Category Archives: Adaptations

To Kill A Mockingbird – December 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Harper Lee, adapted by Christopher Sergel

Directed by Michael Buffong

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Friday 1st December 2006

          This was a real tear-jerker, and no mistake. If I were to read the book, it would be a sodden mass long before the end.

I don’t have any comparison for this adaptation, but it seemed familiar from the film, so I assume it’s pretty faithful to the original book. The set was all walls, doors, windows and yard, with some picket fence and plants in pots. All the neighbours’ houses and yards were represented in this one space, and the action flowed freely amongst them all. A couple of extra walls came into play when we needed a courthouse, along with lots of seats and tables, and we also had a short stop at the prison (this was when my eyes started to get moist) to see the angry mob thwarted by an innocent child. I’m getting emotional again just remembering it all.

I love the way the story is told from the child’s viewpoint. It gives us an opportunity to examine ourselves and the situation explored in the play from a simple perspective. Good is obviously good, and evil wears a black hat. Except that things aren’t always that straightforward, and things don’t always work out the way you want them to. Even though I knew what would happen, I was still tremendously moved by it all.

The performances were all good. I especially appreciated Bettrys Jones as Scout, who has to carry so much of the emotional impact of the story through her character’s innocence. A neighbour was used as the narrator, instead of a grown-up Scout, and that worked fine. Atticus was played by Duncan Preston, with perhaps a tad less perfection than Gregory Peck brought to the screen version, and this worked well for me – it made the messiness of the whole thing more apparent, and emphasised that a lot of the people baying for blood were actually good people at heart who had just taken a wrong turning somewhere along the line. I spotted one of the officials at the trial, who held the Bible witnesses swore on, making some grimaces and movements to show his dislike of Negroes – a nice detail. And I sobbed mercilessly throughout the ending, when Boo Radley saves the children. I don’t know why this story affects me so much – I haven’t sobbed like this for a long time in the theatre, and it did me good to let it all out. I felt so much better at the end of the play, saddened as well, but complete in some way. A fine production, and well performed. Thank you.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Marriage Of Figaro – November 2006

Experience: 6/10

By Beaumarchais, translated/adapted by Ranjit Bolt

Directed by Jatinder Verma

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 20th November 2006

This was a novel experience. The original play by Beaumarchais has been turned into an Indian extravaganza, complete with music. It ends up looking much more like a Brian Rix farce set in India (this is not a criticism). It took a while to get used to the characters dancing on and dancing off, as well as occasional bursts of dancing in the middle, but it was good fun, and the Indian hierarchy seemed to work just as well as the old European one.

The set was relatively simple – two walls at an angle to the front of the stage, with four or five doors. The musician sat to one side, playing a variety of instruments, mostly drums, I think, but the music blended in so well I can pay it the compliment of saying I didn’t notice it too often. There were only five actors, and more parts than that, so some characters were played with masks, allowing any spare actor to represent them. One of the masks seemed to be an ear, another a nose, etc. This mostly worked very well, but in a few scenes, actors had to slip away and leave their mask to be held by another character, so I might have preferred one or two more actors in the cast, just to make it easier on everyone, including the audience.

The plot came thick and fast. In fact, about the only criticism I have of the performances was that some of the dialogue went like the clappers, and what with trying to pick up on the different cultural references, I found it hard to follow at times. But I did get the gist (after all, I have seen the opera), and some of it was hilarious. References like “the rupee’s dropped, at last!”, and “pardon my Hindi”, after a brief bit of swearing, went down very well. It was a shame the audience wasn’t as full as usual, and the sheer volume of plot permutations did get a little trying at times. But this was a good fun production, very well performed, and deserves a lot of success.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Little Women – November 2006

Experience: 5/10

By Louisa M Alcott, adapted by Ali Gorton

Directed by Ali Gorton

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 7th November 2006

This was a good adaptation, and a reasonable production, marred only by poor delivery from many of the cast, more used to TV work than theatre.

I liked that the adaptation only covered the first of the books, Good Women, from Christmas to Christmas, and although they still couldn’t include everything, we got enough of a sense of the events they went through and how they were affected, though it wasn’t as good as reading the book, obviously. There were some cumbersome scene changes, but then the set had to cater for quite a few locations, mainly the Marches living room, but also Mr Laurence’s study, a ballroom, and the garden.

