Summer and Smoke – Almeida Theatre

Summer and Smoke, Almeida Theatre

This time last year, the Almeida was in the middle of a purple patch, one that would produce a successive run of West End transfers with Mary Stuart, Hamlet and Ink all quickly secured hugely successful extensions. Now, their new production of Summer and Smoke by Tennessee Williams once again reminds larger theatres of the power of this small Islington venue; it’s ability not just to attract emerging talent among a pool of actors, writers and directors, but also to reimagine classic plays as fresh and invigorating stories for modern audiences.

Unlike last year’s Young Vic production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, directed by Benedict Andrews, which proved to be a “cold seduction” where nudity became a rather insubstantial substitute for chemistry, the Almeida’s interpretation of Summer and Smoke creates an astonishing balance of emotional fragility and electrifying sensual charge. Williams’s work is largely associated with these ideas of repressed or frustrated sexuality that struggles to break free during the course of the play, but he also writes sensitively about the tender pain of impossible love and the often stark self-realisations that follow.

Summer and Smoke is the rather wistful story of young lovers separated by their physical and spiritual concept of relationships. Neighbours since childhood, the anxious Alma becomes drawn to newly qualified doctor John, and in doing so goes against the rules of life, conduct and decency that she aims to live by. Demanding a connection of souls, the young medic’s concentration on the body repels and attracts her in equal measure, never able to fully commit herself. But, as his louche lifestyle takes him into the arms of another woman, the pair find their views begin to change and a decisive moment offers one last chance to breach the divide.

One of the key things you notice in this mesmerising production, skilfully directed by Rebecca Frecknall, is how like D.H. Lawrence it is, and how Williams uses Lawrencian themes to quietly devastating effect on both his characters and his audience. One of the key characteristics of Lawrence’s major novels is the tacit push and pull between two potential lovers, as their ability to form a loving relationship rests not in the external activities and plot devices that surround them, but in the silent and inexplicable moments of ease and discord that spring up wordlessly between them.

In Sons and Lovers, Miriam finds herself at odds with protagonist Paul where a feeling of distance and disagreement seems to exist when they are alone even though they appear destined, or at least they expect, to be together. And it is this inability to reconcile the peace between their souls that sets them on an entirely different course than the one they imagined. This is exactly the tone that Frecknall creates in Summer and Smoke, of two lonely souls craving each other but unable to find a rhythm despite the fervent desire of their bodies and minds.

And loneliness tears through Frecknall’s charged interpretation, manifesting itself in many different ways, as two quite opposite personalities seek solace outside the self. Like Lawrence, Williams is writing about young people at a precipice, where the next choice will define the rest of their life and making the wrong one (or having it made for them) will forever extinguish some kind of flame within them. Desperation reeks through the Almeida’s show, as the moving story of Alma and John becomes a fight for life in which they must find a perfect union or are lost forever not only to each other, but also to themselves.

Cannily staged by Tom Scutt with a circle of pianos played by a small supporting cast in multiple roles, Mark Dickman uses music to infuse the production, perfectly underscoring whole scenes and individual moments with an emotionally-driven score and, even more crucially, wells of silence that engulf the principals’ and audience hearts. Lee Curran’s lighting supports the creation of mood and location which, in a minimal setting, brings out the sunlit heat of the Mississippi town by day and the sultry shadows of night, perfectly reflecting the physical and emotional state of the leads. Scutt and Curran underscore, Williams’s fragmented story as Alma and John’s experience drifts like smoke into view before floating away, fragile and light.

But Frecknall weaves this into a hugely impactful experience, building the tension between the characters in Act One, loading their interactions with greater passion and investment, before allowing Act Two to dissolve around them, emphasising the growing distance and impossibility of their relationship. Deftly directed, Frecknall allows Williams’s story to fill your heart only to break it.

Still early in her career, Patsy Ferran has gathered quite the portfolio of impressive performances in what is still a relatively short CV. With notable roles in Speech and Debate as well as My Mum’s a Tw*t in the last year alone, Ferran is fast becoming one of the most interesting actors on the London stage. She has a particular gift for presenting the perspective of the outsider, showing the human fears and pain that sit beneath the surface, so she’s perfectly cast as the gentle but nervy singing teacher Alma whose struggles eventually consume body and soul.

