Category Archives: 10/10

Fiddler On The Roof – October 2007

10/10

Book by Joseph Stein, music by Jerry Bock, lyrics by Sheldon Harnick

Directed by: Lindsay Posner

Venue: Savoy Theatre

Date: Saturday 27th October 2007

This was only ever going to be 10/10, from long before it started. I was sobbing before the opening music, as Steve reminded me of the signature image of the fiddler on the roof (trust him not to have seen the film, not know who was in it apart from Topol, but to remember the name of the fiddler!) and that set me off. Sorry about this, it’s been an emotional afternoon, and I’m still recovering.

This was absolutely wonderful. I’m so glad we took the opportunity to get up to London and check out the ticket availability (half-price ticket booth, of course). Henry Goodman as Tevye was superb. It’s a part he was born to play, and from what we know of him, he’ll have thrown himself into it body and soul. It shows. He was a huge presence on stage, not drowning out the others, but always holding it together, keeping us involved, and giving us most of the laughs. Even the smallest change of expression came across back in row P. And his singing voice was a revelation. His range was wider than I expected, sort of a bass-baritone, and it was wonderfully rich and expressive. Of course, we bought the cast recording, so I’ll have plenty of opportunities to appreciate it again.

All of the cast were good, of course, and the energy they put into this performance was amazing. I only wish they could have a space like the Olivier to show off their talents even more, as occasionally the Savoy stage looked a little cramped. I know it’s meant to be a small village, but this is make-believe, after all. The set was all tattered wooden slats and beams. The revolve came in handy to change the setting quickly, but there was still a lot of table and chair shifting to do. Fortunately, there was  always some music to keep us engrossed, so the momentum was never lost.

What else can I say? There were lots of laughs, some great dancing, the fiddler was very good (dancing-wise), the orchestra were fine, the dream sequence vivid and highly amusing, and I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, with occasional intervals. I wasn’t the only one enjoying it, either, as we gave Tevye a standing ovation at the end, and would have carried on applauding if there hadn’t been one of those charity appeals to do. Henry Goodman managed it very well, including an impromptu comment about accidents after a loud thump came from off-stage, and we all went away happy, and singing to ourselves. Happy day.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Twelfth Night – August 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Philip Franks

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Tuesday 14th August 2007

We didn’t have the best of starts to tonight’s performance. The journey over was done in pouring rain, and we squelched our way to the theatre only to find the foyer jam-packed with other theatregoers as the doors hadn’t opened yet, and only ten minutes to go before the scehduled start. When we finally got seated, I was amazed to find that we were only a few minutes after the start time, and the play itself began fairly soon after that.

I had been worried that the warm-up might affect my enjoyment of the play (I can get a real sulk on me at times) but I was proved absolutely, completely, and blissfully wrong when we were treated to one of the best Twelfth Night’s I’m ever likely to see. I was puzzled at first to see three men come on stage, one standing at the back, one, the butler or manservant, off to one side, and another attendant sitting on the other side. The music, played on the phonograph (see below) was lovely and sad (Elgar’s Sospiri, per the program notes) and then I realised! We’d seen two productions (Chekov International Theatre Festival meets Cheek by Jowl, and Propeller) where the opening scene was the aftermath of the shipwreck, and I’d forgotten (oh, so quickly) that the opening scene in the generally accepted text is Orsino’s “If music be the food of love…”. Blow me down with a feather, we were not only getting Shakespeare’s language, we seemed to be getting his version of the play as well! What a turn up! Recovering my composure quickly, I focused on watching this performance with an open mind, with one further adjustment later.

Best to describe the set now, before I get too carried away. At the back of the stage was a wall of glass panels, as in a Victorian style large conservatory, with three sets of double doors. A curved walkway in front led to some steps on our right, and below these was a beautiful floor design, suggestive of many things. The interior was blue and shiny, looking like a pool or a water splash. There were tendrils of water spiralling out from this centre, and at first I wasn’t sure if they were wet or dry. Dry, as it turned out. Interlaced with the water spirals was a rough, textured shoreline, looking like sandbars, with one or two areas of planking, as in a jetty. In front of the walkway were a couple of patches of sand grasses, left and centre, and to the right of the pool, on the slant, was a bench, while on the left was a box of some kind (turned out to be a piano), also on the slant, as if half buried in the sand. These gave a wonderful sense of flotsam and jetsam, the after effects of the shipwreck, as well as being practical stage furniture. With the glassy blue of the pond and the greyish colour of the sandbars, there was also a hint of winter and a frozen pond, which was quite appropriate at the end when Feste wraps his coat around himself for the final song. And of course they also suggested the sea, and the beach. This was a masterpiece of design.

Above all this hung several items which were lowered to illustrate and enhance various parts of the story (this is a bit like The Generation Game – can I remember what was on the conveyer belt?). There was a model of a large ship (four funnels – possibly the Titanic?), a life belt (according to Steve, it said SS Rodrigo – the name Sebastian uses when he’s first rescued), a toy dog on wheels, an old style phonograph with trumpet loudspeaker, a plant pot with a tuft of very dead-looking plant, a candelabra, and a pair of tannoy loudspeakers. I will try to remember to mention each item as it’s lowered down. I’ll just mention now that during the interval the chair and piano were removed, so the set for the second half was as for the first but without the integral seating. Costumes were Edwardian glamour, with a strong touch of Upstairs, Downstairs.

Martin Turner as Orsino listened to the music for quite a while. This was no hardship. At the end, he gave us the lines beautifully, and I got the impression of an older, world-weary Orsino, who’s perhaps in love with Olivia because there’s nothing else to fill his days. Let’s face it, he doesn’t seem to have spent much time with her up to now, so his references to “fancy” may imply there’s no real basis for his love – an elderly Romeo falling for a younger Rosalind perhaps? All the lines were delivered well, throughout the play, and I heard far more than I usually do, which made it all the richer. I also liked Orsino’s moodiness when he wants the music, then doesn’t, and also when he changes mood at the end of the scene, from being upbeat about Olivia’s capacity for love, to being gloomy again. Perhaps he’d just reminded himself of what he hadn’t got?

Viola (Laura Rees) was carried on by her sea captain, and set down in the middle of the stage. She seemed a perky waif, a bit dishevelled by being nearly drowned, but not particularly affected by her experiences. This was where I had to do another mental adjustment to stop myself from failing to appreciate the performance. I’d been used to recent Violas being more emotional and more obviously grief-stricken, but this performance was different. This Viola was showing more resourcefulness and humour, and fewer outward signs of grief, and it was both perfectly valid and a very good performance. I still found the “My brother, he is in Elysium” very moving, and had a little sniffle. (I had several more sniffles and an outright sob later on – great fun.) This was a very good scene for telling us where we are, who the relevant characters are, and what the situation is.

Another benefit of this production is that it’s an ensemble piece along with Macbeth. As a result, we have such a tremendous cast for this play that many of the relatively minor parts were played by hugely talented and skilled actors. With such a beefing up of all the roles, the whole production soared to new heights, and there was not one weak area.

The next scene showed this up very well. We get to meet Sir Toby (Paul Shelley), Maria (Suzanne Burden), and later Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Scott Handy). Maria is doing her best to warn Sir Toby that his drunken revels will get him into trouble, but he’s not bothered. A couple of maids have brought on the tea tray, and he has a cup of tea, flirting with the maids as he does. He also tips some whisky from his hip flask into the cup. It’s clear he likes a good time, and that Maria has a soft spot for him, though not as completely as later?

Sir Andrew arrives, fresh from bathing, judging by his swimsuit. Scott Handy played him marvellously well. It’s a difficult part, because on the one hand he is a fool, and the butt of many a joke, but he is also hard done by, and his relationship with Sir Toby is one of the darker aspects of the play. Here we have a Sir Andrew who’s infatuated with Sir Toby, always trying to be like him, to copy what he says and does, and who is all too easy to gull. I got the impression he’s up from the country, with lots of money and not much in the way of brains, almost childlike. It was possible to laugh at him, but I did feel very moved by his “I was adored once too”; it suggested a missed opportunity that might have made his life turn out very differently. The dancing that he did, in fact all the dancing in the production, was contemporary to the setting – early 1920s. Sir Andrew’s efforts included a kind of vertical doggy-paddle, and were suitably funny.

Back at Orsino’s court, the next scene was done as a picnic, with flasks of tea and a rug. Then we see Maria chiding Feste (Michael Feast). He’s carrying a large suitcase, and is on the tart and cynical side. He certainly knows what’s going on between people, as his comments about Sir Toby and Maria indicate.

Olivia (Kate Fleetwood) arrives with her entourage. Malvolio (Patrick Stewart) is holding her umbrella, and is dressed like a butler. I noticed he had that slight head tremor which is often associated with very rigid people. Olivia is more sprightly than is usual, and really does enjoy Feste’s wit, smiling if not actually laughing, and sitting beside him on one of the benches. She’s quite strict in rebuffing Malvolio about his attitude. Malvolio is played with a strong Scottish accent, which fits the lines perfectly, and reminds me of a dourer version of Mr Hudson. He’s completely contemptuous of Feste, and we can see the battle lines being drawn already.

