Bauble level human to help with demand

Santa’s elves are exhausted, overworked and they just can’t meet the demands of the festive season, so the workers that are at the top of the Christmas tree are recruiting a bauble level human to help with demand. Upon arrival, the audience is given candy canes which will be used at the end of Elf Off to cast our vote on who we think would be the best candidate for the role.

The interview process is led by head elf – Gingersparkles Treacletart, a highly strung, rosy-cheeked bundle of nervous energy. As Gingersparkles, the charismatic Laurie Stevens introduces each of the seven candidates who then launch into impassioned pleas for the position. All but one of these monologues have been written by the performers themselves. With seven different writers of vastly contrasting styles and subject matters, there is every chance that Elf Off could feel like a really disjointed production.Thankfully, it avoided this pitfall by having Stevens’ character interject between each interviewee acting almost like a compare, a device which really helped to anchor the work.

At its core, Elf Off is an amusing satire that parodies many recognisable job interview tropes. For instance, Jonathan Price (Kim Hardy) is crippled by nerves bumbling through his generic answers, palpably nervous as he rummages through preprepared flashcards. A further level of vulnerability is exposed when we discover that this is the first interview since being made redundant. Hardy’s unexpected dark humour shines through when he reveals some of more unconventional devices that his therapist has recommended to help him cope with stress and anxiety. Another standout character is Hayley Baker (Angela Harvey) a despondent single mum on benefits whose only Christmas wish was for Santa to conjure up a dependable father figure for children.

The Old Red Lion Theatre is decked out with tinsel, glitter and presents aplenty. The perfect backdrop for interviewee seven Jade Smith (Rachel Stoneley) to burst into the space with her seductive performance of Santa Baby. It soon becomes clear that Jade has mistaken the nature of Lapland as an establishment and perhaps this scantily clad elf is more used to unwrapping presents then wrapping them. Stoneley is the most dynamic performer of the evening as she directly engages and interacts with the audience which in turn made for a more compelling exchange.

Elf Off is created and co-produced by a company of actors who have all trained of performed with The salon:collective. At a time of year when theatreland is saturated with pantomimes, it is refreshing to see a festive offering that dares to veer off the well-beaten, snow-covered track.

Makes you think about donuts in a whole new light.

Cast an eye over the audience of Little Red Riding Hood at artsdepot this half term and alongside little girls dressed up as the protagonist herself, you’ll also spot a couple of pint-sized people looking extremely cosy in slippers and pyjamas. Siblings Bridget and Stephen are having a sleepover at their grandma’s house, and we’re all invited. Struggling to get to sleep – partly because boisterous older sister Bridget can’t stop thinking about the uneaten donuts in grandma’s kitchen – the pair decide to tell a story. Equipped with only a toy-box, a wardrobe of their grandma’s clothes and their vivid imaginations the pair energetically transform into the roster of characters from Little Red Riding Hood. With upbeat songs, a replenishing wardrobe, and make-believe aplenty, Berry Theatre’s Little Red Riding Hood is a charming tale.

With a fairytale as ingrained in the collective conscience as Little Red Riding Hood, audiences are always going to be on the look-out for points of difference and what spins, if any, are put on the iconic moments. Well, in this production bossy older sister Bridget (played buoyantly by Lorna Jinks) is in charge of casting, telling her brother that if he wants to play the Woodcutter, he’ll also have to play Little Red Riding Hood and later on the aging grandmother as well. Reluctant at first to don the scarlet cape, a compliant Stephen (Iain Ridley) soon decides to play along. Ridley has great comic timing, with one stand-out moment being when he questions what Little Red Riding Hood’s actual name was, remarking that naming her after an article of clothing would be much like if he called his sister ‘Purple coat from H&M’. This production is littered with an abundance of giggles, as moments with shadow puppets, water pistols and, of course, a pair of underpants really tickle the young audience’s sense of humour.

