre-show conversation with director Barry Park. I come away from this surmising that Maria Callas was the Taylor Swift of her day. Yes, I can hear the gnashing of teeth and sharpening of knives from true opera lovers as I type this. But it gives me a point of reference. Mendy would have made a tremendous Swiftie - he is obsessed by Callas. He knows everything about her. Consumes vast quantities of her work and voraciously seeks out rare and previously unheard recordings such as, you guessed it, the Lisbon Traviata. 

I know this feeling - when I left high school I moved out of home to share a house with three friends and we were always at Dada Records (those were the days!) eagerly looking for rare bootleg live recordings of bands such as Pink Floyd. In other words, passionate 'fandom' is a concept I can handily latch onto here. 

Mendy is the diva of the two and Churcher plays him suitably large with more than a touch of Nathan Lane about him. Stephen appears the more unaffected but as the first half unfurls we learn that he fears his relationship with Mike (Patrick Downes) is on rocky ground due to Mike's dalliance with the younger Paul (Alex Comstock). That first half is big, sumptuous (a gorgeously dressed set by Park), over-the-top, and there are laughs to be found in the outlandish nature of, particularly, Mendy's foibles. It also sows plenty of seeds for what's to come. 

The second half takes a somewhat abrupt turn in location, look, and especially tone. We relocate to Stephen's apartment which he shares with Mike only to find Paul is also there. By comparison, the set is antiseptic and ordered with a wonderful depiction of hundreds of albums and CDs on the rear flat. Initially it's like a set-up for an opera - Stephen, the villain, comes in to find the mismatched lovers (Mike and Paul) with Mendy intruding briefly for comic relief. 

But then something far more interesting happens - Stephen becomes the diva. He pleads with Mike to love him after he crassly makes multiple passes at Paul. Things escalate from there until that heightened storytelling and big emotions associated with opera explode into a fury of jealousy and rage. The over-the-top pretentions of the first half morph into the even bigger emotions of the second. 

By the end of the play you come to realise that Maria Callas symbolises a relationship that was one-sided and never real. That obsession isn't a substitution for love. That finding that rare recording or moment can't rekindle something that is over. As the lights slowly fade on our tragic figures (Lighting designer Mark Nicholson) the trajectory of Mike and Stephen's relationship appears as if it were always fated, like the plot of an opera which is the clever conceit at the heart of this. 

The acting is excellent throughout - Churcher, as mentioned, is all flourishes and vain remonstrations as he plays the full tilt diva to the hilt. Poole gets to go just as large in the second half, albeit in an increasingly melodramatic way, as his Stephen unravels with jealousy and fear. Downes is more grounded as the doctor who has tired of Stephen and fallen for Paul, and provides a rock solid foundation for Poole to bounce off as Stephen becomes more desperate. Comstock provides some shock value to start but plays Paul with a "whatever, man" disdain that's a nice counterpoint to the roiling emotions of the others.

Sound design plays a critical role and is well-handled (Sound operator Jeremy Moore) with the recordings of Callas performances, household effects, and phone message recordings, while there is a focus on the equipment used to play these vinyl records with turntables and stereo kits that will be familiar to anyone from that era (mid-80s). The production also utilises an American dialect coach (Phillip Steele-Young) and Foreign languages coach (Grace Edwards) so the New York accent work and pronunciation of opera terms, lyrics, and names was notable.   

The density and specificity of the opera references might keep audiences at arm's length from this initially but it's well worth persisting with because there's a complex and genuine human tragedy that emerges from under all the "operatic" bluster. 

This is the third play in a row I've seen by director Barry Park that tackles such complexity in forthright and honest ways after The York Realist and The Normal Heart last year. He's to be commended for continuing to present such challenging material at a high level in Perth's vibrant community theatre space. The Lisbon Traviata runs until 27 April at Garrick Theatre in Guildford.

*Eric Idle wrote the Tony award winning musical 'Spamalot' with John Du Prez. McNally takes a few pot shots at musical theatre and while I can tolerate 'Cats' being taken for a walk and even 'The Sound of Music', you're messing with trouble when you go after Sondheim and 'Sweeney Todd'! 

