Category Archives: Drama

The Bargain – April 2007

8/10

By: Ian Curteis

Directed by: James Roose-Evans

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Monday 16th April 2007

This was an amazing play. Inspired by actual meetings between Robert Maxwell and Mother Theresa, it explored some possible areas they might have discussed, and the sort of negotiations that might have gone on between them. As nobody witnessed their meetings, we can’t know for certain what went on, but this play fills in the gaps very entertainingly, and shows some good insights into their characters and situations at the time.

The action is condensed into two meetings and set almost entirely in Robert Maxwell’s riverside flat in London. We see Maxwell and his assistant, called Sidekick, trying to set up the meeting. Maxwell is planning to print an encyclopaedia of world religion, and wants Mother Theresa to provide an introduction. He actually wants a number of other people’s endorsements, but can’t persuade them, so Mother Theresa will have to do.

They finally persuade her to come and visit them, after Margaret Thatcher has turned down Mother Theresa’s request for funding – apparently the homeless and destitute had perfectly adequate provision under the welfare state. They spend a few minutes tidying the place up, removing the booze to pretend Maxwell doesn’t drink, setting up Gregorian chant on the CD player, etc. Sadly, they overlook a large bottle of brandy sitting on the floor by the corner of the sofa.

The first to turn up is Sister, the nun who’s assisting Mother Theresa, and played by Susan Hampshire. Maxwell is down on one knee showing respect when she comes in, real crawler. She explains that Mother Theresa has stopped to give comfort to an old man, as she often does. When Mother Theresa does turn up, Maxwell’s more relaxed and behaving more naturally, so Mother Theresa gets to see him with his guard down.

Mother Theresa is played by Anna Calder-Marshall, a brilliant performance. She’s short, anyway, and stoops, and really gets across the idea of an old woman with strength and determination. She has that spiritual ability to focus on what she wants, and see clearly what’s going on. She’s not fooled or shocked by Maxwell or his past, and she’s prepared to sup with the devil if it will get her what she wants. A number of times, she says she has a price for helping him with the encyclopaedia, but doesn’t get round to explaining what it is till the end of the play. Meanwhile, Sister has been driving a very shrewd bargain herself for Mother Theresa’s involvement. Sister trained as a doctor for a few years, before switching to accountancy before becoming a nun. Although she radiates simplicity, and is obviously devoted to Mother Theresa, she also sees what’s going on quite clearly, and works out what Maxwell’s scam is. He’s arranged for banned items to be sent behind the Iron Curtain, and wants to get the money back out. By getting the encyclopaedia printed in Estonia, for example, he can cover up the movement of money via the banking facilities he himself provides to the Communist printers.

He, in turn, has got his journos sleuthing round about Mother Theresa, and has dug up all the allegations that have been made about her and her work over the years. He’s threatening to do a big splash in the Mirror, either about how he and she are starting a campaign to raise money for hostels in the UK, or exposing all her dubious practices. The two of them have negotiated their way round all these points, but still she hasn’t told him her price.

She’s established clearly that he’s feeling guilty about surviving the concentration camps during WWII. She tells him about how she sent four nuns to Russia after Chernobyl, to help in any way they could. They had to be sneaked in, as religious orders weren’t allowed in Russia at that time. They helped the locals as much as they could, and took on anyone rejected by the official support agencies. This meant the young and the old, especially the poor, and many of these were Jews. The locals accepted them, grateful for the work they were doing, and no one reported them to the police. Eventually, the local mayor dropped off an old prefab building with a decent roof to replace the damp cellar they were using. Mother Theresa sent more nuns to help, and now she wants Maxwell to use the goodwill he’s built up with the Communist regimes over the years, to persuade Gorbachev to acknowledge them as the first religious house permitted in the USSR. A huge step. Maxwell agrees, and a handshake seals the deal.

For the final scene, the walls lift up and away, and Maxwell walks Mother Theresa along by the river as she heads off for her plane. (Incidentally, Maxwell had ordered Sidekick to tell all sorts of porkies to get her plane delayed, as they were just getting down to the nitty-gritty. Mother Theresa just said “Tell them Mother Theresa wants it.” She may be humble, but she knows she has clout.) At the end, as she tells Maxwell he will sleep better now, and that he must go back to the village where he was born and find some of the old folk and talk with them, she starts to shoo away the birds on the Embankment, just as she did when she was a girl. And the final image is of her standing in front of lots of birds, rising up into the sky – an image she’d described to Maxwell earlier.

