Latest news with #Icke
The Guardian
13-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The week in theatre: Manhunt; Jab
Robert Icke goes on disrupting, reinventing what we see on stage. His new production, Manhunt, does not have the sleek incisiveness of the superb Oedipus with which he lit up the theatre last year: it sprawls, tries to lasso too much, is sometimes overexpository. Yet it is coruscating. It transmits indelible images. Not moving but transfixing. Manhunt is a departure for Icke: a modern, real-life story that he has written as well as directed. This is a portrait of Raoul Moat, who in 2010 shot his former partner, killed her lover, blinded a policeman and caused one of the biggest manhunts in British history. He was described by the then prime minister David Cameron as 'a callous murderer, full stop, end of story' – and glorified on Facebook. Drawing on Moat's own words (he wrote a 49-page letter to Northumbria police), Icke abstains from simple condemnation (superfluous) or sentimental exculpation. He does what theatre does best: embody a human being, not dilute him into case history, horror or sob story. Samuel Edward-Cook is phenomenal as Moat. He is something like Ross Kemp as EastEnders' Grant Mitchell: shaven-headed, muscled-up (tattoos bulge on one arm), swerving into sentiment when not punching out or throwing a table across the stage. He also resembles the amazing busts made in the 18th century by Franz Xaver Messerschmidt – a roaring head trapped in a block, rage made rigid, his own character a cage. It is an extraordinary performance, not least because there is no room in this personality for inflection: Edward-Cook is nonstop blast and yet is never monotonous. Moat's dangerousness and his difficulties vibrate brilliantly through Hildegard Bechtler's design, Azusa Ono's lighting and Tom Gibbons's soundscape. Before a word is spoken, Edward-Cook is seen pacing behind a black metal grid; his head lit up bright and white like a grotesque party balloon, later gleaming like a cannonball. The air is full of clash and grind. When Edward-Cook, stock-still but bursting, faces out to the audience, he glistens with sweat. There are unexpected digressions that do not immediately propel Moat's story but are among the evening's most interesting episodes. The footballer Paul Gascoigne, who in real life turned up, high on drink and drugs, when Moat was ringed by police, but did not speak to him, is here imagined in conversation as a woozy therapist; he is hauntingly played by Trevor Fox. As David Rathband, the policeman who two years after being blinded by Moat, hanged himself, Nicolas Tennant has a commanding soliloquy, performed in total blackout so that the audience are immersed in his darkness. The attempt to make one man's terrible history the occasion for a general examination of male violence (adding to the debate sparked by Adolescence and Punch) leads to some superfluous spelling out. Yet the core of Manhunt – the steady look at the central figure – is strong, unflabby. This looked like a giant leap for Icke. From Oedipus to Moat. Yet there is a thread. Fathers. The damage caused to men by not knowing a good one. I have long anticipated – feared – an epidemic of Covid plays. Wrong. The Zoomed dramas produced during lockdown – small casts with bedheads for backdrops – did not lead to a new genre. Though any mention of plague, such as the RSC's adaptation of Maggie O'Farrell's Hamnet, carries a new charge of recognition, theatres have shied away from explicitly evoking the experience of the pandemic. Now here is Scott Le Crass's production of James McDermott's Jab, a vax drama, first produced last year at the enterprising Finborough, which is also a jab of an evening: a short, sharp-edged two-hander with cutting dialogue. In lockdown a marriage slowly unravels. What begins as playful chiding – to the tune of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) – turns bitter. The children have left home. A woman tells her husband of 20 years: 'You're non-essential.' She works for the NHS and provides for the two of them; his shop cannot open. He burps, crunches crisps loudly when she's trying to watch The Durrells, sprawls behind the Daily Mail. She looks wan and responsible. He wants sex; she doesn't. When the vaccine arrives, she administers it; he refuses to have it. Kacey Ainsworth is all filigree, Liam Tobin a bravado lump. There is at the beginning almost too much detail in their fine acting, as if to make up for a plot in which the divisions appear too pat, the sympathy too obviously partisan. McDermott has explained that he based the play on his own parents, whose marriage deteriorated during Covid. Yet a basis in truth does not guarantee the sound of authenticity. Though circumstances – the daily announcement of deaths, the doorstep clapping, the automatic reach for hand sanitiser – are all too recognisable, the opposing traits of the characters look rigged. Still, in an echo of one terrific work of pandemic art, poet Simon Armitage's lyric The Song Thrush and the Mountain Ash, the evening ends on an evocative image – both sad and tinged with promise. A woman stands alone at a window, separated from the outside world but looking towards it. Star ratings (out of five) Manhunt ★★★★Jab ★★ Manhunt is at the Jerwood Theatre Downstairs, Royal Court, London, until 3 May Jab is at the Park theatre, London, until Saturday 26 April
Telegraph