Anybody who has ever seen The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe will know that cupboards can have magical capabilities, a trope that is used throughout this rendition of Little Red Riding Hood. Every time the wardrobe is reopened it contains another prop that wasn’t there before, and ultimately it acts as a portal for the children to leave their bedroom and explore the mysterious woods. In fact, a clear strength of this rendition of Little Red Riding Hood is the simplistic but effective use of props, for example Jinks is transformed into the ever-famished wolf using only a long grey fur coat. And, I won’t spoil it, but the production also orchestrates the pivotal grandma-being-eaten-by-the wolf moment in a rather clever and completely non-scary way.

It isn’t often as an adult that you attend a piece of children’s theatre aimed at ages 4+ and expand your vocabulary. However, a delightful song introduces the German word ‘Waldeinsamkeit’ which aptly means the feeling of being alone in the woods. This new addition to our lexicon is spelt out on colourful bunting, with a few other untranslatable words from other languages also thrown into the mix. The brief but educational musical detour is very welcome, and for me this was the most successful song of the bunch – the rest, although repetitive, didn’t quite pass muster as being catchy ear-worms.

A running time of an hour for a play aimed at such young children did feel a tad long, and in the last 15 minutes or so there was definitely an increase in impatient wriggling; in parts, the play could do with a little tightening to bring the overall running time down. That said, Little Red Riding Hood is a sweet, family half-term treat that will teach you a few new words along the way and may make you think about donuts in a whole new light.

Betty O’ Barley and Harry O’Hay spend their days scaring crows away

Betty O’ Barley and Harry O’Hay are a happy-go-lucky pair who spend their days scaring crows away. This duo of scarecrows are so smitten with each other that they decide to have “the best wedding ever, the best wedding yet, the wedding that no one will ever forget.” The Scarecrow’s Wedding is a charming retelling of Julia Donaldson’s book: this much loved children’s tale has been placed in the safe hands of Scamp Theatre (who are the team behind the ever successful Stick Man and Tiddler). Once again, Scamp Theatre have added their enchanting touch to a Donaldson text, and brought Axel Scheffler’s illustrations playfully to life. The Scarecrow’s Wedding combines clever staging, melodic folk songs and an array of instantly loveable characters. It’s a firm favourite that can be enjoyed by all the family.

For those unfamiliar with The Scarecrow’s Wedding, the plot is as follows: in order to get married Betty and Harry must scour the farm to find feathers for the dress, a shell necklace, pink flowers, two rings and bells. Their search leads them to make friends with many animals along the way, often played by the charismatic chameleon Michael Palmer. Simple yet effective costumes such as a vibrant green space hopper transform Palmer into a military-minded toad; a clothes line of bells instantly evoke a herd of busybody cows. The Scarecrow’s Wedding is propelled by the power of make-believe and the infinite realm of a child’s imagination.

Completing the cast are straw-filled lovebirds Matthew Hamper and Lucy Wells, who dart across the stage with boundless energy. All the members of this small cast of three play an array of instruments including a fiddle, a banjo, a soprano saxophone, cajón and even a kazoo. The Leicester Square Theatre is enveloped with sounds of folk-filled drawl, as Darren Clark’s songs compliment this quaint tale perfectly. Some songs such as ‘Life of Scarecrow’ are quite the ear-worm, whereas some of the others fail to make a lasting  impression.

It’s a surprisingly nuanced piece – miniature versions of Betty and Harry can be seen in the faint distance, to be coupled with the idea that inanimate objects come to life when their owners aren’t looking (which felt like a nod to Rosie and Jim). In fact, there are a couple of seemingly subtle nods to children’s television: the slightly tatty dog on wheels is reminiscent of the programme Dog and Duck.

Those that have read The Scarecrow’s Wedding won’t be disappointed with this adaptation, and those that haven’t will no doubt be hurrying out to buy it.

Pirate or Privateer?

Pirate or Privateer? Upon arrival the audience is divided into these two groups, to experience Iris Theatre’s interactive production of Treasure Island. This high-energy adventure tale takes place in the picturesque grounds of The Actors’ Church in Covent Garden. With sea shanties, swigs of rum aplenty andeven a full-sized pirate ship, Treasure Island is a swashbuckling adventure that will ignite your inner buccaneer.

