Category Archives: Drama

Pericles – December 2006

Experience: 8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Dominic Cooke

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 14th December 2006

This was a very entertaining evening. I may have found it better than The Winter’s Tale because I was more used to the changes in the Swan, which has, after all, been my favouritest theatre in the world, but then again, this production used the space quite differently, and we were sitting across from our previous seats, and had a much better view of all the action. In fact we only really missed the wedding between Pericles and Thaisa. All the rest was either clearly visible, or, even better, right in front of us, on the sloping ramp.

The costumes were a mix of African traditional with natural geometric patterns and earthy colours, and modern. Cerimon was initially dressed like a hippy earth mother, and the suitors for Thaisa wore fetching outfits, all matched, of blue tops and tight white shorts. (Is it just me, or is it warm in here?) The starving folk in Tarsus were suffering a fashion breakdown, as all (except the king and queen, of course) were swathed in grubby cotton sacking. Overall, it was a wonderful combination of colours and styles which worked effectively to accentuate Pericles’ travels, the diversity of cultures he visits, and the dangers he faces – the opening sequence has guards toting automatic rifles forcing the peripatetic audience members into place to hear Pericles face Antiochus’ challenge.

That Antiochus is a right bastard. Not only does he seduce his daughter into an incestuous relationship, but he’s so determined to keep her, he’s willing to chop off the head of any young man who dares to sue for her hand. In theory, of course, the guy just has to decipher the riddle to gain her, but there’s no way Antiochus is going to let anyone live who figures out what he’s been up to with his daughter. So either way, they’re for the chop. I did like the way the man standing behind Pericles on the dais started sharpening his knife as soon as Pericles accepted the challenge.

Pericles’ trip home and thence to Tarsus went very smoothly. I liked the way Cleon, King of Tarsus, is worried at first that his country is being invaded. We could hear the sound of helicopters overhead, suggestive of both rescue and invasion. Despite the relief effort, at least one starving citizen didn’t make it.

Then Pericles is off again, and, wrecked at sea, is cast up on the shores of Pentapolis. I enjoyed this bit, when the sailors/fishermen find him, and then rescue his armour. The chap who found it was clearly none too happy that Pericles claimed it back, and in the end this staging didn’t make use of the shield, but I suppose that scene is showing Pericles’ luck and/or air of authority. It’s also when he finds out about the availability of Thaisa, the King’s daughter, and decides to become one of her suitors.

The competition among Thaisa’s suitors was the best I’ve seen. At first, the scene is set for Thaisa’s birthday celebration, and the suitors are shown, in the box, bringing her gifts (not in the text, this bit). There’s a couple of bags, one large, one small, a cuddly toy, and a box. When the flashiest one comes along, he seems to have nothing to give her, but at the last minute produces a conspicuous set of car keys – just showing off, if you ask me! Then Pericles arrives, the final suitor, with nothing more than a single rose. At this point, Thaisa doesn’t really pay him much attention – he’s more of a puzzle than anything else.

Next comes the competition, and instead of sword play, we’re treated to a modern pentathlon – shooting, fencing (alright, we got a bit of sword play), swimming, riding, and running. One contestant was dropped after each round. For the first event they lined up on one of the walkways, and shot across to the other. One of the contestants managed to fell a stray bird, feathers floating down to make the point, and Pericles had to borrow (or grab) the gun from the chap standing next to him, as he obviously didn’t have one of his own. Bird shooter was eliminated, and the rest went down to the ground level for the fencing. By the way, Nigel Cooke, dressed like a cook from what I could see, was running a book on the outcome – I know the RSC needs money for the redevelopment, but really! Anyway, with five competitors left, the first four paired up, and when one was beaten, Pericles stepped in to fight the winner. Needless to say, he gets through to the final, and also wins that. Our hero is doing well. Then it’s off to the box for the swimming. A blue sheet is held up, and wiggled about a bit, while the remaining suitors swim two lengths of the box. Another one out, and we’re down to three. On the walkway leading to the ramp, the three eliminatees are sitting with drums, and the three still in it come along in riding hats, and with whips, and sort of mount them (it’s not as bad as it sounds). Then they have a race, with pauses for the jumps, and the sound of the drumming for the hooves. A finishing post is trundled into view towards the end, so we know who’s won. Another one bites the dust, and then it’s just Pericles and the flash git in the final sprint, up the ramp just in front of us. Despite his chubby appearance, and being against a lean, tall, muscular sort of chap, Pericles actually manages to win this one as well – hooray! I was so caught up in the story-telling, that frankly, I didn’t mind this a bit – it was just good fun.

