REVIEWS & PRESS
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| Matrix Theatre 7657 Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles 90046 (323) 852-1445 info@salemktheatreco.org |
VARIETY
April 8, 2008
Alan Ayckbourn, master craftsman of acerbic British comedy who unaccountably has never quite caught on
here in the States, ventured into the dramatized ghost story genre first with "Haunting Julia" and later with "Snake
in the Grass," the latter now enjoying its U.S. premiere in a stylish mounting by the Salem K Theater Company.
The dramatist injects just enough characteristic humor to lull us into a false sense of security before the thriller
dimension takes over.
Sibs out of sorts are a classic Ayckbourn trope. Thirty years ago, worldly career woman Annabel (Pamela
Salem) traveled halfway across the world to escape her father's tyrannical clutches, and only his death would
prompt her return. (It has.) By contrast, her mousy sister Miriam (Claire Jacobs), having sacrificed her life in
father's care, now paddles about the family manse in an ill-fitting jumper, loveless and purposeless.
Ayckbourn skillfully subverts stereotype within the familiar conflict. Annabel's in ill health and still suffering the
stings of an abusive marriage, and her self-command proves only skin deep. Meanwhile, timorous Miriam has
developed surprising backbone -- a handy quality when father's nurse Alice (Nicola Bertram) arrives to demand a
king's ransom in exchange for her silence on the matter of the poison -- and Miriam's shove at the top of the
stairs -- which, she's prepared to testify, sent dad to his doom.
Of course dad hovers nearby, for a good ghost story demands that the departed be present in life before we
encounter him in spirit. Ayckbourn's celebrated ability to create absent characters in his comic works serves him
well in evoking Father Chester in all his narcissistic, bullying glory. We can readily believe the stage was set for
bad, bad things many years ago, a mood reinforced by Laura Fine Hawkes' brilliantly detailed set, the leaf-swept
stone pathway, dilapidated summerhouse and untended tennis court wordlessly expressing pain and loss.
In the here and now, there's bubbly humor in Miriam's brisk readiness to send Nurse Moody whither the old man
molders. But Leigh Allen's spectacularly spooky lighting and Hal Lindes' moody jazz themes warn us long in
advance of this thriller's supernatural destination, and the U.K.-bred ensemble's authenticity of speech and
manner is complemented by their skill in turning on a dime from hilarity to horror.
To reveal more would be churlish. Suffice it to say that Mark Rosenblatt's direction takes pains to ratchet up the
hackle-raising suspense, at the expense of some jump-out-of-your-seat moments script specifies but production
doesn't quite deliver. Still, "Snake in the Grass" winds up as deliciously creepy as its titular reptile.
-- Bob Verini --
April 8, 2008
Alan Ayckbourn, master craftsman of acerbic British comedy who unaccountably has never quite caught on
here in the States, ventured into the dramatized ghost story genre first with "Haunting Julia" and later with "Snake
in the Grass," the latter now enjoying its U.S. premiere in a stylish mounting by the Salem K Theater Company.
The dramatist injects just enough characteristic humor to lull us into a false sense of security before the thriller
dimension takes over.
Sibs out of sorts are a classic Ayckbourn trope. Thirty years ago, worldly career woman Annabel (Pamela
Salem) traveled halfway across the world to escape her father's tyrannical clutches, and only his death would
prompt her return. (It has.) By contrast, her mousy sister Miriam (Claire Jacobs), having sacrificed her life in
father's care, now paddles about the family manse in an ill-fitting jumper, loveless and purposeless.
Ayckbourn skillfully subverts stereotype within the familiar conflict. Annabel's in ill health and still suffering the
stings of an abusive marriage, and her self-command proves only skin deep. Meanwhile, timorous Miriam has
developed surprising backbone -- a handy quality when father's nurse Alice (Nicola Bertram) arrives to demand a
king's ransom in exchange for her silence on the matter of the poison -- and Miriam's shove at the top of the
stairs -- which, she's prepared to testify, sent dad to his doom.
