The Alchemist at the Rose Theatre (London)

It's a grey and chilly Saturday or "British Summer Time" as the optimists would have it. You're curled up on the sofa and most of the way through a season of Doctor Who DVDs. The remnants of a valiant if poorly executed attempt at home baking lay strewn on the floor around you, along with coffee cups and one large, cross-looking cat.

The evening spreads itself out before you with two clear paths defined against cloudy backdrop:

1. Stick in another DVD and crack out the funky Polish vodka with grass in it that you've been saving for rainy days and similar.
2. Get off your backside and go to the theatre. You paid for tickets after all - twelve quid! This is going to require considerable effort, though, and there remains the troubling question of finding some trousers...

On this occasion, the miser in me forced me towards option 2. Something of a result when you consider that the last performance I took in at this particular theatre seemed to have been scripted by a 14-year-old with a penchant for fan fiction. Nevertheless, trousers were located and the trip was made...

... and thank goodness it was.

My ignorance on the works of Ben Jonson was almost total. I had a vague inkling that he may have been a contemporary of Shakespeare which put be in a bit of a funk as I definitely did not have the energy for Shakespeare. The Alchemist was billed as a comedy, however, which bouyed my spirits some.

The previous visit to the Rose has forearmed me with key logistical information. I took £5 (enough for two drinks) and the opportunity to grab a McPiss in the Globe on the way (no loos at the Rose. Archeology and that.)

So there I sat, bladder voided, generous glass of wine in hand hoping that I wouldn't regret the bold step of leaving the sofa. Enter the three main characters...

... and then it was the end of the play and there I sat, clapping like a mad bastard.

In the interim I was just transported, largely due to the three main characters, Face, Subtle and Doll Common played by the excellent Jerome Thompson, James Burgess and Eleanor Russo respectively.

Thompson in particular was just brilliant. Fantastic timing, great versatility and just enough pathos to make this particular audience member care. There were elements of Python in both Thompson and Burgess' performances and I just lapped it up. The 400-year-old script seemed to pop and fizz as these two bought it to life, ably assisted by a suitable range of fall guys. A scene in Act III depicting the three leads taunting Dapper (a suitably gullible Tom Worsley) via a visit from the Queen of the Fairies will stay with me for a long time. The backside that I so struggled to heave from the sofa was very nearly laughed off.

This is much more like it from the Rose. Talented young actors giving air to a play that may well not have seen the light of day at other, swankier theatres and yet it was just brilliant fun.

I can only recommend this play to you, if you get the chance to see it. House on the Hill Productions is also going on my list.

Mission Drift at The Shed (National Theatre)

It seems quite the thing to name your posh establishment de choix after something that sounds like somewhere your Dad would have way more fun than you.

For instance, you might go and relax at the Cowshed (swanky spa), have a beer in the Electricity Showroom (nice pub), pop off for an uber-trendy chicken and chips at Tramshed (celebrity-chef owned restaurant) before taking in a show at The Shed (the National Theatre's answer to all of the above, shouldering the burden of the "edgy" theatre space while the Cottesloe gets turned into the Dorfman, whatever that might mean).

The tables in the Shed Bar are bare, plywood jobs interspersed with knackered sofas and comfy, if equally well-worn, leather armchairs. Basically, imagine the lovechild of Urban Outfitters and Jack Wills serving beer from a trendy London brewery at 4 quid a pop and you're pretty much there. The National Theatre, perhaps, is pushing to draw in the youngish and affluent-ish. They were even playing popular music. I know, at the National Theatre... imagine the horror.

No horror at all, in fact. It's basically what you'd expect from the National. It's not going to be cheap, but there's also quite a strong chance that it won't be crap either. I suppose I'm just mildly amused by the blatant attempt to lower the average age of the audience by a decade or two. Maybe this is why they've been sending me a survey every other week asking me how old I am...

Bear with me, this is relevant. Honest.

Written by the TEAM (upper case) in collaboration with Heather Christian and Sarah Gancher, Mission Shift, from one perspective, offers a sideways look at the boom and bust of American Capitalism over 400 years or so, finally focussing in on Las Vegas ("Las Meadows"), once the fastest growing city in America that then took a whopping great smack in the chops with the Stock Market crash and the housing crisis.