The performances were good, too, apart from the delivery. The various characters came across very well, especially Amy, and some scenes came across more clearly than I remembered from the book – like the problem with Meg and Jo sharing gloves. Overall it worked very well, and I felt this was one of the better adaptations this company has done.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Steptoe And Son – October 2006

Experience: 4/10

By Ray Galton and John Antrobus

Directed by Roger Smith

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date : Monday 23rd October 2006

          This was an entertaining romp through some of the much-loved set pieces of the old Steptoe and Son series, together with some linking material and a context. It was enjoyable, though it never reached the heights, or depths, of the original. The performances were fantastic, both actors looked sufficiently like their counterparts to satisfy most ardent fans, and they had the mannerism and accents down pat.

The set-up was current day, with the National Trust having taken over their old rag-and-bone yard, keeping it intact as an example of a particular era and trade. The comedy here was in the attention to detail – when the manager tidies up he puts more dust on the table instead of cleaning it off! Harold has returned after 40 years of living abroad, on the run after murdering his father with an assegai. (Accidentally, as it turns out.) He wants to have one last look at the old place. This was one of the few quibbles I had about the casting – although Harold should be even older than his father was at the time of the murder, he still looks about 35 – 40. I was happy enough, though, as it made the flashbacks more credible – Harold’s age ranges from 8 upwards.

Naturally, Albert’s ghost is also haunting the place, and when Harold chances to get locked in for the night, his father’s ghost accosts him with a request for Harold to sign his official form so he stops being earthbound and can go to heaven. They argue, of course, and Harold starts retelling the story of their lives together from his childhood, hence the flashbacks. We see many of the plots resurface that we know and love so well, often reworked slightly, and with some new material, or at any rate, material I didn’t remember. It was good fun, fairly predictable, but still enjoyable. We saw Harold being killed off so he couldn’t go back toHarrow, being locked in the basement so he wouldn’t have to fight in WWII, and when he finds the love of his life, the daughter of a rival rag-and-bone man, Albert drives them apart by telling them he is actually the girl’s father. All lies, of course.

Eventually, Harold agrees to sign the old man’s paper, and then he discovers another of the ways Albert’s cheated him. He gets so angry, he has a heart attack, and after the lights are temporarily dimmed, we see him, resurrected as a ghost, standing next to Albert, while his body still lies on the floor. Spooky! After a couple of final revelations, they head off to heaven on the horse and cart, cunningly concealed behind the door.

Good fun, but it could probably do with some rewriting to tighten it up in places. The performances were better than the rating I’ve given the production as a whole – only the writing let it down a bit.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Problem – October 2006

Experience: 6/10

By Justin Webb

Directed by Alan Meadows

Venue: Mill Studio, Guildford

Date: Friday 13th October 2006

This was a three-hander, giving us the story of Sherlock Holmes up to the Reichenbach Falls, and including some of Arthur Conan Doyle’s own difficulties with Holmes’ success – he says the character has “subsumed” him, hence the desire to kill him off.

The Mill Studio is a small performance space, with bare brick walls and just an open stage. Various packing cases were positioned on the stage, painted different colours, and there were coat stands at either corner, ready for all the quick changes the small cast had to do. Some items were taken out of the packing cases as well. There was violin music playing in the background for most of the performance, and beforehand too. We didn’t see Holmes play his instrument, although he took it out and polished it, but the music gave us the sense of it all the same.

They started with the dramatic struggle of Holmes and Moriarty at the Falls. A brief tussle, and then the lights go out and we hear the scream of whoever went over the edge. Then the lights go back up, and we see Watson’s first meeting with Holmes, in the lab where Holmes has discovered a test for haemoglobin. The play takes us through their early days, and the case of the speckled band. We see Mrs Hudson, rather stern and strict, somewhat disapproving. We also see various other characters, all beautifully played by the ‘company’! To end the first half, they segued into a scene betweenBelland Doyle by having Watson refer to Conan Doyle as his mentor, then we see Conan Doyle confessing toBellthat Holmes has got to him, and he’d like to kill him off. It’s quite a long scene, and allows us to compare the two men –Belland Holmes. Both have the keen eye for detail and an inherent kindness, once they realise there’s something to be kind about.

