Well that
was a rollercoaster! If you fancy a work out of every emotional muscle in your
body, get down to The Leeds Grand Theatre, to catch The National Theatre’s tour
of 'The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time'. Originally a novel by
Mark Haddon and adapted for the stage by Simon Stephens, the cast and crew under
the direction of the daring and intuitive Marianne Elliot bring this story to
life, and then some! It really isn’t to be missed.
The
beginning of the show sets a precedent. With no elongated dimming of the house
lights or “please tun your phone off warnings” we were shoved right into the
action with the sharp and cleverly over-bearing light and sound. Albeit with
slight shock we are in Christopher’s world. Hearing what he hears and seeing
what he sees. Outstanding!
Immediately
we are introduced to characters left, right, and centre. Everything is fast,
slick, and efficient. We meet Siobhan, played by the ever-calming and effortless
Rebecca Root. We are on her side straight away as it becomes clear she is
someone both we and Christopher can trust. The thing I love about this
character the most is that she is what is left of Mark Haddon’s voice. With the
novel being a first person narration, it must have been hard for Stephens to
adapt this for the stage, but just as Root is to the character, Haddon’s
narrative words flow from Siobhan as smoothly as sand in a timer.
We meet
Christopher’s Dad, Ed, played by the stoic yet complex Tom Peters. Peters is
what I would call a perfect accomplice in this piece. When we need to hate him,
he obliges. When we need to love him, he does the same. All the while
constantly playing with boundaries of vulnerability portraying just how hard it
would be to be the single parent of a severely autistic teenager. Awesome
stuff!
As the world
builds around us like the model railway does around Christopher, we meet the
residents of Randolph Street as Christopher begins to conduct his investigation
in to who killed Wellington (Mrs Shear’s dog from number 41). These sequences
slot into place as satisfyingly as a game of Tetris. The actors hop from house
to house, using white blocks to create fish tanks, TV’s and microwaves in the
process. The generous and versatile ensemble cast flex their muscles throughout
the show each time bringing big and beautiful characters and energies to their
performances. The show wouldn’t be what it is without them.
We are left
at the interval with a bombshell. Christopher has found letters from his Mum, who in fact isn’t dead, but living in London with Mrs Shear’s husband.
Act II takes
a darker turn as we and Christopher are pulled from pillar to post in what
seemed like Phileas Fogg’s answer to a journey to London. Several times on this
journey I felt exhausted and though to myself how hard it must be for people
who are autistic to simply get from A to B (ie. it worked!). The use of the
light, sound, projection and physical theatre not only forced me to suspend my
belief, but I was steadfast in my desire to believe that Christopher was really
on the tracks at Paddington Station.
As if he
hadn’t been good enough already, this is really where David Breeds (Christopher
Boone) had me. I am aware this goes against my job description but I just don’t
know what to say. I could think up some long-winded metaphor and fancy
adjectives to describe his performance but it would never do it justice. I just
simply couldn’t take my eyes off him. Every lip quiver, blink and eye brow move.
Every mimic, panic and tap of that prescious watch on his wrist. Everything was
just sheer class. Ladies and gents here is an example of an actor who has
thrown themselves in to the research, drilled the text to an inch of its life
and been vulnerable enough to let go when the lights go up. Simply enigmatic.
Get that man a beer!
The last
mention has to go to the tech team, each and every one. What you see in front
of your eyes looks easy. Its not! There were exams desks being pulled out of
the wall. Someone built that. There were props coming out of cupboards lit from
the inside. Someone lit that. There were subtle and rapid transitional sound
cues to keeping this abstract dream alive. Someone programmed them too. And not
only do the projections, inventions and magic make this show, someone takes it
all down, packs it away and puts it back up in the next place. So when the
audience stood at the end, it wasn’t just for the incredible actors, it was for
Amanda Hillhouse (Company Stage Manager), her team and everyone back at The
National Theatre HQ that built this beautiful behemoth of a book about a boy
called Boone.
Reviewer - Jack Wagman
on - 12.4.22
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