With Captain Flint’s treasure map in tow, the audience is lead out of The Actors’ Church to the rousing chants of “Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Chest – yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” Corralling such alarge groups for a promenade piece isn’t without its’ difficulties as waiting for everyone to arrive in the variety of locations often means that the action lagged slightly.

Upon this fateful deck, the young Jim Hawkins (Harold Addo) comes of age while losing his way among the pirates on the open sea. A boy who would rather keep his word than save his skin, Jim pits his wits against one-legged Long John Silver (the estimable Dafydd Gwyn Howells). Jim must learn to spy and plot and fire a pistol if he is to ever see the shores of home again.

The young Addo has a lot of pluck and charm, but he doesn’t have the grit to make Jim’s brush with death resonate deeply. Howells, on the other hand, may well have been born to play the infamous buccaneer with the peg leg and the opinionated parrot. Suffusing Silver with equal parts swagger and desperation, Howells puts the wind in the sails of this production, which struggles with its momentum as the narrative unfolds. His unabashedly charismatic performance captures the dualities of the iconic pirate, a figure that Jim comes to love despite his villainy.

The soundscape composed by Candida Caldicot is atmospheric and heightens the sense of seafaring peril. Valentina Turtur’s designs are the show’s most arresting feature.

Some of the smaller members of the group are roped in for some endearing audience participation. At times when the audience have divided in two, the alternate scenes unfold in earshot, there’s a real sense that you might be missing out on some gems.

At two and half hours this production could do with a little tightening. That said, it is an endearing production brimming with enthusiasm.

‘Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man’

The Last Word Festival is The Roundhouse’s annual spoken word platform, vibrant with its diverse programming and a true celebration of some of the kaleidoscopic range of talent that exists in the current poetry scene. One such act is Brooklyn-born Baba Israel, whose piece The Spinning Wheel premiered at the Roundhouse before it embarks on a UK tour.

A tribute to late father Steve Ben Israel, who was a poet, a radical, a non-violent anarchist, and all-round performer on the underground jazz scene. Using a fusion of hip hop, projections, video footage and anecdotal memories Baba paints a picture of a fascinating man and all round eccentric but, above all, a man he admired and who continues to inspire his work.

The phrase ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man’ feels like it could be applied to Israel’s upbringing. He was raised going to political rallies, attending his father’s shows, and had the power of free speech and an inquisitive mind ingrained in him from a young age. These ideals reverberate throughout The Spinning Wheel;Israel is principled and his natural warmth exudes. The Spinning Wheel is a very personal tribute to his father; he projects some video footage onto a stack of cardboard boxes – structurally it’s very poignant to listen to Israel talk so fondly about his late father and then build towards seeing his face. It almost feels like we have been invited to Israel’s house, heard some familial anecdotes and then settled down to look at a family photo album.

There are a lot of concepts to get our heads around.It feels like the type of show that takes a while to digest and perhaps could do with multiple viewings. One of the brilliant standout moments is an audio recording of a conversation between a young Israel – he sounds like he could have been no older than four at the time – talking to his father about how he wanted his audiences to react to his shows. The key message from this sweet interaction is that Israel Sr. wants his audiences to listen and to think. Like father like son, the Israel dynasty certainly makes their audience actively listen, and leave them with a lot of food for thought.

Israel is joined on stage by musician Yako 440, who adds another dimension to this multimedia-filled production. Israel describes The Spinning Wheel as a tale told ‘through spoken word, video, and live music’, the show preserves and animates the collectivist impulses of New York counterculture while carrying on a family legacy of generosity via a son’s loving tribute to his father.’ That is a rather fitting description.

A tightrope between spoken word, live literature & comedy

Annie is 17, defiant, anaspiring artist and a daydreamer. After 15 years of living in sun-soaked Australia, Annie and her mother are relocating back to the UK, Birmingham to be precise. Her father, Paul, has been in a coma for over a decade, kept alive only by a wheezing ventilator.

