Kate Maltby

Danny Boyle’s staged version of Frankenstein packed in the crowds to the National Theatre last year with its Olympian scale and throbbing orange sunsets. But if you were hoping for a more intimate invitation to the world of Mary Shelley’s monster, you might be better off popping down to the small but central Jermyn Street Theatre, for fringe company Primavera’s new production of Bloody Poetry. Howard Brenton’s 1984 play is unflinching in its depiction of the feckless ménage of poets that produced not only Frankenstein, but also Byron’s ‘Don Juan’ and Percy Shelley’s ‘Masque of Anarchy’, along with a traveling assortment of illegitimate children.

A wholesome gem from the London Fringe transfers to Cornwall this week, in the form of father and son double act Frankland and Sons. Both Tom Frankland and father John are born performers, and the show is a colourful dance through their family history that feels like a jovial children’s birthday party, with hints of balloon magic, vaudeville and fancy dress.   But what’s refreshing about Frankland and Sons is just how essentially English this snapshot of 20th Century history is. This is Middle England through three generations of wartime stoicism, domestic silences and staunch stiff upper lips.

66 Books - The Bush Theatre The Bush opened its new theatre with an extraordinarily energetic celebration of the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. The 66 playlets, one inspired by each of the books of the Bible, included the occasional dud - but the overwhelming majority were sparklers. Stand-outs included Ony Uhiara as Esther, no longer an unwilling biblical wife but instead a courageous innocent fighting to survive the horror of human trafficking; Obi Abili in Tom Well's tragicomic reworking of the Samson story; and the gentle mystery of the Archbishop of Canterbury's own offering, a newly penned version of the resurrection of Lazarus.

This month, Mike Bartlett’s new play, 13, opens at the National. It follows the success of his play Earthquakes in London. At Paines Plough, George Perrin and James Grieve unveil the prototype for a revolutionary new theatre space, a portable in-the-round auditorium. And, at the Arcola, Tom Atkins brings us How The World Began, which comes to London after a hit run in California. The link between these may not be obvious, but it’s crucial. Like many of theatre’s fastest rising stars, each these gained vital career traction at the Old Vic’s now-legendary 24 Hour Plays, the boot camp that launches newcomers into the industry by giving them experience, contacts and confidence they wouldn’t get anywhere else.

When I was a teenager, Death and The Maiden was one of the plays I read when I was discovering that theatre could be angry, obscene and unafraid of speaking truth to power. Ariel Dorfman’s tale introduces us to Paulina, a torture survivor who becomes convinced, but can’t prove, that the urbane neighbour her husband, a civil rights lawyer, has befriended was one of the secret servicemen who imprisoned her during a now-fallen military dictatorship. When the play premiered in 1991, it delivered a shock blow to the culture of compromise and denial emerging as Dorfman’s homeland, Chile, made the transition to democracy, a year after the end of Pinochet’s dictatorship.

Sea-storms seem to be buffeting London theatre at the moment, and I’m not just talking about Trevor Nunn’s sugar-saturated Tempest. Down at the Southwark Playhouse, Edinburgh Fringe hit Bound blows into London after a worldwide tour, while at St Giles Cripplegate, in the Barbican complex, you’ll find a darker, sacral The Tempest just back from its premiere in a West Bank refugee camp. The winner of multiple awards at Edinburgh 2010, including a Fringe First and National Student Drama Awards, Bound reaches into the heart of what men will do in times of economic desperation. It’s also a peek into the life of a traditional fishing community, a frequently overlooked bulwark of our island history.

This is the second half of Kate Maltby’s essay on the representation of September 11th in art. You can read the first here. Decade succeeds in humanizing moral failings: fear, shame, doubt. In the simplest and most intimate scene, we hear a blokish, British New Yorker talk through the guilt of swapping his day off for 9/11, his creeping frustrations with the official investigation, his confusion at finding his public criticisms picked up by conspiracy theorists. It’s a devastating performance by Tobias Menzies, pared down, humble. And Menzies isn’t the only talented performer here: Kevin Harvey is fierce and firm as the Marine ordered to shoot Bin Laden, as well as pulling off a neat Barack Obama impression.