Theatre review: Dear Brutus

J. M. Barrie’s Dear Brutus may take its title from Julius Caesar, but the Shakespeare play it borrows most overtly from is A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Lob (Robin Hooper) is a puckish – literally – old man who’s invited a group of strangers with one thing in common to spend the week at his home. As his guests try to figure out what their mysterious common characteristic is, they hear a local legend of a magical wood that appears in a different spot every Midsummer’s Eve; anyone who enters it is never seen again. The enchanted wood does appear, of course, and most of the guests do enter it, but in a three-act structure that’s like a much better-done version of The Passing of the Third Floor Back, they do all emerge again, all changed to varying degrees. This is a play full of wild variations in tone, as what each group of characters discovers in the wood is very different.

Re-review: King Charles III

When it opened at the Almeida in the spring, Mike Bartlett's King Charles III instantly felt like a classic, so Rupert Goold's production transferring to the West End was not only a much-deserved chance for more people to see it, but also gave me an excuse for a repeat visit. For the story of this "Future History Play" and my initial thoughts you can read my original review. To start with the whole of the Almeida cast followed the show to Wyndham's, although prior commitments mean Oliver Chris has now been replaced as Prince William by Rory Fleck Byrne, whose portrayal of the next in line to the throne emphasises even more how much of a pawn he is to the Lady Macbeth-like Kate (Lydia Wilson.) And this recasting also means the balance is now redressed to make Richard Goulding's Harry the hotter prince. Unfortunately this isn't the only cast change at the moment as Tim Pigott-Smith has broken his collarbone, so the title role is being understudied by Miles Richardson, with Tim McMullan taking on Richardson's usual role as royal press secretary James.

Theatre review: The Moment of Truth

A bit of a rarity in the temporary Southwark Playhouse's Large auditorium, as the playwrighting career of Peter Ustinov is dusted off with Rob Laycock's revival of his 1951 play The Moment of Truth. Inspired in part by the collaborators during the Nazi occupation of France, it takes place in an unnamed country whose days of military glory are far behind it, and is now being attacked by a powerful enemy and betrayed by its allies. In the face of his ministers' denial, a brutally pragmatic Prime Minister (Miles Richardson) accepts the inevitable and begins plotting how to spin this to everyone's advantage. When The Victor (Damian Quinn) finally arrives at his office demanding surrender, the Prime Minister instead offers him a deal: He and his Foreign Minister (Mark Carey) will collaborate, keeping some vestiges of power for themselves, while making the Victor's ruling of a hostile population easier. Their little coalition will hide behind a puppet dictator.