Now Viola arrives, and we see several attempts by Olivia to find out who this messenger is. Finally Malvolio reports on him in a very long-winded, pedantic way, and is most surprised later to be told to leave along with the rest of the servants. He peers back through the window as he leaves, which got a good laugh.

For once, Maria isn’t asked to put on her veil to confuse Viola (it’s not in the text), and despite this, the scene worked perfectly well, with Viola/Cesario’s questions about who the lady of the house is seeming more impertinent, but also more practical. This scene was very brisk, and although it lost some of the details I’m used to from other productions, it did get across how Viola’s passion for Orsino is conveyed in her speeches to Olivia, and it’s this that Olivia falls for. It’s as if Viola was wooing Olivia herself, and yet she’s just expressing her own love for Orsino. I also got the need Viola has to see Olivia’s face – she wants to see what she’s up against, and finds the competition pretty stiff, looks-wise.

Antonio and Sebastian’s scene is set in a railway station – lowering of tannoy speakers. Antonio is really keen on Sebastian, and dashes after him to catch the same train. When Malvolio catches Cesario, I was aware that she covers up for Olivia by not disclosing that she left no ring. Again, Viola is pretty cheerful through her working out that Olivia is in love with her boyish disguise, but it all came across clearly.

Now we have Sir Toby and Sir Andrew carousing in the wee small hours. Feste joins in, and again the phonograph is deployed. (It had a slight problem which meant we heard it scratching away for a bit, but that was soon sorted.) Michael Feast demonstrated what a good voice he has with Feste’s song, and when Maria arrives, there are two or three other servants with her. We’re treated to a dance number, with everyone joining in except Sir Andrew. Malvolio arrives, and puts a stop to the party atmosphere. He’s very unpleasant, especially to Maria, and I could see how he’s set himself up for their revenge. Maria’s device is clearly thought up as she speaks, and much appreciated by the two knights.

Back at the Duke’s, the music is played by two of Orsino’s servants – one on the piano buried in the sand, and the other playing a guitar? (possibly – it’s been a while). Viola’s suffering is clear to see, and Orsino obviously feels a strong affection for this boy, but without any of the uneasiness that’s often shown. Viola is actually kissed three times in this production – once by Orsino, once by Olivia in a later scene, which she doesn’t exactly fight off, and once by Antonio, which really throws her. She also kisses Orsino once herself, at the end.

Now for the big set piece of the play – the gulling of Malvolio. Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian are concealed behind an inconspicuous huge red umbrella or parasol, which may not be out of place on a beach, but is perhaps the most unusual hiding place I’ve seen for this bit. Naturally, they keep poking their heads up to say their lines, and Sir Andrew keeps his up too long at one point. When Malvolio “revolves”, Sir Andrew is in plain view, but Malvolio is so wrapped up in himself, he doesn’t see him at first. By the time he does a slow double take, Sir Andrew has had time to get into hiding again.

Patrick Stewart’s performance as Malvolio is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time. He’s a nasty piece of work, and Patrick Stewart doesn’t hold back with playing that side of his character. He insults Feste, has a go at Sir Toby (quite reasonably, in the circumstances), and threatens Maria, as well as raising suits against others, such as Viola’s sea captain. In this scene, he’s positively leering as he describes his idea of married life with Olivia, and he’s even got the proof that such things can happen – he shows us a copy of the Tatler where the pictures prove that “the lady of Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe”. We’re all ready to see him taken down a peg or eighteen, when he chances on the letter. The first four lines are written on the outside of the letter, and then we get to the prose bit inside. The reading of the lines was excellent, and the scene was immensely funny. His reactions to the contents inside were fantastic – he’s overjoyed to find she loves him. Malvolio didn’t practise his smiling at this point, so we get to see the fully rehearsed version later. I wasn’t always aware of the reactions from the others, as Malvolio was so funny.

After the interval, with the set slightly adjusted, we get a very evocative seaside interlude, as Feste does his Punch and Judy for a couple of youngsters, another child has her balloon popped by an unpleasant young man, the policeman strolls around chatting to one or two folk, and all is summer jollity. Sebastian and Antonio treat us to scene 3 (before we’ve had one and two), and as they talk, a gentleman who’s been reclining on the far side of the beach, reading his paper, seems to recognise Antonio. He goes over to speak to the policeman, indicating Antonio, and although they don’t do anything more at this time, it’s obvious he’s been rumbled. As everyone disappears, and Feste is packing up his folding Punch and Judy kit into his suitcase, Viola arrives, and starts Act 3 scene 1 proper, by asking Feste if he lives by his tabor. Again, the wit is lively, and sets us up nicely for the next part.

When Olivia and Maria enter, Sir Andrew is well taken with Viola’s words to Olivia, and it’s clear he intends to mangle together a sentence using them all as soon as he can. When they’re told to leave, he’s made at least one failed attempt to give Olivia a present, and he lingers as long as possible behind the glass doors, muttering “odours”, “pregnant”, etc.

After Viola and Olivia have had another verbal tussle, it’s the turn of Sir Toby and Fabian to set up Sir Andrew for the duel with Cesario. Sir Toby’s unkindness is starting to show more clearly, and his character’s darker side is coming to the fore. Next Maria prepares us for the entrance of Malvolio.

Olivia herself comes on first, and we can see she’s being seriously affected by her infatuation with Cesario. Her hair is starting to come down, and she’s much more emotional than any Olivia I’ve ever seen. Later on, she’s actually crying because she can’t get what she wants. This time, though, her additional edginess works really well to set up her reactions to Malvolio’s preposterous appearance.

Maria and another maid are with her when Malvolio arrives, and they spend most of their time trying to shield her from him. At one point, Olivia’s standing on the chair with the maids in front of her. Malvolio’s in a kilt (naturally, given the accent), and his stockings are indeed yellow, and seriously cross-gartered. His first grin got a good laugh, and he continues to grimace for all he’s worth throughout the scene. When Olivia asks if he will go to bed, he runs his hand up her leg. He also brandishes his legs, and even waggles them when he’s lying on the ground. They’re all running away from him, but he keeps on going, and when they run off at the end, lifts his kilt to flash them. It was very funny.

Now they’ve gone, he can admit to the tightness of the garters, and sits down to untie them. He’s tremendously dismissive of Sir Toby, and as he reties his garters in order to leave, I can see that he’s tying them the wrong way round – effectively tying his knees together. Sure enough, when he gets up to make a dignified exit, he finds he can’t move his legs separately, and has to make an uncomfortable decision. Does he redo them, or does he hop off the stage, hoping no one will notice? Being the kind of character he is, and not wanting to admit to a mistake, he chooses to hop, and we were in fits of laughter as he tries to maintain his dignity while hopping to the edge of the stage with his knees together. There’s another decision point as he comes to the steps and realises what he’s let himself in for. It’s a tribute to Patrick Stewart’s fitness that he’s able to have Malvolio, after an agonising pause for thought, hop down the steps and off the stage. It just about brought the house down. I have no idea what the other characters were up to – I only had eyes for Malvolio. Brilliant.

The duel was good fun as well. It’s clear neither duellist wants to fight, and again we see the unpleasant side of Sir Toby. Antonio breaks up the fight, and when he asks for his money back, we can see Viola grasping the possibility that Sebastian is alive very quickly. It’s also the first time Cesario’s integrity has been questioned, though not the last. It’s about here that I started seeing this as a farce, with all the threads being carefully woven to give us the marvellous comedy of their unravelling.

The abuse of Malvolio was unpleasant, and I felt he was very badly treated, despite all his own unpleasantness earlier. It was clear that Sir Toby realised he couldn’t keep this sort of behaviour up any longer.

Sebastian was also very good. He handled the possibility of his madness remarkably well, as well as his sudden marriage to a beautiful woman – he’s got some brains, that boy. For the final revelation, Viola is standing at the front of the stage, with Orsino in front of her so that Sebastian can’t see her when he rushes on from the back. When they do see each other, and circle round, warily, I was sobbing with the emotion of it all. At the end, Antonio leaves the stage, a free man but without the man he loves, while the others gather behind the glass walls of the conservatory to celebrate. Feste comes out to sing us his final song, and that’s it.

Well, I didn’t manage to put in where each item was lowered down, but that’s tough luck – I’ve written quite enough for one play. I particularly liked the excellent reactions from the spare characters on stage – often they don’t seem to be fully participating, but tonight they were completely involved and responding noticeably to the main action. I so want this production to transfer, but sadly, it seems it’s only the Macbeth that will be going to London. A shame.

The post-show was interesting, and we found out that Michael Feast apparently suggested that Patrick Stewart play Malvolio with a Scottish accent. With Macbeth, there were a lot of men crammed into one small dressing room over at the Minerva, and they had a running joke going with Scottish accents. After the suggestion, Patrick Stewart tried it out, and found it fitted the lines perfectly, so the rest evolved from that. I don’t remember much more of what was said now, but the performance will live on in my memory for a long time. Hopefully, I’ll still be able to enjoy future productions, and if they’re half as good as this one I’ll count myself lucky.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Penelopiad – August 2007 (2)

10/10

By: Margaret Atwood

Directed by: Josette Bushell-Mingo

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 9th August 2007

I managed to wipe my memory clean for the start of this performance, forgetting what I’d seen before, to allow me to see this as a totally new experience. I did start to get “flashbacks” later on, but I found it surprisingly easy to move into forgetfulness – perhaps the influence of Lethe?