Lost in Blueis Debs Newbold’s one-woman show (well, technically the instantly likeable Brummie is also joined onstage by Roland, a loop back and sound effects machine that Debs claims is her collaborator), a piece of live literature that follows Annie, her mother Sarah and a whole assortment of characters as they try to rebuild their lives back in the UK, lives for many that have paused, frozen in time the day of Paul’s catastrophic accident.

Newbold is a storyteller who weaves her yarn in such a fascinating and controlled manner. She knows exactly how to hold an audience in the palm of her hand and, although we hang on her every word, there is an intimate quality to Lost in Blue;it feels as though she is recounting the tale of her strained family dynamic to you and only you. A wordsmith at her core, every word is considered; for example, Sarah doesn’t simply chop the vegetables, instead she ‘beheads the carrots’. Her comical and eloquent lexicon is a real joy.

Although Paul is lying motionless in his sick bed, we are privy to his internal monologue and his active, wandering mind. There are echoes of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, particularly apparent in the pair’s father-daughter relationship that forms the heart of the tale. In Paul’s alternate reality, he escapes to the Blue Room, Vincent Van Gogh’s Blue Room. Without giving too much away, the scenes between Paul, Van Gogh and Newbold as the narrator are laugh-out-loud funny. AlthoughNewbold is the mouthpiece for all of the characters, we half expect to see the protagonists standing side by side, a testament to the vivid picture she paints.

Lost in Blue walks

a tightrope between spoken word, live literature, comedy. Newbold is charismatic and we root for her from the off. In Lost in Blue explores the empyreal power of art and the unbreakable bond shared by a family.

Send a teacher into space

Carrie is lost. A young teacher who’s struggling to come terms with her mother’s passing, Carrie wanders aimlessly through her daily life looking for direction. while sorting through her late mother’s belongings she comes across a tape recorder, that contains a message from the maternal figure that she misses dearly. Hearing her voice again not only provides comfort, but also gives her a much needed sense of purpose that propels Carrie to go on a voyage that will take her on a journey far further than she ever thought possible.

Voyager is the latest offering from esteemed physical theatre company Idle Motion. Many of the young cast are also Artistic Directors and Producers in the company and it shows, as they perform with real conviction and a genuine sensitivity, they are portraying so much more than merely characters as for them Voyager is a palpable labour of love.

At the school where Carrie (who is played by the bright-eyed and emotionally nuanced Grace Chapman) works, the fragments of dialogue are littered with recognisable schoolteacher tropes such as: ‘that bell is for me not for you’ and ‘ slow down, there’s no need to run Mr.’ As Jason, Julian Spooner is particularly humourous as he nails the PE teacher who seems all too convinced that the whole of year of eleven should be solely focusing on the rounders lesson he’s teaching and nothing else.

A distracted Carrie, joins this gaggle of well observed teachers for an after school all staff briefing; where they learn that they can to apply for the new ‘Teacher Goes To Mars’ programme. Bemused at first by this far from conventional field trip, it soon pricks a few of their interests, including Carrie’s, who despite not consulting with her finance first feels compelled to apply for the programme.

The deceptively simple white backdrop is used a wide variety of manners. In parts high quality projections and space landing footage is projected onto it. Different compartments from the backdrop act as unexpected entrances and facilitate seamless transitions. The use of perspex screens with a thin border of white lights to evoke flashbacks of her parents was touchingly beautiful.

Everything about Voyager feels considered, from Chris Bartholomew’s futuristic and voyage evoking soundscape, to Greg Cebula’s and Ellen Nabarro’s lightning design and l design respectively complement Idle Motion’s cleverly crafted physical theatre. The combination of these elements, coupled with moments of stillness and almost weightless slow motion are utterly transfixing.

A recurring motif that runs throughout Voyager is the idea that we live in a world where we all spend too much time absorbed in our smartphones, that we don’t take the time to truly appreciate the beauty of the world around us. A poignant message, executed in a innovative, considered, self reflexive and insightful manner.