Lloyd Evans

Lloyd Evans

Lloyd Evans is The Spectator's sketch-writer and theatre critic

Cruel but shamefully enjoyable: Vardy v Rooney – the Wagatha Christie Trial reviewed

The Wagatha Christie affair began in 2019 when Coleen Rooney accused Rebekah Vardy of selling stories from her private Instagram account to the Sun. Rebekah denied the charge and sued Coleen. The case reached the High Court last summer and has now arrived in the West End in a verbatim script by Liv Hennessy. The staging is brilliantly funny with the court presented as a football pitch where a set of TV pundits explain the legal niceties to us. Rebekah, the plaintiff (and husband of former England striker Jamie Vardy), is cross-examined by David Sherborne of 5RB chambers who acts for Coleen. Sherborne begins by attacking Rebekah’s claim that she never leaks personal information by reminding her of a tabloid story about her former lover, Peter Andre.

Starmer needs to work on his PMQs insults

A decent tussle today at PMQs. Sir Keir Starmer asked the Prime Minister why he’d ditched his pledge to build 300,000 new houses a year. Rishi Sunak, ever fleet of foot, replied with shameless effrontery. The PM claimed that dropping the target was a superb Tory achievement and that it aligned seamlessly with the government’s priorities: protecting the green-belt, heeding local communities, and handing power to people at the grassroots. He dared Sir Keir to stand against those noble aims. He added that the Labour leader had said on Monday: ‘Government should be giving people more power and control.’ And today is Wednesday; so why the change of heart, asked Sunak. ‘I know he flip-flops – but even for him it’s pretty quick.’ The Tories yelled out ‘more!

The acting rescues it: National Theatre’s Othello reviewed

Crude eccentricities damage the potential brilliance of Othello at the National. Some of the visual gestures seem to have been approved by crazies from the neo-fascist fringe. The Moor is first seen doing a work-out with a punch bag but he doesn’t strike the bag, he grabs a broom handle and uses it to perform some fancy martial arts moves. The action starts and Othello is accused of spiriting Desdemona away from her father’s house and seducing her by trickery or witchcraft. During these scenes he’s stalked by a mob of extremists who dangle nooses and threaten him with daggers. That’s just silly. Othello is the foremost warrior in Venice. Anyone who drew a knife on him would be dead within seconds.

Rishi gives more to everyone!

It was all about education at PMQs. Sir Keir Starmer mounted a targeted attack on Winchester College whose old boys include Rishi Sunak. The Labour leader had researched the institution that he claims to despise with the fascination of a stalker.  Winchester College has a rowing club, he gushed. It has an art collection too, he marvelled. It even has a rifle-range, he panted. And the fees, he salivated, the fees come to £40,000 per year. While evidently admiring the school, he also embraces a policy of scrapping it. Why? Personal anguish. By destroying Winchester he can deal with the deep and obsessive adoration that causes him so much torment. But he framed his private turmoil as a public good.

An unexpected heartbreaker: Elf the Musical, at the Dominion Theatre, reviewed

Elf opens with an unbelievable premise. Buddy was abandoned as a baby and adopted by Santa’s elves and he spent a happy childhood making Christmas gifts in their factory at the North Pole. The action begins when Buddy decides to track down his real father in New York, but when he arrives he finds a community sunk in greed and cynicism. He’s horrified to learn that everyone exploits Christmas for financial gain. His dad, Walter Hobbs, turns out to be a bullied publishing executive who has no time to spend with his wife and his lonely younger son. Buddy’s mission is to restore love to this broken family and to repair the fractured society of New York. Along the way, he starts a corny romance with a sexy blonde elf, Jovie, who works in Santa’s grotto at a department store.

The SNP’s howls of outrage at PMQs

Indyref dominated today’s PMQs. The Supreme Court has ruled out Nicola Sturgeon’s plan for a wildcat referendum, she must now proceed with Westminster’s blessing. Howls of outrage were heard from the SNP. Eight of its members stood up to complain that they felt trapped in the union against their will.  Rarely have the Scots Nats made such a splash at PMQs and their exposure today did them no favours. When a party surges in popularity, the quality of its MPs declines and it’s clear that many safe Scottish seats have fallen into the hands of incompetent duffers. Few SNP members in Westminster can craft a memorable phrase. Some struggle to ask a brief question without notes. Many are lifelong gym-dodgers. And their personal stylings are eccentric.