There were some changes to the cast. Sarah Malin, who had played Odysseus so well last time, had been taken ill, so the parts were re-arranged to cover. This meant there were only eleven maids tonight, but that didn’t spoil it for me. On the whole, the understudies did a great job, and I possibly just preferred this Helen (Lisa Karen Cox). Odysseus was played by Kelly McIntosh tonight, and the only snag was her height. When so many people comment on Odysseus’s short legs, it needs a bit more effort on the audience’s part when Odysseus is one of the tallest people there. However, apart from that, and some uncertainty in the bow-stringing scene, this was another good performance, remarkably so in the post-marriage bed.

It was interesting seeing it again from a completely different angle. Before, we had more of a panoramic view – here we were much closer to the action, and could see the expressions on their faces more clearly. I was also aware of the sound effects more – how recordings were used for various lines to create an effect. I hadn’t realised how much this went on when we were up in the second gallery. I also saw some things that hadn’t been so visible from above – Penelope talking to one of the maids who was off to one side, for example. And of course we missed seeing that beautiful pool this time. I’m glad I had my memory to call on for that one.

The darkness at the start seemed to last longer this time. When the light shafted down, Penelope was standing there with her veil over her head, and speaks the first few lines like that. I don’t remember if it was the same last time. Either way, it was very effective. When she removed the veil, and wrapped it round herself, she was grinning, and very girlish. The changes of emotion through the opening scene came across very well, and I noticed this time that when the maids came on from the back they too had veils over themselves. When the next scene starts, showing us Penelope’s childhood, that’s when they throw off the veils and start playing the other parts.

I was able to see Penny Downie’s drowning performance much better tonight – it was very effective, giving the impression of someone falling through the water, and struggling for air. The birds still seemed more like seagulls, but who cares? The audience seemed more responsive tonight; I heard more laughter on the funny lines than I remember from before.

She dances a bit when talking of the “vapid dancing” that goes on in the fields of asphodel – that may be new. The curtain at the back that came down for the childhood scene, I think, didn’t properly come down, so the group that huddles behind it for the wedding night activities are partly exposed. I thought Penelope screamed a bit quicker tonight, and seemed to be enjoying the deception a lot more.

The sea journey to Ithaca was clearer from this perspective. I noticed Penelope throwing up more than once, and the maids were hauling on ropes and bailing out the ship. Odysseus was positioned aft, steering their course. With the dramatic lighting, it made more of an impression on me this time. I was prepared for the introduction of the in-laws this time – there seemed to be more bleating, though whether it was the wife or the goat, I’m not sure.

The birthing scene was well received this time, and certainly looked effective, with the baby suddenly popping out. I had a greater sense of Penelope being held back from her baby, being cut off from her natural role.  The scene where Odysseus leaves for Troy registered more with me. The audience responded more to Odysseus’s comment about having thought the oath up himself – hoist with his own petard.

It’s after this that Penelope has a go at Helen, calling her a “septic bitch”, and immediately after that she draws back the cover on the pool. For several of the scenes, when the maids or their characters were giving us the main action, I noticed that Penelope was standing towards the back of the stage, usually on the left, and with her back to us she was looking over her shoulder at what was going on. This gave a lovely sense of her detachment from the maids’ version of the story, while still emphasising her importance as the central character.

The meeting with Helen in Hades was just as good as before. I liked Helen’s calm assurance that, even as a disembodied ghost, she’s still worth looking at. The rape scene was just as powerful, and I felt the contrast with the feather fan song even more acutely. It’s a tough thing to pull off, bringing in a song like that when we’ve just had an extremely emotional moment, but they’re still managing it very well.

The dream sequence is triggered by Eurycleia bringing in a drink for Penelope. She holds a huge drinking bowl up, and runs around her, waving it in the air. Then Penelope dreams. She sees the sailors, the sirens, and Telemachus with his toy boat on his head, walking across the stage, and meeting with Helen. The one-eyed monster seemed to be missing this time, but it all seemed much clearer from this angle.

I realised that Penelope is teasing Eurycleia when she tells her to wash the stranger’s feet. Knowing that she’s already recognised Odysseus helped, I think. The tension wasn’t quite the same for the bow-stringing scene, and Odysseus had some difficulty removing his breastplate to become a maid again, but the hanging scene was even more effective, as I could see the maids rise up – the equivalent of their bodies dropping down – one by one. It was macabre and very moving. For their final bows, Penny Downie took a moment to acknowledge each of the understudies.

Overall, I enjoyed this almost as much as the first time. The changes due to illness did remove a bit of the energy, but the performances were even more remarkable for the last-minute rearrangements. Seeing it close up was also a bonus, and I still think Penny Downie should receive every acting award available for this performance. I’d love it to come back after the stint in Canada, but heigh-ho, we’ll just have to cross our fingers.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Penelopiad – August 2007 (1)

10/10

By: Margaret Atwood

Directed by: Josette Bushell-Mingo

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Wednesday 1st August 2007

This was an absolutely fantastic theatrical experience. From the moment the lights dimmed to blackout, till the bows at the end, I was totally spellbound by the sheer power and energy of this production. It was at times disturbing, moving, scary and very very funny, and not many plays, never mind productions, can do all that in one evening.

The opening blackness was as complete as I’ve known in the Swan, and I started to feel a certain spookiness at being left in the dark for so long. There were strange sounds, a howling that could have been a wolf. Then a rectangle of light struck down onto the stage, showing us Penny Downie, as Penelope, in a blood red dress and wrap, her reflection glowing like a stain on the black floor. A very effective start, only to be superseded by her tremendous performance as she led us through Penelope’s version of her life’s odyssey. She’s not a happy shade, this one, but even so she gets a lot of humour out of her opening speech, modestly describing her sack of words as “of a reasonable size”. It’s clear she wants to give us her version of events, take us for a “spin” through her life, but then her dead maids arrive, brought to life by the magic of theatre, pointing out that she had failed them. Penelope acknowledges this view, but deflects it as well by claiming she had turned a blind eye, wanting everything to turn out happily. Of course, it’s fine for her to talk – there were no happy endings for the maids.

And no happy beginnings either. As Penelope starts to tell her story from childhood, the maids reappear as the various characters – her father Icarius, King of Sparta, and her mother, a Naiad. (See, even in this play we have an unnamed woman!) There’s also a wonderful oracle who wails magnificently, and has some lovely lines about how hard it can be to make out the God’s intentions clearly. Not that that matters to the King – on finding out his daughter, Penelope, may at some point possibly weave a shroud for some sort of father, he decides to have her killed. Unfortunately he’s stupid enough to have the daughter of a naiad (water nymph) thrown into the sea. They take Penelope and cast her down, into the waves, where she struggles and writhes for a bit. Then a lovely flight of purple striped ducks come to rescue her (big birds, on the end of poles, thought they were seagulls at first but the lines soon put me straight). Icarius takes her back, and from then on everyone calls her “ducky”. We then get more of Penelope’s view of her parents, before the maids get their chance to point out that they were children too, and not the pampered children of Kings, but the neglected, beaten, starved children of the poor and captured, made to work hard for what little they were given, which never included love or kindness.

Already I was finding this play very powerful. I felt such a sense of relief that at last all the neglected women of the world were finally being given a voice. In Orestes last year, there were red body shapes round the back of the Yvonne Arnaud stage which I felt were a reminder of all those killed in the Trojan War. But still they were men. This is the first time I have seen any play really open up the awareness that behind all the slaughter of the ages there have been far more women affected, killed, raped, tortured, maimed and made to suffer than has ever been fully acknowledged. Unlike the red bodies, these women now get to come forward onto the stage and tell us their stories, and I found it incredibly moving and liberating to experience this in my favourite performance space and with such a good company of actors. I feel this is such an important work, it must be performed more, and brought to a wider audience. We have too much killing in the world as it is.

In fact, although I feel Penny Downie’s performance was absolutely superb, I did find her character rather smug and distant. I could appreciate the terrible conditions she’d been brought up in; even if the drowning story wasn’t true, she was still married off like a piece of livestock, and had to live in an unsympathetic household for most of her life. Appreciating it didn’t change things, though – she was still a difficult woman to feel close to, especially compared with the maids.

After a short description of Hades (bit colourless, apparently) she takes us through her wedding to Odysseus. The maids made very fine men, I must say; I was only slightly worried that I fancied a couple of them myself. Odysseus is a drug cheat, only he drugs the other contenders so he and his short legs can win the prize. Or rather the second prize. By this time, Helen (later of Troy) has turned up and is preening herself magnanimously on one of the balconies. So much beauty, so little time to let everyone see it! The men are obviously getting stiff necks (at least), craning to see her.

Penelope is taken off by Odysseus for their wedding night, and we get to see how he charms her into working with him to deceive the eavesdroppers silhouetted behind the curtain. The kissing and canoodling that follows was remarkable. I suppose I felt it was safe, knowing they’re both women, but somehow it was much more erotically charged than when two men do the same thing (as with Propeller). In fact, the women seemed able to take it further than men usually do, or men and women together, so perhaps it was just the increased intimacy that made it so powerful. (Either that, or I’ve got some hidden lesbian yearnings.) Men can be so skittish around the unmentionables, despite their macho posturing, while women are more relaxed about the nitty-gritty (comes from the monthly blood-letting, I suspect). Anyway, this scene, and the raping later on, were much more intense, oddly enough, than a lot of supposedly steamy sex scenes.

Penelope tells us how Odysseus takes her away, back to Ithaca, and we get another song from the maids chorus, reflecting on how they stand little chance of ever marrying a handsome hero who will take them away to a better life. The sea journey was short for us, longer for Penelope, who shows us that she’s not a good sailor by throwing up into a convenient bucket. King Laertes and his wife Queen Anticleia are a remarkable pair. He’s carrying a goat, probably his best friend in the whole world, and she bleats like one and has a hairstyle strongly reminiscent of horns. Unfortunately, there’s also Eurycleia, Odysseus’s old nurse, who basically takes charge of everything, giving Penelope no real way to fit in. But in mentioning that Penelope’s job is to give Odysseus a son, she does show her a way to be useful. At this point, Penelope’s eyes light up, and she holds her tummy, possibly suggesting that Telemachus is already en route?

Either way, the next chorus is about that nine month journey, together with the journeys the maids made to reach the royal household. They raise the question of whether they would have drowned him, had they known he was later to kill them (Steve votes yes, though the nurse also comes in for some criticism). Then Penelope is held aloft, and Telemachus is born, only to be taken immediately into Eurycleia’s charge. Odysseus, in that unthinking way men have, tries to congratulate Penelope by pointing out that she’s one up on Helen, who hasn’t had a child yet, but from Penelope’s perspective it’s more troubling to find him still thinking of that great beauty. (Men can be so inconsiderate when their wives have just given birth.)

The next section gives us a view of Penelope’s daily life in Ithaca. Ignored by practically everyone, she spends many days weaving in  the company of slaves, dreaming of the nights which she will spend with Odysseus in bed. There, he tells her the secret of the bedpost carved from a living olive tree, which means the bed can never be moved.  Just then, a ship arrives with the news of Helen and Paris eloping, and Odysseus packs and leaves. Penelope is furious with Helen, and tells us all about it – it’s a lovely bit of invective, well delivered.

Now there’s a fairly long passage where Penelope explains the waiting she endured. We see Telemachus growing up, and being cosseted by Eurycleia to the exclusion of his mother. Penelope is now running the estates, and does her best to increase them, hoping to impress Odysseus when he returns home. Then the news comes that Troy has fallen, and the maids tell the story of the taking of Troy until Penelope cuts them off. The details were becoming more harrowing by the line, but I suppose those who’d been through such abuses themselves were perhaps glad to hear of others suffering the same fate. Or perhaps they just weren’t as bothered as Penelope. I was aware of how much more their suffering had been, so that they could see such a brutal story as simple reality.

Now she’s spending her time looking out for Odysseus’s ship. A water tank had already appeared in the floor of the stage, and gave us a lovely representation of the harbour and sea. But all that came were rumours of Odysseus’s travels, and a group of sailors, looking suspiciously familiar, dancing and singing about their journey and adventures with Odysseus. Three of the maids were perched on the left balcony behind a microphone, looking like the kind of girls sailors enjoy the company of whilst in port. This wasn’t as clear as most of the other songs, but I still got the gist. The first act then closes with Penelope telling us that she heard no more after that.

For the start of the second act (there was no interval), Helen arrives, and we’re back in the underworld. She’s not accompanied by the string of admirers mentioned in the text, so I guess even the quick-change supremos of this ensemble couldn’t quite fit those parts in as well. In fact, she’s not even accompanied by much in the way of clothes, as she’s about to take a bath and give all her admirers a thrill. After a bitchy little exchange between them, in which Helen suggests Penelope isn’t Miss Squeaky Clean herself, the suitors begin arriving at Ithaca, sniffing around for a tasty morsel. It was quite menacing, this bit, as the figures of the suitors gradually stole into view in the gloom around the stage, and Penelope herself looks hunted. Before long, Penelope is being pestered by suitors right, left and centre, Telemachus is being laughed at when he tries to stand up to them, and the human pigs are eating the porcine pigs and other cattle to try and starve Penelope into making a decision. There’s a bit in the text where some of the maids play the animals being slaughtered, and I wasn’t clear about this in performance, but maybe a different angle next week will make it clearer.

Penelope has escaped to the right balcony at this point, and explains her view of her predicament. She’s trying to fend off her suitors by playing along, when she comes up with the idea of the shroud. She gives a lovely little speech to the suitors, and they go along with it. Now she has to spin the weaving out as long as possible.

A loom descends from above, and Penelope and her maids talk together as the maids unpick the day’s work. The fabric on the loom is a bright red, so there’s another reminder of all the killing. Penelope’s quite chatty with these maids – she’s selected them all and brought them up, and uses them to find out what the suitors are up to. Unfortunately, their behaviour is misinterpreted by those not in the know. The suitors regard them as recompense for being kept waiting, and Eurycleia and Telemachus consider them insolent whores. Eventually, one of them is raped by a suitor, and although the other women are attacked as well, she’s the one we focus on.

As she lies alone in the middle of the stage, in the light square (the water tank has gone by now), the other maids come on with feather fans, and sing a Hollywood-style musical number about how the maids like to sleep and dream of their perfect man. It finishes with a verse about how they always wake up to find they’re still in the same place, and have to get on with the unremitting toil, and then they leave, with the raped woman still on her own in the middle.

This whole section was one of the most moving and disturbing of the whole play. The rape itself was brutal, and seemed explicit, although it wasn’t. To then see such a soft, comfortable song and dance number while the  raped maid lay hurting in the middle, was difficult, yet I could see how in the midst of such pain and anguish, some kind of escape would be vital. These women needed their dreams to stay sane; the extent of their suffering could be measured by the gap between their fantasies and their reality. The contrast made the sense of suffering stronger for me.

We’re now getting close to the end of the story. Telemachus takes a ship to find his father, leaving Penelope even more abandoned. On his return, he does bring a little news, though not what she wants to hear. He’s seen Menelaus and Helen, and finally confesses that Helen does look old by now, older than Penelope herself.

A larger shroud drops down to show the progress they’d been unable to avoid making, and as the maids continue unpicking, Penelope promises to look after them, and tell Odysseus all about them when he gets back. How they’ve helped her, how they’ve found out things, etc. Unfortunately, the suitors have rumbled her, and she’s really in trouble. After praying to the gods, and reckoning they don’t actually want to help humans, she falls asleep and dreams. This bit was a little jumbled, but basically she seems to be dreaming about Odysseus’s journey, with a lot of the sailors’ song being reprised. There are also three big mouths – the sirens, I presume – and a big monster thingy which I assume was the Cyclops. All in all, it was quite entertaining. And afterwards, when Penelope wakes up, her prayers are finally answered as Odysseus comes home.

He’s in disguise, of course, and although he reveals himself to Telemachus, and Eurycleia eventually twigs, he insists on no one telling Penelope, as he thinks, stupid man, that she would give him away. She, of course, has already recognised him, but doesn’t want to spoil his view of himself as being clever. Unfortunately, he tells Eurycleia to lock her in her room so that she doesn’t see the bloodshed, as he intends to kill all the suitors. She goes to sleep, planning to tell him all about her faithful girls, and we can feel the tragedy building.

The bow-stringing sequence was very neat, with a few suitors completely unable to do it. Odysseus does, of course, and fires off lots of arrows at point blank range (mimed), so that suitors are falling all over the place. When he gives the order for the maids to clear the bodies and clean the place up, I wondered how they would do it, as the maids and the suitors are one and the same, but I found it very effective that the dead bodies simply get up, leave off their suitor gear, and become the maids. As they clean the place up, Odysseus is told of their insolence and bad behaviour, and orders them killed. Despite their pleas to Telemachus, they’re strung up, one by one, until all twelve are hanging, dead.

This was done very effectively. Instead of actual hangings, they each in turn stopped pleading and crying, and stood, twitching and swaying slightly, to represent the hanging bodies. It took me a few moments to realise this was happening, and then I found it an incredibly powerful image. With a short pause at the end, the maids then leave the stage and Penelope wakes up. Even as she’s horrified to find her loyal girls have been killed, we can see the realisation that she won’t do anything about it. She’s scared of rocking the boat, and she’ll live with the knowledge for years, but she won’t speak up. That’s the silence that doubly kills those girls.

She and Odysseus return to their bedroom, and now she tests him with the story of the bedpost. Although both acknowledge that they have changed, I’m not sure how well they’ll get to know each other, as Penelope is certainly keeping a lot back, and we probably all have our suspicions about Odysseus by now. The final section takes us back to Hades, where Penelope explains about the rebirth option, forgetting the past lives to go through another spell of life. Odysseus keeps going back, although all she wants is for him to stay with her, an unattainable dream. The final image is her description of her maids “running” away from her, their still twitching feet not actually touching the ground. It’s a macabre description, and all the better for having Penelope alone on the stage as she says it. Again, the total blackout, and we’re done.

Re-reading this, I don’t think my descriptions begin to get across the marvellous way this production was put on. The performances were all excellent, and the cast worked together as if they’d been doing it for years, not just weeks. I liked the mix of accents, as it gave me a sense of this being all women’s stories, not just coming from one culture’s point of view. The songs were apparently in all sorts of styles, but none of them jarred, although the Hollywood-style musical number did raise the discomfort level as mentioned above. All the action flowed seamlessly, and despite the director’s statement earlier (see below for pre-show notes) that the play wasn’t perfect, I was never bored, and never felt there was more work needed.

The three best aspects of this production, though, are the text itself, the performance of Penny Downie, and the way in which the ordinary women are allowed to speak. The text has such a distinctive voice, and has so much humour to balance the bitterness, that it’s a joy to read as well as hear. I may even read the original book to see how it’s been adapted. Penny Downie gives such an assured performance as Penelope that I can’t imagine it being improved, and I look forward to seeing it again next week from a closer position so that I can see more of the detail. She conveys all the emotions and thoughts so clearly, and I do hope she receives the accolades she deserves.

It almost seems like sacrilege to say that, though, when the importance of recognising all the women is emphasised so much in this play. Their story wouldn’t affect me so much if we didn’t have Penelope, while without these other women, her life’s story would be seriously incomplete. I’ll remember this production for a long while, and I suspect I’ll still be getting more ideas from it for some time to come.

Pre-show talk with Josette Bushell-Mingo (and a man)

We went to the pre-show having already heard from Deborah Shaw at the RSC Summer School a bit about the writing and audition processes for this production. Her description of Josette suggested a creative whirlwind, and we weren’t disappointed. Josette is both articulate and passionate about her work, and uses her body and voice very effectively both to get her points across and to include the whole audience in the experience.

She didn’t want to give too much away for those who had still to see the play, but I got a sense of a production that uses many forms of dramatic expression in a loose structure, which has evolved a lot over the rehearsal period. To be honest, a lot of what was said has been blown out of my mind by the tremendous performance, but I will just mention that Josette warned us not to expect too much, as the play wasn’t fully developed yet. Changes were still being made, and the whole process of doing this across the Atlantic sounded challenging, yet very rewarding. She described her first meeting with Margaret Atwood to discuss her ideas – Margaret was very genteel and restrained (good impression from Josette here), while Josette was even more frantic with nerves and gabbled her way through it all. Apparently it went well, as Margaret seemed completely happy to hand her baby over for the transformation to the stage.

From her descriptions, not only was Josette excited to be closing the Swan (temporarily, we hope), but the cast were thrilled to be here as well. The Canadian actresses brought a lot to the mix, especially a more laid back attitude to adapting Margaret Atwood’s work, and all the cast were fully involved in developing the piece. She mentioned one section which had been moved by others, put back by her, but which they knew didn’t work. God knows which bit she meant – I couldn’t spot it. At least my expectations weren’t too high after this talk.

One point the chap made was that Helen and Menelaus must have had a talk after he got her back, and I found myself thinking “Of course they didn’t – Menelaus is a man!” Josette told us how the women played all the men’s parts, and had had special training on how to move, both as men and as women, which had helped them enormously. It was certainly one of the strengths of the production that the male parts were so believable.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – July 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Monday 30th July 2007

This could take a while. It was a great production, and some great performances. Well, actually all the cast were great, and I liked lots about the staging and ideas and echoes of earlier/later themes. What’s coming out of this year’s work is the element of time – plays written earlier which are later chronologically, and the echoes backwards and forwards.

Before each of these plays, we were treated to the usual announcement about switching off mobile phones, etc. A different actor came on each night, and there were some entertaining variations on the theme. Tonight’s announcemen was pretty straightforward, although he did advise us not to switch off pacemakers!

The start of the play was good. The other characters, led by Bagot, all came on in stately procession, moving slowly, and performing some kind of stately dance, with lots of bowing and courtesies, while Richard II walked on through the auditorium, accepting all the bowing and scraping as nothing less than his due. Jonathan Slinger was done up as Elizabeth I – effectively Queen Richard II. He played the part as very effeminate, very wimpish (I could understand why some of the hetero lords wanted rid of him) and very immature. I was thinking it might be difficult to move from there to Richard’s later awareness of the superficiality of it all, but he handled that very well, with the gradual stripping away of his finery underlining the changes. There was still an element of petulance in his telling Percy that his cosy relationship with Henry IV wouldn’t last, but his desperate understanding of his situation in his prison cell was very moving. I became aware of how in Shakespeare’s time, not having decent TV, they might spend time comparing and contrasting situations, just for fun, and Richard’s forcing of the issue, then coming up with a very good metaphor for humanity and its foibles, worked very well.

Mowbray and Bolingbroke complimented the King at the opening to the dispute scene, and I felt Mowbray was trying to outdo Bolingbroke, reminiscent of the opening of King Lear. I couldn’t see Richard’s responses to much of the Bolingbroke/Mowbray dispute, but for once I was really sad to see him break up the fight. They’d set up two jousting horses (suspended saddles) and it looked like we might have some fun, but then Richard threw his baton at a lady in the front row and it was all over. [Turns out the jousting is specifically referenced in Henry IV part 2, so although cumbersome I suspect this may stay.]

Tonight we had a very good John of Gaunt pre-death scene. He came across as really ill, and it was all he could do to get his lines out. Not too surprising he didn’t last much longer. Richard was wonderfully temperamental – at first consoling, then snappy, then pious, then practical about nicking his dead uncle’s dosh and never mind the rightful heir.

There was some unexpected and presumably unwelcome audience participation tonight during the gardeners’ scene. The head gardener was John of Gaunt, still wearing the same clothes, so this was similar to when the dead bodies were recycled in the Henry VI trilogy. He sprayed some folk off to our right with water (he was carrying a hose) and Chuk Iwuji, as the other gardener, looked a bit too keen to use his shears. No dancing nun this time, sadly, but still a good scene overall, with some telling points made about the importance of managing the country well (one of Will’s hobby horses, that).

With Bolingbroke’s return, the difference between him and Richard is emphasised by his much plainer dress sense, and his refusal to be seduced by flattery. When Percy tried to brown-nose Henry about how his wonderful company made the long journey shorter, Henry just ignored him, and I fancied there was a slight look of distaste in his expression. He also communicates more directly and is far more business-like in his dealings. When he meets the Duke of York, tasked with protecting the realm while Richard is away, he gets a good telling off from his uncle for coming back, but then the Duke admits that he can’t do anything to stop him, so invites him in for dinner. I haven’t seen the character played as so weak before. He’s also in much more of a dither when trying to handle the crisis earlier, more so than I’ve seen before.

In the deposition scene, the passing of the crown was fine, with just enough of a lingering feel to it. If anything, Richard was more sparky than earlier, standing up for himself more now there’s nothing more to lose. He tore off his wig and wiped off his makeup as he deposes himself. I didn’t see that bit clearly, but then he has his own face as he looks in the mirror, which was a safety mirror so it didn’t shatter when he smashed it down. Later, for the farewell scene with his wife, there was some kind of dust raining down on his head for a long time – what was it? [sand, we discovered] I wondered how he could breathe and speak his lines. It did suggest a washing off of the anointing, and his transformation into a penitent.

During the second challenge scene, the vast number of gauntlets was really funny. It’s interesting that after accusing Mowbray, Henry now seems to be investigating what actually happened – or is it just a ploy to get rid of a political opponent? What is going on here?

For the Aumerle pardoning scene, it’s the first time I’ve seen other people come on stage with the Duke of York. Percy keeps the door shut on the Duchess, but you can’t keep Maureen Beattie off stage for long. (More than his life’s worth!) Richard Cordery as the Duke of York was glowering magnificently as his wife pleads for her son’s life. Even before he fell to his knees to plead against the pardon, he was well unhappy, and it showed.

Bagot took the role of murderer this time. He came down playing the piano, with a mask on. [Apparently the harness he had to wear meant a lot of talcum powder was used!] Chuk Iwuji played the groom, and there were three other knights with masks who came to kill the king, but he managed to fight them off, with Bagot killing him in the end. Richard’s dead body was dragged off by an arm and a leg, creating a swathe of blood on the stage – reminiscent of the pool of gore in the original Henry VI part 3. Lots of traitors’ heads were brought on in bags for the final scene and dumped in front of Henry, who was sitting on the steps which Richard stood on earlier.

Chuk Iwuji wafted around doing various messenger jobs, having started off as Thomas of Woodstock’s dead body, and this casting emphasised the haunting aspects of the play. Katy Stephens as the Duchess of Gloucester (still married to Chuk, I see) also pre-echoed the revenge theme with her tirade against her husband’s death.

Other things to mention: Richard had a lot of costume changes, reflecting both his descent from power and the opulence he lives in initially. The music was lovely, with some haunting singing which set up a good atmosphere for this staging. There was a strange light bulb sculpture – what was that for? It was interesting, but I’m not clear about its purpose.

I couldn’t possibly get down all my impressions of this performance, as there was so much detail, and so much I liked. I’m very much looking forward to seeing it again, and also seeing the way this play sets up the rest of the history cycle in these productions.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Midsummer Night’s Dream – May 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Tim Supple

Company: DASH Arts

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Friday 11th May 2007

This is the second time we’ve seen this production, and it hasn’t lost anything in all those months. In fact, it’s improved – ten star plus! As I’ve gone over most of the staging in the first set of notes (see RSC Complete Works), I’ll just cover the changes here.

