JAMIE BRITTON recommends that we all buy at least two copies of a remarkable book of poems
THE National Youth Theatre’s Frankenstein opens with Sonny Poon Tip’s Garth standing on stage and telling the audience that, “like fax machines,” virtual reality will soon make actual theatres obsolete.
It’s a gutsy claim but then everything about this production is robust, from the performances of the National Youth Theatre’s young actors to the radical edit of Mary Shelley’s two-centuries-old novel.
Technology is at the heart of Carl Miller’s adaptation, in which Frankenstein’s monster (Sarah Lusack) is AI and, in an excellent sequence, the audience experience the action through VR headsets.
MARY CONWAY applauds the timely revival of Miller’s study of people fatally deformed by the economics of survival
MARY CONWAY becomes impatient with the intellectual self-indulgence of Tom Stoppard in a production that is, nevertheless, total class
MAYER WAKEFIELD has reservations about a two-handed theatrical homage to jazz’s most mercurial musician
PETER MASON applauds a stage version of Le Carre’s novel that questions what ordinary people have to gain from high-level governmental spying