The last words belong to Sidekick, however, as he tells us all that Robert Maxwell died three years later, and when his financial dealings were investigated, the only funds he hadn’t plundered were those raised for Mother Theresa’s hostels.

I found this play fascinating. The two main characters were so large, and had such influence in their lifetimes, that even though this was fiction, it still felt very powerful. The key for me was Anna Calder-Marshall’s performance as Mother Theresa. She was so believable, and so centred as a character that it was hard to take my eyes off her when she was on stage. Michael Pennington did a perfectly fine job as Maxwell, but his character, although interesting, didn’t have the same power as Mother Theresa. He even admits at the end that she’s tougher than he is!

The support from Susan Hampshire and Jonathan Coy was excellent, and set up a lot of the humour. But Mother Theresa’s dry humour was wonderful to see. At one point, she and Maxwell are having a pissing contest over who had the more terrible childhood. He informs her that President Kennedy said his was the saddest story he’d ever heard. She said that the Queen had told her much the same about hers. He upped the stakes by mentioning the Pope, at which point she asked “which Pope?”. “The fat one”, was his reply, and she took the wind even more out of his sails by saying that the three Popes she had known had all found her story the saddest they’d ever heard. At this point he realises she’s teasing him, but by now he’s more relaxed with her, and knows he’s not going to impress her with his suffering.

A good play, a good production, and a decent audience made this a much better evening than last week.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Equus – April 2007

8/10

By: Peter Shaffer

Directed by: Thea Sharrock

Venue: Gielgud Theatre

Date: Wednesday 11th April 2007

I was keen to see this play, as I hadn’t seen it before, and it’s often talked about as being really influential. Of course, the prospect of male nudity didn’t put me off at all.

The set was impressive. Designed by John Napier, who designed the original production at the Old Vic, it was very bare, but with some lovely touches, mainly the horses’ heads. These were formed from steel wire, making a head-shaped basket, with leather straps between some of the wires. Underneath was a cap for fitting the masks on to the actors’ heads. They were beautifully made, and hung round the walls of the set at the start. The centre was a large plinth, all black, with four black blocks set on it – these could be put on any side and moved around easily to create furniture as required. There were also six stable doors evenly spaced round the back and sides of the stage – these only became apparent later.

As well as the main house being packed, there were a couple of rows of seats up behind the stage, also full. On the whole, the audience were fine, despite having a younger average age than we usually see in a midweek matinee. I did have to ask one man to be quiet, as he seemed to think it was OK to carry on a conversation with the person next to him throughout the performance! There was extra loud applause at the end – some of it may have been down to the Harry Potter effect, but mostly it was well earned.

The story is relatively simple, though quite challenging. We gradually learn why a young man has blinded six horses at the stable where he worked. He’s developed a weird sexual attachment to horses, based on an early experience and fuelled by his mother’s insistent religiosity. When he nearly loses his cherry in the stable barn, he’s driven to this extreme act by his fear of what his horse-god has seen. I couldn’t help feeling that if the young lady (a questionable description, in this case) had only chosen somewhere else for his first night of passion, he might have turned out quite reasonably – her choice just happened to be the worst one possible for him.

I liked all the performances, although there wasn’t much for some of the minor characters to do. Richard Griffiths creates a tremendous sense of trustworthiness, and Daniel Radcliffe managed to get across his character’s strangeness very well. His mother and father were also good, especially Jonathan Cullen as the puritanical socialist who gets caught out visiting a porn cinema. The “horses” were also excellent, and the blinding scene, where torches are used for the horses’ eyes and extinguished as they’re gouged out, was both disturbing and beautiful.

It seems a worthy revival of an interesting play, and I was glad to have seen it. Although there had been some rewriting to bring the dialogue up-to-date, the overall feel of the piece was very modern anyway.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

John Gabriel Borkman – April 2007

8/10

By: Henrik Ibsen, in a new version byDavid Eldridge

Directed by: Michael Grandage

Venue: Donmar Warehouse

Date: Thursday 5th April 2007

This was a fascinating play, and an excellent production. The intimate setting of the Donmar worked very well, as the play focused on the peculiar domestic situation of the Borkman family. The senior generation were basically a bunch of loony tunes trying to get by on their delusions, which all come to a sudden, shattering end when JGB’s son finally decides to speak up for himself, and to run off with the woman he loves (and a spare).

