CANNES FILM REVIEW: Cam Archer’s ‘Shit Year’

SHIT YEAR, from top: Ellen Barkin, Luke Grimes, 2010. ©Cinemad Presents

By Ray Bennett

CANNES – Ellen Barkin looks pretty good in black and white, but that’s about all that can be said for California director Cam Archer’s vacuous “Shit Year,” which practically demands the observation that the title is one word too long to be strictly accurate.

Slim, blonde and sardonically expressive, Barkin loiters about elegantly in a series of sequences having something to do with a famous actress named Colleen West getting lost in the woods and her own delusions after deciding to retire.

Interest in the picture will be mostly from the occasional festival and art house, however many fans Barkin has these days, and those who are for some reason captivated by meaningless black and white images on a big screen.

Surrealistic and impenetrable, the film shows the languid woman having flashbacks, flash forwards and merely flashes as she contemplates the long and successful career she’s walked away from. She also toys with a pretty boy (Luke Grimes) who looks a bit like the young Elvis but when invited to speak says either “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure.”

Walks in the sparse woods with a chatty neighbor (Melora Walters) who apparently doesn’t go to the movies so doesn’t recognize the star; imagined conversations with an analyst (Theresa Randle) in some kind of limbo facility; and reminiscences with the actress’s older brother (Bob Einstein) serve to make things no clearer.

Venue: Festival de Cannes, Directors’ Fortnight; Cast: Ellen Barkin, Melora Walters, Bob Einstein, Luke Grimes, Theresa Randle; Director, writer: Cam Archer; Director of photography: Aaron Platt; Production designer: Elizabeth Birkenbuel; Music: Mick Turner; Editor: Madeline Tucek; ; Producer: Lars Knudsen, Jay van Hoy Production: Parts and Labor; Sales: Match Factory; Not rated; running time, 95 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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CANNES FILM REVIEW: Gilles Marchand’s ‘Black Heaven’

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By Ray Bennett

CANNES – The potential perils of anonymity on the Internet are employed for sinister effect in Gilles Marchand’s “Black Heaven” (L’Autre Monde), an intelligent thriller in which the suspense takes its time but pays off well at the end.

The tale of a decent French kid caught up in a dangerously seductive interactive online game, with many scenes set inside the game itself, should prosper in French-speaking territories and is well worth a look for an English-language remake.

Things start off slowly with youthful lovers Gaspard (Gregoire Leprince-Ringuet) and Marion (Pauline Etienne) enjoying the summer by the beach. Finding a lost mobile phone, their curiosity is piqued by images on it of a beautiful blonde and text messages by the man who presumably owns the phone that suggest intrigue and a secret assignation.

As a lark, the youngsters go to the appointed meeting place, spot the couple and follow them into the woods where, to their horror, the pair attempts suicide having tied a pipe to their car’s exhaust. The man dies, but Gaspard and Marion save the blonde.

Gaspard also pockets a video camera placed on the dashboard of the suicidal couple’s vehicle. Viewing it alone, he discovers that the blonde, named Sam (Louise Bourgoin, pictured), plays an avatar videogame called “Black Hole” and quickly obtains a copy and goes inside.

Through a somewhat contrived coincidence, Gaspard also meets the hot-blooded and tempting blonde in real life. Despite his affection for Marion and a warning from the woman’s brother, Vincent (Melvil Poupard), that she is not well and was only just released from hospital, he falls under her spell.

As sequences alternate between real events and the artificiality of the world of the videogame, the picture appears to lose its way in the middle section, but it turns out that director and co-writer Marchand knows what he’s doing and where he’s going. The twists, when they come, are riveting.

Leprince-Ringuet and Etienne are fresh-faced and appealing as the youngsters and they handle the early innocence and growing alarm with assurance, while Poupard is effective in making Vincent both sympathetic and potentially threatening.

It is Bourgoin that most moviegoers will remember, however, with a peachy sex appeal that she makes electric but also with the capacity to demonstrate great inner turmoil and inconsolable sadness.