In the second half we were given The Red-Headed League, and the run-up to theSwitzerland trip, culminating in a reprise of the final struggle, and then Watson reading Holmes’ final note.

It took me a few minutes to get the hang of what they were doing, and then I really enjoyed it. I loved the very quick changes, where an actor would just throw on a cape and instantly be a different character. The performances were great in that it was easy to tell the characters apart. I especially liked the silent exchange between Holmes and Watson, when they’re telling the story of The Red-Headed League. At one point they need someone to play the pawnbroker with red hair. A vivid red wig is produced, and with wry smiles and grimaces, Watson accepts that he’s to play the part, and dons the wig. I also liked the simplicity of the storytelling. With so few props and clever use of lighting, it was amazing what a range of places and atmospheres were suggested. And when Holmes and Watson travel by coach, there’s none of the bumping around that’s usual with this sort of imagined scene – the dialogue is allowed to fill in the pictures in our minds, the sort of thing that Conan Doyle was so good at anyway. A very enjoyable two hours.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Three Men In A Boat – October 2006

Experience: 6/10

By Clive Francis, adapted from the book by Jerome K Jerome

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 2nd October 2006

This was good fun, but needs some more work to iron out the creaky bits. Clive Francis, Neil Stacy and Simon Ward were fine as the three men going for a constitutionally refreshing trip on the Thames. Although longer in the tooth than the originals, their combined experience helped the piece along. I suspect this performance was early in the run, and there were wrinkles – some hesitancy about the lines, some lines failing to get a laugh, and some clunkiness due to the surprisingly elaborate set, using a boat on a revolve. Mostly, the actors moved fluidly (sorry!) from place to place and character to character, but the boat, graphic though it was, did hamper things a bit. It was nice to see, but perhaps there’s a better way to represent it.

There wouldn’t be a better way to represent Montmerency, though. His invisible presence, indicated only by occasional yapping and his ability to pull various characters all over the stage via his lead, was excellent. The best trained dog in the business. And no little messes to clean up afterwards.

My favourite part was the scene where, in total darkness, all three men attempt to sleep in the same bed, having blown out their candles by mistake. Even though we couldn’t see a thing, the dialogue was so good, it was clear what was happening, although at first I didn’t realise all three had landed on the floor. Very funny.

I wouldn’t mind seeing this one again, once it’s has a chance to bed down.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Cymbeline – September 2006

Experience: 10/10

By William Shakespeare (sort of)

Directed by Emma Rice

Company: Kneehigh

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 28th September 2006

Yee-ha! This was superb theatre, exciting, energetic, entertaining, and even told the story of Cymbeline clearly. I will go a long way to see this company again. (I’ll have to, as they’re based in Cornwall.) Steve had previously seen Kneehigh’s production of Tristan and Yseult, and suggested their style was a cross between Northern Broadsides and Shared Experience. I get his point, but the reality is so much better than that description.

The set was a metal cage, with lots of ways of opening the doors to create different spaces. The musicians were mostly on the upper level, though they came down to help Cloten serenade Imogen. The actors were everywhere – up, down, clambering here and there. Chairs, beds, mattresses, braziers and the like came on and off as needed – God knows where they kept all this stuff. At the top corners of the cage were two birds – an owl and a cockerel. At dawn, the cock crowed, and at sunset, the owl did what owls do. Both were animated, and very funny. There was also a deer puppet, for Pisanio to kill, and I still feel sad about that – it’s amazing how an obvious puppet, being moved by someone I can see, can engage me so much. We’ll come to the box, the ship and the seagulls in a bit.

Costumes were mostly 50s style for the dresses, and up-to-date for the parkas, tracksuit bottoms and t-shirts etc. The music was varied, from heavy rock to Latin American to melancholy flute – anything and everything. Beautiful. The theme of the play was dispossession, and reuniting people with those they have lost, including themselves. The dialogue was mostly invented, but some of the original remains.

They started with a rock music background, while hooded figures put pictures, flowers, a teddy bear, etc. on the front of the cage. They also pinned up sheets of cardboard on which they jointly sprayed the word REMEMBER. Then we had a musical interlude in which the main characters acted out the events prior to the play starting – Posthumus and Imogen in love, being discovered, Posthumus being banished, etc. Then Joan Puttock (no, she’s not in the original) arrived, and between her and Pisanio we got the back story. Joan has been out of the country for 20 years, and in between bouts of La Cucaracha, shows us her pictures of Spain, and her new hunk of a husband, who’s sadly run off with another woman. Fortunately for anyone who doesn’t know the plot, she learns from Pisanio that the king’s two sons were kidnapped 20 years ago, and haven’t been seen since, presumed dead. The queen died soon after of a broken heart, and the king remarried, to his nurse. Imogen fell in love with Posthumus, an orphan of unknown parentage brought up by the king in his household, but as the king now wants Imogen to marry Cloten, his new wife’s son, he’s banished Posthumus. Whew. I didn’t realise how complicated all this stuff was, but Joan helped us all out by going over the main points several times.

After this hugely entertaining introduction to the play, we see Imogen and Posthumus take a final leave of one another. The evil step-mother is supposedly helping them, and lets them have five minutes to say goodbye. They swap gifts – Imogen giving Posthumus her ring, and Posthumus gives her ….. his wristwatch, as he doesn’t seem to have anything else about his person. Posthumus tells her he’s going to …. Italy. They get a lot of humour out the choice of locations – he’s got the whole world to choose from, and he chooses …. Italy. (Later on, the choice of Milford Haven gets the same treatment, and bucketloads of laughs.) His ship arrives. It’s a small ship, with a hole in the middle, which two other actors put over his head – the straps then hold it in place. They then put a cap on his head that has seagulls dangling off it, and for the final touch, they flick some wires out of the boat, and there are fishes swimming around it! This was so funny to see. Even funnier was the way he then moved, in a stately fashion, across the stage, while Pisanio reported his going to Imogen, who was locked in an upper room. As Posthumus got to the edge of the stage, his cap was too tall to get under the roof, so he had to bend his knees a bit to get off – also hilarious.

Off to Italy, where the cage doors open to reveal the brothel which Posthumus is heading for. The ‘girls’ have a little frolic first, and the music is VERY LOUD! Their pimp is Iachimo, all Latin smarm, hairy chest and tight trousers. When Posthumus arrives, he refuses to have sex with any of the girls. Or any of the boys. Or any of the goats. He declares he loves a perfect woman. This upsets both the local tarts and Iachimo, who bets him two Ferraris and ten million lira to Imogen’s ring that he will get proof that Imogen is as naughty as the rest of them. I wanted to shout out to Posthumus not to take the bet (yes, I’d descended to that level) but I didn’t, and he did. Thinking the two Ferraris and the dosh were in the bag, he gives Iachimo a letter for Imogen.

At some point around here we see the Queen doping up the king, to a musical interlude. Another time, we also see her stripping down to her undies to serenade him and make it clear he’s her boy now.

Iachimo arrives in England, pushing a large box. It’s so heavy, he asks a member of the audience – a woman, naturally – to help him push it the last few feet. At least he gives her some chocolates for her trouble, plus his card, with the usual leer and ‘call me’. He meets Imogen, tries a quickie seduction, no luck. Seriously rebuffed. Unfortunately, she’s too good-natured to suspect him when he pretends it’s all a test of her virtue. Then he tells her he needs somewhere safe to store his box for the night. Only he doesn’t just tell her. Oh no. This is seduction by another means. With the box smack in the centre of the stage he starts to caress it and stroke it, like it was the most desirable woman in the world. Imogen, Pisanio, me, and at least half the audience were panting with desire after this. (What am I saying, during it, as well) This had the desired effect, and Imogen offered to store such a valuable box in her room overnight, as Iachimo plans to leave early the next day.

That night, as she’s snuggled down to sleep, the box opens, and Iachimo sneaks out. First he checks out her room, shining a flashlight round, so we can see what he’s spotted – the globe in particular. Then he has to get the wristwatch off her wrist. This was one of the funniest wristwatch removal sequences I could ever wish to see. Of course, she keeps moving to make it more difficult, and in the end he’s got her held upright on the bed, and is shaking her arm gently to get the watch to fall off, which it does. Then he lets her down gently, only to find she’s lying on the watch! Eventually he gets it, and finishes up by checking her out for identifying marks he can report back to Posthumus. He spots a mole or some such on her buttock, and is satisfied. So satisfied, he actually lights up a cigarette before disappearing back into the box. Evil bastard.

Next morning, the cock crows, Imogen wakes up, and is distraught to find the watch is missing. Cloten has brought the musicians along to help him serenade her, but she’s not remotely interested – she’s desperately searching her room for the missing watch. Cloten sticks his legs and arms through the grill of the cage, and then his head, only to find he can’t get it back out again once Imogen’s left. As he’s already pissed off the musicians, by telling them they were so lousy he’s not going to pay them (always a mistake, I feel), he’s left dangling there till Mummy comes to get him out (with the help of her ever-ready KY Jelly). She advises him to rape Imogen and presents him with a bottle of Rohypnol to assist. This he will later put in the Amaretto in Imogen’s suitcase, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Back in Italy, Iachimo has won his bet; Posthumus is convinced by the ‘proof’, and in despair. He writes to Pisanio telling her to lure Imogen to Milford Haven and kill her in the woods there. He also writes to Imogen telling her he’s coming to Milford Haven, and asking her to meet him there. But how to get the letter to England? During the performance, there’s been a remote-control toy car whizzing around from time to time, and now it comes to Posthumus’ aid. As it arrives by his feet, he puts the letters in it, and it whizzes (a bit more carefully) round the stage, finally arriving at Pisanio’s feet. She picks up the letters and gives Imogen hers, pretending the other is from her own mother. She’s pretty shocked at being asked to kill Imogen, but goes along with it for now. Imogen is totally thrilled to be seeing Posthumus again. “He’s in Milford Haven”, she cries ecstatically, “Where’s Milford Haven?”, and rushes off to her globe to find it. This gets the biggest laugh of the evening. I’m sorry I can’t convey the way it was said, it was just so funny. She finds out it’s in Wales, and arranges immediately with Pisanio to head off, throwing her clothes over the metal wall for Pisanio to pack. As she heads off to sort out travel arrangements, Cloten pounces on Pisanio, and by threatening violence discovers their plan. This is where he puts the Rohypnol in the Amaretto, without Pisanio’s knowledge. He also decides to put on Posthumus’ clothes to rape Imogen, just to make her suffer even more. Like mother, like son, both evil bastards.

Imogen comes running back to say she’s thumbed a lift from a lorry driver (Gary?) who can take them as far as Birmingham, and off they go. In Italy, Iachimo and Pisanio are heading off to race the two Ferraris. Apparently Iachimo’s garage is located at the end of a long trek through the Swan auditorium (I suppose the RSC has to raise money any way it can), and at the same time Imogen and Pisanio are approaching Milford Haven, also on the outskirts of the Swan stage, meaning they have to trek through the auditorium as well. I may have missed the odd line as I whisked my feet out of the way of oncoming actors, but on the whole this is the kind of audience participation I enjoy. It’s fun being so close to the action. I remember Iachimo was telling Posthumus that you have to handle a Ferrari gently, like a woman, as they were passing us.

On arrival at Milford Haven, Pisanio tries to kill Imogen, but can’t, and confesses all. A beautiful little deer comes along just then, and Pisanio kills that (I still feel very sad), to send the heart to Posthumus. Imogen, needless to say, is distraught that her Posthumus should want her killed, and takes to the wilds of Milford Haven, with her bottle of Amaretto, and dresses like a boy in parka and trousers, calling herself Ian. She finds a squat somewhere and settles down to sleep, only to be disturbed by the folk who already live there – an older man and two younger ones. They take to Imogen and say she can stay with them. When there’s a disturbance, they go to check it out, and she stays behind, so nervous that she drinks some of the Amaretto to steady her nerves. Soon they’re so steady she falls asleep. Meanwhile, the boys have discovered Cloten swaggering about, and quite naturally bump him off, as you would. Finding the disguised Imogen apparently dead, they lay her body next to Cloten’s and surround them both with candles. Very pretty. I don’t remember now how they did Imogen waking up, or if that bit was dropped.

Back in Italy, the head of state has declared war on Britain. The despotic tyrant, who looks remarkably like Marcello Magni, had previously demanded that Cymbeline start sending tribute again, but thanks to the naughty queen, he’d been sent away with a flea in his ear. Now he wants war, and Posthumus and Iachimo sign up. I think Posthumus has received what he thinks is Imogen’s heart by now, so naturally he’s feeling remorse – bit bloody late now!

