Theatre review: The Mentor

I think last year’s great revival of Amadeus made the prospect of seeing the film version’s star, F Murray Abraham, on stage even more of a draw for me. So it’s a good job his performance in The Mentor lives up to expectations, because little else about Daniel Kehlmann’s play was really memorable enough to stay with me past the Vaudeville’s front doors. Kehlmann is apparently a huge name in Germany right now, and being the first to bring him to the UK are the team of translator Christopher Hampton and director Laurence Boswell, who in recent years also introduced us to Florian Zeller. And there is more of a French than German aesthetic to Polly Sullivan’s design, a country garden inside a white box, with chairs shaped like human hands as a clue that pretension is welcome here – a retreat owned by an arts charity that pairs established names with promising newcomers to develop new work.

Theatre review: The Mother

Not only was The Father a critical hit last year (including with me - I put it in my 2015 Top Ten,) it was also a surprising commercial success: One West End transfer would have been impressive for a hallucinatory show about mental illness, but it's getting a second one and a tour. So it's not surprising to see Florian Zeller's companion piece The Mother (again translated by Christopher Hampton) follow it quickly to London, with Laurence Boswell's production setting up shop at the Tricycle. Where The Father's deliberately confusing scenes took us into the head of a man with a form of dementia, The Mother has a much younger character at its heart and a less obvious diagnosis, initially at least, as Anne (Gina McKee) seems to have reacted in an extreme way to empty nest syndrome. An upper-middle class housewife in her late forties, she's dedicated her life to her children, especially her son Nicholas (William Postlethwaite, adding to an already-impressive list of dubious facial hair choices,) for whom she shows an uncomfortably Oedipal level of devotion.

Theatre review: Punishment Without Revenge

A dirty old man marries a young beauty for political reasons, then neglects her. Going off to war, he leaves her alone with his dashing illegitimate son. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG? That's the setup for Lope de Vega's Punishment Without Revenge, a tragedy that provides the final installment of the Arcola's mixed, to say the least, Spanish Golden Age season. At least the last play in the repertory is the strongest offering, Laurence Boswell's production finding the drama in the Mediterranean histrionics, but tempering it with a dose of humour that works better than certain comedies I could mention. The central pairing from A Lady of Little Sense is reunited as a more tragic set of lovers, Nick Barber playing the illegitimate son Federico, who's always been promised he'd inherit his father's dukedom.

Theatre review: A Lady of Little Sense

The first chance for the Arcola's Spanish Golden Age rep season to atone for its green-trousered sins is another comedy of arranged marriages. There's nothing spectacular about Lope de Vega's A Lady of Little Sense, but it does have its moments, which at least puts it above the season opener. If there's echoes of a Shakespeare play again, this time it would be The Taming of the Shrew, as once again two very different sisters seek husbands. Nise (Katie Lightfoot) is highly intelligent and educated, but arrogant and abrasive with it. Her younger sister Finea (Frances McNamee) on the other hand is a childlike, clumsy, prattling moron. Finea's dowry is vastly bigger than her sister's to make up for her shortcomings, but it's still not enough for any man to put up with her borderline insanity. Until Nise's favourite suitor Laurencio (Nick Barber) decides to switch his attentions to the wealthier, stupider sister.

Theatre review: In The Next Room or the vibrator play

The word "hysteria" famously originates from ystera meaning womb, because it was assumed to be a uniquely female condition. Hence the unlikely connection between 19th century medicine and sex toys, as explored in Sarah Ruhl's In The Next Room or the vibrator play. A rather nifty split-level set from Simon Kenny gives us the living room of Dr and Mrs Givings, and above it the doctor's surgery where people arrive with various forms of depression and exhaustion. Dr Givings (Jason Hughes) and his nurse Annie (Sarah Woodward) treat the patients' lower, unmentionable areas to release the poisonous womb fluids causing their illness. It would all seem suspiciously like an an orgasm if any of the women had had one before. But Givings is also a big fan of the new-fangled electricity, and is replacing the hands-on method with huge buzzing vibrators - he's even designed a few new models himself.