Churchill In Moscow (Orange Theatre Tree, Richmond)
Verdict: War of words
Veteran theatrical provocateur Howard Brenton likes to put real human flesh on the bones of history.
He remains most notorious for his 1980 play The Romans In Britain, which prompted Mary Whitehouse to sue the National Theatre for procuring an ‘act of indecency’, thanks to a scene where a Roman soldier assaults a hapless Celt.
Forty-five years later, Brenton is still at it – albeit without such extremes. His latest play is about Winston Churchill’s visit to Joseph Stalin in Moscow in 1942, and stars Roger Allam and Peter Forbes.
It’s Brenton’s second bite at the great man (after 1974’s The Churchill Play), and this time Winston (Allam) comes to warn Stalin (Forbes) of a delay to a second front in France that would relieve Hitler’s assault on Russia.
Brenton presents a pair of vividly drawn alpha males, mediated by female translators (in reality they were men). Churchill is a quick-witted but irascible toff. Stalin – rendered with a West Country accent – comes from peasant stock.
In both cases, Brenton gets under their skin as they get sloshed on vodka and Georgian wine. Allam doesn’t go the full Jon Culshaw – his plummy bass is close enough to Churchill already. But he is fitted with a persuasive prosthetic (bald) toupé and statesmanlike stoop.
His loquacity is an imperialist affront to Forbes’s bullish Stalin, who sports a much lusher rug and a walrus ‘tache.
Tom Littler’s hearty production offers a literal front-row seat on history…with a touch of vaudeville to lighten the mood. Jo Herbert and Elisabeth Snegir, as the translators, provide relief from the silverbacks’ posturings. And Alan Cox amuses as the flapping British ambassador, desperate to suppress Churchill’s indiscretions.

Howard Brenton’s latest play is about Winston Churchill’s visit to Joseph Stalin in Moscow in 1942, and stars Roger Allam as Churchill (pictured)

It’s Brenton’s second bite at the great man (after 1974’s The Churchill Play), and this time Winston comes to warn Stalin (played by Peter Forbes, pictured) of a delay to a second front in France that would relieve Hitler’s assault on Russia

Brenton presents a pair of vividly drawn alpha males, mediated by female translators (pictured) – in reality they were men
Soviet interior design means an overhead lampshade that looks like a satellite dish, while we are treated to Communist parade-ground anthems between scenes.
Tickets are down to returns only, but the play may benefit from more expansive Soviet pageantry if it one day transfers.
Outlying Islands (Jermyn Street Theatre, London)
Verdict: Paradise quashed
Outlying Islands is another (almost) war-time drama, set on one of Scotland’s remotest Western Isles in 1939. Here, two young ornithologists have been sent to study the local puffin population.
Written by Scottish playwright David Greig in 2002, it slowly evolves into a Garden of Eden parable, as our two twitchers become enamoured by the comely niece of the island’s forbidding Presbyterian crofter.
Greig’s play is overloaded with themes, including the mating habits of puffins, human sexuality, paganism, and the British Army testing anthrax. It’s even hoped we can swallow the idea that the comely maiden, Ellen, has ‘special’ feelings for Laurel and Hardy.

Set on one of Scotland’s remotest Western Isles in 1939, in Outlying Islands, two young ornithologists, John (played by Fred Woodley Evans, left) and Robert (played by Bruce Langley, right), have been sent to study the local puffin population

Whitney Kehinde is quietly magnetic as Ellen (pictured), the comely niece of the island’s forbidding Pre
sbyterian crofter

Kevin McMonagle snarls as the dour crofter Kirk (pictured), decrying cinemas as ‘places of darkness, built where churches were before’
But Jessica Lazar’s production does find the play’s erotically charged core. Whitney Kehinde is quietly magnetic as Ellen, Bruce Langley is a snakish geek as the leading naturalist, while Fred Woodley Evans is sexually panic-stricken as his assistant.
And Kevin McMonagle snarls as the dour crofter, decrying cinemas as ‘places of darkness, built where churches were before’.
Churchill In Moscow runs until March 8; Outlying Islands runs until March 15.
ALSO PLAYING
The Years (Harold Pinter Theatre, London)
Verdict: HERstory
By Georgina Brown
Often playful, always arresting, this remarkable piece intertwines the intimate autobiography of writer Annie Ernaux — from babyhood to being a grandmother — with the bigger picture of womanhood over the 20th century: the air raids of 1940 to the dawn of the digital age. In other words, HERstory meets HIStory.
Standing in front of a white sheet, one of five actresses of different ages playing Annie at various stages of her life, strikes the pose of an old photograph.
Harmony Rose-Bremner puffs out her cheeks and affects the serious expression of plump six-year-old Annie. The older Annies look on, recalling those days, but this time mentioning what was then considered unmentionable: the Jewish children of the same age boarding trains for Auschwitz.
And so on, through progressive eras, as Annie experiences everything her body is capable of: first period, loss of virginity, pregnancy, menopause, with all the accompanying confusion, thrill, pain, grief and heartbreak.
With progress — the Pill, fish fingers, tights — comes increasing girl power and autonomy.