The set was simple. A row of windows at the back look out on to some trees, dead now in winter, as snow gently drifts down. A wide bench sofa in the middle has some grey crochet work on it, while to our left is a table and chair. Deborah Findlay, as Mrs Borkman, is restlessly sitting, crocheting, and pacing, as she waits for her son’s arrival. But the first arrival is a woman, unknown to the maid, who is obviously both well known to Mrs Borkman, and seriously disliked by her. Mrs Rentheim (Ella), is played by Penelope Wilton, and it turns out she had taken away Mrs Borkman’s son, Erhart, when JGB was sent to prison, many years ago. He’d used other people’s money to live a more lavish lifestyle than he could afford, and to speculate in the emerging market to exploit Norway’s mineral and other resources. We learn of the women’s rivalry for Erhart’s affection, and how Ella, whose money had been completely untouched by JGB’s depredations, bought the family estate, and allows them to continue living there. Mrs JGB seems particularly obsessed, repeating the idea that her son has a destiny to restore the family name. Like most of the characters in this drama, she feels she has suffered the worst, more than those who lost all their life savings, because she has suffered the loss of the family name. At the very end of the scene, Ella clarifies their relationship, as twin sisters.

Towards the end of their confrontation, Erhart arrives home, with Frida and a Mrs Wilton. They are off to a party at the Hinkel’s. Mrs Wilton is a very sociable woman, and it’s evident that Erhart is smitten with her. Frida heads upstairs to play piano for JGB, while Mrs Wilton takes her leave to go to the party. However, soon Erhart follows her, much keener for her company than his mother and aunt’s.

The second act is set in the upstairs room where JGB spends his days, pacing up and down, and occasionally being entertained by Frida. She plays Danse Macabre – his favourite, apparently. The room is similar to the one downstairs, but the windows are shuttered, and the furniture is different, with several piles of books dotted about the place. After she leaves, by the back stairs, her father, Vilhelm, arrives. He spends his spare time trying to be a poet, and writing a play. From JGB’s reactions, it’s clear he doesn’t think much of these efforts, but he does need an audience for his own views. As we need to hear them too, we’re treated to his megalomaniac diatribe against the forces which brought him down, specifically a lawyer whom he considered a friend, and to whom he’d confided too much. The lawyer, Hinkel (yes, the same one), passed some letters on to the authorities, and JGB was doomed. He’s spent the last eight years going over and over the trial – the evidence, the prosecution’s case, his own defence – and time and time again he comes to the same conclusion – he’s innocent! Yet again, we have a character who feels “more sinned against than sinning”. I suspect Ibsen is having a go at the older generation, perhaps those who seem to be constantly passing the buck for their decisions, and expecting the next generation to make everything better. I don’t know any historical context for this play, but that seems to be the message.

JGB and Vilhelm quarrel, and after Vilhelm leaves, JGB is visited by Ella. She’s determined to have Erhart for her last few months on earth, and she wants JGB to help her convince Mrs Borkman to let him go. When he attempts to help out (and this involves going downstairs, something he hasn’t done since he came back from prison eight years ago), everything falls apart. Mrs Borkman sends for Erhart, to force him to decide between them, but he drops a bombshell of his own. He’s leaving that very night, with Mrs Wilton and Frida. They’re travelling to Europe, where Frida will get further training in music, and probably some other things as well. Mrs Wilton is quite frank about the inevitability of their relationship ending, and Erhart’s eventual need for a replacement – she’s just making sure he’s got one handy. At last Erhart speaks up for himself and renounces all his elders’ plans for him. By this time, even JGB is planning to re-enter the world and rebuild his life, and wants Erhart to go with him. But Erhart will have none of them. He doesn’t want to work, he just wants to have fun. So off they go.

The penultimate scene sees the three older folk outside, looking for the sleigh that will carry Erhart away from them for good. They hear the ringing of silver bells further down the hill, and then Vilhelm appears. He’s come from his house to tell them the good news; that Frida’s off to study music in Europe. Mrs Wilton’s taken her, and there’s a tutor to teach her other subjects as well. JGB explains what’s happened, and he’s delighted – unlike the others, he seems to see good in everything that happens. He was even knocked down by the very sleigh that was taking his daughter away, an event that doesn’t bother him – he’s more impressed by the fact that the sleigh had silver bells, showing how wealthy Mrs Wilton is.

The final scene is JGB and Ella walking through the night to a bench they used to spend time together on. He’s refusing to enter that house ever again. He talks of the opportunities he can feel in his blood, the ores and other riches lying in the cold ground, calling to him to release them and let them fly. His one regret is not having been able to do that. He dies, from the cold, and slumps down on the bench. Mrs Borkman arrives, with the maid, and sends her for help. The two sisters talk, their animosity apparently at an end, but although they speak of holding  hands over the dead body, I noticed that this staging had them at either end of the stage, and showing no signs of getting any closer. (According to the stage directions in the text, they do hold hands over JGB’s dead body.) Interesting.

