Theatre review: Mrs Warren's Profession

I don't know that I need to consign Bernard Shaw to the same bin I keep Samuel Beckett in, and just avoid his plays entirely, but I do think I should at least be a lot more selective about what revivals of his I book: I can't particularly argue with the general opinion that his themes have stood the test of time, but for the most part the dry style of the plays he expressed them in keep me at best at a distance, at worst bored. The attraction for Dominic Cooke's production of Mrs Warren's Profession was Imelda Staunton taking on the titular businesswoman, Kitty Warren, whose work has kept her moving around Europe most of her life. As a result she has never spent a great deal of time with her daughter Vivie, who got sent to various private schools in England and has just graduated from Cambridge.

Theatre review: Dear Octopus

An obscure rediscovery seems to have been a hit at the Lyttelton as Emily Burns directs Dodie Smith's Dear Octopus, a sprawling family drama set over the weekend of Dora (Lindsay Duncan) and Charles Randolph's (Malcolm Sinclair) golden anniversary. The sort of family who describe themselves as ordinary because they don't have a coat of arms, they assemble at the large country house built by Charles' grandfather. Over the weekend we see four generations of the family who've been raised in this house - three of them by the same nanny. Of the couple's six children four survive - the eldest son died in the First World War, while one daughter died of undisclosed causes. The others juggle various successes and neuroses: Margery (Amy Morgan) is trying to control her warring children, Hilda (Jo Herbert) manages to balance a successful job as an estate agent with her OCD, and Cynthia (Bethan Cullinane) works for a Paris fashion house, although rumour has it she's been in France for so long because she's concealing a scandal in her personal life.

Theatre review: All My Sons

After a pair of more obscure plays a couple of months ago, this year's second brace of Arthur Miller plays offers up some of his most famous works; once again the Old Vic is involved in this unofficial mini-season, with Jeremy Herrin's starry production of Miller's early hit All My Sons. Bill Pullman (he's the Bill who's still alive) plays Joe Keller, a businessman whose factory became notorious during the Second World War when it was exposed as having provided faulty aircraft parts that led to the deaths of 21 airmen. Bill was exonerated but his business partner is still in jail for it. His own son Larry wasn't flying one of the affected planes but he disappeared on a mission, and three years after the end of the War everyone's accepted he must be dead except for his mother Kate (SALLY FIELD!) who still holds onto the hope that he might return. But her other son Chris (Colin Morgan) had returned home with news that will make her have to confront the facts.

Theatre review: The Roundabout

Continuing my current theatrical theme of obscurities from big names, J.B. Priestley's third play The Roundabout is largely forgotten, but anything by the author of An Inspector Calls is usually worth taking a bet on. Actually, if the publicity had reminded me at the time I booked, as it does now, that Priestley was also the author of When We Are Married I might not have bothered, and we're very much in the realm of the latter play here, in a dusty comedy of manners. Fifteen years before An Inspector Calls, class inequalities are already a subject Priestley looks into, but Communism is more of a punchline than a matter for discussion here. Lord Kettlewell's (Brian Protheroe) finances are in freefall, but it hasn't stopped him from sticking to his usual routine of having guests - both invited and uninvited - at his country pile for the weekend. Among them is his mistress Hilda (Carol Starks,) as he's been separated from his wife for the last decade.