Of course dad hovers nearby, for a good ghost story demands that the departed be present in life before we
encounter him in spirit. Ayckbourn's celebrated ability to create absent characters in his comic works serves him
well in evoking Father Chester in all his narcissistic, bullying glory. We can readily believe the stage was set for
bad, bad things many years ago, a mood reinforced by Laura Fine Hawkes' brilliantly detailed set, the leaf-swept
stone pathway, dilapidated summerhouse and untended tennis court wordlessly expressing pain and loss.
In the here and now, there's bubbly humor in Miriam's brisk readiness to send Nurse Moody whither the old man
molders. But Leigh Allen's spectacularly spooky lighting and Hal Lindes' moody jazz themes warn us long in
advance of this thriller's supernatural destination, and the U.K.-bred ensemble's authenticity of speech and
manner is complemented by their skill in turning on a dime from hilarity to horror.
To reveal more would be churlish. Suffice it to say that Mark Rosenblatt's direction takes pains to ratchet up the
hackle-raising suspense, at the expense of some jump-out-of-your-seat moments script specifies but production
doesn't quite deliver. Still, "Snake in the Grass" winds up as deliciously creepy as its titular reptile.
-- Bob Verini --
LA WEEKLY
April 8, 2008
GO! If you like double-cross genre plays with twists, you’ll thoroughly enjoy Alan Ayckbourn’s 2002 divertissement — even though, unlike in Sleuth and
Death Trap, you can see those twists coming a mile away. Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) returns to England to claim her inheritance, now that her
father has died after a long illness. Unfortunately, his former nurse, Alice (Nicola Bertram), is blackmailing Annabel’s sister, Miriam (Claire Jacobs), for
helping with her father’s demise. If the sisters come up with £100,000, Alice will turn over a letter the dying man scribbled accusing Miriam of trying to
murder him. On the other hand, it might be more cost-effective for the two to get rid of Alice than this damning bit of evidence. Snake is an old-fashioned
thriller capable of wowing modern audiences, and this cast proves itself more than capable. Salem especially shines as the prissy scold whose flawed
heart condition suggests a deeper moral condition. Director Mark Rosenblatt emphasizes atmospherics, and these pay off to give us a chill even as we
judge the characters. The Matrix’s wide stage accommodates Laura Fine Hawkes’ nicely detailed garden set that establishes the lay of the land in three
defined spaces. Eric Snodgrass’ sound design is crisp and subtle, touching the senses like a layer of night fog. Prerecorded music is usually intrusive in
nonmusicals, but Hal Lindes’ restrained score fortifies the story’s unsettling mood.
-- Steven Mikulan --
April 8, 2008
GO! If you like double-cross genre plays with twists, you’ll thoroughly enjoy Alan Ayckbourn’s 2002 divertissement — even though, unlike in Sleuth and
Death Trap, you can see those twists coming a mile away. Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) returns to England to claim her inheritance, now that her
father has died after a long illness. Unfortunately, his former nurse, Alice (Nicola Bertram), is blackmailing Annabel’s sister, Miriam (Claire Jacobs), for
helping with her father’s demise. If the sisters come up with £100,000, Alice will turn over a letter the dying man scribbled accusing Miriam of trying to
murder him. On the other hand, it might be more cost-effective for the two to get rid of Alice than this damning bit of evidence. Snake is an old-fashioned
thriller capable of wowing modern audiences, and this cast proves itself more than capable. Salem especially shines as the prissy scold whose flawed
heart condition suggests a deeper moral condition. Director Mark Rosenblatt emphasizes atmospherics, and these pay off to give us a chill even as we
judge the characters. The Matrix’s wide stage accommodates Laura Fine Hawkes’ nicely detailed garden set that establishes the lay of the land in three
defined spaces. Eric Snodgrass’ sound design is crisp and subtle, touching the senses like a layer of night fog. Prerecorded music is usually intrusive in
nonmusicals, but Hal Lindes’ restrained score fortifies the story’s unsettling mood.
-- Steven Mikulan --
HOLLYWOOD REPORTER
April 8, 2008
Bottom Line: Alan Ayckbourn's delicious murder mystery ain't no place for Miss Marple. British playwright Alan Ayckbourn's "Snake in the Grass,"
receiving its North American premiere at the Matrix Theatre, is a taut little thriller in which family violence, murder most foul and love forbidden lead to
a delightfully grisly outcome.
