If there’s one thing to be said for Northern Stage, they know the value of good advertising, enticing potential viewers to see their production of “A Doll’s House” by branding the Ibsen classic “an emotional rollercoaster.”

And well they might, considering that at the time of its publication in 1879, the story of a wife deciding whether to leave her husband and children was pretty groundbreaking stuff. It is only once inside the Playhouse, however, that we discover the alleged rollercoaster has suffered some kind of rust infestation causing it to grind to a near-halt, leaving you suspended in mid-air with no immediate means of exit. 

This was not entirely the fault of the production. With a half-empty auditorium, there was a definite lack of enthusiasm emanating from the audience which could not have helped to fire up the actors. While the ensuing sense of apathy might well have nourished Ibsen’s penchant for the truly miserable, when combined with the platter of depressing situations with which he presents us, it allowed the tone to sink to new depths.

Tilly Gaunt nevertheless gave an energetic performance as Nora Helmer, the “doll-wife” of the tale. Through her fluttering mannerisms, voice pitching, and graceful movements, Gaunt successfully brought out the humour of the part and Nora’s child-like quality.

This trait, however, was overblown, and at times undermined the character’s strength: her confession to saving her husband’s life, for example, is delivered in a petulant sulk, and as a result the courage revealed in the process was lost upon the audience. 

John Kirk as her husband, Torwald Helmer and Chris Myles as Krogstad also managed to inject some life into their performances, in the process redefining the concept of “the grumpy old man.” Myles took the more sinister route, spitting his threats at Nora with  lashings of venom and just a hint of Bill Sykes.

Kirk, on the other hand, carried out his patriarchal role with a great deal of angry barking. Although the two were convincing, their temper tantrums could have done with some alleviation, especially in the case of Kirk, who leaves one wondering why Nora ever stuck around so long in the first place. 

The most impressive aspect of the production was the direction. Erica Whyman had clearly taken pains to imprint her own, individual stamp on the play, and made the innovative decision to set the play in the 1950s. This aligns the role of women in this decade with that of Ibsen’s time, and helps to bring out the appearance of domestic tranquility, at least on the surface.

Interesting also was the choice to set the stage within the confines of a glass house which effectively conveyed both Nora’s sense of enclosure, and her ability to see beyond the forces which restrict her.    

Despite these novel directorial decisions, the production as a whole does not merit the description of the programme. However, for all those whose curiosity might have been pricked by such sensational marketing, it was worth surrendering a Thursday evening. 
 

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern may be dead but Krishna Omkar’s lively production is far from it. As the show begins, the sunlight, which flows downwards into the O’Reilly theatre is blocked off by the lofty shutters and so the viewers are plunged into the gloomy sub-reality of the play.

The black and white setting of the chessboard stage conveys well the powerlessness felt by the main characters, pawns in this game, doomed from the outset by their Shakespearean precursors.

Guildenstern (William Spray) begins to pursue his questions of identity and reality in protracted musings delivered in a dry and lofty yet intense persona. As he builds into his performance, his sharp changes of mood and volume, touching on the aggressive, convey his anxieties and command attention.

Rosencrantz (Liam Wells), while the less troubled of the duo, delivers a more energetic, although controlled performance, bringing life to the stage. The coupling is a success, with genuine engagement between the two actors adding to the overall fluctuating chemistry of the relationship.

Tom Carlisle also shines, in what is a belting performance as ‘the player’, developing an aloof style which he applies with versatility to his changing fortune in the ideological battle between fiction and reality.

It is this tension in the plot which helps make it a success with every character at risk of being fictionalized. The use of Hamlet’s play within a play within this show gives it an extra layer of reference (becoming meta-meta-theatre?).

Clever use of light gives extra meaning: the brilliant white for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s strivings for answers suggests clarity is present in their uncertainty. By contrast, scenes relating to the parent play’s plot are undermined by the dimmer sepia yellow, rendering the familiar uncomfortable.

If the audience watch this show with detatchment, they risk leaving having enjoyed only mild intellectual flattery to the extent they follow Stoppard’s witticisms. Krishna Omkar’s production clinches this aspect: making the audience face each other from opposing blocks, they sit at the fringes of the characters’ perception and are asked to rethink whether they are the spectators or the spectated.

Through this they also share their response, which, promisingly, consists of much laughter and enthusiastic applause, with each other. At the close of the show the audience find the play’s unsettling and surreal gloom has seeped into the night and haunts their homeward steps.

Four stars.

The Zodiac is full of anticipation. A gaggle of giddy school–girls clamour in front of the stage.

Those of us who are more reserved are just as excited. We await the return of Eel Pie Island’s finest – the Mystery Jets.

As the reverberating air raid siren that opens their new album Twenty One blasts out of the speakers, it’s obvious we’re in for a rollicking performance.

‘We were a bit worried about the siren’, frontman Blaine Harrison tells me prior to the gig. ‘We wanted something that when it came on, you knew exactly what record it is.’

‘I really didn’t want to do it’, drummer Kapil Trivedi points out. ‘Even our producer was a bit like “I dunno, is it Nu-Rave?” But to me it’s Cold War, not Nu-Rave. It’s just one of those sounds that alerts people’.

The band have not been averse to alerting people of late, what with their reappearance on the music map with a much poppier sound, but having lost Blaine’s father and founding member Henry Harrison.

The decision to carry on without him was mutual, however.

‘We all thought we need to spread our wings a bit and take control’ says Blaine, ‘And Henry said from the start there’d come a time where we’d need to take the reins.’

Henry was still intrinsic to the recording process however, as was up–and–coming DJ–turned–producer Erol Alkan. I asked the band how they got him on board.

‘We camped outside his house, kidnapped his wife, held her at ransom’, Kapil explains with sincerity.

Blaine is more effusive; ‘We were basically like fanboys, but he was a fan of us as well. He brought a lot of enthusiasm and seemed to be the only one who could bring us all together. He was adamant he’d bring our sound out of ourselves’.

‘And be Erol Alkan the producer, not Erol Alkan the DJ’, Kapil adds.

Without Henry on stage the band have a much more youthful aesthetic, which better suits songs like the undoubted single of the year ‘Young Love’.

It’s a credit to the band that even without the dreamy, drowsy vocals of Laura Marling the song loses none of its frothy pleasure.

Other new tracks such as ‘First To Know’ and ‘Half In Love With Elizabeth’ are despatched with a tightness which belies their relative freshness.

Even older tunes like ‘The Boy Who Ran Away’ and ‘Diamonds In The Dark’ benefit from this new sense of focus.

Blaine explains, ‘I still love the first album. It’s the sound of a band who were trying to do so many things at the same time. What we worked out on the second album was to do that, but over several albums, not in three minutes of one song’.

The only disappointment of the night was the lack of the Mystery Jets’ stunning pastel suits, which were worn in the hilarious video for just–the–right–side–of–80s–pastiche ‘Two Doors Down’.

Apparently remonstrations from their management mean they cannot treat everyone to a dazzling display of authentic Turkish wedding attire.

However, such petty grievances are soon forgotten as the set ends with barnstorming renditions of fan favourites ‘You Can’t Fool Me Dennis’ and the ever–chanted ‘Zoo Time’.

It is a performance from a group who have matured and found their voice while retaining the ability to put on a frenetic show. As Kapil informs me, ‘You know it’s been a good gig when you have to scrape the kids off the walls.’

Indeed, the Zodiac staff will be extracting jubilant youths from the plasterboard for days.