09-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Manhunt: An unflinching study of the life and death of Raoul Moat
Fresh from deserved success at the Oliviers for his impeccable Oedipus, director Robert Icke gives us – over a visceral, intense, gripping 90 minutes – his treatment of something little less gruesome: the story of Raoul Moat. The Newcastle bouncer's violent rampage after being released from prison in July 2010 sparked the biggest manhunt in UK history: he shot his ex-partner, killed her new lover, and injured/ blinded a traffic police officer (who later took his own life). Moat turned his gun on himself during a stand-off with police, after going on the run for nearly a week. Given a slew of books and the recent ITV miniseries, Manhunt might seem like re-cycling fairly old news. And with troubled, nay 'toxic', masculinity already very much in the spotlight – what with Adolescence and James Graham's Punch (which depicts the fallout from a mindless act of violence) – it might be thought Icke is a touch behind-hand in stirring necessary debate. But Icke's manifest argument – that men are often perceived as scarily problematic these days and that Moat's extreme case reflects a more generalised fracture – persuasively positions this hate figure as an overlooked harbinger of where we are now, when a troubling swathe of the male population seems lost, alienated and angry. Icke includes David Cameron's remarks that Moat didn't deserve sympathy (his motivating hatred of the police perversely drew admirers). It's a difficult tight-rope act, the need to avoid sensationalising the events an imperative. The writer-director should have given more time to the partner, Samantha Stobbart (Sally Messham), and the first victim, Chris Brown (Leo James). There is, though, a harrowing section, heard in darkness, that relays the experience of the traffic officer, David Rathband. And overall, Icke displays a sober focus on relaying how things span out of control. With constituent bits of back-story presented as though Raoul survived to face the music in court (more of a psycho-dramatic conceit than a judicial procedural), the jigsaw-pieces of a damaged life are slotted together: an abusive childhood, with consequent unregulated emotion, a key factor. Even if the marshalling of all this risks seeming cursory, Samuel Edward-Cook's superb central performance feels complete in its testosterone-saturated way. First seen prowling liked a caged animal, every move tracked by overhead CCTV, the actor has the cheekbones and bald-pated body-built physique to denote hard-man menace, abetted by a volatile stare. But alongside the brute force sits complexity: a vicious yank of Messham's head turns into a coercive caress. And the need to salvage a broken life – to prove protector not destroyer, family-man not abject failure – hits home in the climax, involving a tender imagined encounter with a tragicomically disarrayed Paul Gascoigne (the footballer famously turned up during the standoff between Moat and police) and jolting redemptive kindness from a police negotiator. We see agony etched on Moat's face as he digs the gun into his own throat. More could surely have been made theatrically of the resource-draining manhunt, and attendant national hysteria, itself. But while this isn't in the same league as Oedipus, it amply justifies main-stage attention, and deserves to tour, too.
The Independent
09-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Manhunt is an intense and empathetic study of Raoul Moat, but its message is uncertain
When fugitive Raoul Moat went on a shotgun-toting rampage round the North-East in the summer of 2010, a media frenzy erupted – assuming new lurid hues when addled ex-footballer Paul Gascoigne, aka Gazza, turned up for a blokey chat with him mid-standoff, clutching cans of lager, some chicken, and two fishing rods (he was turned away by the police, of course). The whole thing seemed too bizarre, too inexplicable to take entirely seriously, though the casualties were very real. Incisive writer-director Robert Icke 's take on the story lands like a glass of cold water, thrown into our collective faces. Bracing. A belated antidote to all that hysteria. But somehow it lacks Icke's usual ability to winnow complex source material into one, coherent message. Icke's 2024 reimaging of Oedipus just won big at the Oliviers, after taking audiences on an agonisingly tense journey through a Greek classic, with a giant onstage digital clock counting down the seconds to calamity. Manhunt is tense, too: but there's something forced about its tension, like we're being strapped into our seats for a Clockwork Orange -style dose of aversion therapy, with sudden blackouts, percussive sound, and hyper-violence. A screen counts down the days of Moat's paranoid vendetta against Northumbria Police, attempting to give structure and order to his muddled mental state after leaving prison. Samuel Edward-Cook's effective performance brings a constant sense of suppressed violence to this troubled man, so it's no shock when he flips tables or throttles his ex-girlfriend Samantha (Sally Messham). He believes that her new boyfriend is a policeman, so he shoots him dead, then takes to the Northumbrian wilds with two mates who call themselves 'hostages', reemerging to shoot another officer in the face. It's just like playing Doom, he tells us. Icke is intensely interested in Moat's psychology, and in the task of making him more than a ripped video game assassin. But it feels like his approach tells us too much – in detailed, therapy-like conversations between this man and a barrister who's attempting to understand him – and shows us too little. Everyone around Moat is so thinly drawn, whether it's the fragile mother with bipolar who burns his toys, or the social worker who takes away his kids, or the ex-girlfriend who's unhelpfully portrayed here as goading him into more violence. He's been let down, it's clear. But by who, exactly? Moat's story is full of the kind of coincidences and resonances you couldn't make up. He collides with other troubled men, just like him, who hurt the women in their lives and are drawn to mess and self-destruction. Perhaps you could build some kind of thesis on toxic masculinity out of these parallels – or on social deprivation in the North East, or on police mismanagement. But instead of trying to understand these structural factors, Manhunt ducks and weaves around the line between truth and fiction, creating intriguing parallel realities. Could Gazza actually have talked Moat down? What if Moat's estranged father had been allowed to speak to him in those final moments before he shot himself, instead of being sent away by the police as he was? Icke's boldest stroke is to have Moat's child self appear on stage alongside him, a lovable little red-haired kid who wants to grow up to be big and strong. It's a reminder that no one is born a monster, that no one's path is set. But this message is undermined by an unsparingly brutal depiction of the adult Moat, who's so constantly ready to break out into violence (even towards his own kids) that it's hard to imagine the world that could rehabilitate him. Manhunt is completely engrossing to watch, like watching a tiger prowl up and down in its cage – Hildegard Bechtler's set design creates a metal prison for this trapped man. But like a mismanaged zoo, it's ultimately not as compassionate as it makes itself out to be.
The Guardian
08-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Manhunt review – strangely plodding examination of life and death of Raoul Moat
Raoul Moat set a grim record in 2010 by sparking the biggest manhunt in UK history. After almost seven days on the run, the chase ended when he took his own life. His last days are enacted as a posthumous courtroom drama in writer-director Robert Icke's staging, looking back on the events leading up to Moat's death but simultaneously travelling towards it. Fresh out of prison and intent on hurting his ex-girlfriend because she had found a new partner, Moat murdered her boyfriend, left her in a critical condition and blinded a police officer, before hiding out in a corner of north-east England with a sawn-off shotgun. Samuel Edward-Cook, as Moat, often speaks in direct address to the audience, while short scenes are enacted. All the while, a barrister stalks the stage to cross-examine, interrogate and undermine his account. This story seems like a leftfield choice for Icke, who excels at rewriting stage classics for modern times: last year's sensational Oedipus is a case in point. And as boldly high-wire as Icke undoubtedly is, this production is strangely plodding, a rather too expositional synthesis of events, despite the theatrical flourishes. It is neither revelatory nor emotional enough. Edward-Cook, as Moat, is a striking physical presence, muscle-bound, sweat-slicked and ready to burst, but his ex-girlfriend Samantha Stobbart (Sally Messham) and her boyfriend Chris Brown (Leo James) are little more than triggers for his anger. Every other character – from his mentally-fragile mother to a childhood version of himself – are brief and unrounded. As promisingly as it begins – with Moat pacing behind a screen while aerial CCTV footage of him is projected on to the screen to suggest a sense of bifurcation and surveillance – the play as a whole is made up of dramatised summaries of Moat's life. He remains angry, distressed and disfranchised, but rather unknown beyond that – to himself and to us, it seems. He makes strained proclamations, variously calling himself a hunter-gather, a hulk, King Kong atop the tower, and Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver. If the point here is that he defines himself as the monster other people see him to be, it is crudely made, and feels cliched. Questions around toxic masculinity and crisis – especially in relation to class – are immensely timely, with the continuing online presence of Andrew Tate and the high suicide rates among men under 50. Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne's recent drama, Adolescence, recently opened the ground on how young boys and men move towards violence, misogyny and murder. But this play never quite delivers in its dramatic power or its psychological insights. The production lacks pace too. Icke, usually so adept at suggesting the inexorable march of fate and time, uses screens to flash the date for each passing day as Moat heads toward his end, but this does not bring the charge it should. Hildegard Bechtler's non-realist set does clever work with the screens but even this does not bring the intensity it should. There is one scene – in which the police officer, PC David Rathband, who is blinded, speaks of his experience in a dark auditorium – which is original and innovative. There are more such moments that come and go before the tone returns to flatness. James Graham's play, Punch, currently showing in the West End, shows the fallout of a crime and its intersections with masculine crisis. That