For the most part, it's a civilized little matter, almost like an English version of "Arsenic and Old Lace," that takes place in a crumbling English estate off
the beaten track. Yet, into the midst of the apparent civility, Ayckbourn creates a terrifying racket on an abandoned tennis court that leads to some
disturbing moments of genuine bone-rattling, scream-inducing fear.
The action takes place upon the return from Tasmania of Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) to her ancestral home. A failure in business and marriage
-- and an uptight, reformed alcoholic to boot -- she has become the new owner of the estate upon the death of her remote, judgmental, abusive
father. While waiting in the garden, haunted by its strangely ominous, overgrown tennis court, for her sister Miriam (Claire Jacobs), a one-time
teacher who has lapsed into an alcoholic fog, Annabel is paid a surprise visit by her father's dismissed and dishonored nurse, Alice Moody (Nicola
Bertram), who notifies her that murder might have been afoot and that Miriam is the chief suspect. After hinting at blackmail, Moody disappears and
Miriam pops up, apparently her old discombobulated self.
As the sisters discuss their plans for the property -- Annabel is set on liquidating it and moving with Miriam to a shabby genteel London suburb while
Miriam would rather like to stay in the ruin -- they delve deeper into their nightmarish past and hidden feelings. While Jacobs engagingly allows her
emotional center to careen from anger to submissiveness with a tasty glint of something more sinister in her eyes every now and again, Salem's
virtuoso reading keeps her repressed character in line, allowing it to unfold only at a strictly measured pace. Meanwhile, Bertram captures just the
right prickly touch of subservient colonial resentment for Nurse Moody, who keeps entering, going away and entering again before making her final
exit.
After intermission, when the audience is plunged into darkness for what turns out to be the seemingly final murderous blows and an unresolved
curtain that has two characters wailing in the night, many were shaking in their seats and clutching friends for safety.
The evening is highlighted by Ayckbourn's spare, elegant and frequently ironic dialogue that contains lots of references to sexual objects -- light
bulbs, tennis balls, "large" eggs, plumbing courses for women, a hidden trap door over a deep well, not to mention the play's title -- which at first
seems scattered carelessly about but which, as they accumulate, create increasingly strong feelings of unease.
In addition to the fine acting, which wisely borders on the Grand Guignol without going over the top, the production is enhanced by Laura Fine
Hawkes' superb set, Leigh Allen's eerie lighting and Hal Lindes' subtly atmospheric music. For those requiring a date-night at the theater, "Snake" is
just the thing.
-- Laurence Vittes --
April 8, 2008
Bottom Line: Alan Ayckbourn's delicious murder mystery ain't no place for Miss Marple. British playwright Alan Ayckbourn's "Snake in the Grass,"
receiving its North American premiere at the Matrix Theatre, is a taut little thriller in which family violence, murder most foul and love forbidden lead to
a delightfully grisly outcome.
For the most part, it's a civilized little matter, almost like an English version of "Arsenic and Old Lace," that takes place in a crumbling English estate off
the beaten track. Yet, into the midst of the apparent civility, Ayckbourn creates a terrifying racket on an abandoned tennis court that leads to some
disturbing moments of genuine bone-rattling, scream-inducing fear.
The action takes place upon the return from Tasmania of Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) to her ancestral home. A failure in business and marriage
-- and an uptight, reformed alcoholic to boot -- she has become the new owner of the estate upon the death of her remote, judgmental, abusive
father. While waiting in the garden, haunted by its strangely ominous, overgrown tennis court, for her sister Miriam (Claire Jacobs), a one-time
teacher who has lapsed into an alcoholic fog, Annabel is paid a surprise visit by her father's dismissed and dishonored nurse, Alice Moody (Nicola
Bertram), who notifies her that murder might have been afoot and that Miriam is the chief suspect. After hinting at blackmail, Moody disappears and
Miriam pops up, apparently her old discombobulated self.