Told predominantly from the perspective of restrained Minister’s daughter Alma, Ferran’s performance is full of beautifully judged small gestures which build to form a picture of a young woman emerging from emotional seclusion into a world of feeling. The tragedy lies in the timing. Having chastely loved the boy next door for years, Ferran shows how physical sensation starts to blossom in Alma as she shares a succession of increasingly intimate moments with John. You feel the rippling effect as he lightly takes her pulse for the first time, the virtually scandalous intrusion of a stethoscope to listen to her heart and Ferran makes each act a tug of war between shame and desire, fearing the unexpected flutter of yearning John’s proximity creates while desperately craving it.

As the story unfolds, Alma blooms and her initial awkwardness around him where she’s all heavy limbs and nervous laughter, evolves into a visible determination to be near him, to overcome her reticence and lean into him. In lesser hands, Alma could be frustrating, gawkish and even irritating but it’s so gently done that Ferran holds you in thrall with a performance that subtly merges hope with an inevitable sadness.

John is no less interesting, and while his story is not the central focus of Williams’s play, Matthew Needham builds an equally tragic story of jaded disappointment. John, like Alma, is trapped in a predetermined role, forced into becoming a doctor by his difficult father Dr Buchanan. So, John rebels and Needham brings a sad desperation to his attempts to find solace in the seedy local entertainments. He may womanise, drink and gamble but it’s clear that none of it makes him happy, so every aspect of his life, even the defiant acts against respectability, seem to chip away at his sense of self, drawing him unstoppably towards an unremarkable future.

His physicality is palpable throughout the story and Needham shows John visibly waking-up when he’s with Alma, responding to her presence and feeling drawn to some essential purity in her. As that becomes increasingly complex, Needham charts John’s retreat extremely effectively, so as the tables turn between them and he gives up the fight, watching him succumb to the life he never wanted is very moving. Ferran and Needham have an incredible chemistry, these are two characters that don’t just love but actually infect each other with devastating effect on who they become.

The surrounding cast create a whole town’s worth of people and with some clever doubling of roles get to play opposing interpretations of similar characters. Forbes Masson is both Alma and John’s fathers, the kindly Reverend Winemiller who fears for his daughter’s moral safety and the dastardly Dr Buchanan whose strict rules and uncompromising character drive his son to rebellion. Anjana Vasan plays both the sexy Mexican girl Rosa who John becomes involved with at the same time as Alma, while also performing as the innocent Nellie who makes a play for him in the Second Act – having both roles played by the same actor indicating something about John’s view on the generic face of women who are not Alma.

Much of the play’s humour is centred in the more liberated character of Mrs Winemiller, Alma’s mother who had a breakdown before the start of the story. Nancy Crane brings a sense of uncaring freedom to the role, defying social convention to make jokes at her daughter’s expense, behave childishly and not care. It’s a fascinating contrast not just with the buttoned-up Alma, but also with the more conventionally rebellious John, who doesn’t find a tenth of the happiness that the genuinely free Mrs Winemiller obtains.

Summer and Smoke is a glorious adaptation of one of Tennessee Williams’s lesser known works, and like Peter Gill’s The York Realist entering its final weeks at the Donmar Warehouse, the business of the play is handled with such subtly that it allows the deep emotional connection at the heart of the story to flourish. With a magnetic central pairing, Frecknall’s production of Summer and Smoke is unmissably beautiful, and the Almeida at its finest.

Summer and Smoke is at the Almeida Theatre until 7 April. Tickets start at £10. Follow this blog on Twitter @culturalcap1

Advertisements

About Maryam Philpott

This blog takes a more discursive and in-depth approach to reviewing a range of cultural activities in London, primarily covering theatre, but also exhibitions and film events. Since 2014, I have written for The Reviews Hub as part of the London theatre critic team, professionally reviewing over 500 shows. The Reviews Hub was established in 2007 to review all forms of professional theatre nationwide including Fringe and West End. My background is in social and cultural history and I published a book entitled Air and Sea Power in World War One which examines the experience of the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Navy. View all posts by Maryam Philpott

5 responses to “Summer and Smoke – Almeida Theatre

  • JohnA

    Hi Maryam

    “last year’s Young Vic production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof…where nudity became a rather insubstantial substitute for chemistry”

    I could write a thesis on stage nudity but my main position could be summarised as “if it’s in the script, leave it in; if you don’t like it, put on another play. If it’s not in the script think really hard before inserting it; and, in most cases, leave it out”. Although the decision to include nudity ruined the recent Cat on a Hot Tin Roof for me by making it so hard to get a reasonably priced ticket that I just gave up on seeing it, it is, nevertheless, an interesting exception to my general rule as the play begins with Brick in the shower. Williams’s stage direction says the door is ‘half open’ but you have to remember that he couldn’t have called for visible nudity and still had the play staged in 1955 so was getting as close as he could at the time. This is of a piece with having Big Daddy use nonsense expletives like ‘rutten’ instead of profanities that wouldn’t be allowed on stage for another decade or so; profanities that are often ‘restored’ in modern productions. I confess, though, that I can’t find any textual justification for having Maggie get her kit off, as I believe happened in this production.

