High Noon, directed by Thea Sharrock, is a perfectly decent version of a trusty western which celebrates its 74th birthday this year. An elderly sheriff, Will Kane, marries a priggish beauty, Amy, on the day of his retirement but his marital plans are overturned by news that a dangerous convict, Frank Miller, has been released from jail and hopes to shoot Will dead.
Amy is a devout Quaker and she grumbles bitterly as Will cancels their honeymoon and heads back to town to deal with the evil Frank. But Frank is not the brightest criminal in New Mexico. News of his plans have spread and everyone knows that he’ll show up at midday aboard the express train. This gives Will ample time – an hour and three quarters, that is – to prepare a counterattack by visiting his old friends and recruiting a posse.
A vintage clock hangs over the stage with its hands set at 10.15 a.m. as the show begins, so the audience can watch the minutes drag past. Will sets off on his recruitment drive which gives him a chance to discuss his personal backstory and to reflect on the traumatic boyhood experience that instilled in him a lifelong zeal for justice. This is interesting but not dramatic. He has a nice long chat with a sexy Hispanic widow, Mrs Ramirez, who entertains visiting gunslingers in her luxury apartment. But Mrs Ramirez has had enough of the Wild West, she says. She wants to move house. This too is interesting, as far as it goes, but it doesn’t affect the story or intensify Will’s problems.
He’s adequately played by Billy Crudup who portrays him as a crusty do-gooder with a habit of snarling his lines when he wants to sound mean. He’s like a heavily sedated Dirty Harry. Denise Gough, as Amy, has nothing to do but pout, frown and complain. A lousy part. Meanwhile time passes. Minutes tick by. The hands slowly circle the clock. And eventually it’s 11 a.m. One hour to go.
The assassination scene is an inspirational piece of comedy that would get 50 million views on TikTok
The total absence of suspense from this good-looking show is probably deliberate. The sluggish scenes are accompanied by an easy-listening soundtrack consisting of classics by Bruce Springsteen and Ry Cooder which foster a mood of relaxation and calm. And Tim Hatley’s design is built from neat wooden slats that resemble a luxury sauna in a beauty spa. The brilliant New Mexico sunshine pierces the horizontal timbers and throws a series of patterns across the stage. It’s nice to look at but not an arresting or an original choice. At the climax, Will squares up to the nasty Frank who makes the classic error of pontificating about his nefarious career while his enemies prepare to blow his brains out. If you haven’t seen the movie, the ending is a huge surprise. But gosh it’s a long time coming.
Critics attending the press night of Oh, Mary! were asked not to mention the characters’ names, their sexual inclinations and various other aspects of the production. Quite a strange way to drum up publicity. Keep it all hush-hush. Tell the reviewers not to breathe a word. And pray that the public will cause a stampede at the box office.
The show is a camp, silly and ingeniously plotted historical spoof by Cole Escola which presents Mary Todd Lincoln as a frustrated vaudeville star who drinks hard liquor to compensate for her lack of fame. To keep her sober, President Lincoln hires a strapping young actor who helps her study Shakespeare. Instantly Mary falls in love with the actor and he affects to requite her feelings.
Meanwhile Lincoln is busy pursuing forbidden relationships with the White House staff. What kind of relationships? Well, ‘queering’ history is the show’s main theme so you can probably guess. It’s all good fun. Mason Alexander Park (Mary) delivers a hysterically overblown caricature of a prim matriarch which British audiences will recognise instantly as a pantomime dame. Alexander Park is thoroughly at home in this raunchy cross-dressing role and at times they even make the ludicrous Mary seem worthy of our sympathy.
Giles Terera’s Lincoln moves easily between two facile platitudes: martyred dignity and tormented lust. That’s all he needs to do. Terera is terrific. He’s joined by a White House assistant, Oliver Stockley, and Mary’s best friend, Kate O’Donnell, who add to the breathless, exhibitionist mood of
hyped-up gaiety.
The assassination scene is an inspirational piece of comedy that would probably get 50 million views if it were released as a TikTok reel. This amazing climax arrives 65 minutes into the show but the rest of it has no drive or purpose. The players pad out the remaining 20 minutes with musical diversions which allow them to display their cabaret skills. There’s no interval. Does it count as a proper night at the theatre? Just about.
Comments