The York Realist - Garrick Theatre (23 July 2023)

I admit that at the start of the matinee production of The York Realist I wasn't listening properly. This wasn't helped by the unfortunate late arrival of two patrons who eventually found their seats, noisily. After they finally settled I concentrated on the scene before me to slowly come to the realisation that it wasn't what was being said but rather everything that wasn't. The first half of the play in particular, written by Peter Gill, is a masterclass in subtext. The surface level dialogue certainly establishes a strong sense of time and place and the characters who populate this tale but there's so much more simmering away underneath. 

That time and place is the early 1960s in a cottage in York where a "love that dare not speak its name" grows in tentative fashion between country farm labourer George (Alex Comstock) and London assistant theatre director John (Sean Wcislo). Both men are drawn to each other but due to circumstance and the vastly different worlds from which they come their longing is fraught with complication. None more so than the fact that such a consummated love was still illegal in Britain. 

There's another strand that is subtly communicated whereby George's mother (Lis Hoffmann) is in poor health which anchors George to the family home despite his desires. Then there's George's sister Barbara (Louise Plant), Barbara's husband Arthur (Phil Bedworth), George's nephew Jack (Keaton Humphreys), and family friend Doreen (Roxanne O'Connor) all of whose interactions give an authentic sense of family and community. These are decent, hardworking people who go to chapel, work the land, and look out for each other.  

Once I understood the play's framework I began to see what was happening rather than trying to glean meaning from the 'domestic' conversations taking place. In this director Barry Park excels with an elaborate choreography between Comstock and Wcislo as their characters come to terms with such intense feelings. 

I was fascinated in the space between them onstage, how that changed, who was moving forward, who was retreating, who was initiating contact, who was declining or accepting it. There was also the clearly delineated persona of each character - Comstock makes his George far more animated in a very likeable performance. We feel George's sense of frustration, of duty, of longing to break away from the strictures of his lot in life. 

Wcislo, by comparison, is mostly still, very upright, with his arms straight down his sides, hands palm down. It's as if his John is literally in an emotional straight jacket. Their work together is very good indeed. Helped by another layer - the oft mentioned play within the play that is John's excuse to be there and George's excuse to initially hide. George is, in fact, a good actor; a man pretending to be someone else. The relevance is not lost on the audience. 

There is a significant tonal shift after intermission with the opening scene playing in almost sitcom fashion as the family discuss John and George's play. It's genuinely funny, especially Hoffmann's Mother expressing disbelief that her son George could be so nasty. We have another time jump and again everything is so beautifully revealed instead of any direct exposition in the writing and the performance of such. It's here where the other cast members really shine - Bedworth has an affecting moment as his Arthur refuses to go have a pint with George. This comes shortly after a surprise revelation that skitters off into the ether with hardly a ripple other than to set the possible context for Arthur's response.

Plant's Barbara comes to the fore as brother and sister bicker, their love and concern for each other clear but strained. There is an emotional truth that resonates in these moments of heightened sibling drama. O'Connor imbues her character with a gentle comic streak as Doreen remains largely oblivious to what's really going on. Humphreys, remarkably only 15, is a likeable Jack. His projection wasn't as good as the vastly more experienced actors around him but given his age it's a minor quibble. Hoffmann provides the glue for the family interactions with sly humour, genuine parental concern, and nuanced signs of Mother's frailty.  

The final moments of the play are rightfully between John and a George who, in theory, has become untethered from a son's duty and loyalty to place. Yet these men are both trapped in their own worlds and more importantly the greater world's expectation of who they are meant to be and how they should act. There is no coincidence that 'realist' is in the title. 

Immeasurably aiding the authentic nature of this production is the set design (Barry Park), the depth of which I loved. There is a real sense of a lived in cottage; spatially, how it's dressed, and working elements such as the running water in the kitchen sink. Mark Nicholson's lighting design reinforces this by giving the illusion of both the interior and exterior of the cottage, bigger than you might expect with Garrick's narrow stage. Nyree Hughes' costume design isn't showy which suits these characters down to the ground. Finally, at no point did the Yorkshire accents pull me out of the story so kudos to dialect coach Phil Bedworth. 

The York Realist is a very well written play that has a lot going on under the surface. It is sensitively directed by Barry Park with excellent performances across the board. This is mature theatre of a high standard that is well worth a look. There are two more performances in the extended season on at 7.30pm, 27th and 29th of July at the Garrick Theatre in Guildford.