    I’m rather glad, anyway, that there were no naked bodies or big stars in Summer and Smoke – not because I object to naked famous people but because it was hard enough to get a ticket even without such added attractions. I was late booking (were it not for my luck getting a day seat for Long Day’s Journey…the other week I’d have been at Wyndham’s) and the best I could get was rear circle – though, at the Almeida and with such a simple set this wasn’t a big problem. I’m very glad I didn’t miss it. I don’t know who Rebecca Frecknall is but if this production is anything to go by I’d be happy for the Almeida to give Robert Icke et al a good long rest and let Ms F do a few more. It might seem odd referring to a production that features seven pianos as a simple staging (maybe it was just the contrast with the inconsequential clutter in Macbeth the night before) but the way attention was directed towards the active characters on the bare forestage with the other cast members sitting at the pianos in the rear in the manner of psychological dramas such as Equus was very effective. Talking of focus, Patsy Ferran’s performance was one of the most focused I’ve seen for some time. She has the character’s essence beautifully captured so that the girl who has belatedly decided to say ‘yes’ is not, as Alma announces, dead but is manifestly the same girl who said ‘no’ with the same forensic interrogation of her own motivations even when coming to opposite conclusions.

    Your D H Lawrence analogy is interesting – especially as the play comes complete with an near equivalent of Miriam’s rival, Clara Dawes – but rather incomplete. As I remember the novel Miriam goes for the surrender/sacrifice model rather than the self-examination that prompts Alma’s change. Williams is presenting us with a tragic case of two almost soul mates whose emotional journeys are in opposite directions. You ache for them to unite in mid journey and follow a joint path but it doesn’t happen. Paul Morel, on the other hand, is probably fortunate to escape a life with Miriam who has his mother’s martyr complex. The way Alma seems at the end to be gravitating towards being a ‘good time girl’ at the end is laying on the tragedy a bit too heavy, I think, but there are intriguing echoes of the Blanche DuBois back story there. I wondered, also, about Ms Ferran’s slight limp. Is that in the script or is she auditioning for Laura Wingfield? And, as always with this playwright, you have to wonder where his sister fits in – especially as one of the characters is called Rosa. The Mexican siren of the play is obviously not a direct portrait of Rose Williams but I couldn’t help imagining Tennessee’s sister was embedded in several of the female characters.

    I have to agree with you – and the general critical opinion – that this is a triumph; beautifully paced, strikingly set and very well acted. Were it not for Long Day’s Journey into Night and Lesley Manville this might have been the most impressive production I’ve seen this year. It was certainly a fine antidote to a disappointing Macbeth.

    • Maryam Philpott

      Hi John – glad to hear you got a ticket for this and loved it as much as I did.

      You really didn’t miss much with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, it wasn’t a particularly memorable adaptation. The nuances of the text were largely glossed over and the leads lacked chemistry (hence my comment about the prolonged nudity that book-ended the production being a substitute).

      I take your point here about the differences between Miriam and Alma, but I was primarily drawing attention to the acres of unspoken thought and feeling between Alma and John that almost said more than the dialogue. It was a huge presence between them in this production and it put me in mind of Lawrence’s descriptions of similar ‘successful’ and ‘unsuccessful’ communications in Sons & Lovers, where two souls are out of joint with one another. And I’d never seen that conveyed so well in the theatre as it is here.

      But, certainly one of the highlights of the year so far, and a nice end to your weekend. Looking forward to hearing about your next theatre weekend.

  • Three Sisters – Almeida Theatre | Cultural Capital

    […] year, Director Rebecca Frecknall and actor Patsy Ferran joined forces for the Almeida’s Summer and Smoke, a new alliance that last March produced a striking and emotive production of one of Tennessee […]

  • Orpheus Descending – Menier Chocolate Factory | Cultural Capital

    […] writing. Last year Rebecca Frecknall and Patsy Ferran did the same for Tennessee Williams’s Summer and Smoke, but despite the many good things about Tamara Harvey’s new production of Orpheus Descending […]

  • The Night of the Iguana – Noel Coward Theatre | Cultural Capital

    […] until the pressure and emptiness of their encounters breaks them into conformity. We see this in Summer and Smoke as doctor John seeks solace from the pain of being alive in the local club, a desperate love for […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: