Long Day’s Journey Into Night – August 2012

Experience: 9/10

By Eugene O’Neill

Directed by Anthony Page

Venue: Apollo Theatre

Date: Monday 13th August 2012

This was a fantastic production, with two stunning performances in the central roles of husband and wife by David Suchet and Laurie Metcalf. David Suchet showed the full range of the father’s behaviour, from the charming actor through to the mean drunk who could rage at anyone with or without justification. Laurie Metcalf took the mother from the opening high of sweetness with just a hint of nerves all the way down to the depths of her addiction to morphine. I don’t know how Eugene O’Neill managed it, but despite this being nearly three hours spent watching other people’s suffering, anger, miserliness and stupidity, I not only enjoyed myself but left feeling uplifted.

Although neither of the young men playing the sons had the power of the two leads, they were good enough to keep the play in balance, as was Rosie Sansom who played the maid Cathleen. James junior (Trevor White) didn’t manage the rapid switches in the emotional journey of a drunk as well as I would have liked in the final act, but his performance was strong enough overall. Tom Railton did very well as the understudy for Edmund. His youthfulness was just right for the character, and I didn’t notice any significant slips or any imbalance in his scenes with the other characters. I don’t know when he took the part on – we heard some extra rehearsing before the doors were opened – but he fitted in just fine.

There were lots of laughs, more than I expected. The first time we saw this I think it was Timothy West and Prunella Scales as the husband and wife, and I remember it as a very heavy production with the emphasis on suffering. Another production with Charles Dance and Jessica Lange didn’t go as deeply into the characters, but this current version was very detailed, bringing out a lot of humour as well as taking us to a very dark place. Talk about dysfunctional families! We laughed when David Suchet glanced up towards the ceiling lights which he’d switched on in a fit of drunken abandon; as he sobered up, his character’s ingrained stinginess came out, and we recognised the signs even before he spoke, though his line about switching them off caused an even bigger laugh.

Laurie Metcalf’s final disintegration into a doped-up emotional wreck was difficult to watch. She lay half on the floor, curled up around the leg of the sofa, unable to relate to the other characters at all, lost in a nightmarish past. The play closed with the three men sinking into the chairs round the table and preparing for a night of drinking themselves into a similar oblivion. After the morning’s bright possibility of recovery had been snatched away, they were resigned to having lost her again. It should have been depressing, but it wasn’t. Magnificent.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Kiss Me Kate – August 2012

9/10

Music and lyrics by Cole Porter

Book by Sam and Bella Spewack

Directed by Trevor Nunn

CFT and Old Vic co-production

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Thursday 9th August 2012

As predicted, this was a much improved performance. The whole production was much clearer, and seeing it from a central position gave us a much better view. The scene changes were quicker and the dances covered the action better, and although there were one or two very minor fluffs early on tonight the whole show went very smoothly. Because of that, and possibly because of our improved position, I could spot the deliberate errors this time. There was a running gag that one of the dancers couldn’t get her steps right, and they had several extra practice runs to help her. She fell over and knocked into the other dancers, but eventually she cracked it! And of course there are deliberate mistakes during the onstage musical when Lilli/Kate throws her tantrums, and these showed up better tonight as well.

Kate’s I Hate Men was even better than before, and all the songs and dances had come on. Bill/Lucentio was fully up to speed, and First and Second Man were much better. The dialogue was much sharper, and I caught a lot of the lines and lyrics that I’d missed first time round. It wasn’t so clear to me that the General wasn’t right for Lilli tonight – don’t know what’s changed there – but I found Lilli’s leave-taking and Fred’s reprise of So In Love very moving. We were a noisy audience tonight (including some surprising coughs) and were treated to one encore for Always True To You In My Fashion and two for Brush Up Your Shakespeare. And we applauded mightily at the end as well, with more sniffles on my part. Great fun.

Post-show:

There was lots of humour, especially from the General (Mark Heenehan). Hannah declared they were a very happy company, then Gremio ratted on her ‘voice resetting’ noises backstage. She retaliated with the way he frequently changed his lines, and it wasn’t long before the General was remarking that her earlier comment about it being a very happy company…..  Clive Rowe kept disagreeing with everyone else, and with Adam Garcia apparently dancing despite a slipped disc (an earlier performance) you might be forgiven for thinking that life backstage resembled the story of the musical. Fortunately the humour shone through, and they clearly are enjoying themselves very much. Mind you, the backstage action with all the very quick costume changes is a whole show in itself.

On the transfer to the Old Vic, the cast are looking forward to it. Most of them are going, and will get another two weeks to rehearse the changes. The choreographer hasn’t seen the Old Vic stage yet, so doesn’t know how things will change on the proscenium arch stage. At least the Festival Theatre stage gives them plenty of room for the dances. The costumes needed some changes to accommodate the dancing; apparently there was no coordination between the designer and the choreographer beforehand. The slanted set has given the cast some problems as well. There’s a mark on the stage to tell them where the centre is, but it’s hard to see and this may explain some of the difficulty we had on our first viewing.

After the general had finished wowing us with the casual mention of his chat with Kevin Spacey the other day (get her!), he was able to say that this is the first production from Chichester to transfer to the Old Vic since the days when the Old Vic was the National Theatre. (Hopefully they’ll know it by then, he added.)

Trevor Nunn’s experience with Shakespeare came in very handy; he gave the cast a day workshop on delivering Shakespearean dialogue, and apparently changed the script in some way to make it closer to the original play. He also chose to have Taming – The Musical done in Elizabethan costume, which hadn’t been done before (I’m not sure if that’s true, but that’s what was said).

It’s hard for the cast when they have several days off while Heartbreak House is on; as we learned from the Singin’ In The Rain post-show, the muscles need regular use to keep the performance standard up. Didn’t manage to ask if they’ll be doing a cast recording – I do hope so.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Taming Of The Shrew – July 2012

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Toby Frow

Venue: Shakespeare’s Globe

Date: Thursday 19th July 2012

Brilliant production! The whole cast were excellent, and the choice to do the play simply, with few fancy stagings but a lot of good business, led to a clear and enjoyable performance which the audience participated in fully.

The set was slightly revised from before. The triangle at the front had been chopped short, with a ramp leading up to the front edge from deep in the pit. The side stairs were still there, and the scaffolding had been replaced with a colonnade and balcony in distressed wood, with the tattered remains of white paint. The balcony backdrop showed the cityscape of fair Padua, except when it had a blue curtain and a deer’s head was hung on the balcony to represent Petruchio’s country estate. The furniture removal men were in full swing as usual, and the musicians wore natty red numbers while the rest of the cast were in appropriate gear for the time and place.

The musicians started proceedings with the latest entries in the mediaeval hit parade, but were interrupted by a rather coarse gentleman in an England shirt, who was obviously the worse for wear. Well, we’re not novices when it comes to this play, so we weren’t worried, but the stewards were, and they were having the devil of a time trying to get him out of the theatre. He broke away from one young lady after kicking her in a nasty place, and ran onto the stage; well, staggered onto the stage. The toilet humour continued with him pissing against the far pillar and then spraying the liquid around a bit, especially over one poor chap at the front of the crowd. After being accosted by a security guard (they managed to find one? Not using G4S, then) he collapsed on the stage and was pronounced dead.

Whispered conversations between the guard and stage manager led to the announcement that the show would have to be cancelled – we voiced our disappointment. Some of the actors had snuck on stage to see what was going on, and after some protests from the stage manager, proceeded to suggest that they could do the show anyway; it helped that the drunk had recovered enough to throw up on the stage, thereby saving himself from an early grave. The suggestion was made “What think you, if he was conveyed to bed…”, and we were into the induction, with us, the audience, being fully complicit this time in the deception practised on Sly. Later, when Sly was asking for assurance that he was, indeed, a lord, he turned to the audience, and we, shameful liars, all called out ‘yes’. (He did check with one woman at the front first, but presumably he didn’t believe her.) This was a good way to start things, as it got the audience very involved from the beginning.

When the actors were trying to persuade Sly – “O this it is that makes your lady mourn” etc. – they chanted the lines and then sang them. When Pip Donaghy wanted to deliver “O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth…”, the others kept on singing the words after him, and he had several goes at telling them to stop before they all finally shut up and let him speak the lines unaccompanied. One other thing with this staging; when they were setting the initial scene for Sly’s awakening, one actor held up two framed pictures, as if they were on a wall. Later, these pictures were held up while they described them to Sly, along with a frame which an actor posed behind.

The actors already being on stage, the lines about their arrival and the arrangements for the play were ditched. A tall lad was chosen to play Sly’s wife, and after he persuaded Sly that sex would be a bad idea, they went down to the pit and stood at the front of the stage to watch the play. This lasted till the two young men started taking off their clothes, and with cries of “obscenity” (not in the text), Sly and his lady departed. No further reference was made to this sub-plot afterwards, thankfully, and it was good to see them sticking to the text as we have it for once.

To get back to the start of the play: while Lucentio and Tranio were introducing themselves and discussing their ‘to do’ list for their stay in Padua, there were various sober churchmen and the like sitting on the benches round the pillars, along with a refreshments seller. The two scholars on our side held small pamphlets, and when Tranio was talking about studying philosophy, he nicked one of the pamphlets to demonstrate his point. (He did return it.) The seller supplied him with two cups of something or other, and Lucentio drained his willingly before the line “Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise”.

When the older gentlemen realised that Kate was coming on stage – I think there was some noise to that effect – they scarpered as quickly as they could, and the seller was so keen to get away that he left his tray behind. This was an early clue to Kate’s reputation, and her first appearance did nothing to change that. Samantha Spiro’s Kate was so feared by everyone in Padua that she only had to pretend to throw her apple at the men and they flinched. Bianca was good as gold in this scene, and Lucentio fell in love with her from the balcony, where he and Tranio observed the scene. The dialogue wasn’t entirely clear at this point, but my knowledge of the play got me through it OK. When her father slammed the door shut in her face, Kate stepped back and took a run at it, knocking it flat with a ferocious kick. Definitely not a woman to meddle with.

Gremio waved goodbye to Hortensio several times, keen for him to leave so he could disclose to us his cunning plan, but Hortensio lingered long enough to hear the details. He soon persuaded Gremio of their common interest – finding a husband for Kate – and they left together, while Lucentio and Tranio came down from the balcony and went through their routine. Lucentio was so far gone that he knelt down and kissed the stage – Bianca hadn’t even walked on that bit! He went further and further until he was lying on the ramp, and when he came back up to kneeling, his sword was in a suggestive position. I couldn’t see Tranio’s reactions to Lucentio’s idea that they could change places – sometimes he’s actually keen to do it, sometimes not – but this was when they started shedding their clothes and Sly and his ‘wife’ left.

The two lads went further than usual, mind you, with only their underpants preventing an indecency prosecution. When Biondello arrived (the former pretend wife), they explained the plot and exited, just as Petruchio and Grumio entered from our left and walked up the ramp to visit Petruchio’s old friend Hortensio. Grumio, played by Pearce Quigley, was on the slow side and took Petruchio’s instructions literally, hence the problems. I reckoned he’d spent too much time on the estate and wasn’t as street smart as Tranio. I also felt he hadn’t spent as much time with Petruchio as is usually suggested, which was supported by Hortensio’s tentative reference to him as “your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant”. Grumio struck Petruchio as he stood by the top of the ramp, Petruchio grabbed Grumio by the head and used that to knock at the door, and Hortensio appeared on the balcony to enquire about the noise. As Grumio staggered back towards the front of the stage, Hortensio saw him first, and then Petruchio walked out from under the balcony to be greeted by his friend; I think some of the dialogue was cut here.

There was the usual laugh when Hortensio described Katherine, pausing before mentioning “her only fault”. Gremio turned up with Lucentio in disguise, and then Tranio, disguised as Lucentio, arrived. As Tranio, he had an Irish accent but talked as posh as he could while pretending to be a gentleman. He was also wearing a wig, and while he wasn’t as ludicrous as some we’ve seen, he was sufficiently inappropriate to be funny. When challenged about his purpose in going to Baptista Minola’s he drew his sword on Gremio, who drew a sword out of this walking stick in response. When Hortensio joined in the questioning, Tranio turned the sword on him, and Petruchio supplied Hortensio with a weapon. With two swords to his one, Tranio soon became reasonable, and joined the confederacy willingly enough. Also, when Gremio declared himself a suitor to Bianca, Grumio snorted with laughter, a reasonable response in the circumstances as Michael Bertenshaw was playing Gremio with a serious stoop.

As they left, Bianca stumbled onto the stage, blindfolded and with her hands tied together. She tried a few steps, but didn’t get very far, and then Kate arrived, brandishing a bullwhip. She cracked it a number of times and Bianca was scared at first, but then she rallied and began to fight back. When her hands were untied, they really started brawling, rolling on the stage as they fought, but then Bianca saw their father coming along and fell back, sobbing. The cow! We weren’t impressed, and there was a lot of sympathy for Kate in this scene, but not from her father and certainly not from Bianca, who made all the usual rude gestures at Kate behind her father’s back, including biting her thumb (see Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1).

The procession of visitors was funny, with Hortensio disguised by a beard, glasses and a pillbox hat, and Biondello carrying a huge stack of books which he could only just manage (and he’s a tall chap). Petruchio’s question to Baptista “have you not a daughter call’d Katherina, fair and virtuous?” got more of a laugh on the question rather than Baptista’s stunned response, and the introduction of ‘Licio’ was quite funny too; I wasn’t sure if Petruchio had agreed the fake name with Hortensio beforehand or not. Everyone else left the stage to Petruchio and Baptista for the dowry discussion, and there was one bit of screaming and thumping before Hortensio reappeared, hat askew. The lute wasn’t wrapped round him this time, but a broken instrument was thrown out onto the stage a few moments later, accompanied by another snarling sound, so that we could see what he was describing. He looked pretty unhappy at his treatment, and for once I was aware that he was a gentleman, not used to acting like a servant and certainly not used to this sort of treatment, as he usually stayed well out of Kate’s reach. This incident got across what an unpleasant woman Kate is at this point, treating servants like punch bags.

Hortensio cheered up a lot when Baptista suggested he work with Bianca, and from dragging himself round the stage, he fairly skipped off to do Baptista’s bidding. Baptista was clearly keen for Petruchio to meet Kate out of doors – less damage to the household goods – and Petruchio readily agreed. When Kate arrived, and he turned to see her, their first look was clearly one of mutual attraction; he was stunned that she was so beautiful, and she was surprised to see someone she liked the look of. They both recovered enough to start their wrangling, and there was a fair bit of physical sparring as well. It all happened so fast that I can’t remember it all, but it included Petruchio holding her at arm’s length while she tried to hit him, and a game of chase round the pit, where Kate pretended to punch some of the audience members. Petruchio tripped her up as she came back up the stairs, hence the reference to her limp. When the others came back, I think they were sitting side by side on the stage, with her skirt partly over Petruchio’s legs (but I may be wrong). Kate was shocked and unhappy to overhear Petruchio’s excuse to the rest that she would “still be curst in company”.

The bidding for Bianca was enjoyable enough, and I realised that although the details Gremio is giving seem strange to us now, the value of these objects in those days would be much greater than we appreciate in our mass production culture. Earlier, Gremio tells Cambio that he will have some books of love “very fairly bound”, and from recent documentaries we’ve learned just how expensive such things were, so presumably the other items were worth mentioning as well. Tranio really enjoyed trumping Gremio at every turn, and we were sorry for poor Gremio when he could offer no more.

The wooing scene between Licio, Cambio and Bianca was good fun, with Bianca starting to assert herself more without actually appearing shrewish herself. She and Cambio sat on a bench to begin with, but moved forward to the ramp as their discussion progressed. During the music lesson, Licio strummed his lute after Bianca read each line of the gamut, which was funny.

The wedding scene was very good fun. We felt sorry for Kate in her predicament, and Biondello’s speech about Petruchio and his horse went down very well. He had the decency to rush through the long litany of the horse’s complaints, as none of us would have known what they were anyway. The comments ascribed to Tranio in my text were actually said by Licio, which made more sense with Hortensio being an old friend of Petruchio’s. Petruchio’s arrival confirmed the description of him; one boot was hanging off, his clothes were extremely tatty, and his horse was actually Grumio, with a bit between his teeth and a pair of coconut shells to make the hoof beats. Petruchio had a carrot dangling somewhere, which he fed to Grumio, and when he was asked to doff his clothes, he did. Off came the jerkin, off came the shirt, and off came the trousers as well. Fortunately he kept his well-padded posing pouch on “else we had been all shamed”.

Hortensio offered to supply alternative clothes; Simon Paisley Day (Petruchio) is a good bit taller than Rick Warden (Hortensio), and they put in some good business whereby Petruchio held his hand up at his own height and waved it over Hortensio’s head to indicate that the offer just wasn’t going to work. From our angle, we were aware that Petruchio’s cheeks were on show, but when he turned to go into the church there was a huge roar from the crowd. I didn’t hear all the lines between Lucentio and Tranio, but Gremio soon joined them, and his description of the wedding ceremony was as clear as I’ve heard before.

When the wedding party re-entered, I had the impression that Petruchio was figuring out his tactics as he went along. His initial declaration that Kate was his property was not well received by the audience, but he took his time between his descriptions of her, and when he said “my barn” the whole speech took on a surreal air; even Kate was a bit perplexed by the description. After that, we could see the humour of it, and there was even some applause as he and Grumio clip-clopped off to the sound of the coconut shells with Kate slung over Petruchio’s shoulder. The rest of the characters had obviously enjoyed the spectacle, and as they left the stage for the wedding feast, Biondello was at the back of the group and gestured for the rest of us to go and get our own refreshments during the interval. Almost forgot – the priest was leaning on Baptista during this part, after the battering he’d taken during the ceremony.

The second half opened at Petruchio’s place. Some of the cast brought out a long table, some plates, etc., and a large tablecloth. They never actually put the cloth on the table, mind you, though it went just about everywhere else – wrapped around one chap as a skirt, held up as a bed sheet and the like. They sang an older version of The Cuckoo’s Nest – not one we’d heard before – and it was a good warm-up for the audience. There were two chairs, one at either end of the table, with antler-shapes on the arms and across the back. With these and the deer’s head, the setting of an old-fashioned country house was well established.

Grumio arrived with the coconut shells, and after telling us how cold he was, called for Curtis. For once there was no great fuss about getting the work done; as Curtis kept reassuring him, everything was ready. For the fire, Curtis referred to a lit candle on the table – not much use I would have thought – but the fun was in Grumio’s telling of the story to bring us up-to-date which came across better than usual. The other servants arrived when called, eventually, and again the impression I had was of slower-witted country folk, similar to the servants in She Stoops To Conquer.

Petruchio and Kate arrived, and she was definitely bedraggled. He didn’t look much different, but then he was dressed so badly for the wedding who would have noticed? The water was spilled over Kate this time, due to Petruchio tipping up the table at the other end, and I noticed how Kate was becoming much more aware of other people’s suffering. When the meat arrived the servants loaded up the plates, but each servant who held Kate’s plate was distracted by Petruchio’s next instruction. Kate was at the far end of the table when she finally had a plate in front of her, and then came the grace, which took an age. The meat soon went flying, and the large joint was tossed between the servants, too hot for anyone to hold for long. Meanwhile Kate dashed between them, trying to get some meat for herself, a classic game of pig-in-the-middle.

Once they left, the servants cleared the food (there were lots of sausage rolls and bits of carrot all over the place), while Curtis snuck up the stairs to report on events in the bed chamber. We could hear ‘yes, yes, yes, YES’ from Kate, followed by ‘no, no’ from Petruchio. When he came out onto the balcony, he began his speech up there, but came down to the stage pretty quickly. No one responded when he asked for other ideas, not surprisingly. This can be a difficult speech, but this time I was aware that he was showing Kate her own behaviour, and giving her a chance to break free of her habit of scolding everyone. She was already well on the way, so Petruchio didn’t seem unkind or nasty in doing this; instead he seemed to be the only person who could help such a damaged woman.

Tranio and Hortensio entered for the next scene, both in disguise, while Bianca and Lucentio were up on the balcony. They indulged in some kissing, and then slid down below the railing. Various items of clothing were thrown over the rail to the stage below, while Hortensio revealed himself to Tranio by taking off his hat and pulling his beard up to rest on top of his head – very funny. Lucentio and Bianca reappeared on the balcony, still snogging, and finally Hortensio left in disgust. Tranio gave the couple the good news – they came down to join him on the stage – and then Biondello turned up with the sighting of a likely prospect to play Vincentio.

When the pedant arrived, he was more smartly dressed than most. Tranio and Biondello stood in his way at the top of the ramp, and although he got past them eventually, they soon had him hooked with their fake story. The table came back on with the chairs, and then Grumio tormented Kate with all the food she couldn’t have. He kept getting up to go to the kitchen for the food, then realising it might be “too choleric” and sitting down again. The final time he didn’t even move from the table before deciding against the food in question.

Petruchio came on with a whole roast chicken on a platter. He put it fairly central on the table, so it was just out of Kate’s reach when she lunged for it. He moved it even further off, then took it away altogether as she crawled along the table to get at it. She was kneeling on the table when he insisted on being thanked for his effort, and the expressions on her face were priceless; it cost her dear to thank him, but she managed to get a rather sulky “I thank you, sir” out after several attempts. With her sitting at the middle of the table now, and Hortensio at the end, Petruchio kept her distracted for a short time while Hortensio shoved most of the chicken in his napkin and wolfed down the rest.

The table was removed quickly to leave room for the tailor and his goods. Grumio was the model for the dress this time; I couldn’t see the ripping of the sleeve as he was behind the pillar, but the overall effect was clear. The tailor left with the remains of the dress, and Kate was lying on the stage, eyes closed as if asleep. Petruchio noted this and tested her with his reference to the time. Ever alert for a quarrel, she opened her eyes and put him straight, but to no avail.

The scene where Tranio introduced the pedant to Baptista was very funny, with the pedant having difficulty remembering his lines and being prompted by Tranio, Lucentio and Biondello behind Baptista’s back. With Baptista satisfied, and the rest heading off to continue their business privately, Biondello had the usual amount of trouble getting Lucentio to take the hint – Bianca, church, parson; how difficult is it?

Petruchio, Hortensio, Grumio, Kate and two or three other servants came trekking on to the stage, singing a farming list song. They’d obviously been singing it for some time on their journey, as it had quite a few animals on the list already – cow, sheep, etc. As they went up the steps below us, Kate was clinging on to people in the audience, and for her turn she came up with ‘pig’. They had some trouble getting the right pig noise out of her, and then Petruchio started on his moonshine nonsense. The servants who were ahead of them had reached the far steps and stopped for a rest; when Petruchio decided to return to his house, one of them came back while the other actually kept going! Don’t know what happened there. Finally Kate decided to stop arguing, and went along with whatever Petruchio said.

The real Vincentio came along, and Kate began to enjoy herself. She checked with Petruchio that it was indeed the sun that had bedazzled her eyes, and Vincentio joined in nicely by addressing Kate as “Fair sir” and Petruchio as “my merry mistress”, which was taken in good part. I did spot the plot discrepancy in this scene, when Petruchio tells Vincentio that his son is to be married to Kate’s sister and Hortensio confirms it – hasn’t he just agreed with ‘Lucentio’ that they will both shun Bianca? But perhaps a message reached them that we’re unaware of, and Hortensio has got over ‘Lucentio’s’ apparent betrayal of their agreement. (Shows how clearly the story was being told, mind you.)

Their arrival at ‘Lucentio’s’ lodgings was good fun, and although I missed some of it behind the pillars, I got the gist. The pretend Vincentio was wonderfully drunk as he leaned over the parapet to inform the real Vincentio that ‘Lucentio’ needed no money from a stranger, as long as his ‘father’ was here. The reactions of Biondello and Tranio were very enjoyable, and Petruchio and Kate withdrew to the bottom of the ramp to watch the fun. The revelations concluded, off they trooped to the feast, except Kate, Petruchio and Grumio. When Kate finally agreed to the kiss, she and Petruchio were about to indulge themselves on the top of the ramp when they noticed Grumio peering at them. They waved him away, and he slunk off to the stairs near us, where he craftily took a mirror out of his pouch, polished it and used it to check up on the loving couple, who by now were well into a serious snog. The audience responded warmly, both to the kiss and to Grumio’s sneaky trick with the mirror. Kate and Petruchio paused for breath (eventually) and left for the feast themselves.

The servants took a few moments to set up the stage with chairs, cushions and chandeliers, and for the first time I was aware that this is Lucentio’s apartments we’re visiting; it’s usually shown as Baptista’s place. One of the servants sat on one of the chairs and it broke! They brought a replacement, so all was well, and with the cast changed into their posh frocks, the final scene began. Kate and Petruchio lounged on cushions near the front of the stage, Hortensio’s widow was on a chair on the far side, while Bianca and Lucentio, as far as I can remember, were on the cushions on the far side. The banter was well done, and the ladies withdrew up the stairs and through the curtain. When the bet was proposed, the servants cleared the chairs and cushions but put a table in the middle of the stage for the money (and drinks). Biondello went through the curtains for the first summons, and while they waited for him they did the speeding-up clapping. He reappeared on the balcony, Bianca-less, and was sent back again for the widow. Again the clapping, again no widow. For Kate’s summoning, the men took no interest, thinking she wouldn’t come, but she was through those curtains like a shot. She held a brief pause, for the men to realise she’d actually turned up, before asking “What is your will, sir, that you send for me?” I always think that Kate must realise there’s something going on – the widow has spotted the same thing – and she’s probably prepared for the call before it arrives. The men were suitably amazed.

She brought the other women out, and we were at the last hurdle. Kate went into the speech promptly this time, and her delivery suggested a woman who was now at ease with herself and the overt position she has in society. She wasn’t downtrodden, she had simply broken free from her old ways of thinking, and her statement of wifely duty was quite straightforward. When she mentioned a husband being “thy lord, thy life” etc., she was looking at the widow, and Hortensio, who was standing beside his new wife, looked a little sheepish at first but then straightened himself up, as if remembering that he was supposed to be all the things that Kate was saying. And although it wasn’t emphasised as such, I noticed that Kate recommends obedience to “his honest will”, implying that there’s no duty to obey a husband’s every whim, but only those directions that are reasonable. Of course, it’s not so easy to handle the comments about women being all soft and cuddly and unsuited to toil when most of us have to go out and work nowadays, nor do those lines apply to the working women of Shakespeare’s time, but the use of Elizabethan costumes did at least allow us to shift perspective at this point and see those lines as part of that culture rather than ours.

The final act, putting her hand on the ground for Petruchio to stand on, was done with great loving, and I sensed an anxiety in the audience (including me) as to what Petruchio would do. He walked over to her slowly, and as he stepped in front of her he knelt down, took her hand up and kissed it, then embraced her with the line “ Why, there’s a wench!” It was a lovely moment, and suggested they would have a happy life together. With no need to go back to the Sly subplot, they could now go into the dance, and we clapped along, very happy with our afternoon. I left the theatre feeling elated, not something that usually happens with this play, and I would happily recommend this production to anyone.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – May 2012

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Dominic Hill

Venue: Citizens Theatre

Date: Wednesday 9th May 2012

I’d seen some great productions at the Citizens back in the 1970s, so I was really keen to visit it again; something of a nostalgia fest for me. I reckon that’s why Steve and I rated this performance differently, which doesn’t often happen. He gave it 7/10, while I was much happier with a 9/10 rating.

We couldn’t see all of the stage from the start, but I’ll describe it all now – saves time later on. At the beginning, there were steps leading up to the stage centre front, and there was a transparent curtain of plastic strips right across the stage near the front. The lights from the auditorium created a pattern of glowing waves on this curtain. I could just about see that behind it was a table with chairs, and that was all.

Once the action started, the central section of the stage became clearer. With a girder delineating each corner, the centre of the stage held various items of furniture, from the opening dinner table complete with fancy chandelier, through various other chair and table combos, then wheelchairs, a bed, a shopping trolley, piles of rubbish, etc., as well as occasionally being vacant. Behind this central section was a wall of high glass panels. Lurking figures could be seen through this, the homeless folk who inhabited the world outside the confines of the play. Pianos were everywhere, and provided the music and sound effects throughout, sometimes played in the usual fashion, and sometimes the strings were exposed and played directly, giving lots of crashing discords. The overall colour scheme was murky grey, but despite the apparent drabness the performance was full of life (till the end and all those dead bodies, of course). The costumes were modern, with occasional hints of historical peasant garb.

They started this production with a homeless person slamming the trapdoor open at the front of the stage. Then several of the dispossessed clambered out and gathered in front of the curtain, gazing through it at the dinner party on the other side. This was frozen to begin with, but then one of the homeless chaps removed his anorak and moved through the curtain to join the party, just as there was a burst of laughter from the table; he carried the piece of paper that was the map. The other homeless folk snuck off, though they were visible during the play at the sides and back. The characters at the table included Goneril, Albany, Regan and Cornwall, while Kent and Gloucester were sitting on the near side of the table. Ditching the usual opening about which of the Dukes Lear prefers (tactless in this situation), they went straight into Gloucester introducing Edmund to Kent. The others joined in the ribald laughter at Gloucester’s story, apart from Kent and also Albany, who looked askance at this social indiscretion. Edmund was civil and obliging as usual, but was clearly put out by his father’s announcement that he would be sent away again!

Lear arrived with Cordelia, who took her seat on the near side of the table as well, possibly in Gloucester’s vacated chair. As Lear presented the challenge to his daughters to profess the depth of their love for him, he seemed to be making it up off the cuff, and amidst the surprise Regan reacted by laughing out loud. When Goneril started her speech, she clearly thought that stating the matter was beyond words would be sufficient, and when she realised she was wrong she moved pretty quickly into flattery mode, trotting out the flowery lines like an old pro. Already middle-aged, she’d had plenty of time to practice the ‘oily art’ over the years. Cornwall stood up to watch closely what portion Goneril was being given – obviously keen to get as big a prize as he could from this little game show.

Regan had had time to prepare, of course, so she heaped the praises on with a fork lift truck. Goneril didn’t look too upset at being upstaged, but Cordelia was deeply troubled. I didn’t spot Kent’s reactions at this point, but I suspect he wasn’t keen on Lear’s little game. Regan was given her portion – Cornwall on his feet again, and apparently happy with his wife’s winnings – and then Cordelia had to go and spoil it all. She spoke from her heart, and I noticed Kent was nodding a little, making it clear he agreed with her completely, and setting the scene for his coming outburst. Lear tore the map in two and handed one part each to Albany and Cornwall at the appropriate moment, and I think he was standing on the table when he sent Kent packing. When Gloucester came on to introduce the French king and Burgundy, his confident announcement trailed off with surprise when he realised something strange had happened since he left the room earlier.

For this section, Lear sat behind the table, his beady eyes fixed on the action. When Burgundy refused Cordelia, Lear seemed grimly satisfied that his judgement was being effective against her. He wasn’t so pleased with the King of France for speaking up on Cordelia’s behalf, and his eyes were narrow slits when France declared Cordelia his queen. Lear left with Burgundy, and France had almost left the stage with Cordelia before he paused and told her to say farewell to her sisters, who were still sitting at the table. With their departure, Goneril and Regan had their little chat, and I noticed that Goneril not only appeared more confident than Regan, she was also quick to adopt the royal ‘we’ in her speech, while Regan had yet to realise her new position.

The servants cleared the table and chairs away during that last bit of the scene, and so they soon had the furniture set up for Gloucester’s house – a sofa and not much else. There was an overlap with the previous scene during the clearing; as Goneril strolled off stage she cast an approving eye on Edmund, who came on wearing a grey tracksuit and laid on the ground near the front the stage. After Goneril left and the changes were complete, Edgar came on and sat on the sofa to read the paper and drink his can of beer. I liked this staging; again it got across the domestic nature of the relationships, and increased the risk factor of Gloucester and Edgar finding out Edmund’s trick before it had a chance to work. It also had the benefit of telling us who Edgar is, which is handy when he’s hardly on stage at all before he appears, disguised, as Poor Tom. Edmund’s diatribe against the social exclusion of bastards was more obviously a soliloquy with Edgar being present, and he handled it pretty well. He also spotted the useful quality of the word ‘legitimate’ and added it to the letter he’d prepared earlier.

After Edgar had gone off, presumably to get some more beer, Gloucester arrived carrying a bottle of whisky and a glass, and taking liberal helpings. He sat on the sofa to read the letter he took from Edmund, while Edmund played the concerned brother very well. After Gloucester’s departure, he worked the same trick on Edgar as they sat on the sofa together, and all was set for this strand of knavery.

Back with the dining table and chairs, Goneril gave her instructions to Oswald and then Kent turned up, hair no longer slicked down and without his glasses. From a fairly posh English accent, he chose to move to a broader Glasgow one, and he was ready to offer his service when Lear arrived, carried on the shoulders of one of his followers.

The attendant lords were a lewd bunch, each one equipped with his own doxy; Kent/Caius was a model of good behaviour by comparison. With plenty of support from acting and music students, the production could at least put lots of bodies on the stage, and these scenes benefitted from the numbers. The confrontation with Oswald was fine, and then the fool arrived. With a whitened face and a cap, this fool was dressed like a mime, and walked with one foot twisted inwards, creating a sense of disability. He also used the piano at the side of stage a lot to accompany his singing in this scene, although it wasn’t the most tuneful version I’ve ever heard. The lines came across well enough though, which is the main thing. I don’t remember any reaction from Lear on the ‘Nothing can be made out of nothing’ line, and Lear himself stood in for the bitter fool this time.

The confrontation with Goneril went badly, as usual, with her reproaches seeming reasonable in the circumstances, and Lear starting to move into madness through his obsessive belief that his daughters owed everything to him. He threw some chairs around before storming off, and the stress he was under came out more in the following scene while he waited with the fool for the horses to be ready.

Curran was included in this production at the start of Edmund’s next scene, and soon Edgar was on the run. Gloucester almost collapsed at the ‘realisation’ that his own son wanted him dead (silly man), and then Cornwall and Regan arrived to ask Gloucester for his advice. Kent’s altercation with Oswald was very good fun; perhaps it was the Scottish accent, but the insults were so well delivered that I heard every one, and the audience finally had a chance to laugh out loud. As I recall, Kent was using a golf club which Gloucester had left leaning against the bench, threatening Oswald with the handle end.

After the ‘combatants’ had been parted, Kent really put his foot in it with the insults to the assembled nobles. I was very aware that Kent was echoing Lear’s behaviour, acting as if he were still entitled to the benefits of his rank even though he’d been exiled and was in disguise. His look of panic as he realised he would be put in the stocks seemed to be partly for himself and partly for the insult to the king; like Lear he had still to learn the new political reality. Gloucester was also disturbed by this proceeding, and his reactions were clear throughout these scenes, not just during his lines. Kent was chained to the bench, and read his letter by moonlight. This done, the lights were lowered on the centre of the stage so that Edgar’s scene could take place near the front, using the same trapdoor that opened the play.

We both found this Edgar a bit strange. His accent was unclear, a strange mix from nowhere in particular – was this deliberate? His delivery was also a bit wimpish, and although I heard most of the lines OK, I wasn’t convinced by the performance that this Edgar would make a good king. Mind you, the way they ended the play suggested a different take, but I’ll deal with that when I get there. At least he established the disguise he was taking on – it’s easy to forget that not everyone knows the story – and there were some background sounds to suggest that people were out searching for him.

Back with Kent, the fool and Lear arrived, and again there was some humour in their exchange, with Lear refusing to believe that Regan would have put his man in the stocks and Kent assuring him she did – almost like pantomime. As the scene developed, I noticed that after Cornwall’s admission that he had Kent put in the stocks, Regan deliberately took over the conversation again, suggesting that like her sister she had come to realise the strength of her position, and that dealing with the king was her business, not her husband’s. After Goneril arrived and the greetings were done, the sisters stood at the front of the stage, one on either side, and tacitly negotiated the final transfer of power from Lear to them. Goneril had a slightly quizzical look when Regan started the process of bidding Lear down – what’s she up to here? – then the declaration of ‘but five and twenty’ made it clear, and a silent pact was made. Like two lionesses bringing down a rampant wildebeest, they held each other’s gaze and were steadfast in their demands while Lear raged impotently at his treatment.

With the storm starting, and Lear heading off into the wilds of Gloucestershire, the glass curtain at the back was raised, and several shadowy figures became visible lurking round the stage. This emphasised for me the world that Lear was entering; not so much the madness aspect but the dispossessed, the naked, those without shelter. And of course there’s a lot of mental illness amongst those sleeping rough, an appropriate connection to make between the play and the present day. Lear’s long rant was clear enough, bringing out the emphasis on ingratitude and his increased awareness of the suffering of the poor. The fool’s prophecy was cut, and we were soon through the discovery of Poor Tom, who stayed well clear of Gloucester when he turned up. The short scenes between Edmund and Gloucester and Edmund and Cornwall were fine, and for the arraignment scene there was a shopping trolley and a mattress, as well as a stool or two, although Goneril wasn’t a joint-stool this time (forget what was used instead). Before he went to bed, Lear actually smashed the fool’s head against one of the stools, giving him a bloody wound, and by the end of the scene the fool had clearly died. When Gloucester arrived to warn them to leave, they put Lear into the shopping trolley and wheeled him off, leaving the fool’s body there. Interval.

The second half started with the blinding scene, of course, and Regan was again much too keen on the unpleasant stuff. She even used one of her stilettos to remove the second eye – eugh! She did at least help Cornwall off after he was injured – some Regan’s don’t – and then we got a chance to see someone being helped on to the stage, as Gloucester was brought on by a servant and met his disguised son. Edgar’s emotional reactions were clear, and they were soon off to Dover.

The scenes come thick and fast now. Goneril had a good snog with Edmund before he left – no reaction from Oswald this time. Albany was a much stronger presence in this scene than usual, and very unhappy with Goneril’s actions. She was equally unhappy with him – I think she threw her handbag at him, or did he grab it off her? – so I don’t see much future in that relationship.

I think the next scene was Regan and Oswald – not the Kent scene, and possibly not Cordelia’s either – and although Regan had delved into her extensive wardrobe for a black ensemble, she was clearly preparing for another wedding, to Edmund this time. Oswald’s reluctance to show her Goneril’s letter to Edmund was not easily overcome, despite Regan’s rather crude attempt to offer sexual favours.

Back at Dover, Edmund helped his father up the steep slope to the top of the cliff, etc. I realised later that this is possibly the only scene in Shakespeare’s plays where the description of the location is actually wrong, and yet it’s so good that I find it hard to remember where we are, and it’s often a surprise when Lear comes wandering along the ‘beach’. Here the conversation between Lear and Gloucester was good, though not the best I’ve heard, and the attendants when they arrived were all women and all in white coats. Lear ran off, Edgar fought Oswald and took his letter, and then Lear was brought on in a wheelchair for the reunion with Cordelia. For some reason there was a young woman, one of the homeless, also in a wheelchair at the back and apparently being cared for by the women in white coats; don’t have a clue what it meant, but at least it didn’t get in the  way. The Cordelia/Lear reunion was quite touching, and then we were back with Regan and Edmund for the battle preparations. Edmund’s explanation of his dilemma over the sisters was another opportunity for humour, not really responded to this time which was a shame, as that was the last comfort break before unremitting doom and gloom set in.

The battle lost, Lear and Cordelia were taken away to prison. Regan showed symptoms of poisoning soon after her arrival on stage, Edgar was nearly beaten by Edmund in the duel but managed to keep going and eventually won the fight, and the messenger sent to the prison had hardly run off the first time before Lear arrived on stage with Cordelia’s body, crying ‘howl, howl, howl’. With Lear dead, Kent not only took out a gun while saying his final lines, he also sat in the chair, put the gun in his mouth and fired immediately after he’d finished speaking, as abrupt an end to this character as I’ve ever seen, though other productions have pointed in this direction. After Edgar’s closing lines, he and a group of the homeless folk joined up in a band and walked to the front of the stage, suggesting that the have nots are now taking over the country, and that Edgar’s time as Poor Tom has taught him the lessons that Lear never learned until it was too late. It was a different, and almost a downbeat ending (Lear? Downbeat? Surely not!) without the sense of goodness surviving through the difficulties and some sort of order being restored. This ending suggested a tearing down of the old ways and an almost hostile takeover of society by those who have no investment in the previous regime. It’s an interesting parallel with current events, and one I have some sympathy with, although I’m not sure the play fully supports this reading. Still, I enjoyed this evening enormously, and despite some flaws, the story was told very well with some strong individual performances. I’ll be keen to come back here again for future productions.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Albion Band – March 2012

9/10

Worthing Assembly Hall

Friday 9th March 2012

This was an excellent set from a completely new incarnation of this folk band. Quite a lot of Worthing people seemed to think they had something better to do this Friday evening – their loss. The lineup boasted an impressive array of talent, including Blair Dunlop, son of the original founder Ashley Hutchings, Katriona Gilmore, Gavin Davenport, Tim Yates, Benjamin Trott and Tom Wright. They filled the hall with a great sound – there were the usual balance problems with the first couple of numbers, but by the third they were well into their stride and created a great atmosphere despite the small audience. Their humour shone through in the introductions, which were shared among the band, and even in the rock musician poses they struck occasionally.

Tom, the drummer, was also the band historian, telling us about the songs from their back catalogue, most of which the band had never sung before, and some of those on stage hadn’t even been born when the band recorded them – bit like watching an episode of Doctor Who at times! But it did give them a wide repertoire to choose from, and tonight’s set included all the tracks on the new album, The Vice Of The People, beginning with Roll Over Vaughan Williams, a Richard Thompson song There was lots of heavy guitar, so I couldn’t hear the words very well. The second number was Coalville by Katriona Gilmore, a lovely song about young people leaving the old industrial places.

This was a good start, and the rest of the album followed pretty much in order, with some additional numbers from earlier incarnations. They included Faces on the album, a Nik Kershaw number, and I wondered if this was a new trend? June Tabor and the Oysterband also included a Nik Kershaw number in their recent set at Chichester; they’re great songs, though both Steve and I reckon the folk versions are much better than the originals. There were a couple of songs based on nursery rhymes, written by Gavin Davenport – Thieves Song and How Many Miles To Babylon? – and with the other original numbers this band looks like it can make a major contribution to folk music for many years to come.

Thankfully there were no injuries after their daredevil leaps from the stage at the end of the first half, so we were treated to an excellent second half, finishing off the album with a few extra songs as well. I liked them all, and my subconscious especially liked Adieu To Old England, which I can’t stop humming! One More Day was easy to sing along to, which is probably why they chose it as the audience participation number, and I think Wake a Little Wiser was the encore.

It was a great show, and we’ll look out for this band again. (And those of us at the gig were able to buy the album pre-release – yay!)

Check out the website: http://www.thealbionband.com/

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Romeo And Juliet – February 2012

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Robert Icke

Company: Headlong

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 24th February 2012

This was superb, one of the best productions of R&J I’ve seen. And as it’s still early in the tour, there’s the chance it will get even better.

From early on, I realised this was going to be a very different version of the play than I was used to, so I had to set aside all previous knowledge and just flow with the action on stage. And there was plenty of fast-paced action in this production, which made it easy both to follow the story and to forget what was ‘supposed’ to come next. To start with, the set was bare apart from a large white frame high up towards the back of the stage. Once the lights came up a bit I could see that this surrounded a platform, which I thought would be the balcony later on. Steps led up to this platform on either side, and there was a wide doorway underneath the platform with meshed areas either side. The floor was simple wooden boards, and the bed was slid on through the doorway as needed. This allowed for fast-paced changes of scene, and as they often ran two scenes at the same time, we got through a much edited version of the play in two and three-quarter hours. Nothing was skimped, however, although I did feel the ending was a little brief for the emotional rollercoaster ride to fully sink in. Even so, it was an amazing journey, and one I hope to repeat (if we can fit it in).

No prologue, just a droning sound before the start – I was very relieved when it stopped (reminded me of Therese Raquin at the National) – and then the lights came on very brightly and the time was projected onto the screen in front of the platform: Sunday, just before 5 a.m., and we saw the seconds count through. Two characters came on from the wings and crossed to the right of the stage; one of them was lighting a cigarette. Two other characters crossed the opposite way and left the stage, with the two groups barely acknowledging each other. Then we had the first of the rewind/repeat sections. The actors all moved back into their start positions, pretty much, the time went back to the start point, and the action began again. This time, the lighter wouldn’t work and when he tried to light his cigarette, the chap hurt his thumb which he then sucked. He’d already made a noise from the pain, and that caused the other two blokes to look round. When one of them saw the lighter chap suck his thumb, he asked the question, “Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?”, a reasonable request in the circumstances. Thumb-sucker was very conciliatory during this bit, but his companion was well up for it, and then Benvolio and Tybalt joined in – well, it’s not going to end happily, is it? Tybalt spat on his chips and offered one to Benvolio, who ate it, just to avoid a nasty scene. Then the bed came on in the middle, with Capulet and Lady Capulet on board. Capulet received a phone call, clearly to tell him of the fight, and he leapt out of bed a little too briskly for a man of his advanced years, calling for his sword. Mrs Capulet also got up – we may have got her line about “a crutch” – and then the prince was making a chunk of his speech condemning the violence, standing on the platform at a podium bristling with microphones.

At this point, the order of events was very different from the text, and the cross-cutting of scenes is a little tricky to recall; I’ll do my best to get it down. I think the next bit was a short chunk of the scene where Capulet invites Paris to his feast and gives Peter some letters to deliver. The time was being shown on the screen again, and after making a brief invitation to Paris, Capulet called for a servant. Peter and the nurse both came on stage and Capulet handed the letters to the nurse, or she took them, I’m not sure exactly how it went. They left the stage, and then we had the second rewind/repeat section; this time the letters went to Peter, with a puzzled look from the nurse (presumably she knows that Peter can’t read) and the action continued.

I wasn’t sure at first about these rewind sections, but I kept an open mind and now I can see that they bring out the chance nature of the tragedy. If the lighter had worked, if the nurse had taken the letters, if, if, if. The first rewind may not have made a huge difference, admittedly, but it did show us the level of hostility between the two camps and how some little perceived slight can set them off, which is a very important aspect of the play to establish early on.

I think the next bit was Romeo either coming on stage and lying on the bed or the bed coming back on with him on it, having been taken off sometime before. He may have lain there through the letter bit, but he was certainly there while his father talked about how withdrawn he was, and the picture on the stage was a clear demonstration of Montague’s words. Benvolio also reported the events of the fight up on the platform, as if he’d followed on from the prince’s speech. Whatever the order of events, Romeo got up just before Benvolio arrived and they went straight into discussing Romeo’s sadness. I had a few brief seconds of fame again tonight, as I was the unlucky comparison with Rosaline.

Peter came on next and told us of his plight. He did ask someone in the audience for help reading the letters, through mime, but no luck. Romeo offered to help, and looked through each envelope, telling Peter the names, while he tried to remember them by counting on his fingers. When Romeo got to the one for Rosaline, he reacted strongly, letting Benvolio know who his love was. As Peter left to make the deliveries, Benvolio snuck the Rosaline invite out of his back pocket and waved it under Romeo’s nose as they finished the scene.

Juliet was next on the bed; she was listening to her iPod, wearing large headphones. We could hear the music blaring out, and it was no wonder she didn’t hear the nurse call at first. When she realised her mother was coming to see her, she stopped the music and took the headphones off, and from Lady Capulet’s behaviour, it was clear that mother and daughter hadn’t spent a lot of time together over the years. The nurse was in the room at first, folding some laundry, but Lady Capulet sent her out. Then she sat on the bed to talk to Juliet, but the distance between them was too much for her and she didn’t know how to start, at least that’s how I saw the situation. I felt she called the nurse back in to help her find some way to broach the subject of marriage, and despite the nurse’s ramblings, she did at least bring up that very subject.

It was very noticeable how different Juliet was with the nurse compared to her mother. Her mother was distant and uncomfortable with her; the nurse was very relaxed and cuddlesome with Juliet, and the funny story, apart from being very well told, had Juliet joining in for her bit – this was clearly a well-worn tale which Juliet liked to hear. The nurse used a West Indian accent when quoting her husband’s words, which gave it a more authentic feel. During the final repetition, Juliet saw from her mother’s expression that they’d overdone it, and her request to the nurse to “stint” was a wise choice. What Juliet wasn’t keen to hear was talk of marriage, and although she said the right things to her mother, it was clear to us that she didn’t fancy becoming anyone’s wife just yet. Peter broke up the scene by telling them they were all wanted for the feast – the screen was showing Sunday at 7 p.m. or thereabouts (they actually used 24 hour notation).

Before this point, we had the rest of the scene where Capulet talked with Paris, but I’m not sure where exactly that was inserted. I do remember that when Lady Capulet was telling Juliet what a fine catch Paris was, the man himself walked through the back of the stage, coming on from the right and exiting by the centre doorway. His torso certainly looked splendid from where I was sitting, and if that was the only consideration I would have advised Juliet to snap him up immediately.

The torch/Queen Mab scene was played using actual torches – electric ones – and Benvolio and Romeo lit Mercutio’s face while he went through the details of Queen Mab’s attributes. I was aware during the party scene that Mercutio had actually been on the invitation list, and in this scene he had his visor up, while Benvolio and Romeo had theirs down. There was loud music playing in the background for most of this scene, although they did start off with some funky (and funny) dancing on the stage. The servants were running around with trays and wearing white DJs, and we also saw Lady Capulet and Tybalt up on the platform having a snog, so the relationship there was clear cut. Capulet’s cousin was brought on in a wheelchair, and although he was willing to get up, Capulet insisted that he sit. I noticed during their reminiscences that they talked of Lucentio’s marriage – as we’ve just seen Taming recently I wondered if that was an in-joke by Shakespeare, referring to his earlier play? And then we heard Petruchio mentioned later on..…the plot thickens.

After Tybalt had finished smooching with Lady Capulet, they both came downstairs, and Tybalt was very unhappy at Romeo’s presence. Capulet was firm with him, and even snippy by the end, but I didn’t see any awareness of Tybalt’s extra-curricular activities with his wife. Instead he seemed to want everyone to get on for the sake of having a good time, and his comment about Romeo’s good reputation suggested that he was less focused on revenge than is sometimes the case with this play. Capulet can often seem more concerned that nothing untoward is done in his house to spoil the fun, but later…… This was more a total ban on hurting someone who hasn’t done him any harm and who is generally reputed to be a decent young man, Montague or no.

Romeo’s chance encounter with Juliet didn’t happen at first. He was sitting on the front left corner of the stage, swigging from a bottle, while in the centre of the stage Capulet called for his daughter to be brought out and presented to Paris, who was done up in African tribal gear. Juliet was very reluctant, but Paris ignored this and embraced her. They then left the stage, and the rewind button went into action again. This time, one of the servants – Peter? – brought on a tray and crashed into Paris, spilling the contents, don’t know what they were. As they scattered, and Peter and the nurse picked some up, Juliet skipped out of the way towards the front of the stage and looking across it saw Romeo standing there, looking back at her; he’d been alerted by the noise of the spillage. Their eyes met, it was love at first sight, you know the deal. Their sonnet was spoken later at the front of the stage, and I reckoned they were both feeling their way through this first encounter. Their youth and inexperience came across clearly.

The party finished with Capulet very drunk and wanting everyone else to stay. I think someone whispered in his ear to point out that it was after two (the clock was showing us the time as well) and he looked at his watch before saying “Is it e’en so?” and saying goodnight to everyone. When Juliet asked the nurse to name the people as they were leaving, the latter pretended not to know who Romeo was at first, but when Juliet told her to run after him, she relented and told her – obviously too tired to walk far, never mind run.

The next scene was mainly Mercutio and Benvolio in front of the Capulet garden wall. Romeo leapt off the stage to begin with, which represented his escape into the garden, and the other two were left, much the worse for drink, sprawled on the stage and singing songs very loudly, as drunks tend to do at 3 a.m. when other people are trying to sleep. There were plenty of bawdy gestures as Mercutio attempted to conjure Romeo’s presence, but nothing too over the top (makes a pleasant change) and they soon left to go to bed. Romeo came back down the aisle he’d hidden on, and I got another surprise; the balcony scene wasn’t played out using the platform! The bed came back on with Juliet on it, and they played the scene that way. The stage isn’t very high in the Yvonne Arnaud, so Romeo could get onto it very easily, and this helped to move the scene along quickly. Juliet was lying on her front on the bed with her head on her hands, as remarked on by Romeo, and there was a lovely sensitivity to her performance. Romeo was still a bit gangly and uncoordinated which fitted his age, as they were playing them both very young this time.

The next scene had Friar Laurence giving a lecture on the medicinal properties of plants with the aid of slides which were projected onto the big screen. The friar snapped his fingers to have them changed, which mostly worked fine, but I think he had a bit of trouble with one of them (intentional, for laughs). He was carrying a folder with his notes, and his attitude of a teacher addressing a class was a nice bit of fun. They even rang a bell towards the end of his speech – fortunately no one left the classroom. He also held up a small phial of liquid when he mentioned “for this, being smelt..” – pay attention, cause it’s going to come back in later. When Romeo told the friar his news, he dropped his notes in surprise – got a good laugh – and he gave Romeo a strong telling off for his behaviour. I noticed that Romeo, like Juliet, joined in for some of the friar’s familiar lines, possibly “Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift”?

Now for the hangover scene. In similar vein to the famous RSC production many years ago which had the Ferrari on stage, there was a gelato seller with his trolley and a couple of chairs for Mercutio and Benvolio to rest on. I noticed that Mercutio wore blue suede shoes, and given the use of music in this production (I haven’t gone into detail yet) I half expected some Elvis before the night was out. But they didn’t make anything of it that I saw, so perhaps it was just a fashion statement this time. Romeo was livelier when he met them this time, and when the nurse turned up with Peter, she had clearly spent a good part of the morning taking advantage of the Verona sales – Peter was laden with carrier bags. Mercutio’s line about “a sail” became “a sale”, with the word written large across most of the bags.

This was the next rewind section. When the nurse and Romeo moved aside to converse, Peter turned his back, I think to light a fag, and Mercutio snuck over and rummaged in the bags, throwing the contents all over the place and brandishing a bra. This broke the conference up, and the nurse left without making the necessary arrangements with Romeo. So the action rewound, and this time although Mercutio threw some of the clothes about the place, he and Benvolio were chased off and the nurse was able to complete her business with Romeo. She took his offered money after an initial show of reluctance, and when she began with “Lord, Lord, when ‘twas a little prating thing” I thought we were going to get the whole weaning story again, but mercifully not.

Juliet came back on with the bed, and her impatience was absolutely typical of a teenager. The nurse did look tired when she turned up, but given the number of bags she’d accumulated, we could see why. The two of them sat on the end of the bed and had their little conversation. Juliet hit the nurse with a pillow at one point, which led to the comment about having an aching head, and she made Juliet rub her back (other side) before finally giving her the news she wanted. She also gave her a lovely cream or pale yellow dress with a veil to wear to her wedding, so she’d done more than shop for herself all morning.

The scene at Friar Laurence’s cell was brief, and I don’t remember if we got any of the lines at all. If we did, it was just the opening bit. The friar and Romeo stood on the platform and Juliet joined them there in her wedding dress before heading off for the marriage ceremony. This was a general point about this production; they preferred to show rather than tell, so a good deal of the dialogue was cut in favour of showing us the essential action, and on the whole I found it worked very well for me.

Back in the streets, and at the gelato stand Mercutio and Benvolio were still lounging around. Tybalt arrived with a couple of his men, and despite Mercutio’s aggression, Romeo spoke very amiably with him and Tybalt actually did look satisfied as he put away his knife and turned to go. Of course Mercutio couldn’t leave it at that, and squirted some raspberry sauce from the gelato stand on Tybalt’s head. He may also have added some sprinkles. While the others held him back, Romeo being right in front of him, Tybalt was able to stab Mercutio under Romeo’s arm before running off.

The usual lines from Mercutio about his wound were played very differently tonight. At first he fell down and seemed to be hurt, but then he got up and it was clear he had been joking with them. My mind was reeling a bit as I tried to figure out where we were going – was this going to be a rewind moment? Were they going to play it without Mercutio being killed? And then, amidst the joking, Mercutio took off his shirt and we could see the red stain under it, on his vest. Benvolio and Romeo saw it as well, of course, and their looks alerted Mercutio to his fate. This was an incredibly moving moment. We’d been shaken out of our complacency, and lulled into a humorous mood by Mercutio’s clowning, and now the fact of his death hit us like a bullet; I’m tearing up with the memory as I write – a superb bit of staging. Mercutio had a few final lines before Benvolio helped him off stage, and then Romeo was left alone to seek revenge on Tybalt. He had a knife which had been dropped during the earlier brawl, and used it on Tybalt who came back, unarmed. His body fell in the front left corner of the stage, and Romeo half knelt, half lay on it through the next section.

At this point the bed came on again with Juliet, and she launched into “Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds”. I found this incredibly emotional; with Tybalt’s body reminding us of Romeo’s impending banishment, her joyful anticipation of her wedding night was beautifully juxtaposed with the evidence of the violent social order which has doomed that very relationship from the start, and it emphasised the love/hate dichotomy of the play, which this production brought out to the full.

For the next part there were three scenes intercut, if memory serves. The prince announced Romeo’s banishment from the platform, Juliet on her bed received the bad news from the nurse, while Romeo was also on stage with the friar, seeking his help. They whirled around one another, with the two older characters trying to soothe the younger ones, until both Juliet and Romeo were standing side by side on the bed and the nurse and the friar were walking round it. It worked very well, and although we missed out on the nurse’s visit to the friar, the through story was very clear. The first half ended with Romeo and Juliet kissing, embracing, and starting to throw their clothes off as the bed was drawn back and the lights went out.

The second half began with the short scene between Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris. The bed had already been brought on below, and stayed in darkness while these characters were on the platform above. Again, they used the rewind feature with this scene; after Capulet had explained the situation, Paris took the huff, went behind the doorway to pick up his bag and left, after Lady Capulet’s two lines and a look from him that made her move out of the way. He didn’t come across as a nice man, this Paris, rather domineering and unpleasant. Then they redid the scene, with Capulet deciding at the last minute to make Juliet’s choice for her, much too late as it happened. With the time being shown so clearly throughout this production, the humour of Capulet’s change of day from Wednesday (too soon) to Thursday (just right) was emphasised, and we laughed. Lady Capulet looked unhappy about the match, and from Capulet’s behaviour later we got a good idea why. But now the action shifted to the bed below, with Romeo and Juliet waking up and discussing the time. They were decent when they got out of bed, thank goodness – nudity may be realistic, but it can distract from the main point of the scene – and Romeo left up the aisle as he had before.

Juliet was a changed girl when she stood up to her mother this time. She’d been very cooperative earlier when her mother paid her an unaccustomed visit to tell her about Paris, but now she threw quite a strop over the suggestion of marriage. But first they discussed Tybalt, and I got the impression that her mother wanted her to stop grieving because it was hard for her too, and either Juliet’s obvious suffering made her restraint harder to maintain or if she could suck it up, so could Juliet – not sure which it was. They did seem to be closer for a while at this point, although it’s only because Juliet was choosing her words carefully and therefore appeared to be in sympathy with her mother. Anyway, once the marriage deal was mentioned, the claws were out, and it’s up to Capulet to sort out the mess.

This portrayal, by Keith Bartlett, was marvellous. He managed to show us a man whose anger and need to control made him a monster, while still being a recognisable human being. Of course, it was the reactions of the nurse and Lady Capulet, along with Juliet, which really gave us the sense of this man’s effect on his family; they were terrified to step out of line, and kept glancing at him in that submissive way that told us how bad things were. Capulet spoke his lines slowly and clearly, with pauses between each few words, as if he was being ever so reasonable when all around him were acting like lunatics; the anger came across more strongly because of it.

At the friar’s cell, Paris was oozing confidence, and perhaps showed a little impatience with the friar when he questioned the speed of the marriage? When Juliet turned up, we could see that Paris was in the same mould as her father; he regarded her as a possession, and she would have been as miserable as her mother if she’d married him. The friar gave Juliet the same phial he had shown us earlier during his lecture, and with the clock showing a time around 7p.m. on Tuesday, Juliet returned to her father to apologise for her behaviour.

The pace really speeded up after this, with her father deciding to have the wedding a day earlier and Juliet taking her poison after her mother and the nurse left her alone. There was a tender moment when her mother came in to see if she could help with the preparations; she touched Juliet’s face so gently, and was clearly feeling more sympathy for her daughter than ever before. She was sad to be sent away this time.

Once Juliet drank off the phial, she sat back down on the bed, upright against the back with her eyes open, and then the weird effects started. They used projected video to show the preparations going on, but with the voices slowed down and accompanied by jerky images, as if Juliet were on some strange drug trip, which in a sense she was. These images covered the whole back of the stage, and then the nurse was sent in to wake Juliet. Her image loomed large on the screen, and we heard her lines as if they were far away. After the discovery of Juliet’s ‘death’, there were only a few lines of dialogue in the background, and then the bed was moved back (not even a sniff of the musicians) so that Romeo could appear in Mantua. Benvolio brought him the bad news, and then Romeo quickly bought the poison from the apothecary. This man was remarkably well dressed; he wore a smart grey suit and stood at the front of the stage on the left while Romeo stood on the right, and they made the gestures of passing the money and poison to each other without actually doing it. As Romeo was about to leave, he came face to face with Mercutio, as it seemed, but he turned out to be Friar John, the messenger who failed; these scenes were overlapped. Friar Laurence was suitably angry for once about the letter not being delivered, which brought out the importance of Romeo being informed of the situation.

The final scenes were kept very simple. No Paris arriving at the monument with flowers, no hidden servants, no friar arriving late, nothing but the bed with Juliet lying on it, crosswise this time. Romeo spoke several lines over Juliet’s body before drinking his poison, and as he cradled her, she started to move her arm. As he lay back, she was brought round to mirror his position, and so she woke up with Romeo dead beside her. His knife was lying on the bed, and she used that to stab herself, falling back so they lay dead together. After this, we went straight to the prince’s admonishment – “Where be these enemies” – followed by Capulet and Montague almost vying to honour the other’s offspring, then hugging. The prince’s final lines brought the performance to a conclusion, a more abrupt end than I was expecting, I must admit, but still it was a tremendous experience and one of the best versions of the play I’ve seen.

The performances were all excellent. I’ve already mentioned Keith Bartlett who played Capulet. He was crystal clear all the way through and was willing to show us the unpleasant side of this male-dominated society. He also got quite a few laughs with the funny stuff. Caroline Faber was superb as Lady Capulet. It’s such an underwritten part, yet she brought out so much of that character’s suffering through her expressions and her hesitations that I was much more aware of her story tonight. Her arranged marriage was unhappy so she took comfort from another relationship, and I think her inability to do anything to change her circumstances spoke volumes about the nature of that society.

Simon Coates was excellent as the friar with his authoritative manner, and Stephen Fewell was good as Montague and the apothecary. I didn’t realise who he was during the first scene; assuming they weren’t just giving him another part, it was Montague himself who asked about the thumb biting. I wasn’t sure about the lack of colour coding for this production; on the one hand it can make it more confusing knowing who’s who, but on the other it emphasises that these people aren’t actually different from each other, and only the long-standing feud separates them. Once I got to know the characters it wasn’t a problem, and given that they were using modern dress it would probably have been harder to colour coordinate, so on the whole I’m fine with this choice.

Daniel Boyd as Romeo was a bit gawky all the way through, which did fit with his youth but wasn’t the most effective style for delivering the lines. He did well enough though, and I appreciated the youthful aspects of the performance; it felt very fresh. Catrin Stewart was a very good Juliet, demure to begin with but toughening up later on in response to the changes in her world. Her delivery of the lines was very good, and her journey very clear. It’s always a difficult choice to make with these parts, whether to go for experience or youth, and this time it worked well. Some aspects weren’t brought out so much, but the sense of these two young people being destroyed by a combination of chance and the prejudices of their elders was very strong.

The nurse (Brigid Zengeni) was another great performance. In the early scenes she came across as more Juliet’s mother than Lady Capulet, and while the cuts made it harder to see the changes in this relationship, she was still an important presence. Paris (Tunji Lucas) and Tybalt (Okezie Morro) were also good in these small but important parts, and Steve was disappointed not to see Paris being killed in this version. Tom Mothersdale was a more unpleasant Mercutio than most, but gave us the lines pretty well, Danny Kirrane did a fine job as Benvolio, and David Hooke was an entertaining Peter.

The music was interesting. The fateful day of Tybalt and Mercutio’s death, and Romeo and Juliet’s marriage, is a Monday according to the chronology of the play; from the fight scene onwards they played a gentler version of I Don’t Like Mondays (no credits in the program) which fitted very well. There was disco music for the party scene, mostly in the background, and other good choices during the play, though I don’t remember the details now.

There was so much in this production that I’m hoping we can fit it in again so I can catch even more of the detail. My lasting impression is that it was all Mercutio’s fault – if he hadn’t insisted on fighting Tybalt…..

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – February 2012

9.5/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Andrew Hilton

Shakespeare At The Tobacco Factory

Venue: Tobacco Factory

Date: Friday 17th February 2012

I’m rating this at 9.5/10 tonight, it was so good. As we’re seeing this again, and there’s some room for it to come on, I want to leave the 10/10 rating, just in case.

The set at the start: a table covered with black cloth edged with gold tassels stood centre and left of the stage, with an hourglass seat or throne behind it to our left, and at that end of the table there was a gold coronet. At the other end of the table was a stool covered with cream brocade, also with complementary tassels. Behind this were two other stools in dark blue and red, on either side of the stage. The pillar nearest us had the hexagonal seat round it, and all the pillars were disguised as tree trunks (silver birch, from the look of it) with some stubby bits of branch projecting out higher up. Behind the throne was a black door with a corresponding gap in the seating.

To open the first scene a map was spread on the table, and someone was studying it – turned out to be Kent. Gloucester’s comment about the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany was very relevant in this context, and Kent rolled up the map before he responded, holding it in his hand. Edmund came on and stood on the other side of the table; while Gloucester introduced him to Kent his expression gave away his discomfort at the story of his birth, though he put a sycophantic smile on his face when necessary. When he was told who Kent was, his desire to serve him may have been genuine – it was hard to tell – but I certainly had the impression that Edmund was a young man determined to climb the greasy pole by any available means.

When the court arrived, Goneril and Regan came through first with their husbands, and took their places by the stools – red for Goneril, blue for Regan. After them came Lear and a servant who sat to one side and wrote everything down – he had a small writing desk with him. There was a pause while Lear waited for Cordelia, who finally came skipping on with a girlish giggle. Lear led her round to the central stool and sat her down, then stood behind her placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her hair, very tenderly. Then he moved round to the throne and as he made to sit down he gestured to the other daughters to sit, a huge difference in attitude.

Goneril drew the short straw in having to go first in praising her father; her speech was rather stumbling as she groped her way to find suitable phrases and comparisons to please the king. I couldn’t see Regan’s reaction to this as she was sitting on our side of the stage with Cornwall standing behind her. When Lear showed Goneril the extent of her new realm, she looked very pleased.

Regan was more assured on her turn – she’d had some time to prepare – and I got the impression this was some kind of family game, with neither of the elder sisters taking it seriously. Goneril didn’t look at all put out when Regan topped her efforts, and the laughter at what Cordelia was saying sounded almost genuine. Cordelia gave us her asides from the stool and her lines were delivered very strongly, although she looked very young compared to her sisters. This was a forthright Cordelia who spoke her mind, and when she pleaded with Lear to exonerate her of any serious wrongdoing when France and Burgundy were present, I found her description of her ‘offence’ much clearer than before, which meant that France’s recognition of it made more sense. I felt she and France were well matched, as he obviously appreciated her for herself, and this contrasted well with Goneril’s marriage – she’s married to an older man and it’s clearly an arranged match. Burgundy was using a cane and limping a bit during this scene, and also as the Herald later; hopefully he’ll be recovered when we see this next – it’s a dangerous life being a fight director.

Lear’s response to Cordelia’s “nothing” was quite gentle at first – he just couldn’t believe she wouldn’t join in the game. This was where the rest of the family were laughing as well. After a bit, though, the rage came out, and the others moved quickly to get out of Lear’s way as he threw his tantrum. Kent’s interjection didn’t help matters, and soon everyone was leaving, in different directions. Regan seemed much more relaxed about their father’s behaviour than Goneril, whose “We must do something, and i’ th’ heat” became quite desperate at the end.

After they had all left, Edmund came back on and made good use of the writing desk while the servants cleared the stage. They took the cover off the table, the covers off the three stools, and the throne went as well. During this time, Edmund was penning the very letter that would cause all the problems in his family. He made as if to scrunch it up and throw it away, but kept it and then launched into his diatribe against primogeniture. When he used the word ‘legitimate’, he recognised how good it was and went over to the writing desk to add it into the letter. I could see the messy nature of the writing from where I sat – he did wave the letter around a bit – and so I was very pleased when Gloucester came to read it that he had to look hard to get some of the words. ‘Legitimate’ had clearly been added, and that was one of the ones he had to peer at a bit. Again, Gloucester’s first response was sadness and grief at being deceived, but then his anger took over.

Edgar came on eating a pear while Edmund sat on the pillar seat near us to do his groaning – nothing else to report for this bit. The set was then changed to a table and two stools, one at either end of the table, with red covers – we were in Goneril territory. After the king arrived, Kent was brought on and laid on the floor, face down. He said most of his lines there too, until the “authority” bit. When Goneril turned up to speak to Lear, Oswald went past them all and out of the door, carrying some papers; I realised this was the letter Goneril had been writing to Regan, a nice touch. Goneril seemed quite intimidated when she confronted Lear. One of Lear’s men was invading her space, looking menacing, and her speech was almost incomprehensible, never mind formal. When Lear cursed Goneril with Albany there too, I was aware that he was cursing Albany as well, in a sense, as he was wishing for neither of them to have children. Goneril was really shocked by this curse. The fool’s dialogue was clear, though I never felt I got much of his personality from this portrayal. I didn’t see much of him at times, as he lurked over on our side of the stage, off to our left.

After this scene, the table and stools were cleared, I think, and the stage was pretty open for most of the rest of the play. Edmund met Curran to hear about the arrival of the Duke of Cornwall, and then stage managed Edgar’s ‘escape’. When Regan and Cornwall arrived, I had the impression that they weren’t definitely villains at this point but that circumstances pushed them that way.