The appearance of Marcello Magni needs to be explained. They’ve taken some photos of him in various poses, and show them on a screen, while one of the actors stands behind putting their arms through to do the gestures. There’s also a tape of Marcello saying the lines. Very funny, and I suppose it allows for variations from night to night.

Anyway, Posthumus and Iachimo head back to Britain. This time, the boat has crows flying above it. To show the war, they bring out a giant game board, and use it to indicate who’s fighting who. We get a short scene with Posthumus, in prison, and seeing the vision of Jupiter and his parents, and then we’re off for the final reconciliations, as everybody turns out to be …. everybody who’s missing. Strangely enough, although we’ve seen Posthumus’ vision, and Joan Puttock turns up again to produce a key to open the box his (dead) parents give him, we don’t get the full unravelling of the mystery in this version. We just get the two sets of kids snuggling up in bed, Cymbeline’s sons in one, Imogen and Posthumus in the other. Kind of sweet, but a little disappointing.

Not that disappointing, though, as this was still one of the best things I’ve seen this year, and I would happily see it again, given the chance.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The French Lieutenant’s Woman – September 2006

Experience: 10/10

Adapted by Mark Healy from the novel by John Fowles

Directed by Kate Saxon

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 1st September 2006

This was an excellent performance of a marvellous production of a brilliant adaptation – there wasn’t a single flaw in the whole thing. Set design, lighting, and costumes were all superb. The whole cast were excellent, the members of the ensemble supported the leading players magnificently. I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know how well it’s been transferred to the stage, but I enjoyed this piece so much, it doesn’t matter.

The set was amazing. Designed by Libby Watson, it seemed very simple, yet had many layers and possibilities. Split between two levels, there were curved platforms, curved steps, and in the middle an office space with typewriter and books, cleverly stacked so they could be used to climb up or down between levels. There were metal pillars, as used for seaside architecture, holding up the platforms, and small areas of grass and rock blending in with the scenery. From the steps and upper level rose tall posts, like tree trunks, but with snatches of rope and net, so they could be masts or trees or part of some beach or harbour construction. All very evocative, and it all worked together, so the action could move from outside to inside in an instant.

The play opens with the author, as a character in the play, asking how does he begin? He talks us through the way various characters come and go in his mind, but he ignores most of them. The other actors, in costume, are roaming the stage at this point, as the characters who are trying to catch his attention, and they’re quite miffed he’s dismissing them so easily. However, one character attracts him – he doesn’t know who she is, and wants to find out more. He introduces the character representing himself – the actor comes on like a robot, smoothly enough but without personality, waiting to be ’activated‘. Then the author has to decide how they will meet, and this leads to the opening scene of the hero seeing the French lieutenant’s woman, Mrs Woodruff, on the end of the mole. From here, the author is quite involved in the action, as he has to decide on the characters’ names, stories, etc. As the hero is talking with his fiancée and her aunt, the aunt has to pause several times, waiting for the author to fill in the relevant name. All very entertaining.

From here the author moves back a bit, and the action develops very nicely, with just some narration. We see the repulsive Mrs Poultney profess to charitable inclinations (as long as they don’t inconvenience her too much), and end up employing Miss Woodruff as a secretary, or dogsbody if you prefer. Mrs Poultney is one of those women who has read too much of the Bible and believed it all, at least all the really nasty bits where people (other people, that is) are damned and punished for their sins. As unpleasant an old lady as you could wish not to meet. Fortunately, our heroine stands up to her, and she even stands up to the author! In the job interview with Mrs Poultney, the author has her make some explanation for leaving her previous job. She rounds on him, and tells him she would never say that. Her choice is to say nothing, and so the scene is replayed with her doing just that. A marvellous device, this; it adds so much to our understanding of her character and I assume it follows the book more closely than the film.

We follow the two main characters through their doomed love affair, with various changes being made on the fly by the author, and at least one more significant change made by Miss Woodruff herself – it’s her choice not to tell the hero about their baby. At one point, the author decides to involve himself more closely with the action, and takes on the role of Doctor Grogan himself. He tries out several accents for his opening line, rejects the first two, and finally settles on a mild Irish brogue. (At least, I think that’s what it was – I was never very good with accents.)

All of this was so well done that I fell in love with it. The dialogue was excellent – so often in a Dickens or Bronte or Austen adaptation, the dialogue seems so stilted. It may represent contemporaneous speech patterns more accurately, but it’s bloody awful to have to listen to for hours. This dialogue carried the sense of period beautifully, but also felt real, the sort of things real people would say in these situations. The hero was over wordy and a bit pompous – typical – and Mrs Woodruff was much more direct and blunt, even when lying. The other characters were well formed – Ernestina’s girlish enthusiasm and outspokenness, her aunt’s good sense and kindness, Mrs Poultney’s bitterness and vitriol, Doctor Grogan’s authority and Sam’s ambition – all of these came across clearly, and drove the action plausibly. The interval came after the hero has left Mrs Woodruff in the cabin, and she asks the author, will he return? The author’s answer – I don’t know, give me some time – leads us nicely into the break.

Apart from mentioning that it was fun to see the respectable aunt transformed into a brothel-keeper in one scene, I’m not sure if I can add anything more to this. I might read the book; it’s a good enough play to at least pique my interest in that. I would certainly see it again, if I get the chance, and I would love to get the play text. I was totally drawn into the lives portrayed, the characters mattered to me, and time flew by. It was a great night out, and I would have clapped for ten, if I could have.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Strangers On A Train – June 2006

Experience: 6/10

By Craig Warner, based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith

Directed by Robin Herford

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Wednesday 28th June 2006

          Interesting production, this. I haven’t read the book, but this play must be closer to the novel than the movie version. Same start – two strangers meeting on a train, leading to murder and mayhem. Much more psychological than the Hitchcock, and in some ways much darker, less sensational.

Obviously, this had to work on the stage, so forget seeing the funfair. A lot had to be reported rather than shown. And there were lots of pauses while the sets were trundled on and off stage. Even so, this was pretty tightly scripted – a study of insanity and how it could entrap and almost destroy a relatively normal human being. In the end, Guy Haines, the architect who is drawn into Charles Bruno’s deadly plan, is saved by the love of a morally ambiguous woman. She tells him she doesn’t love him for his goodness, which begs the question what does she love him for then? At one point, it seemed the easiest thing would be for Guy and his new bride (Charlie boy bumped off the original) to murder Charlie as he hides under their roof, and dispose of the body, but we had a bit further to go, and in the end Charlie tops himself with Guy’s gun, the one used to kill Charlie’s father and which was discarded in the woods. A relief in many ways, especially as the investigator, one Arthur Gerard (played by Colin Baker), had decided to let the matter drop, even though he pretty much knew the whole story.

The emotional and mental journey was an interesting one, with lots of moral ambiguity to challenge the audience’s beliefs. Did good triumph in the end? And what of the lives of Guy and Anne afterwards – he’d been so stricken with guilt before he’d killed Charlie’s dad, how would he carry on now? Lots to think about.

Good performances all round, especially the two leads – Alex Ferns as Charles Bruno, nicely psychotic, suave and assured at the start, disintegrating into twitchy insanity by the end, and Will Thorp as Guy Haines, a straightforward guy who gets caught up in a nightmare he can’t handle until he finally tells all (in print) to his new wife.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Othello – April 2006

1/10

By: A bastard child by William Shakespeare out of Feridun Zaimoglu

Directed by: Luk Perceval

Venue: RST

Date: Friday 28th April 2006

Where do I start? I was so angry with this production that I nearly left – some people did – not because it had been adapted from the original, but because so much had been lost in the adaptation that it was scarcely worth including it in a Shakespeare season, never mind a Complete Works Festival.

This was a nihilistic version of some aspects of the Othello that Shakespeare wrote. The light of Shakespeare’s play – Desdemona – was here believable as a potential slut, always draping herself provocatively over Othello and dragging him off to bed at every opportunity. She wasn’t actually played as a slut, and sexual game-playing with her husband doesn’t make her a lascivious wanton, but the grace, the dignity and the beauty of character had all gone. Take away the light of this play and all you get is dark, depressing sludge, and plenty of it. Admittedly, only for two hours (straight, without an interval – maybe they didn’t want to give the audience a chance to escape?). There were also a number of longueurs, such as Iago spending several minutes sweeping up bits of broken bottle following the drunken brawl that got Cassio into trouble. These actors were good, but not good enough to fill this gap with meaningful exchanges or development of character. Another long pause was filled only by the on-stage piano player, thrashing his piano vehemently, presumably to expand the range of sounds produced – good enough as far as it went, but it had nothing to add to the play or its performance for me.