Often playful, always arresting, this remarkable piece (pictured) intertwines the intimate autobiography of writer Annie Ernaux — from babyhood to being a grandmother — with the bigger picture of womanhood over the 20th century

My favourite scene (and line) comes when middle-aged Annie, fabulous Gina McKee (pictured), is consumed with excitement at the prospect of spending an afternoon with her lover: ‘I dare not use the vacuum cleaner for fear of not hearing the phone!’

The design and costumes are monochrome (pictured), except for some props
The design and costumes are monochrome, except for some props. Blood spills as Romola Garai’s Annie miscarries in her kitchen after a back-street abortion (which, ironically, caused both performances I saw to stop while audience members received ‘medical attention’).
A halved apricot perfectly illustrates Anjli Mohindra’s Annie’s hilarious (and ultimately climactic) discovery of her clitoris.
This is not a show for the squeamish or the prudish.
My favourite scene (and line) comes when middle-aged Annie, fabulous Gina McKee, is consumed with excitement at the prospect of spending an afternoon with her lover: ‘I dare not use the vacuum cleaner for fear of not hearing the phone!’
Later she and Garai, both fully clothed, make love noisily on a chair.
The Eighties aerobics fad is a hoot; as is Deborah Finlay’s amusingly bemused Annie, feeling like the ‘prehistoric elder’ while her 40-year-old sons discuss BlackBerries and broadband.
Eline Arbo’s inspired adaptation and direction draws astonishingly precise and nuanced performances from five outstanding actors. A must see.
Until April 19.
Expletives galore, simulated sex, incest, suicide…this disturbing new opera fails the ‘Mum-friendly’ test spectacularly, but it packs a mighty punch
Festen (Royal Opera House)
Verdict: A bit like being sandbagged
In our family we have a litmus test for all films, TV programmes, plays, musicals and even pantomimes: ‘Is it Mum-friendly?’
This opera is definitely not Mum-friendly (fortunately I went with a friend).
The curtain has har
dly gone up when the expletives start, and as the plot develops we have to deal with simulated sex, incestuous child abuse, racism, violence and suicide, to name only five aspects.
Composer Mark-Anthony Turnage and his librettist Lee Hall have based Festen on the disturbing 1998 Danish film of the same title directed by Thomas Vinterberg, although they depart from it in several ways.
Successful hotelier Helge and his wife Else have invited family and friends to their hotel to celebrate Helge’s sixtieth birthday.
During dinner, various family members make speeches, starting with elder son Christian, who is very explicit about the sexual abuse he and his now-dead twin sister Linda suffered at the hands of Helge.
Played without an interval, the opera is not without wry humour, some of it provided by toastmaster Helmut’s struggles to keep the festivities on track.
The clincher comes when younger sister Helena reads out a letter she has discovered, in which Linda backs up Christian’s contention that her father’s abuse drove her to kill herself.
Linda’s ghost (touchingly sung by Marta Fontanals-Simmons) appears to Christian, leaving him (and us) with Julian of Norwich’s soothing words ‘All shall be well’.
In a brief coda next morning, as the guests get ready to leave, Helge — showing signs of the roughing-up meted out by younger son Michael — appears to say goodbye as if nothing has happened. You realise the family facade is already back in place.
It is a crushing piece which demands a high level of sophistication from its audience, but Turnage’s music, jagged, expressionist and lyrical by turns — and making some use of the sort of banal tunes that get sung at parties — carries the action along.
With a cast of 25 named characters, plus ten further singers, ten actors and chorus, huge demands are made on the production team — director Richard Jones, set designer Miriam Buether and costume designer Nicky Gillibrand — who respond with a magnificent, imaginative staging.
Everyone plays his or her part well but I must mention Allan Clayton (Christian), Stephane Degout (Michael), Clare Presland (Pia), Gerald Finley (Helge), Rosie Aldridge (Else), Natalya Romaniw (Helena), Philippa Boyle (Mette), Thomas Oliemans (Helmut) and John Tomlinson (Grandpa).
And Edward Gardner gets crackling results from the orchestra and William Spaulding’s chorus.
REVIEWED BY TULLY POTTER