The early stages were as before. I remembered how Ajay starts off as Philostrate, with his long robe. The singing stone was just as magical, and the action much the same, and just as enjoyable. The first change I noticed was the mechanicals. The clattering pots and pans didn’t seem so loud, and the actors seemed to have developed their parts more. I suspect that comedy in particular needs the experience of an audience to grow and develop, and from the look of things, this group has taken full advantage of all the performances to learn as much as possible.

The fight between Titania and Oberon had changed slightly – it wasn’t quite so fierce. The sexual action between the lovers had really hotted up, however, and it was clear that both the men and the women this time were feeling the full force of rampant hormones, as the women started to respond sexually, even to the men they didn’t want.

When Oberon describes the effect of the flower he sends Puck to pick, he demonstrates the eye-smearing method, and Puck is so affected by just this display, that he’s extremely taken with a pretty blonde lady in the front row, but Oberon snatches him back before things get out of hand.

The rehearsal scene seemed to have even more interaction with the fairies. Bottom’s gourd was still there, and I was pleased to see the production promoting safe sex – when he reappears later with Titania, there’s a bright red condom on the end of it. The fairies’ reaction to him seems to be clearer as well – Titania might be in love, but they’re not at all keen, especially when he wants them to scratch him. Yuck!

The reconciliation between Titania and Oberon gives rise to a beautiful dance, which I don’t remember happening before, or at least not to this extent. It’s just after this that the couple change back into Theseus and Hippolyta. The elastic rope that tangles the lovers seemed to be less than before, and knowing what was going on I was able to concentrate more on the lovers this time, and I enjoyed the whole scene much better. Oberon’s pursuit of Puck through the tangle was also good fun. He was giving him a real ticking off, and Puck just didn’t want to let him get too close. He may have looked a bit downcast at times, but still, he was obviously enjoying every minute of the mischief.

Thisbe seemed to be even more disinclined to play a woman during the rehearsal, but changed her mind when it came to the performance in front of the Duke. All the animals and set design parts were doing more, it seemed. I particularly felt for Moonshine, ridiculed by the aristocrats. His dog, though, was a lovely touch – as he’s played by the tailor, his dog is an adapted sewing machine (an idea from the actor himself). One nice aspect that I didn’t notice before was that Egeus shows his acceptance of the situation at the end by hugging his daughter.

I was aware this time of the dangers of the forest, not that it wasn’t there before, but tonight it was heightened. I also saw the playlet at the end not only as a treat for the audience, but as a kind of healing therapy for the lovers. They, too, had been through a trial, facing dangers in an attempt to find their loved one despite parental opposition. Here was an even more comic version of their story, to take the sting out of their experience, and to give them a chance to laugh, not only at their mischance, but also at themselves. And this includes Theseus and Hippolyta, as they’ve been fighting, and have only just come to an understanding.

I noticed that the list of possible performances was handed to Hippolyta to read out – presumably because she would find it easier to give the English version. I also felt that perhaps the cast are themselves more comfortable with the different languages, as they gain in experience, and receive such a great response from a wide range of audiences.

Post-show. It covered some of the same ground as before, naturally, but I noticed there was less need for translation, so I assume all of the cast have become reasonably comfortable with English, enough to get the gist of what was said.

The set design arose from practical considerations, plus ideas Tim and the designer had worked on before rehearsals, but they were open to new ideas all the time, and the red earth and wooden grid at the back just materialised during rehearsals, so they went with it.  There is a strong tradition in Indian theatre for quick changes on stage – just a turn or slip behind a screen, and immediately the new character is there, or the same character is somewhere else. (I asked about this in relation to Titania and Oberon changing back to Hippolyta and Theseus on stage.) I also asked Tim as we were leaving if he was doing any more cross-cultural projects, and he is, one using actors from Africa and around the Mediterranean (?), and the other with a huge mixture of Asian, South American and others. I shall look forward to seeing those.

When someone asked if the actors ever get nervous climbing the ladders and ropes, there was a long pause, then Joy Fernandes said he didn’t – big laugh, as he’s the only one who doesn’t go clambering over the set.

Someone asked if the amount of sexuality and physical contact on display had caused problems in India, where there appear to be more concerns about showing these things publicly. There was a pause, and then Joy pointed out that they had come up with the Kama Sutra, so presumably Indians knew sex existed. Apparently there was one place where some people reacted negatively about the sexuality, but mostly, everyone in India enjoyed it immensely. In Calcutta (I think), the audience sat very quietly during the performance, and Tim thought they’d absolutely bombed, but then the applause at the end was very enthusiastic, so obviously in that place they have a tradition of not making much noise during a performance. He also reckoned there’d been as much difference between reactions in India, as between India and England.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Merchant Of Venice – March 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Darko Tresnjak

Company: Theatre For A New Audience

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 29th March 2007

This was just fantastic. I sobbed and sobbed, and all before the interval. Then I sobbed some more during the interval. Then some more during the second half. Great. Oh, and I also laughed a lot. Also great.

The set was wonderful. At the back were some glass screens, overlapping to allow for doorways. In front of these stood three tables, on which stood three Apple Macs, open, with backs facing the audience. Above the Macs were three screens. Up to the start of the play, these displayed a request to turn off mobile phones, pagers and the like, in English, Hebrew and Italian. I’ll describe later displays as I go. The rest of the stage was bare, and pretty much stayed that way – a couple of chairs were brought on for the trial scene, but otherwise the furniture didn’t get in the way of the action. Just how I like it. The overall effect was high-tech industrial, and the program describes the time as “the near future”. We would see later how well they used the technology. Costumes were mainly suits and dresses, with Jessica, as a page boy, wearing a hoodie, and Launcelot Gobbo sporting jeans, t-shirt and trainers for his opening scene. As often happens, the order in which I report these scenes may not be the order in which they appeared on stage.

The play opened with Antonio entering in sombre mode, all over the city gent. His two friends (Solanio and Salerio) come on with a coffee for him, and try to winkle out the cause of his sadness. They’re much younger than him – this Antonio, as so often happens, likes to surround himself with young, good-looking men. They have a jokey way with them, but Antonio refuses to be cheered up. Along comes Bassanio with his mates, Lorenzo and Gratiano, and we get to see how Gratiano simply cannot be made to shut up. His expressive manner reminded me of Jim Carrey – wide eyes and wide, grinning mouth. His joshing with Antonio is off-key, given Antonio’s mood, and so, finally, he heads off with Lorenzo, and we get to see the relationship between Antonio and Bassanio.

This Bassanio seems quite a serious young man compared with most performances I’ve seen. Antonio is obviously besotted with him, though it’s not exaggerated in this production. There’s a later scene where Solanio and Salerio discuss Antonio’s fortunes, or lack of them, and come to a knowing understanding that Antonio dotes on Bassanio, but even that’s not as in your face as some productions. Bassanio soon gets Antonio’s promise to lend him his credit so he can get a loan, and off he goes to try his luck on the Rialto.

The screen display for these scenes is simply numbers – suggesting the financial sector. I haven’t a clue what was on them, if anything, for the next scene, because this was all about Launcelot Gobbo, the servant of Shylock. He comes on, looks around him, opens his bag, and takes out a halo headdress, all white and fluffy. He checks out the audience on his right (our left), and spots an older lady in the front row. She’s his conscience, so he heads over and puts the headdress on her. (She’s spotlit, so it’s obviously down to whoever sits in that seat.) Then he pulls out a red headband, with horns on it! Now we know what’s going to happen, so there’s a murmur of enjoyment as we all look to see whose going to get this one! The spotlight lands between a couple sitting on the other side. The woman laughs, as she thinks it’s her partner who’s been picked, but at the last minute Launcelot swerves, and puts it on her head. Great fun. This is the longest intro to this scene I can remember, and then we get a superb reading of the lines. Launcelot is played by a black actor, and although he’s not rapping as such, he does get a huge amount of humour from the rhythm of the words. I know this piece of text reasonably well, and this was one of the best deliveries I’ve heard.

I think the next scene is the meeting between Bassanio and Shylock, and later Antonio. F Murray Abraham played Shylock with a tremendous amount of intelligence and compassion. It’s clear from his portrayal that he seriously hates Antonio, and that he has much justification, based on the way he’s been treated. When describing his mistreatment by Antonio, he takes his handkerchief out of his pocket, as if to wipe away the spittle – his hatred and the memory of the abuse are physically rooted in him. He also gets across the sense that Shylock has a right to feel this way, that he has a valid culture and traditions, and that he’s living in a society that treats him and his fellows as less than human. The Christians have their faults, but this production has the awareness that there’s good and bad on both sides, and stays neutral, allowing the characters to speak as individuals, rather than mouthpieces for one ideology or another. For example, I was very aware, when Antonio makes some angry comment about the Devil quoting scripture, that the very scripture he’s talking about is largely shared between these religions. Anyway, at this point, Shylock is staying very smooth, and holds back the fullness of his emotions for later. He still speaks out pretty strongly against Antonio’s previous treatment of him, but manages to lure him in to the agreement with clever words. Antonio’s rage and contempt came across more than clearly. He may be a good friend to Bassanio, and respected by his fellow traders, but he’s got a mean streak coupled with some nasty prejudices, all perfectly normal for his time and place, though sadly they don’t seem entirely out of place today.

