Indira Varma Mr Skin
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Indira Varma Mr Skin
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TV Series 2020–2021 2020–2021 TV-14 TV-14 43 m
The series is loosely based on the true story of Isaac Wright Jr., who was imprisoned for a crime that he did not commit. While incarcerated, he became a licensed paralegal and helped to overturn the wrongful convictions of twenty of his fellow inmates, before finally proving his own innocence.
A beautifully crafted narrative about the life of a man fighting for truth. This is one of those compelling stories that has the potential to creep into the zeitgeist, then (hopefully) shift it towards justice.
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A prisoner becomes a lawyer and fights to overturn his life sentence for a crime he didn't commit. A prisoner becomes a lawyer and fights to overturn his life sentence for a crime he didn't commit. A prisoner becomes a lawyer and fights to overturn his life sentence for a crime he didn't commit.
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The Skin of Our Teeth
Young Vic Theater, London; 350 seats; 25 pounds ($40.25) top
Production:
A Young Vic presentation of a play by Thornton Wilder in three acts. Directed by David Lan.
Crew:
Sets, Richard Hudson; costumes, Jackie Galloway; lighting, Bruno Poet; music, Tim Sutton; choreography, Kate Flatt; sound, Paul Arditti. Opened March 4, 2004. Reviewed March 6. Running time: 3 HOURS.
Cast:
Mr. Antrobus - David Troughton
Mrs. Antrobus - Maureen Beattie
Henry - Jonas Armstrong
Sabina - Indira Varma
Gladys - Abby Ford
Fortune Teller - Bette Bourne With: Golda Rosheuvel, Simon Rice, Tim Sutton, Camille Litalien, Yael Loewenstein, Alex Kew, Emma Kershaw, Junix Inocian, Jason Rowe.
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The Young Vic makes another foray into the American repertoire with "The Skin of Our Teeth," Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize winner that is more of an oddity in Blighty than it has been back home. Whether London auds will find the programming warranted depends on their fondness for the play, a curiosity that comes across as some sort of cross-pollination betw Aesop and Tony Kushner at his most millennially apocalyptic.
The Young Vic makes another brave foray into the American repertoire (the Langston Hughes rarity “Simply Heavenly” was its last) with “The Skin of Our Teeth,” Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winner that is considerably more of an oddity in Blighty than it has traditionally been back home. Whether London auds will find the audacious programming warranted will depend on their fondness for the play itself, a curiosity that in 2004 comes across as some sort of lumbering cross-pollination between Aesop and Tony Kushner at his most millennially apocalyptic.
On top of that is the issue of Young Vic a.d. David Lan’s long (three-hour) production, which takes Wilder’s enormously weighty slice of whimsy Very Seriously Indeed: Never before have I been tempted to think of a writer regarded (often mistakenly) as cozily homespun as a kind of American equivalent to Pirandello, who spends more time breaking down the fourth wall than New Jersey’s beleaguered Antrobus family does fending off every possible woe known to man.
Those setbacks, you’ll recall, include an advancing ice age, floods and a seven-year war, as they are seen to besiege the uber-inventor Mr. Antrobus (David Troughton), his fiercely protective wife, Maggie (Maureen Beattie), their children Henry (Jonas Armstrong) and Gladys (Abby Ford) and a vampish maid, Sabina (Indira Varma), possessed of a remarkable penchant for commenting on the action: “This would never go on at the National Theater,” Varma’s sleek if oddly accented Sabina remarked at one point. (Maybe at Nicholas Hytner’s National … )
Basic intrigue carries you through the three acts (one can only dream of what Tallulah Bankhead and a young Montgomery Clift must have been like in the original Elia Kazan production), even if Wilder’s gamesmanship has sapped one’s interest well before Sabina’s closing farewell.
“Skin of Our Teeth,” Wilder once wrote, “mostly comes alive under conditions of crisis,” and just as Wilder’s earlier “Our Town” often surprises viewers with its abiding nihilism, so does this more calamitous script come down on the side of a very American fortitude and resilience that, the playwright suggests, are what have got the near-mythic Antrobus Everyfamily through 5,000 years.
Wilder wrote the play during wartime for a Broadway audience that was itself at war, and you have to wonder what spectators at the Plymouth Theater made of Mr. Antrobus’ reference to his family “all covered in blood.” At the Young Vic, the response is general bemusement, whether one is clocking the arrival in the first act of Homer and Moses or the citations from Spinoza near the end. Small wonder the recent Kander & Ebb musical version of this play, “Over and Over,” was perceived to have problems in tone: Wilder’s material defies all efforts to unify a cosmic pinwheel that stops long enough to announce itself as a fairly leaden philosophical caprice.