Venue: Festival de Cannes, Out of Competition; Cast: Gregoire Leprince-Ringuet, Louise Bourgoin, Melvil Poupard, Pauline Etienne; Director: Gilles Marchand; Writers: Gilles Marchand, Dominik Moll; Director of photography: Celine Bozon; Production designer: Jeremie Sfez; Music: Anthony Gonzales; Costume designer: Joana George-Rossi; Editor: Nelly Quettier; Production: Haut et Court; Sales: Memento Films International; Not rated; running time, 100 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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CANNES FILM REVIEW: Mike Leigh’s ‘Another Year’

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By Ray Bennett

CANNES – Mike Leigh’s latest slice of British life picture is titled “Another Year,” and many viewers will be grateful it’s just the one. Acutely observed but gloomy and lacking narrative, it tells of 12 months in the life of a decent but dull suburban couple and their friends, most of whom you would go out of your way to avoid at a party.

The veteran British director draws typically skilful performances from his cast of mostly regulars and there are fine contributions from cinematographer Dick Pope and composer Gary Yershon. It’s a sedate film without drama that festival juries could well fall in love with but moviegoers might decide that their own brand of misery is quite sufficient, thanks.

International box office will rely on Leigh’s admirers and it will be a tough go in his homeland with austerity measures under the new government about to make people gloomy enough already.

There’s no doubting Leigh’s sympathy for the lonely and unhappy characters depicted in the film but while he and his talented cast do their best to suggest they are worthy of attention, it’s not easy to see especially why.

Divided into the four seasons, the year depicted includes a birth, a funeral and expectations of a wedding but the title itself makes no promise of excitement. Pope’s images of the changing weather are among the films pleasures along with Yershon’s elegant score for string quintet, which complements Leigh’s use of lingering close-ups.

Jim Broadbent and Ruth Sheen play happily married Tom and Gerri, who lead industrious lives at work and at home. He’s an engineering geologist and she’s a medical counsellor, and their 30-year-old son Joe (Oliver Maltman) is a community lawyer. They tend their piece of vegetable garden at the local allotments, read and worry about the environment, and cook dinners for friends and family.

These include Mary, a secretary at Gerri’s clinic, who drinks too much, talks too much, and usually overstays her welcome. Lesley Manville (pictured centre with Broadbent and Sheen) brings this sad and rather desperate character to life in a performance that will garner considerable acclaim. She pitches Mary’s voice to match her degree of giddiness, anxiety and need, and shows a mastery of facial expression that conveys her gradual awareness that she has allowed life to pass her by.

Another friend, Ken (Peter Wight), overweight, drunken and divorced, is in a similar plight and while Gerri and Tom show concern and tolerance, they have little to offer either of them much by way of concrete help. Other Leigh veterans including Imelda Staunton and Phil Davis show up in small roles and, like the wonderful stage actor David Bradley as Tom’s bereaved brother, they are gifted in the use of silence and nuanced tones to deliver Leigh’s cryptic lines.

Broadbent and Sheen bring a sly touch of smugness to the apparently contented but quite boring central couple, and perhaps Leigh intends them to be not quite as nice as they appear. Late in the film, an angry and disaffected nephew named Carl makes a brief but striking appearance. Played with focused intensity by Martin Savage, he’s only on screen for a couple of scenes but when he departs in a temper, it’s tempting to ask the director, would he mind terribly if we went with him?