There’s a lot of good stuff in this play, and the actors portrayed the various characters brilliantly. Their willingness to show total obsession, rampant megalomania, and all sorts of other less popular traits, was admirable. Not a family you’d want to spend time with, but absorbing to watch on stage. None of the characters is appealing, although Ella does at least seem to be more concerned that Erhart should live his own life than any of the others. She was JGB’s great love, but he left her to Hinkel in return for the position at the bank which would allow him to carry out his schemes. She loved JGB, and was devastated when he renounced her. More unnecessary suffering.

I liked the honesty and humour of the production, and the symmetry of the opening scenes – three women confronting each other, and then three men, although Hinkel isn’t physically present. I found my sympathies changing a bit over the performance, though nothing could make JGB remotely likeable. A very enjoyable afternoon.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Kean – April 2007

6/10

By Jean-Paul Sartre, adapted from the play by Alexandre Dumas

Directed by Adrian Noble

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 2nd April 2007

This play opens with Antony Sher, as Kean, as Richard III, giving us his “Now is the winter of our discontent…”. It was particularly memorable, as Kean’s Richard, a serious hunchback, uses a walking stick, and lurches to the front of the stage in a manner highly reminiscent – OK, let’s just come out and say it – it was pinched directly from Antony Sher’s previous Richard III, where he cavorted round the stage like a mad spider on two crutches. The “echo”, if we may call it that, was obviously recognised by a fair number of the audience, judging by the laugh it got. It was a good start to a tricky but entertaining play.

The set was a stage, on the stage, with lots of room to either side. A painted backdrop (and I had to look really hard at this one), gave us a plush red theatre curtain, and when that was raised, we could see the audience behind Kean. Steve spotted that one of them was asleep. From the later scenes, I’d guess it was the Danish ambassador.

We romped through selected highlights of Richard III, and then the stage was cleared to create space for a cocktail party, given by the Danish ambassador. We learn that his wife is infatuated with Kean, who has been invited to attend the party later. There are various bits of gossip, and then the throng, now joined by the Prince of Wales, is entertained by the news that Kean and a young lady have run off together, until Kean himself arrives to deny the story. He passes a letter to the ambassador’s wife, pretending it will prove his innocence in this matter, but in reality it’s a love letter for her. She agrees to come to his dressing room the following night by a secret door, wearing a veil.

The next night, Kean fusses about whether the door has been oiled, and whether the lady’s coming or not. He’s put out by the arrival of the Prince of Wales, who wants him to give up the ambassador’s wife altogether, in return for having his debts paid off. They lay a bet – if she turns up, Kean will have her, if not, then he’ll sign the paper and renounce his love. When a woman does turn up, the bet is settled, but not the way Kean expects.

The lady who has turned up is the other woman, the one he’s supposed to have run off with. She wants to be an actress and marry Kean, not necessarily in that order, and the whole situation becomes more complicated when the ambassador’s wife turns up later for her assignation. How many women can Kean keep on the go at one time?

In the end, he and the ambassador’s wife are just playing at being lovers, and they’re both happy to go their separate ways. Kean’s jealousy has led him to insult the Prince of Wales in a full theatre, in a manner considered treasonable, and he’s lucky to get off with a few years of exile. Fortunately, he can head off to America with the young lady who wants to marry him, so all seems to end reasonably happily.

There was a great deal to enjoy in this production. In theory, the play is examining the nature of acting and “real emotions”. When is Kean acting, and when is he being “honest” about his feelings. There are no set answers, although the play suggests there is no difference between acting and the rest of life. The scene where Kean and the ambassador’s wife play out their melodramatic love affair was very entertaining – they stop for a breather, then get going again.

The costumes were possibly 1930s, possibly 1950s; it’s a bit difficult to tell with upper crust evening dress, as it doesn’t change so quickly as ordinary fashions. All the performances were excellent, and I remember various ideas coming up at the time which I can’t remember now. It was also good fun to have the Danish ambassador as one of the characters, given Kean’s reputation for playing Hamlet.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Merchant Of Venice – March 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Darko Tresnjak

Company: Theatre For A New Audience

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 29th March 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Coriolanus – March 2007

7/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Greg Doran

Venue: RST

Date: Wednesday 28th March 2007

This is the last production, and performance, we’ll be seeing in this version of the main house – ever! I felt quite sad at the end, although given that the seat I was in tonight wasn’t at the best angle for my back, I’m sure I’ll appreciate the improvements when they come. Still, we’ve had many a happy hour in this theatre, and I’m looking forward to a backstage tour on Friday.