Lan’s approach attempts to impose a kind of gallows humor on proceedings, coupled with a vaudevillian knockabout style that suits the second-act foray to Atlantic City (not to mention lyrics rhyming “skunk who’ll lie” with “homunculi”). To that end, one has to applaud Kate Flatt’s choreography, which sustains momentum even as Richard Hudson’s traverse-style set is slowly giving way beneath the cast, in accordance with a world hell-bent on destruction.
And the actors, too, override the bizarre faux-Brooklynese that passes for virtually all American accents in the British theater these days, with a conviction ranging from hammy (Armstrong, out of his element as the son) to robust (Beattie’s tenacious wife) to poignant (the great Bette Bourne, here cast a movingly prophetic Esmeralda, the fortune-teller).
Not content merely to play Wilder’s scripted interruptions of his own text (many of which demand updating in any case), the company occasionally turn into Ice Age versions of Pirandello’s six characters — even if Pirandello’s existential masterwork, beautifully served several seasons ago at the Young Vic, stops some way short of a scene-stealing dinosaur/mammoth double-act.
The riskiest of these interpolations kicks off the third act, with Troughton’s Mr. Antrobus all too plausibly remarking that four members of the company “had an incident” during the second intermission and so will be unable to perform, thereby forcing the cancellation of the rest of the play. On opening night, I’m told, one esteemed critic mistakenly took Mr. Antrobus at his word and began scurrying up the aisle. Or maybe, not at all mistakenly, he was simply grabbing his chance to go.
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The Skin of Our Teeth
Young Vic Theater, London; 350 seats; 25 pounds ($40.25) top
Production:
A Young Vic presentation of a play by Thornton Wilder in three acts. Directed by David Lan.
Crew:
Sets, Richard Hudson; costumes, Jackie Galloway; lighting, Bruno Poet; music, Tim Sutton; choreography, Kate Flatt; sound, Paul Arditti. Opened March 4, 2004. Reviewed March 6. Running time: 3 HOURS.
Cast:
Mr. Antrobus - David Troughton
Mrs. Antrobus - Maureen Beattie
Henry - Jonas Armstrong
Sabina - Indira Varma
Gladys - Abby Ford
Fortune Teller - Bette Bourne With: Golda Rosheuvel, Simon Rice, Tim Sutton, Camille Litalien, Yael Loewenstein, Alex Kew, Emma Kershaw, Junix Inocian, Jason Rowe.
Variety
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The Young Vic makes another foray into the American repertoire with "The Skin of Our Teeth," Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize winner that is more of an oddity in Blighty than it has been back home. Whether London auds will find the programming warranted depends on their fondness for the play, a curiosity that comes across as some sort of cross-pollination betw Aesop and Tony Kushner at his most millennially apocalyptic.
The Young Vic makes another brave foray into the American repertoire (the Langston Hughes rarity “Simply Heavenly” was its last) with “The Skin of Our Teeth,” Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winner that is considerably more of an oddity in Blighty than it has traditionally been back home. Whether London auds will find the audacious programming warranted will depend on their fondness for the play itself, a curiosity that in 2004 comes across as some sort of lumbering cross-pollination between Aesop and Tony Kushner at his most millennially apocalyptic.
On top of that is the issue of Young Vic a.d. David Lan’s long (three-hour) production, which takes Wilder’s enormously weighty slice of whimsy Very Seriously Indeed: Never before have I been tempted to think of a writer regarded (often mistakenly) as cozily homespun as a kind of American equivalent to Pirandello, who spends more time breaking down the fourth wall than New Jersey’s beleaguered Antrobus family does fending off every possible woe known to man.
Those setbacks, you’ll recall, include an advancing ice age, floods and a seven-year war, as they are seen to besiege the uber-inventor Mr. Antrobus (David Troughton), his fiercely protective wife, Maggie (Maureen Beattie), their children Henry (Jonas Armstrong) and Gladys (Abby Ford) and a vampish maid, Sabina (Indira Varma), possessed of a remarkable penchant for commenting on the action: “This would never go on at the National Theater,” Varma’s sleek if oddly accented Sabina remarked at one point. (Maybe at Nicholas Hytner’s National … )
Basic intrigue carries you through the three acts (one can only dream of what Tallulah Bankhead and a young Montgomery Clift must have been like in the original Elia Kazan production), even if Wilder’s gamesmanship has sapped one’s interest well before Sabina’s closing farewell.
“Skin of Our Teeth,” Wilder once wrote, “mostly comes alive under conditions of crisis,” and just as Wilder’s earlier “Our Town” often surprises viewers with its abiding nihilism, so does this more calamitous script come down on the side of a very American fortitude and resilience that, the playwright suggests, are what have got the near-mythic Antrobus Everyfamily through 5,000 years.
Wilder wrote the pla
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