Day: 18 May 2018

HEROES’, currently being performed at the Crescent Theatre until tomorrow, started life in 2003 as piece of darkish French Theatre by Gerald Sibleyras.

His original title ‘La Vent des Peupliers’ literally means ‘The Wind in The Poplars’.

I think it was a wise move by Tom Stoppard in his translated version to rename it ‘Heroes’ – less with a slip of the tongue we could be expecting to meet those wild-wooders from ‘Wind in the Willows’.

Instead of Badger, Ratty and Mole we have Henri, Gustave and Philippe – in both cases the plays concern a trio of adorable chums but there we’ll leave the comparison.

Our three heroes are veterans of the Great War where they endured unimaginable horrors. Whatever happened to them in the four decades since the end of that abomination is unclear and for our purposes, irrelevant; for when we meet them it is 1959 and they are in a French Military retirement home run by nuns.

There, on a terrace they have claimed as their own, they reflect on life, death, sex and the burnt out embers of what remains of their ambition.

They are united in fear and loathing of one particular nun, though we never see any evidence of the alleged persecution; rather they are left alone to reminisce and dream.

Dreams turn to plots, which culminate in an escape plan devised by Gustave, their self-elected leader.

The mission is to reach the distant hilltop surrounded by polar trees they can see through binoculars from the terrace.

If all this sounds a bit grim then fear not as Stoppard has lost much of the darkness in translation. It has in fact gained by offering up compassion through comedy.

Claire Armstrong Mills has directed thoughtfully and skilfully applying a fine brush to the task rather than a trowel.

Thankfully there are no ‘custard pie’ moments – we are offered chuckle not guffaw material and the evening is all the better for it.

Inevitably the trio will be compared to the ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ but to me, these old soldiers offer far more substance than that.

John Whittell as the gammy-legged ‘Henri’, Dave Hill as agoraphobic ‘Gustave’ and Brian Wilson as the gentle ‘Philippe’ who suffers periodic fainting due to a piece of shrapnel that has lodged itself into his brain, make a joyously talented threesome.

Never do they act at us, but rather allow us to eavesdrop on their world through an almost ‘reality show’ approach.

Any fourth wall acting barriers are down and we believe. The final tableau of them flapping their arms majestically like migrating geese on the wind is beautiful.

Alice Abrahall makes the most of playing a silent Nun and the stone dog on the terrace does its best to steal the show.

Keith Harris’ setting is both pleasing on the eye and practical for the mature company – a consideration worth praising.

Catch it till the May 19 – you’ll come away happy.

Heroes is on at the Ron Barber Studio at the Crescent Theatre until tomorrow.

Tickets are £12 (£11 concessions).

Call 0121 643 5858 or visit https://www.crescent-theatre.co.uk/theatre-event/?EventID=95532 for more information or tickets.

Review by Euan Rose. 

THE STRING Quartet’s Guide to Sex and Anxiety is an extraordinary theatrical experience.

It began with a silent and majestic entrance by Miltos Yerolemou via a forest of abandoned music stands and a wall of tubular chairs – by the time he reaches the front of the stage the silence is deafening.

This is broken when he recites a piece from ‘The Anatomy of Melancholy’ by Robert Burton. Gradually, Mairead McKinley, Cathy Tyson and Nick Harris, join him – all A list, award winning actors with pedigrees that speaks volumes.

They do not have character names, as the shows creator and director Calixto Bieito does not deem it appropriate for them to have them.

Rather they are destined to perform individually and when they are not performing to go on endless ambles around the vast stage in search of what is personal to them and deliberately kept unclear from us.

They are joined by ‘The Heath Quartet’, of Oliver Heath, Chris Murray, Gary Pomeroy and Sara Wolsenholme – wonderful musicians who are actually the fifth actor in this artistic cacophony.

So once the assembly is complete, the journey commences and we are taken through an often sad, sometimes beautiful, occasionally nightmarish, always challenging trip into the relationship between sex and anxiety disorders. This is achieved through a mix of acting, verse, prose, text and music.

There is the cleverness of melding soliloquies into duologues by the use of gesture and not quite making contact. In turn this signifies a powerful cry for help – after all depression is an illness never suffered alone.

The music goes from the nail-biting grating and experimental to the majestic and the joyous, which washes over players and audience like a soft comforting cloud of cotton wool.

The most moving words of the night come when Cathy Tyson tells us of the death of her child and most moving action when Nick Harris in his role of a OCD sufferer tries to stroke the cello.

There are visual highlights too – not least of which when the huge wall of chairs comes slowly forward and then cascades onto the stage so close to the players that you think they are going to be buried.

The evening fittingly ends in chaos as the back wall collapses revealing the speakers and lights behind – followed by darkness. Perhaps signifying the final mask has fallen revealing the frailty that lays beneath.

The REP has staged the world premiere of this bold piece of theatre.

It was enthusiastically received and gave the audience much to think on.

I feel it will either go on from here to become a transatlantic ‘must see’ in the West End and on Broadway or it will fail to find an audience and disappear.

Time will tell.

Review by Euan Rose.