Coriolanus is a fascinating play. It’s not done very often, though Steve says he’s always surprised by this – each production we’ve seen has shown it’s a very interesting piece. There’s so much to it that I’d be up all night if I tried to report everything I saw tonight, so here’s the gist.

First off, I recognised so much in this production that echoed other Roman and Greek productions in this Complete Works Festival. I don’t know if this was deliberate, or just the natural effect of seeing so many Shakespeare plays together – all the common threads are highlighted. The Titus Andronicus was represented by the steps leading up to the stage, the Julius Caesar by the opening scene of plebeians causing a rumpus, the Troilus and Cressida by the angled wall, and the Antony and Cleopatra by smeared paint across the columns and the wall. Quite an achievement (or quite a coincidence, depending).

The set featured the steps at the front, a wall which could move down towards the front and which had a window high up on the right giving a view of the Volscian flag, and large doors on the left and right. It also angled to form a sloping roof. There was a series of square arches going off into the distance – these were raised and lowered as required, and formed the opening set. For some scenes, all these items disappeared, and we had a bare stage – very effective during Volumnia’s pleading scene.

The costumes used red for Romans and grey for Volscians. It’s a common technique, and does at least distinguish the two sides effectively, but like any colour coding, it can look a bit naff when it’s overdone. The style was a kind of Elizabethan version of Roman, with pleated skirts for the Roman soldiers, and bog standard olde worlde rough clothes for the workers. The pleated skirts had an extra frill at the top, which frankly looked absurd, especially on the Tribunes. However, the women had decent costumes, and the performances largely rose above such mundane matters.

The performance I liked best was Janet Suzman as Volumnia. She portrayed all her authority and total commitment to Roman patrician values (state before family) without making her a blinkered battleaxe. This Volumnia obviously knew exactly what price her son would have to pay in letting Rome off the hook, and her dignified grief on her return to Rome was very moving. At the same time, her enthusiasm for sending her son off to war at an early age so that he could earn honour is still appalling – if fewer women took that attitude today the world might be a bit safer.

Timothy West as Menenius was as good as I’ve seen in the part. I followed all his long-winded speeches this time, and although I think there’s more humour to be got out of his mistaken beliefs in the second half (that Coriolanus will listen to him, then that he won’t listen to the women), I really got the sense of Menenius’ laid-back authority with the people.

Coriolanus was played by William Houston, whom we’ve seen before as Sejanus, and as Roman General in Believe What you Will. Is this a trend? I find his physical behaviours tend to be repetitive, even mannered. He has a stance which he adopts at every opportunity, wide-legged, elbows bent, and hands clasped, and while he may deliver the lines well enough, I find this monotonous position rather distracting. (It wasn’t helped tonight by the pleated skirt.) However, this was a good performance, and showed more versatility than I’d seen before, so there’s hope yet. I was particularly impressed with his appearance at Aufidius’ feast, and his delayed emotional response to Volumnia’s pleading. What also came across very clearly is that Coriolanus is haughty, but not vain; he doesn’t seek glory or riches for himself, it’s all done for the good of Rome. However, he’s a warrior through and through, and doesn’t see why the common folk who don’t fight for Rome should have a say in how the city is run, and that includes voicing their approval of him as consul. His outspokenness gets him into trouble time and again, and while I can respect and admire his skills as a warrior, they cannot compensate for his lack of social and political skills.

Aufidius is another important part, and this time I found the performance somewhat crude. This actor has a tendency to wide-eyed declamation, possibly with some nostril-flares creeping in as well. This, coupled with some stiffness in movement made the part less interesting for me this time, although the dialogue all came across pretty well, and his changing motivations were clearly, if a little crudely, expressed.

The Tribunes were also a bit weak, I felt. It may be a bit unfair to compare them to the excellent performances we saw with the touring production a few years back (Tom Mannion and Geoffrey Freshwater), but I couldn’t help noticing the lack of detail in these roles this time. Other supporting actors were very good. I liked the servants at Aufidius’ feast, and the plebeians worked very well in this production – it was a good strong start to the play.

Other points I noticed: the turning point in Menenius’ persuasion of the plebeians at the start seems to be his opportunity to ridicule the chief troublemaker by likening him to a big toe. Once that chap’s lost his authority, Menenius has no opposition to his point of view. This fits very well with my understanding of Roman society, where rhetoric was more important than facts, even in court cases. The turning point for Coriolanus, listening to Volumnia, is her threat that he will be remembered shamefully, not as a hero. The fickleness of the people is a theme shared with Julius Caesar, and jealousy and envy have plenty of work to do, along with pride. The constant dilemma is this – the mass of people want leaders, but don’t want to be held to a discipline. Bugger. So heroes come and heroes go, each one discarded when they threaten the masses’ comfort zone, or are no longer required, or when the war crimes tribunal is sitting. I have no idea how this will ever be resolved, so Coriolanus should be doing good business for many centuries to come.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Sizwe Banzi Is Dead – March 2007

7/10

Devised by: Athol Fugard, John Kani, Winston Ntshona

Directed by: Aubrey Sekhabi

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Thursday 22nd March 2007

This was a great performance of a really good play. I hadn’t heard of it before, and didn’t know what to expect – perhaps something a bit serious and weighty. Not a bit of it. The proceedings start with John Kani coming on stage with a newspaper. He’s wearing a white coat over his clothes, and he takes the chair to the front of the stage, sits on it, and starts to read the paper, chatting to the audience all the while. The house lights are up, so there’s no hiding place. The rest of the stage is almost bare – there’s just a table, a board on an easel at the back with Styles Photographic Studio across it, covered with lots of photos and indications of his work – “Weddings”, “Passports”, etc. To the left is an old-fashioned camera on a tripod, and to the right a smaller table with a telephone and some bits and bobs. Nothing else, although even these items are removed when not needed, leaving a very bare acting space.

John Kani chats to us in the persona of Styles for quite some time – almost 45 minutes, I think. The production only lasts 90 minutes, so I did wonder when we would be seeing Winston Ntshona. But the chat was so entertaining. He laughed a lot, this character, telling us what was in the paper, then telling us about his time at the factory (very funny, especially when he was translating for the “baas”), and then telling us about the magic of his studio, where people come to live out their dreams. He even gets a couple of audience members up from the front row to show them his pictures. Today, Sophie Okonedo was one of those selected, and she looked so shy getting up onto the stage. Styles chatted with them, as he chatted with all of us, including us all as part of his community.

Of course, there were more moving parts of his dialogue, along with massive amounts of humour, but most of the difficult stuff was in the second half, after the man who had been Sizwe Banzi arrived to have his picture taken. The mood shifted gradually, without ever becoming bleak or terribly dark, yet we were shown the lengths many black people had to go to in order to survive under apartheid. Sizwe Banzi, played by Winston Ntshona, was a simple man from the country, come to town to make some money for his family. By the time he arrives at Styles’ studio, he’s lost his name, and we get to see the process by which this happens. He’s not allowed to stay in town, and his passport has been stamped as such by white officials. He’ll be in real trouble if he doesn’t get back to his family by yesterday. Out on the town with a helpful chap, Buntu, they come across a dead black guy, who happens to have the right kind of stamps in his passport. With much reluctance, Sizwe agrees to take on the dead man’s identity. The next day he goes to the studio to have his picture taken, so he can send it to his wife, and let her know that her “husband” is dead, but that he, Robert, will be sending her money and hopefully a permit so that she and the family can join him in town.

His story is very moving, and still there’s plenty of humour on show. Even the ridiculous lengths to which Sizwe would have to go to get permission to move back to the town is turned to laughter. Buntu spells out in great detail how Sizwe would have to get this letter, then that letter, then this stamp and that stamp, etc., and after a great long speech, sums it up with one word – “Simple!”

The performances were just superb throughout. These two actors helped to devise this piece, and originally played it thirty-five years ago, as much younger men. Not only is it still fresh today (they had reworked it quite a bit in the first half to make it more topical), but their skills have presumably only improved over the years. We’re unlikely to see this play done better. (I enjoyed it so much we bought the play text afterwards, hence my knowledge of the reworking).

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Old Times – March 2007

8/10

By: Harold Pinter

Directed by: Peter Hall

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Tuesday 13th March 2007

At last I’ve seen a production of this play that not only matches my idea of it from studying it at school, but has given me extra ideas. This production gets across the time shifts and different perspectives on past events brilliantly. All three performances were excellent, and I can’t imagine it being done better.

The set was circular, and considerably smaller than the Yvonne Arnaud stage. The first act is set in the sitting room of a converted farm house near the sea. At the start, a curtain curves round the front of the set, with pictures of waves playing across it. Just before the action begins, we see the three characters silhouetted against the curtain, husband and wife smaller on each side, while Anna, the visitor, looms large between them. As the curtain is drawn back, we see Deeley (husband) and Kate (wife) on chairs in the sitting room. Deeley is smartly dressed (for the 70s) while Kate is lounging back in a white hippyish outfit – very country lady. She’s incredibly still and focused, like a cat that’s very comfortable and sees no reason at all to move. At the back, Anna stands at the wide window which sweeps across the back of the stage, facing outwards. From the conversation, she hasn’t arrived yet, but her presence, even her existence, is the sole topic of conversation.

Deeley is fidgety, wanting to know about this person who’s invited herself to their house. Kate claims to hardly remember her, but that seems unlikely. When Anna “arrives”, she’s another cat, this time a purring, predatory one, slinking around the stage in a way that’s both seductive and challenging. She and Deeley are both determined to keep their hooks into Kate, and each sees the other as getting in the way, although it’s Deeley who seems to have the most insecurity at this stage.

For the second half, we move into the bedroom. The silhouette at the start is of just one person – Anna – as she sits on one of the beds. Deeley joins her shortly with coffee, and they talk while waiting for Kate to finish her bath. Gradually a picture emerges of a three-way relationship between the characters, with each one having their own selective memory of it. Deeley remembers meeting Kate at a movie, when she was on her own. Anna remembers going to that movie with Kate, and makes no mention of meeting Deeley there. The women lapse into the past occasionally and increasingly, talking as if they were still in their shared flat. The final moments show us the very scene each has been describing from different perspectives.

While it’s clear to me that this is one event, with each character remembering it differently, I was aware of other options within the play. For example, at one point I found myself wondering whether Kate and Anna were actually the same person – split personality, perhaps, or different expressions of the same person, as in Three Women And A Piano Tuner (Minerva, 2004). I also found Kate’s description of Anna, lying on her bed as if dead, slightly unnerving, and wondered for a moment if that were true, and they were being visited by a ghost. These were interesting ideas, and added to my enjoyment of the play, especially as I love ambiguity. But in the long run, I still think there are three characters here, with complex relationships.

Other points – Anna’s character uses language quite oddly at times, more like written English than spoken. Deeley picks up on a couple of words she uses – “gazes” and “lest” – and comments on how unusual it is to hear them, only to use “gaze” himself a number of times later on. Both women flash plenty of thigh throughout the performance, understandably given the text. Pinter has a great ability to use really banal dialogue well, showing us the characters through the clutter. In this case, they often use repetition like a weapon, and although Kate can seem rather passive at first, she emerges as the strongest character at the end.

I also liked the amount of humour they got out of this play. I remember liking it the best of the ones we studied at school, and it was good to see how funny it could be.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Kindertransport – March 2007

8/10

By: Diane Samuels

Directed by: Polly Teale

Company: Shared Experience

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 2nd March 2007

This was a very moving play, with a surprising amount of humour. It’s based on the experiences of the Jewish children who were sent away from Germany just before WWII, to England, many of whom never saw their families again. This play focuses on one child, Eva, who, at nine years old is sent away to England by her parents. She is taken in by a family in Manchester, grows up there, and eventually rejects her original family to maintain her Englishness. We see the story both in the past, reliving Eva’s journey and experiences, and also in the present, as Evelyn (her new name) tries to keep her previous life a secret from her teenage daughter. Her daughter is persistent, however, and with the help of her grandmother, the woman who took Eva in all those years ago, a truth of a sort emerges. Throughout all of this, there is the figure of the Ratcatcher, as in the Pied Piper, a story told to Eva as a child, and which should serve as a dire warning never to tell children scary stories. Eva is terrified of this figure when it’s just a story, but when it takes on flesh and blood through Nazi persecution, her terror is multiplied, and affects her life and the way she relates to others profoundly. Hence her daughter’s insistence on knowing about her mother’s past – she knows there’s something missing, and she’s appalled that her mother could wilfully keep it from her, when it’s part of who she is as well. Of course, to her mother it represents all her fears, so she doesn’t want to face it, but through this confrontation, she seems to come to a gradual acceptance of her past, even if it’s not all forgiven and forgotten.

The whole production of this play was excellent. All the performances were perfect, and the interweaving of the stories and the time elements was masterful. We were shown so much about human suffering, and courage and compassion, that I was moved to tears. I wasn’t sure about the Ratcatcher at first – he just seemed to collapse onto the stage and crawl around for a while, but eventually the symbolism took hold, and Evelyn’s final identification of the Ratcatcher with her mother was very powerful. I increasingly saw the Ratcatcher as more of a victim than a figure of terror, as the character’s make up and behaviour became more tortured. And I particularly liked the way I could feel sympathy for the various points of view and the choices which had been made, without judging or supporting any specific person. All the women were tremendously strong characters, and showed great courage in the face of their difficulties. It was also nice to see a genuinely kind mother figure for once, in the shape of the Mancunian woman who takes Eva in and supports her with an amazing degree of understanding throughout her life in England.

The set was very evocative. It was a large attic space, with lots of “storage solutions” as they’re called nowadays – several wardrobes, chests of drawers, trunks and boxes lined the space, and various items of bric-a-brac were scattered around or piled in a corner. There was also a ladder resting on a cam ceiling, which was used to get Eva on and off her ship to England. Wardrobe doors doubled as room doors, and Eva did a fair bit of climbing over the furniture and boxes – good for showing us the scene settings, and also evoking the natural way children behave.

The one man in the cast played several parts. Apart from the Ratcatcher, he was also a German official on the train taking the children to the boat, who stole Eva’s money, but let her keep her mouth-organ, as well as giving her a sweetie – he thought he was being so good! He returned as a postman who delivers Eva’s Ratcatcher book from her mother, when they could still get post through, and who jokes with her about the Nazi salute. And he’s also an unpleasant railway guard who intimidates Eva when she’s waiting for her parents to arrive – they almost made it, but war broke out a few days too soon.

Eva’s rejection of her natural mother after the war was a very moving scene. I could see both points of view – her mother has never stopped loving her, and still sees Eva as her daughter, with the other mother just a temporary relationship, as if Eva had simply been a lodger. Eva/Evelyn, on the other hand, has built a life for herself, has been through untold suffering, trying to get her parents the papers they need to get out of Germany and join her, and now she’s not the little girl who left her mother before the war. Even then, her mother had been pushing her to do things for herself, and to stand on her own feet. Now she’s doing it, and both of them are suffering.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Alchemist – February 2007

5/10

By: Paul Coelho, adapted by ???

Directed by: Dominic Knutton

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 27th February 2007

This was a bit of a disappointment. I haven’t read the book, but the opening set up looked promising. A couple of the actors, in costume, were selling programmes inside the auditorium. The programmes consisted of a plastic bag, containing a piece of paper with production information, some sand, a pebble, and a chocolate (bagsy the chocolate!). The other three actors were on stage. I think only one was playing the music, while the rest sat and listened. The stage itself had a large round mat in the middle – a story-telling circle. On it were some large reddish coloured blocks. Outside the circle were instruments and various impedimenta of the production. At the back I could see poles and wires, with small bundles of coloured cloth in various places. It looked like these would be raised up to create a backdrop, and indeed they were. There were three streamers in the middle, and two on each side, which were raised at different times to create different effects. The actors wore basic tops and trousers, except for the woman who was actually playing a woman – the other actress was playing the boy at the heart of the story. Headdresses were added as needed, and I particularly liked the sheep’s heads that most of them wore at the start.

The story is simple – a boy herding sheep has a recurring dream. I lost track of what he was actually dreaming about. One the one hand he seems to see a beautiful woman, and on the other, it’s a child who takes him off to the pyramids to find buried treasure. Anyway, he sets off in search of the treasure, while keeping an eye open for the woman. He has various adventures, arrives at the pyramids, and unravels the mystery, presumably ending up wealthy and with the love of his life, although this adaptation ends with finding the treasure.

Firstly, we found it difficult to ignore some massive coughing coming from our right in the early stages. It was so loud, that I briefly thought it might be part of the performance. Secondly, the delivery from a couple of the actors was on the weak side. The Connaught isn’t a large theatre, and we were seated in row G, yet I lost about half of the dialogue through lack of projection. I felt the production was designed for smaller auditoria – studio spaces perhaps, or theatre in the round. Thirdly, the blocks in the circle sometimes became a distraction, as the actors moved them around to create various settings. Normally, I love this kind of thing, but here it seemed very dull, lacking in imagination, and noisy enough to add to my hearing difficulties. Finally, the story itself seemed a bit simplistic and lacklustre, and I didn’t feel as engaged with it as I would have liked.

On the good side (and there has to be good side, or I wouldn’t have given it 5/10), I did like the music (more of that, please), the use of the cloth streamers at the back, the excellent sheep at the start, and the use of mime throughout to avoid perilous props, e.g. crystal glasses. I perked up when one of the characters is revealed to be Melchizedik, especially as he seemed to have uncanny knowledge of the young lad and his search. The effects with the wind, desert and the hawks were excellent, so perhaps all this production needs is time to bed down. We did see it on the opening night in Worthing; I don’t know how many other performances they’ve done. The actors are certainly talented enough, so good luck to them.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me