As the sisters discuss their plans for the property -- Annabel is set on liquidating it and moving with Miriam to a shabby genteel London suburb while
Miriam would rather like to stay in the ruin -- they delve deeper into their nightmarish past and hidden feelings. While Jacobs engagingly allows her
emotional center to careen from anger to submissiveness with a tasty glint of something more sinister in her eyes every now and again, Salem's
virtuoso reading keeps her repressed character in line, allowing it to unfold only at a strictly measured pace. Meanwhile, Bertram captures just the
right prickly touch of subservient colonial resentment for Nurse Moody, who keeps entering, going away and entering again before making her final
exit.
After intermission, when the audience is plunged into darkness for what turns out to be the seemingly final murderous blows and an unresolved
curtain that has two characters wailing in the night, many were shaking in their seats and clutching friends for safety.
The evening is highlighted by Ayckbourn's spare, elegant and frequently ironic dialogue that contains lots of references to sexual objects -- light
bulbs, tennis balls, "large" eggs, plumbing courses for women, a hidden trap door over a deep well, not to mention the play's title -- which at first
seems scattered carelessly about but which, as they accumulate, create increasingly strong feelings of unease.
In addition to the fine acting, which wisely borders on the Grand Guignol without going over the top, the production is enhanced by Laura Fine
Hawkes' superb set, Leigh Allen's eerie lighting and Hal Lindes' subtly atmospheric music. For those requiring a date-night at the theater, "Snake" is
just the thing.
-- Laurence Vittes --
LOS ANGELES TIMES
April 12, 2008
Critic's Choice
The chilling thriller weaves comedy, ghost story and psychodrama, and it catches the audience unaware. The devilish twists of the mystery genre
recoil with agile wit in "Snake in the Grass." Every time it seems about to strike its foreseeable points, Alan Ayckbourn's 2002 dark comic thriller slithers
past our expectations.
In this expertly appointed U.S. premiere by Salem K Theatre Company, director Mark Rosenblatt and three actresses sink their fangs into the reversals
with venomous finesse.
Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) returns to the girlhood home she fled 35 years ago, its sole inheritor after her father's death. A tightly wound
pragmatist, Annabel would sell the place and retrench but for two obstacles: Miriam (Claire Jacobs), the oddball younger sister she abandoned, and
Alice Moody (Nicola Bertram), who has a letter from Daddy that indicates his passing involved foul play.
Further details would only poison enjoyment of Ayckbourn's construct, which never goes where you know it's heading when you think it will.
Intertwining comedy, ghost story and psychodrama, Ayckbourn unearths humor and chills, and Rosenblatt's staging maintains the moody tone.
Set designer Laura Fine Hawkes provides a wonderfully morbid garden, and May Routh's costumes make telling statements. Leigh Allen's lighting charts
time with painstaking subtlety, particularly her handling of the blacked-out Act 2, and sound designer Eric Snodgrass and composer Hal Lindes offer apt
atmosphere.
The cast catches us unaware even when it is clearly setting us up. Salem carries a damaged humanity beneath Annabel's clipped exterior that
counters Jacobs' mercurial Miriam. "Snake" is nothing extraordinary. Ayckbourn devotees might consider it slumming. But just try to avoid its insidious
bite.
-- David C. Nichols --
April 12, 2008
Critic's Choice
The chilling thriller weaves comedy, ghost story and psychodrama, and it catches the audience unaware. The devilish twists of the mystery genre
recoil with agile wit in "Snake in the Grass." Every time it seems about to strike its foreseeable points, Alan Ayckbourn's 2002 dark comic thriller slithers
past our expectations.
In this expertly appointed U.S. premiere by Salem K Theatre Company, director Mark Rosenblatt and three actresses sink their fangs into the reversals
with venomous finesse.
Annabel Chester (Pamela Salem) returns to the girlhood home she fled 35 years ago, its sole inheritor after her father's death. A tightly wound
pragmatist, Annabel would sell the place and retrench but for two obstacles: Miriam (Claire Jacobs), the oddball younger sister she abandoned, and
Alice Moody (Nicola Bertram), who has a letter from Daddy that indicates his passing involved foul play.
Further details would only poison enjoyment of Ayckbourn's construct, which never goes where you know it's heading when you think it will.
Intertwining comedy, ghost story and psychodrama, Ayckbourn unearths humor and chills, and Rosenblatt's staging maintains the moody tone.