Now the modern technology starts to kick in. At Belmont, Portia and Nerissa discuss the various suitors for Portia’s hand. Portia hands over her mobile to Nerissa, so she can flick through either their pictures or a contact list. The usual banter is well done, and this Portia isn’t shy about admitting her affections for Bassanio when Nerissa mentions him. She’s also very relieved to hear that her flock of suitors is leaving. At this point, her general factotum, Balthazar, enters. Done up in black like a stage manager, and sporting an earpiece, he announces that another suitor is arriving, the Prince of Morocco. His was one of the funniest portrayals of the evening. To get all the information about the Prince’s arrival, he had to manoeuvre round the stage to get a good enough signal on his headset. Then the Prince of Morocco arrives. With the sound of an aeroplane in the background, the Prince, dressed in a vivid pink jumpsuit, bursts onto the stage, trailing his parachute and a ground crew servant. He’s also a black actor, but with bleached hair, and he oozes arrogance and self-belief. After throwing off his chute, he unzips the top of the jumpsuit to give Portia the full benefit of his manly chest, medallion and all. Much laughter. Off they go to prepare for the selection process, with Balthazar eyeing up the Prince’s servant.

Next we see Bassanio organising his party using his mobile to contact people. Lorenzo is also organising his own party – a raid on Shylock’s house to take Jessica away and marry her. The scenes with Jessica follow thick and fast at this point. I suspect it’s because they couldn’t squeeze in the quick changes necessary to flip between Belmont and Venice, but it worked quite well. When Launcelot takes his leave of Shylock, we see Jessica, looking very downtrodden, polishing some silver for her father. Launcelot is unhappy to leave her (he’s got enough luggage!), and she’s very sad to lose his company. (No senior Gobbo this time.) The short time Shylock spends with his daughter during this scene shows very little affection between them – I got the impression that it’s not because he doesn’t love her, it’s just that he doesn’t seem able to express it. Later, when he’s chopping and changing his mind about going to supper with Bassanio, his main concern seems to be his goods, and the sanctity of his home. One nice touch at the end of this section was that Jessica dropped something when she came down to Lorenzo. I didn’t see what it was, but as Shylock returned, he spotted the item, which turned out to be his keys. He realised something was terribly wrong, and ran to check his house. Too late. For Jessica’s whispered conversation with Lorenzo, when he comes to get her, she’s positioned in the first gallery, in the usual gap between the seats, off to our right. I wondered if she would climb down the post (they have footholds), but no, she used the stairs.

Now we get the first stab at the caskets. Balthazar, showing off to the Prince’s servant, goes along the row of Macs, pressing the right button, and up comes the inscription on the screen. First lead, then silver, then gold. Portia and the Prince enter. He’s dressed down, a bit, and before making his choice, takes a scimitar out of the case presented to him by his man, and gives it to Portia. Then he poses for a picture with her, still holding the sword. I liked this Prince of Morocco; he was flash, but not as over the top as some. I got all of his lines clearly, as I did for almost the entire evening. When he made his choice, the “key” Balthazar gives him is a USB stick, which he puts into the Mac’s port. The inscription then dissolves, like a computer virus simulation, to reveal a grinning skull against a background of flames, and the verse is actually a recording. Brilliant. One of the best uses of technology I’ve seen on stage. Off the Prince goes, followed by his servant – much concern from Balthazar, as they’d obviously been getting on so well, but he has to make do with a “call me” gesture.

One little meaningful point – as Portia leaves, she makes some comment about God saving her from all of such complexion. Nerissa is played by a black actress, and she obviously notices and takes offence at this comment, and rightly so. This reminder of Portia’s own prejudices is echoed later on during the trial scene, to good effect. The second suitor, the Prince of Arragon, is dispatched pretty quickly – we only need him so we know what’s in the silver box – a fool’s head – and which casket is the right one. His gift to Portia is a lifebelt, and again he poses for pictures, which she’s got used to by this time.

There are a couple of scenes with Solanio and Salerio, giving us the information about Shylock’s suffering and Antonio’s losses. Then we see Shylock directly, as he confronts these two and their taunts. The two set pieces in this play were handled very well, but this one, “Hath not a Jew eyes?…” was the best I’ve ever heard. The whole speech was knit together beautifully, as Shylock’s justification for revenge. His passion really comes out here for the first time, and the standard lines take on the expression of his absolute conviction that he is only doing what he’s seen others do. Instead of being a reminder of our common humanity, the comparisons are a reminder of the gutter we all come from, and in which Shylock is determined to thrive.

Then we have the phone call from Tubal, still in Genoa (or the upper balcony). This was the one time when I couldn’t make out the lines very well, when Shylock was speaking into his phone. But I got enough to find the scene moving, though a bit disjointed. Tubal sends Shylock a picture of the ring, making it easier to understand how he knows which ring it is, and in his reaction to this news, I found myself moved to tears. The line “I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys” usually moves me, but here I caught a glimpse of the love that this man had been capable of, and which he’s buttoned up in sorrow since his wife’s death, never showing it to his daughter who needs it so much. It was a tremendous insight into this man’s character, and although I know it’s there, it was more clearly expressed tonight than ever before in my experience. As Shylock leaves the stage, full of sadness, we get the interval, and a chance to blow my nose. How thoughtful of them.

At the start of the second half, Bassanio arrives at Belmont, and goes straight to choosing. I noticed that Portia uses “hazard” in her opening lines to him; this word is also in the winning lead inscription – is she trying to give him a subtle hint? His reasoning came across clearly – it may have been cut, but I suspect it was also down to the delivery. Everyone is happy with the result, and Balthazar brings on champagne.  As they’re celebrating, Lorenzo and Jessica arrive, bringing the bad news about Antonio. There’s no specific sign that Jessica isn’t being welcomed, although Launcelot is strangely unhappy about being left behind to serve her and Lorenzo. Given that he seemed to like her in Shylock’s house, why the change? The banter between them later on seems pretty nasty.

Nerissa is decidedly not impressed at Portia’s decision to let the men go off before consummating their marriages, and not too happy about heading off to the monastery either.  However, she goes along with Portia’s plan to follow the men to Venice, though with some reservations.

For the trial scene, the Duke was above and behind us, Bassanio to our left, Gratiano and the others on the upper gallery. Two modern, plastic chairs were brought on, and the centre table brought forward. Shylock puts his scales on these, then unwraps a piece of meat to use as a weight. Antonio is in orange prison garb, with his hands taped together. He’s put in one of the chairs. Shylock is smooth, implacable, and makes it clear he’s out for vengeance. Nerissa enters, to explain that the young Balthazar (Portia’s name in disguise) has come from the other lawyer to give the court the benefit of his advice. One nice touch here is that the actual Balthazar is also with them, with a fake moustache.

Portia and Nerissa are dressed in smart suits, and wearing small moustaches. These disguises are good ones, not that that should stop Bassanio and Gratiano seeing through them. But, as usual, they don’t. The trial follows its usual course, and Antonio is clearly ready for the knife.  The “quality of mercy” speech was a little lacking here.  I didn’t feel Portia was giving it her all, but still there was a fair bit of tension throughout the scene. Bassanio is with Antonio as Shylock prepares to cut, while Antonio’s hands have been taped to the chair. Shylock has Antonio by the neck, reaching round from behind to make the incision, when Portia stops him, and metes out the justice he had been so keen to have. It’s noticeable here how she, such a strong advocate for mercy, is adamant that now Shylock shall have only justice and the law. This is where I find the echo of her earlier prejudice. She may be slow to take offence, but when she does…..! There’s definitely an edge to her delivery of justice. When Shylock is told he will have to convert to Christianity, he reels, and falls to the ground behind the table. Antonio snatches off his skull cap, leaving the poor man distraught.

This scene brings up such mixed emotions, such is the skill of the writing, and the skill of these performers. There’s nothing much to rejoice in here, as no one has behaved particularly well. But Shylock is in such despair that it’s hard not to feel sympathy for him.

As the lawyers take their leave, Portia is obviously relieved that Bassanio won’t part with his ring. Antonio, probably out of jealousy, urges him to send it after the lawyer, and Bassanio does. There could be problems coming up in this marriage. Portia and Nerissa are still in their suits when they get back to Belmont, and yet their husbands still don’t spot what’s happened, till they come back on in full disguise, with moustaches. The ring bit was as funny as ever, and I always love the way Gratiano rats out Bassanio. Antonio has been happy again, in Bassanio’s company, but is naturally depressed again when he finds out the ring was actually given to Portia, and he’s lost Bassanio after all.

Before they get back to Belmont, we see Jessica and Lorenzo, in bathrobes, having their little lovers’ tiff. On the whole, this is fairly light, but turns sour when Lorenzo mentions her stealing away from her father. She seems to be suffering from guilt and grief at betraying him. Shylock’s skull cap is still lying on the stage where Antonio threw it during the courtroom scene, and Jessica picks it up. By the end, she seems to have come to terms with her decision to run away and marry a Christian, and as she rejoins Lorenzo, they appear to be reconciled. (And Lorenzo’s got a nice bum.)