When Kent was waiting outside, he saw Oswald coming and lurked in the shadows to avoid being recognised. When he did come forward and Oswald recognised him, Oswald did his best to avoid drawing his sword, definitely a coward. Kent took off Oswald’s cloak and dropped it so that when Oswald bent to pick it up, he could tip up Oswald’s scabbard causing the sword to come out – drawn by default. That’s when Oswald called for help, and as soon as it arrived he started posing with the sword as if he was more than ready to fight – very funny. After the discussion involving the Duke of Cornwall, Kent was put into the stocks to our right. He didn’t read any letter by the light of the moon – he just laid back and slept for a bit.

When Goenril arrived, it seemed to me that the sisters hadn’t decided what to do about their father, but when Regan went for reducing Lear’s entourage to a mere 25, Goneril saw the opportunity, and then they both worked together, like lionesses, to close the trap. The remaining attendants – 1 lord and the disguised Kent – looked very unhappy during this discussion.

The scene where Lear meets Poor Tom was difficult to watch, especially as ‘Tom’ had bits of twig or some such stuck in his arm. Lear’s grasp of the nature of humanity at its simplest was well delivered, and this time Lear hardly got his trousers unbuttoned before Kent and the fool were on him to stop him taking his clothes off. He’d already thrown his coat and hat on the ground.

The shelter scene was set up using a small bench with a saddle on it, several cushions and a blanket. A lantern was hung up on one of the pillars. I reckoned the fool was suspicious of Edgar’s mad performance; he was looking at him intently all the time, up till the point where Lear was about to lie down and sleep, then he came over and sat by the king. Edgar was uncomfortable with the fool’s scrutiny, and very aware of it. When the three men were sitting on the bench together to arraign the sisters, I was also aware that two of them were in disguise, and therefore, in a sense, lying. The fool’s disappearance was just that – the scene in the shelter ended, with Lear, Kent and Gloucester heading off, leaving the fool and Edgar alone. The fool was holding the lantern, and simply blew it out – darkness. This was also where they took the interval.

The second half opened with the run up to the blinding scene – always a difficult one. This time, Gloucester was brought over to our corner and tied to a chair right by us. When Cornwall took out the first eye, he got a spatter of blood on his face; I thought at the end of the scene that this may have been done to get the shock and horror across to the audience behind the action – it worked! The servant drew his dagger, Cornwall drew his, and Goneril finished the servant off. There was more blood spatter with the second eye, and what looked like a small round object (nearly done now). I don’t know what the audience on the other side saw – yet! One more thing, Regan was again unnaturally excited by the sight of blood – I could see her becoming a total sociopath if she’d lived, getting her thrills from blood, torture and death.

The person who helped Gloucester after his blinding, and whom he asked to bring clothes for Poor Tom, was played by Eleanor Yates, doubling with Cordelia; it was a nice touch to have the two most caring people played by the same actress.

I was very moved by the scenes between Edgar and Gloucester. When Edgar came on talking about the benefits of having the worst happen to you, he looked very happy with life, all in all. This was when I thought he would make a good king with all he’s been through. When his father arrived, things changed, and I was moved to tears several times as their relationship developed. When Oswald found Gloucester, I was aware that he was only going to draw on him because he thought he was defenceless – the cowardice showing through again.

There wasn’t much laughter from this audience, and perhaps it wasn’t the funniest Lear we’ve seen, but there is a fair amount of humour and I felt this performance warranted more than it got. Edmund’s debate about which sister to have was an exception, though, as we laughed plenty.

Edmund had a real smirk on him when confronting Albany at the end, using the royal ‘we’ before he was fully entitled to it. The duel was good, with both brothers having a go. They clashed swords right by us, and the swords ended up lying on the hexagonal seat, with Edmund drawing his dagger and Edgar reduced to his wits. Goneril was excited by the prospect of Edmund winning – I reckon she was looking forward to her husband having to fight Edmund, so that Edmund could kill him ‘legitimately’.

When the messenger was sent off to rescue Lear and Cordelia, he ran off past us, but Lear brought Cordelia on through the doorway at the far end of the space. His “howl”s were strong, and directed round the room. Kent didn’t walk off at the end; he just knelt by Lear and Cordelia’s bodies, grieving. I had thought earlier in the second half that Edgar would make a better king for having suffered in the way he does, and at the end that impression was even stronger as he accepted the kingship role and spoke the closing lines. He had his back to me this time, so I’m keen to see it from the other side next time to confirm this impression.

Some other bits I noticed: Albany was much stronger than in most productions, really angry with Goneril after she returned from Gloucester’s place. Regan wore a very small black shawl after Cornwall’s death, but only for one scene – a short period of mourning for her. Kent’s ring – we saw him take it off and put it in his pocket when he was first in disguise. Then he took it out to give it to the other chap who was going to Dover. Finally Cordelia gave it back to him when they meet up before Lear was brought on, sleeping, in a wheelchair. When Goneril and Edmund were kissing, Oswald watched for a bit, but glanced away towards the end. There were no bodies brought on stage for once, and they finished early, at 11:10pm.

I love the way SATTF tell these stories so clearly, and without all the fancy designs that can clutter up other productions sometimes. I find I get very involved in the storytelling, and enjoy these performances enormously, even if there aren’t many visual tags for me to remember them by later on, e.g. the eye in the water tank, the sweep of gaudy costumes in the Russian style, etc. The text was a bespoke blend of quarto and folio, so we heard some lines we hadn’t heard before, including the Curran bit and also Edgar mentioning Kent’s visit to his father before he died; this was when he was talking to Albany about what he’s been up to after the duel. I wasn’t aware of missing anything though, apart from Kent not reading the letter while he was in the stocks.

The performances were all good, with some lovely details in each of the main characters. John Shrapnel’s Lear was an interesting portrayal. He wasn’t angry all the time, but he did have his rages, and he lost his reason believably and movingly. It was a really good evening, and I’m glad we’ve booked to see this again.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Measure For Measure – January 2012

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Roxana Silbert

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Friday 27th January 2012

Second time around, and we were seeing this performance from a completely different angle. This allowed us to catch up on some of the reactions we hadn’t seen before, but of course we still only getting a proportion of the performance. Even so, we could see areas which had come on for the practice, and the central characters and their relationships were still very clear.

The changes which I noticed: Pompey went into a lot more detail about the inhabitants of the prison, picking on lots of folk in the audience and involving all of us at the end, which was very funny. He made some comments about “it’s in the folio”, and “I can only work with what you give me”, lots of stuff like that. The Duke’s human lampshades were more demure on their second appearance when Angelo was there, folding their arms over their chests, and he snapped his fingers to get them off stage in a hurry when Isabella approached, obviously embarrassed. The third time around, they held their hands in a prayer posture in response to Angelo’s reference to praying, and they left of their own accord when Isabella was announced.

I found the arguments between Isabella and Angelo even clearer than last time, especially when he was trying to get her to understand his ‘proposition’; Isabella seemed less intense, but just as passionate. It was much clearer this time that the Provost knew what was going on once he’d read the Duke’s letter off stage. He was clearly in cahoots with the Duke during the final scene, beckoning Elbow over to his corner of the stage to stop him dragging the Duke/friar off to prison.

Things I forgot to mention before or which weren’t clear: in the early scene at the monastery, the Duke handed his hat, scarf and coat to the friar as if he were one of the Duke’s servants; the friar looked a bit bewildered, but still took them. Lucio was indeed at the brothel first time round. The interval came after the Duke’s second encounter with Lucio at the jail, after Pompey had been arrested and Lucio refused to bail him.

And of course the performance had moved on from the last time we saw it. I was aware this time how Escalus’s common sense judgement of Pompey, Froth and Elbow was being contrasted with Angelo’s absolute approach. In the final scene, Isabella was quite stunned to discover who the Duke was and took a while to adjust, although she was still taking in the other events that were going on and still chose very quickly to support Mariana’s plea for mercy. She took longer to accept the Duke’s offer of marriage at the end tonight, I thought, and she didn’t look as happy when she turned round at the end, before they started the dance, so she’s presumably doing this differently to when we saw it earlier. Otherwise, the performance was just as brilliant as before, and despite complaints from some that the darker aspects weren’t explored enough, I felt this was a very satisfying exploration of the play.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Written On The Heart – January 2012 (2)

9/10

By David Edgar

Directed by Greg Doran

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Wednesday 25th January 2012

This was a definite improvement on my experience of 20 days ago; not quite enough to warrant a 10/10 rating, but oh so close. There were three factors involved in this change: the first and most influential was our prior knowledge of the play, which meant we could follow the arguments better and appreciate the political exchanges as well as the personal stories. As we suspected, this play does benefit from some advance knowledge of the people and the situation. The second factor was the talk we’d had at the Winter School this afternoon, not only us but the entire group, of course. As a result we were a more responsive audience than before, and that naturally enhanced the experience for us. And finally there were almost certainly some improvements in the performance, but as we were in different seats, and given the effect of the other two factors, I have absolutely no idea what they were.

I did notice some things that I either missed last time around or got wrong. The Yorkshire rant about the constant changes to religious practices was done by the church warden, not the Lady of the manor. Before we visited Tyndale’s cell, there was a short scene at the back showing the priest being blessed by, I assume, the Pope; there was lots of singing and fancy dress. The second half started with the candles on the triangular chandeliers being lit by the choir, who then stood and sang for a bit before the play continued: again, the singing was a bit too dissonant for my taste, but I may have been warming to it. In the Yorkshire scene, I forgot to mention last time that the church warden came back into the church while the clerk and the chaplain were having their discussion, and lurked behind the screens to overhear them. We suspected later on that he may have been the one who betrayed the clerk to the authorities in revenge for his treatment of the windows, amongst other things.

I found the story much more moving this time, with plenty of sniffling opportunities along the way. I understood better the Bishop of Ely’s guilt at having been so harsh to the prisoners he visited, as represented by the Puritan clerk. That scene, of the prison visit, was played out in front of the Bishop, and I got the impression that Tyndale knew about it and forgave the man. The parallel with Tyndale’s own experience has only just become apparent to me; I claim the mercy of the court on account of my increasing years. Or senility. Or both.

The massive amount of exposition didn’t seem so clunky this time around, which helped, and the humour worked just as well if not better. I liked the way they went through some of the Biblical words and expressions that we use today, often disparaging them; ‘beautiful’ and ‘allegory’ are the only two I can remember off hand. It was not only amusing, but also a good way to link the story to the present. The maid’s rant at the end had less of an impact on me this time – may have been the angle we were seeing it from – and I could see in the Bishop of Ely’s discussion with her that he may well have been thinking of the Civil War to come, although I also take it as a reference to all future religious disputes based on rigidity and intolerance.

From today’s talk, I gathered that there were in fact only 47 translators involved in the work; I’m not sure where the 54 mentioned in the play came from, although Steve reckons that was the number they started with, but six years of translation took its toll. Very like.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry V – November 2011

9/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Edward Hall

Company: Propeller

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Thursday 10th November 2011

A typical Propeller production, this – lots of energy, good music, a clear telling of a trimmed down story, and some lovely touches in the performances. Even though it’s early in the tour, the performances were well established, and the whole evening was powerful and very enjoyable.

The set was very familiar – all of the metal framework from Richard III was in place, along with the balcony-on-wheels, but we didn’t get the plastic sheets or hospital trolleys this time. Instead there were large wooden boxes, a pair of wheelie steps and a couple of punching bags either side for the second half. They also brought on a bath for the first scene with Katherine, just after the interval – her maid had to sign for it – and there were thrones and chairs, etc. as needed.