Venue: Festival de Cannes, In Competition; Cast: Jim Broadbent, Lesley Manville, Ruth Sheen, Oliver Maltman, Imelda Staunton, Phil Davis, David Bradley; Director, writer: Mike Leigh; Director of photography: Dick Pope; Production designer: Simon Beresford; Music: Gary Yershon; Costume designer: Jacqueline Durran; Editor: Jon Gregory Ace; Producer: Georgina Lowe; Production companies: Thin Man Films, Film4, Untitled 09 Ltd.; Sales: Focus Features; Not rated; running time, 130 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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CANNES FILM REVIEW: Cheol-soo Jang’s ‘Bedevilled’

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By Ray Bennett

CANNES – Cheol-soo Jang’s “Bedevilled” tells of two young Korean women raised on a remote island in a brutally uncaring community. One has escaped to the big city but remains wrapped seriously tight and when she returns to visit her friend, whose plight is dire, one of them goes batty and kills everyone.

Not so much bedeviled as demented, the film spends half of its time describing the malevolence of the community and then the horrific and relentless revenge begins. Audiences would be cheering if the family of drooling, cretinous males and bullying old women were not such cardboard cutouts.

The film’s escalating tension is staged well and sequences on the beautiful island are photographed attractively. A vivid portrayal of a descent into madness by Yeong-hie Seo, whose cheery and optimistic smile gives way to the glazed panic of lunacy, and lots of gushing blood, could see some healthy returns from the horror circuit.

Seo plays the woman who stays behind on the island where income derives from beekeeping. That cottage industry is hardly dwelt on, however, as the film concentrates on the beastly ways of the family, with the elder women smiling and forgiving every brutal and sexual indulgence on the part of the men.

Seong-won Ji plays the citified friend who has grown indifferent to the sufferings of others and retreats to the island after declining to testify against three thugs who have assaulted and nearly killed a young woman on the street.

Withdrawn and selfish, she sympathizes with her childhood friend but seems reluctant to become involved. As the men’s behavior gets worse and she also becomes threatened, it’s a toss-up which of the two young women will be the first to crack and start sharpening the gardening implements.

In his first feature, the Korean director shows a good grasp of how to build gradual suspense although he has a worrying appetite for starting scenes with close-ups of anonymous feet and he doesn’t quite know when to bring the violence to an end.

Venue: Festival de Cannes, Critics Week; Cast: Yeong-hee Seo, Seong-won Ji; Director: Cheol-soo Jang; Screenwriter: Kwang-young Choi; Director of photography: Gi-tae Kim; Production designer: Jeom-hui Sihm ; Music: Tae-seong Kim; Editor: Mi-joo Kim; Sales: Finecut; Producer: Kuy-young Park; Production companies: Filma Pictures, Tori Pictures; Not rated; running time, 115 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Thomas Middleton’s ‘Women Beware Women’

Lauren O’Neil and Richard Lintern in ‘Women Beware Women’

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Pretty much everyone dies at the end of Thomas Middleton’s steamy la dolce vita roundelay “Women Beware Women,” and in the National’s new production of the Jacobean classic, it happens in a magnificently designed tableau of stabbings, poisonings, murder and suicide.

Set designer Lez Brotherston uses the Olivier stage’s full size for a multi-story edifice that revolves as the carnage engulfs most of the players at the climax of a saga of lust and greed fueled by both ambition and callous indifference.

Written in 1622 and set in Florence where the Duke (Richard Lintern) rules through cunning, terror and brutal power, it is a tale of a male-dominated world in which smart women might plot and connive but are doomed to suffer the consequences of misogynistic traditions and rules.

The clothes are modern and the music (by Olly Fox) is seductive jazz, but the language is full of “thee” and “thy” and the claustrophobic environment of the Duke’s court is right from the era of James I.

The play follows the fate of two beautiful young women, Bianca (Lauren O’Neil) and Isabella (Vanessa Kirby) and the way they are mistreated by the men in their lives whose wicked designs are enabled by the conniving rich widow Livia (Harriet Walter).

Having buried two husbands, Livia spends her time doting on her two brothers and is happy to conspire toward their satisfaction even if it means the two young women are plunged into a world of decadence and degradation.

Director Marianne Elliott, whose credits include staging the massive life-sized puppetry of “War Horse,” strives for a modern sensibility with the play and makes the most of important scenes involving a duplicitous game of chess and a lavish banquet as well as the concluding murderous ballet.