Over the course of the performance we follow two stories: Joris and Catalina's symbolic trek from the Netherlands to the USA and ultimately to the creation of Las Vegas and thumping great concrete casinos on the one hand, and Joan and Chris - a modern day pair struggling with the repercussions of the above. Of course, I grossly over-simplify.

The plot, for what it is, is not a complicated one, though - mostly it's a version of history played out in a harum scarum, "hold on to your hats" type way. This play is all about the delivery. It's fast, furious, passionate and above all slicker than a sea gull that was paddling about and minding its own business when Deepwater Horizon went "pop". Professional, tight performances all round with the central pairing of Libby King and Brian Hastert as Catalina and Joris delivering a pulsating momentum and joy to the first act in particular.

For all of the momentum, joy and undeniable humour or the piece, though, the thing that sticks in your head is the devastating, witty, sometimes heart-rending, sometimes consoling voice of Heather Christian as Miss Atomic. This is another actress/singer/song writer/performer to look out for, whatever she does. Elements of the versatility and power of Jane Horrocks, the soaring, almost unbelievable voice of a Paloma Faith (or, again, a Jane Horrocks for that matter), and the wit and charm of a... well, of a Heather Christian. Miss Atomic is to Mission Drift what, perhaps, The Emcee is to Cabaret. Sinister, humorous, but more importantly constant and powerful. The other characters are transient, mobile and Miss Atomic, you feel, is the fixed point around which they revolve.

Around the audience, there were audible gasps as Miss Atomic really hit her stride in the second act and pulled off some quite stunning vocal acrobatics with the ease and nonchalance of the wily, all-knowing figure she seemed to represent. Blimey.

For me, Mission Drift resonates quite deeply. To an audience dressed more by Jack Wills and COS than by M&S and Laura Ashley (the usual couturiers at a National Theatre performance), I would imagine the play speaks equally loudly. "Nan and Grandpa had a cracking time buggering everything up, over to you bright-eyed little puppies to fix it". In this context, you might argue that Mission Drift and The Shed fit each other perfectly. A play written by 20- and 30-somethings for 20- and 30-somethings, performed in a trendy red castle for 20- and 30-somethings. Not a criticism, but an observation.

Mission Drift is bloody good fun, and definitely worth the time and money if you've got it. It runs at the Shed until the 28th June, but I'll be surprised if it doesn't get a transfer to the West End thereafter.

Trash Cuisine at the Young Vic

Takes a deep breath...

So, before I get started here, there are a couple of things I should clear up before diving into the play. Trash Cuisine is written and performed by members of the Belarus Free Theatre. I urge you to check them out and look into the issues they attempt to address in their performances. These are clearly committed people, and the context in which they sometimes work makes them brave in a way that I hope I will never be called upon to understand. In this particular example, the key themes are the death penalty and torture, and the various countries in the world (including the UK) that have in the past and still do kill their own citizens by way of punishment for crimes real or imagined.

The conceit, if you like, is to present these atrocities - and I think this is a reasonable term - in the context of some form of galloping gourmet-style jaunt around the planet. This is done through the medium of a range of scenes (in some cases, perhaps "sketches" is a better way to describe them) highlighting various forms of abhorrent torture and murder, ranging from the Rwandan Genocide, to the British in Northern Ireland, to the execution of Vlad Kovalev in Minsk and so on.

My opinions on capital punishment and torture probably chime with the morality of the time in which I have been raised - in summary, they fall quite clearly and neatly in the "not cool" camp. These opinions ought not to be relevant to any review whatsoever, and yet they are. If I might explain...

I need to be clear with you about my opinions on the politics so I can also be clear and unambiguous about my opinions on the play. The politics are important context. It also means that having attempted to exhonorate myself from the accusations of being some kind of sociopath, and praised the morality and bravery of the company in general, I can say something like this without quite hating myself as much as I might otherwise have done: "This play does not hold together, for me, as a coherent piece of theatre".

Or perhaps more simply put: "I didn't get it".