Wordy, overwritten flop – perfect for the BBC: Noor, at Southwark Playhouse, reviewed

A heroic Asian woman parachutes into occupied France to work for the resistance and help overthrow the Nazis. This sounds like a fictional yarn but the story of Noor Inayat Khan is true. Her family were well-educated Sufi Muslims, who counted Gandhi among their friends, and they raised Noor as a pacifist intellectual who spoke several languages. And that’s the first oddity of the show. We aren’t told what drives Noor to side with Britain in a war that violates her family principles. And because we don’t know why she’s fighting, we’re bound to lose interest in her progress. This wordy and overwritten flop is perfectly configured to become a ten-part BBC drama Other puzzles emerge. She’s engaged to be married but we learn nothing about her fiancé.

Jeremy Hunt is the heir to Gordon Brown

Jeremy Hunt – known to broadcasters by a slightly different surname) – delivered his Autumn Statement today. He did so on behalf of ‘the British,’ he said. All the way through his speech, it was British this, British that. He vowed to ‘respond to an international crisis with British values,’ whatever that means. He talked of ‘a recession made in Russia but a recovery made in Britain.’ And he claimed, rather eerily, that ‘to be British is to be compassionate,’ as if this were a heritable quality conferred by evolution on one race alone. It sounded like jingoism fuelled by globalist arrogance. On and on he flannelled. ‘British innovation…British resilience…turning Britain into the world’s next Silicon Valley.

PMQs: A marvellous day for the Anti-Bullying Alliance

Global Rishi was absent from PMQs today. He’s busy reclining in a supersonic airline seat, paid for by someone else, as he flies back from the G20 summit, preceded by a stint at Cop27. The aim of these endless conferences is to protect us all from the curse of low taxes, falling energy bills and national sovereignty. And the negotiations are said to be going well. As he jets needlessly around the world, campaigning to stop others from jetting needlessly around the world, Rishi is probably unaware of the petty squabbles that occupy MPs. Meanwhile, on planet earth, this is a Very Special Week in Parliament. It has its own designation and it highlights a glaring social injustice. However, which of us can actually name the important cause which is being promoted?

Rebecca Humphries is dynamite – pity about the play: Blackout Songs, at Hampstead Theatre, reviewed

Viewers watching a good romcom need to fall in love with three things. The boy, the girl and the affair itself. The new Hampstead melodrama, Blackout Songs, scores just one out of three. Rebecca Humphries is adorably chic and sexy as the Soho seductress who drifts from bar to bar, picking up men. Her toyboy is a disappointment, a teenage deadbeat who has none of her louche gusto. And his character is a puzzle when it ought to be crystal clear. At the start of the action he wears a neck-brace and speaks with a stammer. In the next scene, his neck has healed and his stammer has vanished as well. Is he two characters? Or is he a con man who assumes different personalities, and if so why? He dresses in a paint-spattered tracksuit but he claims to be a welder, a rock star and a fine artist.

Matt Hancock: Star of the ‘I’m a Celeb’ jungle

Has Matt Hancock gone mad? Maybe not. His appearance in ‘I’m A Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here’ is part of a career move that could work well. Converting notoriety into fame pays dividends. Look at Ed Balls and Michael Portillo. Political failures, but they discovered gold on TV. A lot of observers loathe Hancock precisely because his plan may prosper.  The balding Tarzan arrived in the jungle later than most of the celebs. And he was welcomed with a show of warmth and friendliness by his fellow castaways. Smiles and happy greetings all round. Someone called out ‘next slide please!’ and Hancock duly repeated his famous slogan. He knows the game.

Who will be next week’s ministerial exit?

For the past fortnight, it was Suella Braverman. Now it’s Sir Gavin Williamson. The media aims to destroy two careers a month, on average, and the present quest to topple Sir Gavin has already produced a result. He’s gone. But that’s not enough. It never is. The new clamour is for the nasty knight to be stripped of his title and reduced to plain old Mr Williamson. At PMQs, the resignation was problematic for Sir Keir because he had to argue over a dead parrot. He quoted Sir Gavin’s unhelpful suggestion to a colleague that he should ‘slit his own throat.’ It might have served Sir Keir better to conceal the phrase and to describe it as too shocking and violent to bear repetition. Once he’d quoted the words, his attack lost oomph.

The UK Drill Project, at The Pit, reviewed

The UK Drill Project is a cabaret show that celebrates greed, criminality and drug-taking among black males in London. It opens with a septet of masked performers, sheathed in dark Lycra, singing a rhythmic poem while pretending to fire guns and stab people with knives. These sad young rappers are desperate to look scary because they’re scared themselves. And though they claim to be artists, their purpose in writing ‘drill’ songs and posting videos online is to protect their drug profits and to intimidate rival gangs. Musically, they lack accomplishment. They can’t play instruments and appear to own none. Harmony and melody are alien to them.