story of restorative justice lends itself to resolution and forgiveness. This story hangs in the air, unsure of – or opaque in – its intentions. Is this an anatomy of a breakdown? An investigation into the ways Moat was failed? Or a portrait of white, northern, working-class masculinity in extreme crisis? It seems like a bit of all, but not enough of one. This is not the first attempt at dramatisation: ITV screened The Hunt for Raoul Moat in 2023 even as locals of Rothbury – where Moat shot himself – complained it was all too raw to be turned into television. Maybe this is the case on stage too. Manhunt at the Royal Court, London until 3 May In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123, or email jo@ or jo@ In the US, you can call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on or text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at
The Guardian
07-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
From Amsterdam to the West End: the avant-garde hit factory behind The Years and Oedipus
The Royal Court and Regent's Park Open Air theatre were among the victorious venues at Sunday's Olivier awards, which recognise the cream of London's Theatreland. But there was reason to celebrate in the Netherlands, too. The bold West End productions Oedipus and The Years, which picked up four awards between them, have their origins at Internationaal Theater Amsterdam (ITA). The theatre's artistic director is Eline Arbo, who adapted and staged a version of Nobel prize-winner Annie Ernaux's The Years for an all-female cast. After its success in the Netherlands, Arbo was invited to London's Almeida theatre to direct the show with British actors. Among them was Romola Garai, who won the Olivier award for best actress in a supporting role, while Arbo was named best director. The production received rapturous reviews and has transferred to the West End where its run (which ends on 19 April) has been accompanied by regular reports of audiences fainting during its abortion scene. Garai calls Arbo a 'genius' and said that the production's power is a result of fusing several elements of theatre-making from around Europe. 'Eline is Norwegian so she comes from that tradition of Ibsen. Amsterdam has ITA's incredible tradition of physical and quite conceptual work. And England has this usually narrative-based, text tradition. I think The Years is a perfect example of how when you marry those elements together you can make really great, exciting work that feels very challenging in the best way to an audience.' Arbo, who became the sixth woman to win the best director Olivier award, said she was delighted by how British audiences had responded to The Years. 'There are talks [for ITA] to come more to England,' she said. 'For us to be able to show these productions to a British audience, and have that collaboration, is so important. It's one of our biggest missions: how to share different perspectives from different cultures. We are an international house.' Arbo said that increasingly 'politicians want to close borders' but it is vital 'to have that exchange of perspective to develop culture'. Brexit, she said, had not been a significant obstacle for her to work in the UK. When Rufus Wainwright's version of the film Opening Night flopped in the West End, the composer suggested British audiences lack 'curiosity' after Brexit and that the British press had turned on the project for being 'too European'. Opening Night was directed by the Belgian Ivo van Hove, Arbo's predecessor at ITA, who combined a 20-year tenure leading the Dutch ensemble with high-profile, often star-powered freelance productions in London. It was Van Hove who invited Britain's Robert Icke to Amsterdam to adapt and direct a new version of Sophocles' Oedipus in 2018. 'I'd written an English script that was translated – they acted and talked to each other in Dutch and to me in English,' Icke told the Guardian. 'It had the potential to be profoundly alienating but I loved it. Icke won best revival for Oedipus at the Oliviers and said in his acceptance speech that the chance to stage a new version of his adaptation at the Wyndham's theatre had been 'amazing'. After an ensemble of ITA actors performed it at the Edinburgh international festival in 2019, the London production paired Mark Strong, in the title role, with Lesley Manville as Jocasta. Manville, who won the Olivier award for best actress, said that Icke's time at ITA had 'shaped a lot' for him. 'After that production he did some reworking of Oedipus. He was very happy and comfortable working in Amsterdam … He obviously saw that it could have another life here.' Its success has left Manville 'almost wanting to text Sophocles!' she joked. Three years ago, Rebecca Frecknall was the toast of the Olivier awards as her version of Cabaret picked up seven prizes. ITA took note of the rising star director. She was invited to Amsterdam to direct a version of Strindberg's Miss Julie with the ensemble in 2024, designed by another Brit, Chloe Lamford. Earlier this month, Frecknall was announced as ITA's Ibsen Artist in Residence, a position previously held by Icke. Frecknall said that Arbo had been 'a great support in delivering my first ITA production last year' and added: 'It's going to be wonderful to have a home at this incredible theatre for the next three years and to keep working with their talented ensemble of actors.' You wouldn't be surprised if she and Arbo are back celebrating at the Oliviers before too long.