The cookery show motif may be a good way to go about this, it may not. Either way, I don't feel they carried it off. A viewer might reasonably work on the assumption that the play is being performed to make them feel genuinely bloody angry about execution and torture, and disgusted at some of the more brutal aspects of humanity. So maybe they scored a point on the disgust front. I was disgusted - there. I was disgusted when I found it out takes three shots to kill by lethal injection. I was disgusted when I found out that death by electrocution involves upwards of two minutes of electricity with a 10 second break to see if you're dead yet. I was utterly revolted by the accounts of the Rwandan Genocide.

Was I angry? Possibly. It's hard to tell because I was also struggling with sheer bafflement. I was baffled about the dancing (yes, dancing). I was baffled about the use of flour, and the pattern they made on the floor with lentils (representing what, I cannot tell you), I was baffled about the decision to close the play by chopping onions (yes, onions) on stools. The Shakespeare monologues out of context; the sketch about how the French used to eat ortolans (by blinding them, fattening them and then drowning them); the pile of pineapples on the body of the victim of an execution; more bloody dancing. Call me a Philistine if you like, but in this case, as I have heard it eloquently put, the Emperor was naked.

I worry that there was too much appeal here to the "coolness" of the Young Vic audience. Their "trendiness" and, possibly most depressingly of all, their "middle-class-ness". I've seen plenty of innovative, creative and thought-provoking productions from the Young Vic. This, sadly, was a little too heavy on the art, and a little light on the narrative.

I saw this play the evening after having been to see To Kill a Mockingbird at the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park. Watching one play so soon after the other, I can't help thinking that Harper Lee's American classic might have a little more to say about corruption, persecution and ultimately execution than Trash Cuisine. Or perhaps, what it does say is clearer, more heartfelt and a little less pretentious.

I don't want to finish this piece on that note, however, so I will add that each seat in the theatre had on it a postcard with a pre-composed note to the President of the European Commission, and a flyer for the Free Belarus Now campaign. Whether or not I "got" the play, these causes seem worthy of time and attention.

http://www.freebelarusnow.org/

To Kill a Mockingbird at the Open Air Theatre, Regent's Park

I don't read much in the way of what you might describe as classic American literature, but I have read To Kill a Mockingbird... kind of.

I use the word "read" quite wrongly, I think. You see this book was on the syllabus for GSCE English Literature, as it was in the early 90s, and so I had very little choice in the matter. While I have doubtless pored over the themes and characterisation, written dreadful essays on the subject, and probably sat some exams about it, I can't honestly say that I have read it properly.

Given the above, it should be no surprise that the trip to the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park was a cocktail of three parts nausea to one part dread. The weather even seemed burdened by the same doubts, moody grey clouds threatened rain with a left jab before catching you with a right hook made of chilly breeze. Rude.

I could pause, at this point, and tell you a bit about Harper Lee and her childhood friendship with Truman Capote, on whom the character of Dill is supposed to be based, but I won't. Or rather, only for a bit. The play is more interesting, you see, because it rather blew me away.

Yes, some of the American accents were a bit dicey here and there, and yes the play is fairly black and white so you might argue that such polarised characters are difficult to get wrong but... just... wow.

It's difficult to know where to start. Izzy Lee (keep an eye out for her) as Scout was just about perfect, Robert Sean Leonard gave a performance straight out of the middle of the bat as her affectionate father Atticus. In fact, the majority of the cast were just fantastic.

Except Richie Campbell, who played the accused Tom Robinson.

I'm afraid there aren't really words to describe just how brilliant his second-half performance was. Utterly absorbing, compelling and genuinely skillful, Campbell's short spell on the stage is something that will stick in my memory forever, I hope. For ten forevers, even.

I came away feeling like I'd discovered something new and cool. The stage that doubled as a chalkboard on which the cast could draw streets and houses of the neighbourhood of Maycomb, the performance set against the backdrop of London's twilight, the well-rehearsed and slick ensemble that delivered a wonderful play in the cold and the drizzle. This was not your run-of-the-mill worthy reworking, but fun and moving and great at the same time.

Hopefully, the first of many trips to the Open Air Theatre at Regent's Park, certainly if the quality of To Kill a Mockingbird is anything to go by.

Public Enemy at the Young Vic

Set in an imagined 1970's Norwegian rural community, garishly coloured and re-worked for a 21st century audience, you'd be right not to expect a straight up and down Ibsen from the Young Vic. This is particularly true when the architect of this modernisation, David Harrower, is the same brain in the same head that brought you the Young Vic's previous little chunks of joy The Good Soul of Szechuan and The Government Inspector.

