Theatre review: My Brilliant Friend

The quartet of Italian books known collectively as The Neapolitan Novels are apparently A Big Deal, and one that I had absolutely no idea existed until I heard about April De Angelis' stage adaptation (which originally played at the Rose Theatre Kingston, and now transfers in expanded form to the Olivier.) All I've really gleaned is that their author, Elena Ferrante, doesn't actually exist, being a pseudonym shrouded in secrecy. It's no doubt a huge part of the novels' popularity and mythos, given that their narrator is a popular novelist called Elena, better known as Lenù (Niamh Cusack,) who flashes us back to 1950s Naples and her first meeting with Lila (Catherine McCormack,) who stole her beloved doll and threw it into the cellar of the local mob boss. Lenù did the same to hersin revenge, and their (unsuccessful) adventure into the cellar to retrieve the dolls bonded them in a tumultuous friendship.

Theatre review: Cymbeline (RSC / RST & Barbican)

Shakespeare's fevered crack dream of Roman Britain, Cymbeline has come back into vogue lately; the programme notes for the RSC's latest take suggest it's because the context of England in an uncomfortable co-dependent relationship with mainland Europe strikes a chord in the year of the EU referendum. And so director Melly Still and designer Anna Fleischle conjure up a dystopian near-future in which, left to its own devices, Britain has used up its natural resources, the only remaining hint of nature in Cymbeline's court the trunk of a chopped-down tree encased in glass (now a 2016 theatrical meme, what with the similar idea in Elegy.) Innogen (Bethan Cullinane,) daughter of Queen Cymbeline (Gillian Bevan) has secretly married childhood sweetheart Posthumus (Hiran Abeysekera,) a match that enrages her mother, who promptly banishes her new son-in-law.

Theatre review: From Morning to Midnight

I strongly suspect the National has served up another helping of Marmite because as I left the Lyttelton after From Morning to Midnight I overheard someone say he'd definitely be recommending it to his friends; I for one won't be though. Georg Kaiser's 1912 play, in a text by Dennis Kelly, follows a cataclysmic day in the life of a bank Clerk (understudy Jack Tarlton) who, after misunderstanding the intentions of a beautiful Italian customer (Gina Bellman) steals sixty thousand marks from the bank. On realising the lady didn't mean for him to run away with him and a stolen fortune, he's left alone, suddenly a criminal, and possessed of a suitcase full of cash. He roams the city, and between his family, the spectators of a cycling race, the prostitutes and clientele of a brothel, and finally the denizens of a Salvation Army shelter, he attempts to find meaning to life, and where his new wealth places him in it.