I would be lying if I said that I came away from Acorn Productions' Bent feeling that it had matched my expectations. Far from it: it exceeded them tenfold. Martin Sherman’s incredibly moving piece of theatre, which caused considerable controversy during its initial run in 1979, has been handled with seemingly expert hands by director James Corrigan (to say I was shocked to discover that this is his directorial debut would be a gross understatement) and a cast of astoundingly talented individuals; it would be perfectly possible for me to dedicate a separate review to each and every one of them.
The role of promiscuous Max, the play’s central protagonist, is in the extremely capable hands of Chris Greenwood, who consistently delights and extracts sympathy from the audience, switching faultlessly from deliciously carefree to horrifically broken throughout. After about three lines, I hardly noticed his Yorkshire broad; in fact it may have even brought something to the role, particularly the cuttingly witty one-lines that pepper the script. He is well matched by Matt Gavan as his neurotic young lover, Rudy, and the pair have excellent onstage chemistry. Gavan delivers each line with complete conviction and expert comic timing, making his untimely departure from the plot all the more heart-wrenching. The supporting roles are filled by equally adept performers, most notably Jacob Lloyd, whose rich vocals perfectly harmonise with the character of drag queen Greta, and Brian McMahon, who displays great diversity in two vastly contrasting roles: Max’s “fluffy” Uncle Freddie and the ice-cold SS Captain at Dachau.
However, the performance which stood out above the rest was indubitably that of Joe Eyre as Max’s fellow camp inmate and, subsequently, soulmate, Horst. Eyre’s interpretation of the role (which rightfully shies away from any kind of “sappy” stereotype) is fuelled with virtually inhuman sensitivity, and there is a definite purpose behind every single word and movement. So believable was his representation that I became more concerned for his well-being with every hacking cough. The relationship that he builds with Greenwood’s initially sceptical character really is magical to behold - top marks for the verbal sex scene, which was highly charged with passion and eroticism. Any old-school fuddy-duddies who bemoan the lack of talent among today’s rising performers are strongly advised to think again - it would be madness not to expect great things from Eyre in years to come.
From a visual perspective, Corrigan and his designer, Beth Greenaway, have all bases covered. The set is simplistic yet extremely effective - I was virtually terrified upon re-entering the auditorium to see that it had been transformed into the hell-hole that was the yard of Dachau. The barbed wire fence across the front of the entire stage was a very good move indeed, successfully representing the barriers in society that still exist today. This, along with the harsh lighting, juxtaposed flawlessly with the natural beauty of the actors’ bodies. A job well done indeed.
I hope that I have successfully demonstrated just how much this near-faultless production touched me - I now feel incredibly guilty for any preconceptions I had, and feel that a new standard has definitely been set for any future performances that I review: amateur or professional. The real outrage was that there were several unfilled seats on opening night; I urge anyone wishing to be enlightened, moved and above all, inspired, to book immediately.
The role of promiscuous Max, the play’s central protagonist, is in the extremely capable hands of Chris Greenwood, who consistently delights and extracts sympathy from the audience, switching faultlessly from deliciously carefree to horrifically broken throughout. After about three lines, I hardly noticed his Yorkshire broad; in fact it may have even brought something to the role, particularly the cuttingly witty one-lines that pepper the script. He is well matched by Matt Gavan as his neurotic young lover, Rudy, and the pair have excellent onstage chemistry. Gavan delivers each line with complete conviction and expert comic timing, making his untimely departure from the plot all the more heart-wrenching. The supporting roles are filled by equally adept performers, most notably Jacob Lloyd, whose rich vocals perfectly harmonise with the character of drag queen Greta, and Brian McMahon, who displays great diversity in two vastly contrasting roles: Max’s “fluffy” Uncle Freddie and the ice-cold SS Captain at Dachau.
However, the performance which stood out above the rest was indubitably that of Joe Eyre as Max’s fellow camp inmate and, subsequently, soulmate, Horst. Eyre’s interpretation of the role (which rightfully shies away from any kind of “sappy” stereotype) is fuelled with virtually inhuman sensitivity, and there is a definite purpose behind every single word and movement. So believable was his representation that I became more concerned for his well-being with every hacking cough. The relationship that he builds with Greenwood’s initially sceptical character really is magical to behold - top marks for the verbal sex scene, which was highly charged with passion and eroticism. Any old-school fuddy-duddies who bemoan the lack of talent among today’s rising performers are strongly advised to think again - it would be madness not to expect great things from Eyre in years to come.
From a visual perspective, Corrigan and his designer, Beth Greenaway, have all bases covered. The set is simplistic yet extremely effective - I was virtually terrified upon re-entering the auditorium to see that it had been transformed into the hell-hole that was the yard of Dachau. The barbed wire fence across the front of the entire stage was a very good move indeed, successfully representing the barriers in society that still exist today. This, along with the harsh lighting, juxtaposed flawlessly with the natural beauty of the actors’ bodies. A job well done indeed.
I hope that I have successfully demonstrated just how much this near-faultless production touched me - I now feel incredibly guilty for any preconceptions I had, and feel that a new standard has definitely been set for any future performances that I review: amateur or professional. The real outrage was that there were several unfilled seats on opening night; I urge anyone wishing to be enlightened, moved and above all, inspired, to book immediately.