On the other hand, this is Ibsen we're talking about, so you can probably leave your incontinence knickers at home if you're worried about laughing too long or too hard.

Public Enemy was apparently written in response to some nasty types criticising his previous play Ghosts, and Ibsen is none too subtle about it. From one perspective, the early and later scenes of the play are just vehicles to give context to the scene in the hall in Horster's house, where Dr. Stockmann lets rip at petty local officialdom, the media, democracy and the ignorance of the general populace. This is the main set piece of the performance and delivered from in front of the curtain with most of the rest of the cast strategically placed within the audience. This is the scene from the play that I will remember, although I have no idea how much of it was Ibsen and how much Harrower. Either Ibsen was a visionary with a keen understanding of the balance between naivety and altruism, and a hatred of political short-termism, or Harrower is rather good at his job.

It's easy to pick out things to like about this performance. The ensemble cast are great (Niall Ashdown as Aslaksen is particularly worth a watch), the staging is quirky and fun, and more to the point the feeling in the room when you're watching it is a particular blend of amusement and edginess that makes the Young Vic a regular fixture for me. The fact that the audience seemed unsure how to react to Stockmann's diatribe was spot on.

Picking holes is a little harder perhaps, and much less fun. However, if I had to put on my grumpy face and opine I might say this: I felt like I'd seen this play before at the Young Vic - only done a little bit better. Again, the sheer joy that was The Government Inspector springs to mind, or the quirky, chaotic Three Sisters. If you're looking for politics with modern relevance, Wild Swans. But if you haven't seen those, and are a little bit less mental about going to the theatre than I am, then there is absolutely no reason why this play wouldn't be anything other than refreshing, thought-provoking and a good night out. For those of you who, like me, spend unhealthy amounts of time at the theatre, you can probably find a better show to watch for your money.

For the record, here's what a few other, better qualified, people thought:

Tim Auld at the Telegraph

Matt Trueman

Michael Billington at the Guardian

Sappho... In 9 Fragments at the Rose Theatre (London)

I've been meaning to start jotting down mini-reviews about plays that we've been to for a while now. People at work have been suggesting it too - possibly so I might shut up and let them get on with their lives.

First, some things you should know about the Rose Theatre:

• There are NO LOOS, people. None. It's an archeological dig site so you're going to need to nip to the Globe 200m away for a McPiss.
• It is tiny (possibly something like a maximum of 40 or 50 seats).
• It's got a village hall vibe. About the same size, the "bar" is a nice lady sitting behind a table selling juice from M&S cartons and beer by the can (£2.50). There are 3 plastic chairs in the bar/foyer/exhibition area. I liked it. It felt welcoming and the people working/volunteering cared.

• Given the location, the performance has a backdrop of dripping water. It lasts 65 minutes, no interval, no re-admission. Combine this with the lack of loo and cheap beer and you've got yourself a potential bladder time-bomb.
• The theatre's just been given £1.4M (don't quote me, that's my muddled recollection of the intro speech given by the lady behind the bar) in lottery funding that they have to match in the next 18 months ...
• ...which is just as well because this place is really cool. We were sitting on what, I think, would have been the stage of the original theatre.

Onto the play...

Victoria Groves (pictured) gives it absolutely everything. She is physically powerful, engaging, wily. She demonstrates real skill in switching between characters, emotions and voices. The size of the stage means that she can really get into the faces of the audience and she uses that space with clear glee. Her acrobatics in her scaffolding-and-rope set really contribute to the drama of the performance, and I'll certainly keep an eye out for her name. Frankly, she was awesome.

It's just a pity the script was so juvenile. I'm trying not to be about the business of rubbishing playwrights - if they all gave up tomorrow I'd be a very sad pixie indeed. In fact, elements of the play in which Groves spoke as Sappho were fine, good even. The problem was the interwoven story of a relationship between an actress and a younger aspiring actress which was clumsy and... I just didn't get what it added to the play, other than length... Sorry.

Tickets were about £12 each. Beer £2.50, glass of red wine, £2.50.
Date seen: Sat 01 Jun 2013

http://www.rosetheatre.org.uk/