Walter manages to make Livia sound more shrewd than sinister as she confesses, “Oh, the deadly snares that women set for women, without pity either to soul or honor!” Her own downfall in letting a man once again get under her skin is played with sympathetic vulnerability.

O’Neil and Kirby are clever in showing the steel emerging after their radiant early appearances with O’Neil conveying a mix of toughness and regret as Bianca while Kirby’s Isabella, thinking her fate resolved in her favor, is playful and sexy in toying with an idiot suitor.

It’s great that the National is around to revive such classics and this is fully worth seeing. And at the end, there’s a cautionary note. The last man standing is a pious Cardinal (Chu Omambala) who, when the sinful ruler dies, observes, “So where lust reigns, that prince cannot reign long.”

Venue: National Theatre, London (through July 4)

Cast: Harriet Walter, Lauren O’Neil, Vanessa Kirby, Richard Lintern, Samuel Barnett, Raymond Coulthard, Harry Melling, Tilly Tremayne, Andrew Woodall, James Hayes, Nick Blood, Chu Omambala, Samuel James
Playwright: Thomas Middleton
Director: Marianne Elliott
Set designer: Lez Brotherston
Lighting designer: Neil Austin
Music: Olly Fox
Choreographer: Arthur Lita
Fight director: Kate Waters
Sound designer: Ian Dickinson

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter

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THEATRE REVIEW: Tom Stoppard’s ‘The Real Thing’

Hattie Morahan and Toby Stephens at the Old Vic

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Tom Stoppard’s “The Real Thing,” an incisive and funny but warm examination of love, possessiveness and infidelity, cleaned up at the Tony Awards on its two Broadway outings in 1984 and 2000, and the Old Vic’s new production upholds that excellent standard.

Toby Stephens plays Henry, a gifted and sardonic playwright, who likens the art of writing to the way a cricket bat is finely crafted to make a clean and lasting strike. The opening scene is one from a play he has written in which a cuckolded husband cracks increasingly hysterical jokes upon discovering his wife’s unfaithfulness.

Henry is much smoother in his own adultery, leaving one actress for another in the belief that his second choice is the love of his life, the real thing. No surprise, then, when she betrays him, but with typical skill Stoppard spurns the obvious and delves into the whys and wherefores of fidelity and ramifications of betrayal.

Hattie Morahan plays Annie, his young mistress, who seems skittish at first but shows strength and determination as their marriage goes on. First wife Charlotte (Fenella Woolgar) and Annie’s distraught husband Max (Barnaby Kay) are left to pick up the pieces, although there are surprises in that, too.

The thread that runs through the sturdy spine of the play has to do with commitment and what it really means. Henry’s commitment to good writing is tested by the urgency that Annie finds in the unskilled play of a young radical in prison. His commitment to Annie is challenged by her apparently casual willingness to stray when tempted by someone younger.

There are wonderfully lyrical and well-crafted lines in the play but also scenes of great depth that show the damage that indifference can do. Director Anna Mackmin is adept at balancing scenes that go from wisecracks to tears and back again, and she draws adroit and complex performances from her cast.

With impressive command, Stephens inhabits Henry’s world with the confidence of someone who believes he has all the emotional and intellectual means to glide through any entanglement only to discover that he is as vulnerable as the rest of us.

Morahan captures the giddy excitement of illicit infatuation but shows Annie growing with the realization that Henry’s love might not be as all encompassing as she anticipated. Woolgar, with her gift for droll line readings, and Kay, who brings full measure to Max’s distress, give the abandoned spouses vital presence.

It’s a genuinely humane comedy, and Stoppard gives flight to some wonderfully entertaining riffs on art and love, but with his affection for early pop records he confirms happily Noel Coward’s assertion regarding the potency of cheap music.