This was a fabulous production, and I’m really glad we saw it.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Merry Wives The Musical – January 2007 (2)

10/10

By: William Shakespeare, adapted by Gregory Doran, music by Paul Englishby, lyrics by Ranjit Bolt

Directed by: Gregory Doran

Venue: RST

Date: Saturday 31st January 2007

This was the last time of seeing this musical this time round, and one of the last times we’ll see a play in the main house as it is. Boo hoo. Although, as we were in the Gods, and the seats were neither as comfortable nor gave us as good a view as what we’re used to, the regret isn’t too strong – we’ll manage.

This was not just as good as before, it was even better. Firstly, we knew what to expect – we’d seen such a great performance at the Winter School. Secondly, we had a completely different view, and although we lost some of the detail, especially seeing the expressions, on the other hand we got a much better overview of the action, which helped enormously when there was a lot of action on stage – the final fairy scene, for example, was much clearer, and I suspect it was more due to our position than any change in performance, though of course I can’t be absolutely sure.

Thirdly, knowing this was our last time, and that we’re getting towards the end of the Complete Works Festival, and the end of the main house as we know it, made it all a bit more emotional. I noticed some changes in the performances – as if the cast have relaxed even more into their parts, and with relatively few performances left, are going even further with the business. There was more detail with Mistress Page and the first letter, and I noticed a number of other “upgrades” as we went through, though none I can remember for these notes, sadly – maybe they’ll come back to me later. One point I must note down tonight – the houses rotating into haystacks – I’m not sure if I noted that down before.

Our seats were quite uncomfortable in the first half – less room and less cushioned than downstairs. However, the couple next to us moved for the second half, so we were able to spread ourselves out and it was much easier to relax and enjoy the show. I still think they need to introduce the “Merry Wives” tune in the overture – it’s the main theme, and the one everyone’s going to come out singing or humming to themselves.

The audience seemed quite quiet for the first half – I wasn’t sure if we just weren’t hearing them so well up with the Gods, but they livened up for the second half, so maybe it just took time for them to get warmed up.

I’m still impressed by how well all the characters are introduced. It’s a complicated play, with lots of sub-plots, and although the priest and doctor never get round to exacting their revenge on the landlord of the Garter, everything seems much more straightforward in this version. I like the way Anne Page and Fenton are introduced to us in the traditional way of musical lovers, so we know they’re going to get together at the end. And the introduction of Henry IV dialogue in places makes the Mistress Quickly/Falstaff storyline work much better. So, apart from the quibble about introducing the main theme earlier, I find the whole adaptation pretty brilliant, and I do hope they revive it sometime soon – perhaps when they have the new main house?

One final point – I must remember to have a hanky ready if I see this again – I was sobbing heartily during Ford’s song asking forgiveness from his wife. Lovely.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Merry Wives The Musical – January 2007 (1)

Experience: 10/10

By William Shakespeare, adapted by Gregory Doran, music by Paul Englishby, lyrics by Ranjit Bolt

Directed by Gregory Doran

Venue: RST

Date: Friday 5th January 2007

Another big change. This time, the cast seem to have got to grips with the production and given it a good shaking out. Everything gelled tonight. I could hear more of the words, the music fitted with the dialogue better, and the weaker singing voices had strengthened up. I thoroughly enjoyed the first half, and although the energy drops a little in the last quarter, I still found the whole experience much better than first time around. In fact, the musical aspects had improved so much that the “Merry Wives” song no longer seems the highlight that it was!

Specific changes to performances: Slender had developed even more in small touches, including kissing Mr Page when they meet for the first time. Alistair McGowan as Ford seems to be getting more expression into his performance, and his voice has definitely come on. His song to Mrs Page asking for forgiveness was very moving tonight, and I was reminded of The Taming of the Shrew in reverse. We had been warned that Judi Dench did something different every night when coming on at the back of the stage, but tonight was the same as we’d seen before – reacting to the size of the buildings with surprise and confusion.

Our seats were to the right of centre this time, across the aisle, and I actually preferred this, as I found I could see the whole of the stage in one glance, which is absolutely vital in a production where so much goes on. I spotted a lot more detail, although I still missed Dr Cauis’ performance between injecting himself in the neck and falling into the buck basket – if we get to see it again, I must look out for that. I saw so much that I hadn’t before, but I can’t be sure what was new and what I simply missed, so I’ll just include it all in the first set of notes.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Don Juan In Soho – December 2006

Experience: 10/10

By Patrick Marber, based on Moliere

Directed by Michael Grandage

Venue: Donmar Warehouse

Date: Thursday 28th December 2006

This was a cracking good reworking of the Don Juan story, set in contemporary London. Don Juan (DJ) is the son of an Earl, spending his life screwing, snorting and generally having a good time. His personal assistant, Stan, disapproves of this lifestyle, but is unable to leave him to his sins. Eventually, it all goes horribly wrong, and the world becomes a quieter, if not necessarily a better, place.

First off, I have to say that I am not used to being asked directly by a character in a play if I am “fuckable”. That is my only excuse for just shrugging helplessly (of course I’m fuckable!) and grinning a lot. But that’s what you risk being asked at this sort of play in a studio space when you’re only inches away from the action. Be warned. This happened early on, triggered by a discussion on whether or not Stan should enter DJ’s latest conquest on his database. DJ’s point of view was that it’s pointless to classify people, although he did come up with the “fuckable/non-fuckable” categories for good measure. Stan is apparently non-fuckable.

The story was pretty much as usual, but with very modern twists. DJ has been shagging a Croatian model for the weekend, much to Stan’s surprise – DJ doesn’t usually go for Croatians. It’s also a surprise to DJ’s new wife, Elvira, who sends out her brothers to find her husband when he disappears shortly after their return from honeymoon “to buy a packet of fags.” She’s a real goody-two-shoes. DJ had to pursue her through all sorts of right-on places – refugee camps, protest sites, etc. Naturally she thinks he loved her, while he just regards her as a challenge. Unfortunately, he’s awakened her sexually, and she’s not prepared to give up on him just yet.

This all takes place in the hotel lobby, where Stan was waiting for his boss to appear. After a trip to the loo, DJ spots his next mark – the fiancée of a man he’s just met in the gents. The man is ecstatically happy that he’s about to be married, and he’s having a party on a riverboat that evening, so DJ decides to crash the party, literally, as it happens. He drives his speedboat straight at the party boat, causing all sorts of mayhem, and the next scene is set in the hospital waiting area, where Stan and Pete – an innocent bystander who pulled DJ and Stan out of the water – are shivering in their blankets. DJ’s being seen by the doctor – Earls get treated first in the NHS.

Pete’s girlfriend turns up with some dry clothes. It’s a lovely turn by Seroca Davis – all bitching and complaining and wanting reward money for Pete’s good deed, until DJ himself turns up and seduces her so rampantly that she ends up giving him a blow job under cover of a blanket while DJ attempts to chat up the posh bird he was after in the first place! The posh bird actually turns him down, although he is hampered by the woman attached to his appendage, and the need to moan occasionally. Once done, he’s off.

Next we see him in the park. There’s a statue there, as one might expect, and thanks to all the street performers there are nowadays, they didn’t have to resort to trickery to get the statue to move. Tim Eagle took the part here, and I really didn’t see him move before his invitation from DJ. (Maybe they could get a female living statue to do Hermione some time?) Before this, DJ tempts a devout man to deny his God by offering him his expensive watch as a gift. The man is seriously poor, but still he holds firm, and so DJ rewards him with the watch anyway. To bring it up-to-date, the man is a Muslim.

This is the point where we see the best side of DJ. He spots a man being attacked, and goes to help him. The man turns out to be none other than one of his brothers-in-law, Colm, while the other brother, vicious Aloysius, isn’t far behind. Given that DJ has saved him from a bad beating or even death, there’s a stand-off for the time being. Then comes the rash invitation to the statue, which leads to the usual warning about mending his behaviour.

Following the statue’s warning, DJ returns to his flat? house? and proceeds to entertain two lovely ladies of the professional persuasion. His father arrives, having driven all night, to tell him to get back with his wife, and turns out to be quite a sweetie. Bit traditional, of course, but that’s what parents are for. The wife also turns up, to get her clothes, but ends up leaving in disgust, as she realises he’s got the two prostitutes in the house. Once she’s left, the two girls, sent to wait for DJ in the bedroom, also run out of the house, screaming – they’ve seen the statue and they don’t need telling it’s a bad sign – smart girls. DJ may be rattled, but he’s reluctant to give in.

After a long sleep, he meets Stan and his father at the father’s club, and makes a good stab at playing the penitent. A very good stab. His father goes off, much relieved, leaving DJ to inform Stan, and us, that it was all a performance, and that he intends to go on as before. He sets off for Soho (he’s told us earlier that “soho” was a hunting cry, and that the area was originally used for hunting) but the rickshaw he gets on is being driven by the statue, and it all goes a bit surreal. Eventually he’s left in a dark, empty place, with no one for company but the two brothers-in-law who are intent on his murder. They stab him, and it’s all over, bar Stan finding the body.

This was a great version of the story. It not only covered the usual plot well, the translation into the modern idiom and contemporary setting was excellent. Rhys Ifans was superb as DJ, totally suave and louche, with no concerns about his behaviour, apart from a bit of fear when the statue came to life. All the performances were excellent, and it’s not surprising the run was almost sold out. A great way to end the year’s playgoing.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me