The National Theatre deserves to have its budget cut

The arts cuts have arrived. The biggest loser is English National Opera whose annual award of £12.6 million will be replaced by a grant of £17 million, over three years, to cover the costs of a move from London to a regional centre, probably Manchester. ENO boss Stuart Murphy has complained that it’s unfair to confiscate money from a company that admits under-21s for free. But while it’s kind of him to give unsold seats to youngsters, it probably doesn’t justify an annual award of millions. In theatreland the prestigious Donmar Warehouse has lost every penny of its subsidy. And the National Theatre is to forfeit £850,000 but retains the bulk of its annual budget which stood at £17 million in 2020-21.

PMQs: Starmer’s astonishing Nigel Farage imitation

The small boats have landed. PMQs was dominated by the migration issue and the flotillas of dinghies struggling across the channel each day. So far this year over 40,000 doughty oarsmen have braved the seas in inflatable rafts. And they’re not just desperate to flee France with its rude waiters, pretentious language and over-complicated cheese menus. There’s another motive. We were about to hear it in plain language from the despatch box.  Sir Keir started it. At first he merely sought to destabilise Suella Braverman and reinforce the clamour for her removal.  ‘The Home secretary says our asylum system is broken. Who broke it?’ he asked.  Rishi Sunak, usually lightening-quick, paused for a second. ‘Let’s look at the record on immigration,’ he said.

The dialogue ripples with energy: King Hamlin, at the Park Theatre, reviewed

King Hamlin is a shock-horror drama about gang crime in London. Hamlin, aged 17, has left school without learning any useful facts or skills. He even lacks a shirt to wear so he shows up for a job interview looking like a vagrant and starts to swear at his future boss. No work for him. He dreams of studying computer software but he doesn’t own a laptop and seems incapable of getting one. His life is devoid of functioning adults. There’s no teacher, relative, or competent older friend to advise him. No father, of course. His poor dad was knifed to death because he was ‘too good for the hood’. Which is a new cause of crime in London. An excess of virtue can get you stabbed, it seems.

Kids will enjoy this new show at the West End’s newest theatre more than adults: Marvellous, @sohoplace, reviewed

London has a brand-new theatre – yet again. Last summer, a cabaret venue opened in the Haymarket for the first time. More recently, the Marylebone Theatre near Regent’s Park held its debut show. And now Nica Burns of Nimax Theatres has announced a new venture, @sohoplace, which she says is the first West End venue to open for 50 years. The playing area is a hoop-shaped enclosure with rising tiers of seats overlooking a deep oblong pit. Cage fighting and mud-wrestling could be staged here to great advantage. The poster for the debut show, MARVELLOUS, features the title in bright pastel letters with a yellow balloon, a pair of clown’s shoes and a perky budgerigar.

How long before Rishi fatigue sets in?

The Prime Minister has an Asian background. You wouldn’t know that if you listened to the Tories at PMQs because none of them thought it a big deal – not even Rishi himself. But Sir Keir Starmer instantly used the issue to scold the rest of mankind.  ‘Britain is a place where people of all races and beliefs can fulfil their dreams,’ he said, sounding bitter and angry. ‘And that’s not true in many countries,’ he added. A strangely aggressive type of jingoism. His attitude was replicated by a second Labour MP and by two SNP members. It’s a curious habit of some of those on the left: they focus on race to an unhealthy degree.

This production needs more dosh: Good, at the Harold Pinter Theatre, reviewed

Good, starring David Tennant, needs more dosh spent on it. The former Doctor Who plays John, a literary academic living in Germany in 1933, whose cosy life is disrupted by troublesome females. His mum is a cranky basket case dying in hospital and his wife is a manic depressive who can’t look after their kids. Both women speak with Scottish accents. John has a fling with a third Scotswoman who studies Goethe at his university. Weirdly, all three women – mum, wife and girlfriend – are played by the same actress. Couldn’t the producers fork out for a proper cast? They certainly didn’t spend more than a fiver on the set, which looks like an abandoned bomb shelter made of cardboard.

The gripping spectacle of Truss’s fight for survival

A week of sheer hell for the Tory leader. Plots and rumours have swirled around Westminster. Rebels are said to be roaming the corridors and gathering support for an anti-Liz putsch. And yet she’s still here. Our death-row Prime Minister strode into the chamber apparently dressed for her own funeral. Black trouser suit, white cotton blouse. She got into trouble as soon as she opened her mouth. Her ritual answer, ‘I will be meeting ministerial colleagues and others’ brought howls of laughter from the Labour benches. Sir Keir Starmer stood up to deliver a brief and fatal inquisition. He began with a pun about a book covering her career which will be ‘out by Christmas’. But, he wondered, will ‘out by Christmas’ be the title or the release date?