Venue: The Old Vic, London (through June 5)
Cast: Toby Stephens, Hattie Morahan, Fenella Woolgar, Barnaby Kay, Tom Austen, Louise Calf, Jordan Young
Playwright: Tom Stoppard
Director: Anna Mackmin
Set designer: Lez Brotherston
Lighting designer: Hugh Vanstone
Sound designer: Simon Baker for Autograph
Video designer: Duncan McLean

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter

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FILM REVIEW: ‘Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time’

The Prince of Persia x 650

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Aimed squarely at youngsters and families, “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time,” which had its world premiere in London on Sunday, is a handsome, fast-paced and innocuous adventure that’s easy to take but lacks epic scale.

Based on a 2003 Ubisoft videogame, the film has dash and flourish with adequate performances and expert effects that keep a far-fetched tale buoyant without leaving any lasting impression.

Its PG-13 rating seems unmerited as the fun and games are pitched at 10-year-olds and teenagers might find it a bit tame. Film buffs could enjoy it as a nostalgic throwback to the antics of Douglas Fairbanks and Errol Flynn. Box office should be healthy without going through the roof.

prince persia 2 x325The setting is an imagined version of ancient Persia and it’s all swords and horses, wind and sand, mighty cities and noble princes. The maguffin is a dagger that unleashes sands that can make time reverse, and in the wrong hands could bring about earth’s destruction.

Jake Gyllenhaal plays Dastan, an acrobatic warrior who was adopted as an orphaned child by the benevolent King Sharaman (Ronald Pickup) and raised with two princes Tus (Richard Coyle) and Garsiv (Toby Kebbell). Guided by the king’s silky brother Nizam (Ben Kingsley), they lay siege to a city called Alamut where it is believed are hidden weapons of mass destruction.

That’s about as topical as the film gets, as the focus moves quickly to the fabled dagger, and intrigue between the princes and their advisors. Much rests on the appeal of Gyllenhaal, a serious actor who is buffed up seriously for the role. He’s certainly fit, and the British accent he uses to match the rest of the cast works fine, but there’s something a touch hangdog in Gyllenhaal’s demeanor that is probably intended to show self-deprecation but instead can appear insipid.

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Gemma Arterton plays Tamina, a princess who knows more about the dagger than she lets on, and director Mike Newell works hard to make their encounters sexy and exciting as sandstorms swirl, but there’s not much lust in the dust.

Arterton, who suffered a classic Bond Girl exit in “Quantum of Solace,” brings exotic looks and great energy to the role and it will raise her profile, but she appears too intelligent for such silly stuff.

Producer Jerry Bruckheimer has loaded his crew with top-notch talent, and the picture gleams as a result. Kingsley, as the resentful brother of the king, and Alfred Molina as a conniving entrepreneur who runs ostrich races, are reliable in providing the necessary menace and comic relief. Another Brit, Steve Toussaint, makes an impression as an expert knife thrower from Africa but his fate is all too predictable.

A trio of film editors, Michael Kahn, Martin Walsh and Mick Audsley, deserve full marks for the exciting pace of the picture and they make the most of John Seale’s cinematography, which is inventively framed and beautiful to see.

Harry Gregson-Williams provides an orchestral score that matches the sweep of the adventure and keeps its IQ from sliding too far down the scale.

Opens: UK: May 21, US: May 28 (Walt Disney); Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Gemma Arterton, Ben Kingsley, Alfred Molina; Director: Mike Newell; Director of photography: John Seale; Production designer: Wolf Kroeger; Music: Harry Gregson-Williams; Costume designer: Penny Rose; Editors: Michael Kahn, Martin Walsh, Mick Audsley; Producer: Jerry Bruckheimer; Executive producers: John August, Patrick McCormick, Eric McLeod, Jordan Mechner, Chad Oman, Mike Stenson; Production: Walt Disney Pictures, Jerry Bruckheimer Films; Rated PG-13, running time 116 mins.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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West End theatre thrives on excellence and originality

Ian McKellen (Estragon) and Patrick Stewart (Vladimir) in 'Waiting for Godot', photo by Sasha Gusov x600

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – If all the world’s a stage, then it never has been more true than in the British capital right now. The nation’s economy is in dire straits, but that hasn’t stopped theatergoers from flocking to the West End, where attendance last year topped 14 million and boxoffice revenue hit a record £500 million ($775 million).

“It’s been an extraordinary year of hits, with very few misses,” says producer Nica Burns, chair of the Society of London Theatre, which represents all 52 of the city’s playhouses. “We’ve just had an outstanding time.”

Hits have included classics from Beckett (“Waiting for Godot” with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, pictured top) and Chekhov (“Ivanov”) to Shakespeare (“Hamlet”, starring Jude Law, pictured below) and Tennessee Williams (“A Streetcar Named Desire”, starring Rachel Weisz, pictured below); new plays that deal with a modern English family (“Jerusalem”) and U.S. capitalism (“Enron”) and World War I (“War Horse”); long-running musicals such as “Les Miserables,” “The Phantom of the Opera” and “Mamma Mia!”; and new tuners including “Sister Act” and “Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.”

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And they keep coming. “Legally Blonde” is a smash hit; Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Phantom” sequel “Love Never Dies” was given a mixed critical reception but opened with a £9 million advance, more than it cost to put on; and the hit Broadway revival of “Hair” recently has transferred to the West End.

The current success owes to several factors, not least of which is a high standard of excellence. Critics have joined the public in being generally bowled over by the range and quality of what has been presented of late.

Two more reasons for the growing appreciation of what’s onstage: The lackluster state of British film and television means local talent is gravitating to the theater; and the development of well-trained directors. Almeida artistic director Michael Attenborough says: “TV in the U.S. is infinitely stronger. Most U.K. sitcoms are pathetically vulgar and crude.”

Meanwhile, the current crop of top stage directors is among the most innovative and distinctive to date, with Rupert Goold (“Enron”), Michael Grandage (“Hamlet,” “Red”), Howard Davies (“All My Sons”), Christopher Morahan (“The Caretaker”), Ian Rickson (“Jerusalem”) and Nicholas Hytner (“London Assurance,” “The Habit of Art”) following in the footsteps of Sam Mendes, Richard Eyre, Stephen Daldry and Trevor Nunn. Burns says simply, “We train great directors.” It shows.

Burns, who runs Nimax Theatres with U.S. producer Max Weitzenhoffer, adds: “Not only are more people coming, they’re paying more money to see the plays and musicals. Last year, it was a coincidence that so many plays came to fruition in one performing year. It was very much the year of the play. But that doesn’t mean the musicals were struggling — it means the plays did better.”

Theaters work hard to present a collective face to their public, Burns says: “We are very collaborative; while we compete for audiences, we don’t compete between ourselves at all on the big picture, and we work very closely to further our industry.”

There is a strong relationship between commercial theaters and nonprofit companies that rely on subsidies from the government’s Arts Council in addition to sponsorships and boxoffice. The National, Royal Court, Donmar Warehouse, Almeida and the Chichester Festival play key roles in the development of new plays. Current smashes “Jerusalem,” written by Jez Butterworth, and “Enron,” by Lucy Trebble, grew within that system.

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“Jerusalem,” for which Mark Rylance (pictured above with Alan David) won the Olivier Award for best actor, was commissioned in 2002. “Enron,” which opened recently on Broadway, was commissioned in 2006 and took three years to reach the stage at Chichester. Burns says: “That’s really quite short. Nearly all that time is taken in writing, re-writing and workshopping.”

One of the biggest draws to the West End is “War Horse,” adapted at the National by Nick Stafford from Michael Morpugo’s World War I-set novel. Featuring live-sized puppets, the play transferred to the New London Theatre, where it is booking through February.