The performance began with the cast all done up in modern military gear tramping through the auditorium, singing a song. Like a bunch of soldiers arriving at a temporary shelter, they sat around the stage having a well-earned break. Then one of them, given a crown out of one of the boxes, started the play’s opening chorus – ‘O for a muse of fire’ – and we were off. The cast shared the chorus work, which gave us all a chance to not only see each actor but hear his voice too. For the first scene, two of the soldiers put on clerical robes, and with still grimy faces gave us the conversation between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely. After this, I think there was a song to cover the cast changing the set slightly, and then Henry himself appeared for the first time. I hadn’t seen Dugald Bruce-Lockhart in the opening bit, and since he also disappeared off before the closing lines of the play, it made me think that the soldiers, who were enacting the play in their break between skirmishes, had invoked the ghost of King Henry, the epitome of the heroic military leader, to complete their cast.

The discussion with the clerics was quick and pretty much to the point, and with the defence of the kingdom sorted, we could settle down to watch the French ambassador. He was very haughty, wore a scarf so we would know he was French, and carried a wooden box, holding it high as he came in and stood in front of Henry. The king used the slighting ‘dolphin’ pronunciation, and was clearly goaded by the references to his wayward past. He managed to control himself, though, which was just as well, because the floor of the stage was soon covered in tennis balls – a few even escaped into the auditorium – and he could have given himself a nasty injury if he’d let his anger get the better of him.

However, before the balls arrived, the ambassador, emphasising the correct way to say ‘dauphin’, offered the wooden box to the king, claiming it contained ‘treasure’. Henry signalled his uncle to inspect the box, and as the actor playing Exeter is on the short side, there’s a lovely moment when the ambassador, realising that Exeter won’t be able to see into the box, lowered it down for him. Exeter took the box, and as he poured out the ‘treasure’, two big bins full of tennis balls were emptied from the balcony onto the stage. Henry was livid, and soon we were off to war with the French.

There was a brief attempt at ball-clearing during the next chorus bit, but plenty still remained on stage for the rest of the first half. As the chorus introduced them, we were shown the three traitors, and then the discovery of their plot. One of the three had a hip flask, into which a chorus member put several drops of a liquid, which we naturally assumed was poison. This flask was offered to the king, but Exeter, knowing of the plot, indicated that he shouldn’t drink it. The ‘commissions’ given to the three men were in manila folders, and their execution was swift and nicely staged. After Exeter arrested them, tearing off their epaulets in the process, they were taken up to the balcony area, made to kneel, and were then blindfolded. Meanwhile a wooden stump was brought on to the front of the stage, and a man wearing a black executioner’s mask came on with an axe. When all three were ready, he swung once at the block, burying the axe in it, while all three traitors slumped as one up above. After the gore-fest of Richard III, this was simpler and very effective. Henry snatched up the axe and held it while giving us the closing lines of the scene.

The next scene combined the two on either side of the traitors’ discovery, and started with London Calling and the shaking of many a beer can (they like it messy). The argument between Pistol and Nym was still pretty incomprehensible, as usual, and Mistress Quickly didn’t have much to say, while Falstaff was completely expunged, which is fair enough as he’s not really relevant to this play on its own. When Pistol left, he gave his Nell a red heart, which she treasured.

Now to France, and to inform us of the change of scene, the cast sang Chanson D’Amour – very entertaining, and some of the audience were joining in by this time. The French king, played by John Dougall, was a gloomy personality, not keen to do anything in haste, and the previous French experience at Crecy was clearly preying on his mind. The Dauphin was also clearly fed up with this old story, turning away from the king and mouthing ‘Crecy’ when he could see the subject coming up, yet again! The messenger who brought news of the English ambassadors spoke with a strong English regional accent (forget which one) and I remember him saying more lines than I have in my text – don’t know what happened there.

When Exeter turned up, he was accompanied by another soldier who stood on top of the wheelie steps holding a scroll which he unfurled at the appropriate moment. It was a long scroll, and all we could see was ‘Edward III’ in large letters at the top, and ‘Henry V’ in equally large letters at the bottom – the details were too faint to make out. When passing on Henry’s message to the Dauphin, Exeter marched over and stood nose to chin – the Dauphin was slightly taller – and delivered the speech right in his face. The French king was reluctant to commit himself at this point, while there was a strong reaction, from the Dauphin at least, to the news that Henry was already in France.

More chorus work, and the soldiers delivered a lot of the lines crouched behind a couple of wooden shields. The ‘Once more unto the breach’ speech was OK, and then Bardolph, Pistol, Nym and the boy were left behind in the rush for the battle. After Fluellen caught them, there was a pause moment – the other characters held their positions while the boy told us what villains and knaves his three masters were, slightly edited. The scene with the Scotsman, the Irishman and the Welshman (Fluellen) was completely cut, so we moved briskly on to the surrender of Harfleur.

For this, the main body of the English army was on stage, pointing several spotlights at the left hand balcony in the auditorium, where the Harfleur representative was standing. Henry talked at length about the dire consequences if the town didn’t surrender, but he’s really wasting his breath, as the hoped-for French relief hasn’t arrived, and the townsfolk have already decided to concede defeat.

With Harfleur won, Henry and his men headed off for some well-earned rest, and we got our break as well. But this time the cast were out in the foyer, standing on the stairs, entertaining us all with some songs and a plea for money. Apparently they raise money for charity on each tour, so the bucket soon came round. The songs were good fun – we joined in The Wild Rover and Sloop John B – and then they walked up the foyer stairs and down into the auditorium for the second half, still singing.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Katherine had been getting herself ready for the opening scene of the second half. Karl Davies, in an off-white negligee, was sitting in front of a mirror on the left of the stage. His face was white, and he was applying some more makeup while everyone else got settled for the restart. Actually, once the soldiers arrived, Katherine started flirting with them, even letting them take her picture – terrible sluts, these Propeller men. Her maid, Alice, was Exeter in drag, i.e. he wore a skirt instead of trousers, and still had his pencil moustache – quite a sight.  Alice signed for the bath when it was delivered centre stage, and then when the scene actually started, she checked the water temperature was acceptable for the princess, who got into her bath still dressed. The dialogue went pretty well; when Katherine attempts ‘neck’, she comes out with ‘nick’, and as Alice was shaving her legs at that point, there was an unfortunate correlation between the words and the action.

I think the next bit had two overlapping scenes – the French court preparing for war and Fluellen reporting that the bridge has been held – no Gower in this version. Bardolph was taken up onto the balcony for his execution, and the masked executioner simply twisted his neck to signify the hanging. Bardolph’s corpse lingered there, draped over the bars, for Henry to see when the matter was reported to him later. By the time Mountjoy arrived to ask what ransom Henry’s prepared to pay, the French court had left the stage. Henry had been given Bardolph’s pendant by Pistol; when he told Mountjoy ‘There’s for thy labour’ he handed the pendant to him.

The wonderfully funny scene with the French court preening themselves and boasting about their armour, horses, etc, was cut to the bone, and only took a couple of minutes up on the balcony, which was now towards the back of the stage. The chorus then took us into Henry’s camp at Agincourt, and with a few small pans of flame we got the camp fires and Henry’s meetings with the ordinary soldiers, starting with Pistol. Fluellen and Gower were next, then the two soldiers with whom Henry discussed the responsibilities of a king towards his soldiers. (There are actually three soldiers in the text, but apart from the opening line, one says nothing, so two will do fine.) I always find Henry’s arguments a bit specious here. When he compares the actions of a king with those of an employer or a father, claiming that they don’t intend the death of the people they send on various errands, I reckon it’s a bit different to starting a war when there’s a very good chance some of the soldiers you take with you will be killed. Death is part of the package. However, his point about the soldier cleaning up his soul so that either his death or his life will the better for it, came across clearly this time, and made more sense of the end of that argument. When Erpingham has called him, Henry’s final prayer ditched the first part about his men, and he went straight into ‘Not today, O Lord’, emphasising Henry’s remorse over the killing of Richard II.

Then there’s another round of the French, and then back to the English camp, where Westmoreland rashly wished for more men to help fight the French. Well, that was a red rag to Henry’s bull, and yet again we get the long, long speech to raise his troops’ morale. This one worked really well, though, and as the audience were included in the throng, we were all ready to fight by the end of it. Mountjoy’s final request for a ransom offer was delivered as if he was really worried that the English were all going to be killed, and Henry was strongly defiant.

As the battle started, the punch bags were released, and two men in masks came on wielding baseball bats. As the French attacked, the few English soldiers left on the stage responded to each blow of bat on bag as if they’d been hit, and soon it looked like a French victory. However, these soldiers got up and left and Pistol came on stage, dragging a French prisoner, and accompanied by the boy with a couple of large bags. Pistol held a bar or bat himself, and struck the bags from time to time, all of which his prisoner felt. At the end of the scene, the boy was left in the middle of the stage, a bag on either side, and when the French ran on, alarmed at the state of the battle, they slew the young lad by hitting the punch bags. Another two men had also come on holding spray guns, and they squirted red colouring all over the dead boy. When Henry and his men got back, he held the boy in his arms for a short while, and he was clearly angry. There’s another scene with Fluellen, but I don’t’ remember where it came, and then the French herald turned up again to ask for permission to search the field for the dead and wounded. He looked shell shocked, as he would have been with so much carnage all around.

The king’s argument with Williams was resolved without getting Fluellen to wear the glove in his cap, which cut out a lot of dialogue, and then Mountjoy returned with the body count. The figures were truly amazing, and after Henry has commanded that only God is to get the credit, the cast launch into a Te Deum for the next scene change. While the chorus talked us through Henry’s return to England and next journey into France, a table was made out of the boxes, with a blue cloth placed over the left side for the French, and a white cloth with a red cross over the right, for the English. A silver crucifix was placed in the middle, and Fluellen stood guard. Shortly after, a hand reached up from behind the table, and groped its way to the crucifix. Fluellen launched into ‘God pless you, Aunchient Pistol’, and soon Pistol was munching his way through a large leek. Fluellen happily took a bite out of another – greengrocers must love it when Henry V comes to town – and with Gower still missing we’re left with Pistol mourning the loss of his wife. He took the heart he’d given her out of his rucksack, and I almost felt sorry for the man. But then he headed off to England to cheat and con the population out of their money, so no chance of sympathy for him.

For the final scene, a throne had been placed on the right hand side of the stage, and a plain chair on the left. This was the chair the French king sat in during the ‘negotiations’; he also looked stunned and shocked at what had happened. Henry sat on the throne, and after the French king and the others had left, he wooed Katherine like a man not well equipped in the words department. So often these speeches are delivered in a way that makes the man out to be liar, but tonight I could well believe what he’s saying, that he would much rather fight than woo a woman. His attempts at French had Katherine in fits of giggles, and the kissing was done by each character kissing their own fingertips and placing them on the other’s mouth. When the French king and the rest came back, the peace treaty and the marriage were soon settled, and with his final lines, Henry left the stage. The chorus then finished the play, and we applauded mightily for such a good evening’s entertainment.

There were other songs during the play which I don’t remember specifically now, and the whole energy of the performance, plus the clarity of most of the dialogue, made the play seem fresh and new. Dugald Bruce-Lockhart seemed a little weak in some of his speeches, especially the earlier ones, but his performance grew as the evening went on, and I wouldn’t fault his portrayal in the second half at all. Tony Bell was great fun as Fluellen, and did a nice cameo as Mistress Quickly too. Chris Myles was very good as Exeter and Alice, with some lovely reactions in both parts, and I really enjoyed Gunnar Cauthery’s Dauphin – an arrogant hothead with no redeeming qualities whatsoever (although he did play the accordion very well). All the rest of the cast contributed strong performances too, making it a very powerful production. And this is just the opening week! We’re already checking the tour dates to see if we can fit it in again – I’d love to see how something this good can improve.

I was delighted to see the Yvonne Arnaud theatre packed out for tonight’s show; Propeller have established a great reputation for enjoyable productions of Shakespeare (Taming of the Shrew aside). We even had Jon Trenchard and Dominic Tighe nearby during the performance, both of whom had been in the Richard III from earlier this year. I hope the cast get as good a response on tour – they certainly deserve it.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me