Set designer Laura Fine Hawkes provides a wonderfully morbid garden, and May Routh's costumes make telling statements. Leigh Allen's lighting charts
time with painstaking subtlety, particularly her handling of the blacked-out Act 2, and sound designer Eric Snodgrass and composer Hal Lindes offer apt
atmosphere.
The cast catches us unaware even when it is clearly setting us up. Salem carries a damaged humanity beneath Annabel's clipped exterior that
counters Jacobs' mercurial Miriam. "Snake" is nothing extraordinary. Ayckbourn devotees might consider it slumming. But just try to avoid its insidious
bite.
-- David C. Nichols --
| SNAKE IN THE GRASS |
BACKSTAGE
April 16, 2008
Yes, some of us consider playwright Alan Ayckbourn our favorite guilty pleasure. He is a superb craftsman, although his plays may never change the
course of humanity or push theatrical envelopes. We usually, however, think of him as a comic genius. So throughout much of this production, we're
poised for the big laughs. They don't come, which is not to say there is no humor in either the script or Mark Roseblatt's direction of this U.S. premiere.
And that's because the work is a thriller -- one that has us squealing in our seats as noises startle us, plot twists leap out at us. It's probable that
Roseblatt doesn't want us to initially realize this is a thriller, so the clues are subtle, the whole played as a family drama until near its end.
And how deliciously plotted it is. The long-absent Annabel returns to her childhood home after her father's death, reuniting with her younger sister,
Miriam, who had been caregiver to the abusive dad. The previously dismissed caregiver, Alice, also arrives at the house, threatening to reveal what
she knows about the causes of his death. Familial jealousies, a heart condition, an abandoned well, and a penchant for murder help unearth ghosts of
all colors in deliciously expected and unexpected ways.
And how well-acted it is. The three women are highly skilled, and Roseblatt ensures a unity of style here. Pamela Salem beautifully crafts a dignified,
puzzled, fearful Annabel. Claire Jacobs plays the possibly ditsy Miriam with great care, doling out just enough clues as the play unfolds. Nicola Bertram
is chilling in a well-calibrated performance as Alice; what the actor must physically undergo is worthy of combat pay.
Also greatly helping to create the thriller ambiance are Laura Fine Hawkes' expansive, detailed, sturdy set; Leigh Allen's creeps-inducing lighting that
creates darkness without shutting the audience out of the action; and Eric Snodgrass' highly effective sound design that offers its own clues to the
proceedings.
-- Dany Margolies --
April 16, 2008
Yes, some of us consider playwright Alan Ayckbourn our favorite guilty pleasure. He is a superb craftsman, although his plays may never change the
course of humanity or push theatrical envelopes. We usually, however, think of him as a comic genius. So throughout much of this production, we're
poised for the big laughs. They don't come, which is not to say there is no humor in either the script or Mark Roseblatt's direction of this U.S. premiere.
And that's because the work is a thriller -- one that has us squealing in our seats as noises startle us, plot twists leap out at us. It's probable that
Roseblatt doesn't want us to initially realize this is a thriller, so the clues are subtle, the whole played as a family drama until near its end.
And how deliciously plotted it is. The long-absent Annabel returns to her childhood home after her father's death, reuniting with her younger sister,
Miriam, who had been caregiver to the abusive dad. The previously dismissed caregiver, Alice, also arrives at the house, threatening to reveal what
she knows about the causes of his death. Familial jealousies, a heart condition, an abandoned well, and a penchant for murder help unearth ghosts of
all colors in deliciously expected and unexpected ways.
And how well-acted it is. The three women are highly skilled, and Roseblatt ensures a unity of style here. Pamela Salem beautifully crafts a dignified,
puzzled, fearful Annabel. Claire Jacobs plays the possibly ditsy Miriam with great care, doling out just enough clues as the play unfolds. Nicola Bertram
is chilling in a well-calibrated performance as Alice; what the actor must physically undergo is worthy of combat pay.
Also greatly helping to create the thriller ambiance are Laura Fine Hawkes' expansive, detailed, sturdy set; Leigh Allen's creeps-inducing lighting that
creates darkness without shutting the audience out of the action; and Eric Snodgrass' highly effective sound design that offers its own clues to the
proceedings.
-- Dany Margolies --