The National’s executive director, Nick Starr, says 43% of the 700,000 additional people who bought tickets for West End plays last year went to “War Horse”. He says, “There were real efficiencies involved in spinning it out of the National. It was not complicated in terms of the physical set, but the horse team and the puppets made it an enormous backstage enterprise.” The play is bound for Broadway next year.

Nonprofit theater companies also help in attracting big names and it’s something on which commercial producers rely, Attenborough says: “A healthy subsidised sector is really important,” he says. “Above all, they want the company producing it to have the very best actors. They don’t want to hear that the play works but the actors aren’t there. They want to get into partnership with us or the Donmar because the best actors want to work with us.”

Rachel Weisz A Streetcar Named Desire x650That includes major stars from Hollywood and Broadway. Rachel Weisz (left) was named best actress at the recent Oliviers for her appearance as Blanche DuBois in a production of “Streetcar” at the Donmar. Grandage, that theater’s artistic director, is in New York directing John Logan’s “Red,” about artist Mark Rothko. It ran at the Donmar 12 weeks with the same cast: Alfred Molina and Eddie Redmayne.

“Just having a high-level creative team isn’t going to get people in,” Grandage says. “A big star is an obvious way to draw an audience’s attention, but it’s best when it’s a package of a tried-and-tested creative team with high-level talent and a big play, a big author.”

Oscar winner Kevin Spacey also has proved a success as artistic director at the Old Vic, a nonprofit that relies on private funds and boxoffice. Tom Stoppard’s “The Real Thing,” starring Toby Stephens, recently opened there, and Spacey has lent his star power to several productions including “Speed-the-Plow” co-starring Jeff Goldblum.

Not everything is a hit, however. “Spring Awakening,” a Broadway success, got fabulous reviews, but the public didn’t go even though it went on to win the Olivier for best new musical. “None of us in the community could understand,” Burns says. “It wasn’t my show, but it was brilliant. … ‘Wicked’ got mixed reviews, and it’s the biggest hit.”

As a result, producers do everything they can to keep budgets tight. Producer Sonia Friedman says that whereas “Legally Blonde” cost about $15 million to mount on Broadway, she did it in London for $3.8 million. She adds that “La Cage aux Folles” and “A Little Night Music” cost about $5 million apiece in New York but $1.1 million each in London.

“For ‘Legally Blonde,’ we looked at the whole production and worked out what we needed to keep in order to make it work and lost the elements that made it so expensive, mainly the huge physical production,” she says. “It was a very interesting exercise, but we don’t need those high budgets.”

As a result, the West End is able to offer a greater range of ticket prices than is typical on Broadway. Burns says: “We have always had a system where we have a huge amount of prices, and at most theatres there will be what we call ‘day seats’ at £20. We’re more and more like airline tickets: If you want to come on Saturday night, you’ll have to pay the full price; if you are willing to come earlier in the week, you can shop around for a discount.”

It’s working. It also helps that, as Attenborough says, “It seems in London that there’s almost a determination by people to go out to the theater.”

This story appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Dion Boucicault’s ‘London Assurance’

Richard Briers, Fiona Shaw, Simon Russell Beale, Mark Addy, Paul Ready, Michelle Terry at the National

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – First produced on the West End stage in 1841, Dublin-born playwright Dion Boucicault’s hilarious farce “London Assurance” is given its full measure in an uproarious production at the National Theatre that makes most modern comedies pale by comparison.

Set in the fanciful world of highfalutin and preposterous English life readily identifiable from the later works of Oscar Wilde and Evelyn Waugh, it combines great verbal wit with physical comedy of a high order delivered by a cast of sublime comedy actors.

Simon Russell Beale is at his incomparable best as Sir Harcourt Courtly, a rich, fat and flamboyant society peacock with a seldom-seen son named Charles (Paul Ready) whom he believes to be sober and industrious but is in fact a heavy-drinking wastrel.

Sir Harcourt (left) desires to take as his new bride a countrywoman he has yet to meet but is informed reliably that she is both comely and well off.

He heads straightway to the bucolic manor house of Squire Max Harkaway (Mark Addy), there to cement his engagement to the man’s niece Grace (Michelle Terry) while taking in some country air.

Unknown to Sir Harcourt, his son has already fetched up there in the company of a rough-and-ready London opportunist named Richard Dazzle (Matt Cross) but so distant is the relationship between father and son that the young man is able to disguise himself with the mere addition of a pair of spectacles.

Things become complicated when more guests arrive in the person of enthusiastically lusty horsewoman Lady Gay Spanker (Fiona Shaw, pictured) and her much put upon but wealthy husband Mr. Adolphus Spanker (Richard Briers).

Sparks fly when Sir Harcourt falls for Lady Gay and young Grace captivates his son. Dazzle wheels and deals between the existing and would-be partners and a snooping lawyer named Mark Meddle (Tony Jayawardena) is keen to exploit every situation.

Sir Harcourt’s ineffably smooth and cultured valet with the singular name of Cool (Nick Sampson) tries to keep a lid on everything, and under Nicholas Hytner’s witty and assured direction he ultimately succeeds. Not, however, before the audience is weeping with laughter.

Venue: National Theatre, runs through June 2; Cast: Simon Russell Beale, Fiona Shaw, Paul Ready, Matt Cross, Mark Addy, Michelle Terry, Richard Briers, Tony Jayawardena; Playwright: Dion Boucicault; Director: Nicholas Hytner; Set and costume designer: Mark Thompson; Lighting designer: Neil Austin; Sound designer: John Leonard; Music: Rachel Portman; Choreographer: John Leonard

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter. Photo by Catherine Ashmore

 

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FILM REVIEW: Ricky Gervais’s ‘Cemetery Junction’

Christian Cooke, Jack Doolan, and Tom Hughes in ‘Cemetery Junction’

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant have somehow contrived to leave behind all the acute observation and wit of their TV hits, “The Office” and “Extras,” in “Cemetery Junction,” their first feature film as writers and directors.

Gervais takes a secondary role and Merchant makes one brief appearance in the film, which tells of three restless lads itching to get away from a dull and predictable English suburban community in 1973.

Sadly, the film also is dull and predictable with the youthful rebels embarrassingly feeble when compared to such cinematic icons as James Dean, whose name is shamelessly invoked, or Albert Finney, whose character in “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning” would bounce these guys like a basketball. Boxoffice prospects on home territory appear slim — and even slimmer internationally.

Filmed without visual distinction, the story has familiar and tired characters and plot lines packaged cosily with any depth reliant upon what seasoned actors such as Ralph Fiennes, Emily Watson, and Anne Reid, and the very promising young Felicity Jones (pictured), can bring to the supporting roles.

The trio of unlikely friends are Freddie (Christian Cooke), a likable kid who doesn’t want to grow up to be like his factory worker dad (Gervais); Bruce (Tom Hughes), a cocky thug who doesn’t want to grow up to be like his drunken layabout father (Francis Magee); and Snork (Jack Doolan), an overweight simpleton who doesn’t want to grow up at all.

They live in a bland suburb called Cemetery Junction in the south of England they want desperately to escape. It’s hard to see why because the filmmakers make it some kind of paradise for yobs where spraying obscenities on a massive real estate poster, smashing up a local club and assaulting a police office lead to just one night in the clink, thanks to the genial local police sergeant who thinks boys will be boys.

Freddie is ambitious, although his attempts to better himself by going to work at an insurance company don’t appear promising. The boss, Mr. Kendrick (Fiennes), and his brightest spark Mike (Matthew Goode) are oily and unpleasant while Mrs. Kendrick (Watson) is long-suffering and beautiful daughter Julie (Jones) seems bound to marry Mike but also dreams of running away.

It all plays out as you would expect. Worse, the film depicts families then as being entirely smug, ignorant and racist, while sneering at the folks at the insurance firm with no understanding, insight or appetite for something illuminating.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter

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