Good points (there were a number). Interesting staging. Bare stage, apart from two pianos, a black grand piano resting on an upturned white one – good symbolism and a good focal point off which to bounce the acting. For example, Desdemona asleep, curled up in the space between the two instruments – touching and simple.

Stark lighting – an open doorway with light shafting from the left at the start shifted gradually to light shafting through a doorway on the right by the end. The actors were in plain modern dress and used no props other than a crate of beer bottles and a handkerchief. With all locations expunged, the performance becomes solely about the interactions between the characters.

There were some great performances. These actors know their job, and were giving it their all. Very athletically too, at times – Iago really did have to chase Amelia round the stage to get the hanky! On a quieter note, the scene where Iago had sidled his way into Othello’s confidence culminated in the final damning revelations being whispered in Othello’s ear, with the audience only hearing Othello’s responses. This replaced Othello’s overhearing and misunderstanding of Cassio’s innocent bragging about his own mistress, which gives him his final “proof” – here it was all down to Iago’s lies. A loss of subtlety, but it did keep the number of actors down and was well performed.

Casting a white actor unequivocally as Othello was bold and, to my mind, perfectly acceptable. Too many people seem to “ghettoise” the play nowadays, yet the situations portrayed are relevant to many times and cultures and do not always need to be interpreted literally on stage. The only ‘person of colour’ was the actress playing Amelia – a strange choice, done deliberately to generate the same feeling of discomfort the director experienced at a football match when some of his fellow supporters expressed racist sentiments. Sadly, this experience did not translate for me as the RSC, among many theatre companies in the UK, have practised colour-blind casting for so long that I wouldn’t have known the choice was deliberate if I hadn’t been told.

There were technical problems, too. It wasn’t possible to read the surtitles and really take in what was happening on stage. The adaptation was in German, and the actors were encouraged by the director to improvise if they felt like it, so the surtitles were stopping dead at some points and going like the clappers at others trying to keep up! But the main problem lay in the adaptation itself. The German author (of Turkish descent) who adapted the play had cut so much that it hardly seems worthwhile staging it. His constant use of swearing wasn’t out of place, given the military setting, but Will manages to convey the setting perfectly well without recourse to foul language all the time (though he used it when he wanted to). And the wonderful language Will does use is virtually absent here; just a couple of passing references in the surtitles, one or two phrases to remind us of what we’re missing.

And what we miss! This version of the play was basically over when Othello killed his bride – no revelations from Amelia, no remorse, and no capture of Iago. No context. And I find myself wondering what someone who had never seen the play before would have made of it, or whether they could even have understood it!

I managed to put my grumbles aside, and hackles down for long enough to stay for the post-show discussion, which illuminated for me some of the difficulties I had with the production. The director seemed to think he was directing an adaptation based on Shakespeare’s work, yet couldn’t remember the lines in Shakespeare’s version that had triggered his particular interpretation, namely that Amelia was the most important character in the play, and her hurt is what leads to her betraying Iago (which she doesn’t get a chance to do in this version). Perhaps there were problems in translation, but that’s how I understood what was said, and from that I suspected that the adaptor and director had been sidetracked into their own preoccupations and lost the expansion that comes from working with Shakespeare’s text in full. Instead they had contracted to a negative focus, which certainly appealed to a number of that night’s audience, but which failed to engage me emotionally, mentally or imaginatively, a difficult trick with one of Will’s plays. The director also made the point that the play shows how much words affect our minds. True, but you don’t have to hack the play to bits to get that across; the original version can do that, and even better!

But the main tragedy was to lose all that beautiful language! A perceptive young lady sitting behind me, who had just found out that we were going to see an adaptation instead of the real thing, asked her neighbour before the start “Isn’t Shakespeare’s language the whole point?” In this case, yes it is.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me