Aether

“Like a grown-up version of Der Struwwelpeter. The message in \"Porn Play\" is unrelentingly clear. Hands above the covers kids - too much wanking over violent porn will take you down! The subject could not be more relevant. Where better than upstairs at the Royal Court for legendary director Josie Rourke to situate this tale of (failed) intimacy in a set that forms a soft and fleshy oval shaped opening. Clever use of glowing blue and pink light create the atmosphere of late at night “alone time” where temptation may begin and with the arrival of the ingenious and incredibly tasteful flesh clad muse of masturbation (-could she have been called Clitoria) our story of addiction begins. This play is funny, cringe-making and scary, with great performances by Ambika Mod and particularly by Will Close, yet somehow this production misses the spot. Perhaps expectations were too high. Is it the painfully obvious “clever girl” literary allusions or the lack of ambiguity in its moral message? But despite its content one has to question whether \"Porn Play\" is fully adult. This lacking was particularly present in the finale, when our heroine was reduced to masturbating in front of her own father. Surely one of the most remarkable dramatic ace cards in the arsenal of shock that has ever been conceived and yet somehow, it failed make its trick.”

“Robert Icke’s Oresteia at The Almeida in 2015 was one of the most outstanding pieces of drama I think I will ever see. Icke brings to two thousand year drama sexy sets, a ticking clock, dramaturgical precision and dialogue that sounds normal but is innately poetic. Mark Strong as Oedipus and Lesley Manville as wife/mum Jocasta? Strong’s an extraordinary actor, completely believable as a likeable politician, oozing clubbable charisma. He can do storming physicality and gentle vulnerability – and everything he does is shaded with this earnest desire to find out the truth. And Lesley Manville. The best. She gets to show a bit of ice here. But while she snips and shouts at almost everyone around her, she shows nothing but adoration to Oedipus: smiles and loving eyes.”

“This is Proper play with a capital P. John Lithgow as Roald Dahl is spellbinding. Irascible, charming, controlling, and capricious, he owns the stage. The character’s intellectual agility belies his humanity, to which Lithgow brings great physicality. The play is set in the summer of 1983, when a review by Dahl of a book about Israel’s conduct in the Lebanon War was deemed to be anti-Semitic and provoked ire. The conflict between Dahl and his American publisher, Jessie Stone, ratchets up the drama. She is Jewish, of course, female, and a different generation. They try for common ground, but with limited success. This is more the Dahl of those warped short stories for adults than the avuncular writer for children. Stone’s commercial concerns could be dismissed as American, and they tilt at our modern culture wars. But can we still enjoy the books if we dislike the man Dahl? Is a public author allowed private views? What weight do they carry? It is a thunderously good Royal Court début for author Mark Rosenblatt, a seasoned director, who gets to the heart of questioning not whether Dahl was an antisemite but what is antisemitism. Nicholas Hytner directs with his usual class, and Bob Crowley’s design is consistently strong. Everything makes for an impressive cocktail. Back outside comes the news of Israeli rockets over Lebanon again. The topicality of the play is startling.”