Brunton Theatre, Musselburgh
4 stars
It's somehow fitting that the last ever production to emanate from
Queen Margaret University Edinburgh's conservatoire-based professional
acting course is such a rich and vivid parable as Clifford Odets' 1937
masterpiece. Because, while Odets sets his story of talented
back-street violinist turned great white hope Joe Bonaparte in the spit
and sawdust arena of big money boxing, its rough-hewn tale of artistic
integrity corrupted by the quick buck look all too familiar. Joe's
delusions of grandeur en route to pressing the self-destruct button on
his own ego mirror perfectly how institutions can get carried away with
their own self importance at the expense of their grass-roots
constituency.
The words 'Dead End' are spelt out in sickly yellow neon at the back of
the stage in Robin Wilson's confident and mature production, in which
his young cast rise to the play's grown-up themes with aplomb. As the
actors toss Odets' free-flowing hard-boiled poetry between them, the
dialogue ricochets around the room like increasingly dangerous flurries
of upper-cuts that threaten to deliver a knockout blow, acquiring a
mythic status as it goes. In Giggy Argo's wide-open set that seamlessly
morphs between office, gym, tenement steps, fairground and dressing
room, Wilson's production is blessed too with the best use of the
Brunton's unforgiving bearpit of a stage quite possibly ever.
Such an expanse allows James Rottger's self-loathing Joe to duck and
dive his way between family fast-talking shysters and the glamorous
allure of managers moll Lorna Moon, here given a brittle but still
wide-eyed vulnerability by Lily Carrie in a show that's sadly the last
of its kind. Shame on you, QMU.
The Herald, May 5th 2011
ends
4 stars
It's somehow fitting that the last ever production to emanate from
Queen Margaret University Edinburgh's conservatoire-based professional
acting course is such a rich and vivid parable as Clifford Odets' 1937
masterpiece. Because, while Odets sets his story of talented
back-street violinist turned great white hope Joe Bonaparte in the spit
and sawdust arena of big money boxing, its rough-hewn tale of artistic
integrity corrupted by the quick buck look all too familiar. Joe's
delusions of grandeur en route to pressing the self-destruct button on
his own ego mirror perfectly how institutions can get carried away with
their own self importance at the expense of their grass-roots
constituency.
The words 'Dead End' are spelt out in sickly yellow neon at the back of
the stage in Robin Wilson's confident and mature production, in which
his young cast rise to the play's grown-up themes with aplomb. As the
actors toss Odets' free-flowing hard-boiled poetry between them, the
dialogue ricochets around the room like increasingly dangerous flurries
of upper-cuts that threaten to deliver a knockout blow, acquiring a
mythic status as it goes. In Giggy Argo's wide-open set that seamlessly
morphs between office, gym, tenement steps, fairground and dressing
room, Wilson's production is blessed too with the best use of the
Brunton's unforgiving bearpit of a stage quite possibly ever.
Such an expanse allows James Rottger's self-loathing Joe to duck and
dive his way between family fast-talking shysters and the glamorous
allure of managers moll Lorna Moon, here given a brittle but still
wide-eyed vulnerability by Lily Carrie in a show that's sadly the last
of its kind. Shame on you, QMU.
The Herald, May 5th 2011
ends
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