Following the events, there was some sulking as Simonides made a speech congratulating them all, and some clenched teeth were visible through the smiles. But it’s all still to play for, as the competition wasn’t to determine Thaisa’s husband, it was just a bit of fun, a way to pass the time. However, at the banquet later, Thaisa’s obviously very taken with the victorious stranger. She has an interesting relationship with her father, Simonides. They both clearly love each other, in a healthy way this time, but they will keep pretending the opposite of what they feel – in Simonides case, it’s often to test how his daughter really feels, and given the nature of their relationship, that’s quite understandable. In her case, it’s not so clear, unless she’s just picked up on Daddy’s way of doing things. Or perhaps she’s a bit shy of declaring her interest in Pericles outright. Anyway, she pretends indifference, and is secretly (if you can call it a secret when the whole audience knows) delighted when her father tells her to take a cup of wine to the champion of the games. Pericles is pretty taken with her, too, and they have a nice little dance sequence, with interesting suggestions of the two of them trying to blend their different cultures.

Simonides is also pretty keen on this match, because early the next morning, he sees off the other suitors, spinning a yarn about how his daughter wants a gap year before she marries. Off they go, some sobbing with disappointment, and leave the field clear for Pericles. Simonides has had a letter from his daughter expressing her feelings for the man, and he confronts Pericles with it, pretending to be angry. Pericles is thrown into confusion. The last time he was presented with a piece of paper was in Antioch, and he only just escaped with his life. He responds that he hasn’t done anything to encourage Thaisa, and she arrives to be confronted by her pseudo-angry father and …. well, it all ends happily, as Simonides can’t keep up the pretence for long, and before you know it, the happy couple are man and wife.

The audience participation included invitations to the wedding feast, which I thought was a nice touch – go to a play, join in the wedding breakfast. Gower, the narrator, informs us of time passing, and of Pericles receiving news that he has to return to Tyre or risk losing his crown, so without more ado they head off to sea, Thaisa much pregnant. A storm comes up, and here the people at the table start to sway and throw themselves about as if on a storm-tossed ship – a nice segue. Thaisa is helped to the box, and behind a curtain she produces her baby daughter, and then breathes her last …. or does she? Pericles is distraught, and it isn’t helped by the superstitious sailors wanting to chuck Thaisa’s body overboard asap. Fortunately, they have a fully water-proofed coffin standing by (they were obviously boy scouts or whatever the ancient equivalent was – always prepared), and so off she floats, with a covering letter explaining the situation and asking for whoever finds the coffin to put her in a proper grave. Pericles then instructs the sailors to head for Tarsus, as it’s apparently nearer, and he plans to leave his daughter there for Cleon and his wife to bring her up. Given the circumstances of her birth, he names her Marina. Cleon and his wife are only too happy to help, having a daughter of a similar age themselves (regular viewers of Will’s work will be suspicious on hearing this news).

One point to mention on the staging. At the time Thaisa is in the box giving birth, the same actress who played Antiochus’ daughter is spotlit, standing on the ramp to our right, watching the proceedings. I wasn’t sure what this meant at first – was this Antiochus’ daughter haunting Pericles, or taking on the shape of his daughter, or what? Actually, it was a neat bit of doubling, which would have been even more effective if the risk of incest in the later scenes had been brought out. As it was, it made me pay attention, and introduced Marina to us before the break, as she’s all growed up afterwards.

The two scenes with Cerimon are run together here. Thaisa’s waking is well done, as she gives a huge start and cries out. Her last memory is of the childbirth, and she’s understandably confused as to how she got where she is. The one thing I feel needs more explanation in the text is why Thaisa assumes so quickly that she won’t see her husband again. But then we wouldn’t get that lovely last scene, of course, so never mind. Thaisa decides to be a nun at the temple of Diana, for she has landed in Ephesus.

Now we’re following Marina’s story more than Pericles. Growing up to be a beauty, with many talents and a wonderful personality, Queen Dionyza naturally takes a scunner to her overshadowing her own daughter – we knew there’d be problems! After bumping off Lychorida, Marina’s nurse, Dionyza suborns some chap, apparently her lover in this version, to do the same to Marina. Possibly fortunately, some pirates arrive at the exact moment to prevent this murder, and steal her away. The would-be murderer reckons he can get away with his failure, as Marina’s not likely to be seen again in those parts, but hangs around in case they throw her back and he has to do the job after all.

We, however, are off to Mitylene and the bawdy house. Pole dancers do their thing on the ramps, while sailors and others mill around the market place. The music is modern, the lights are flashing – all painting a picture of modern-day sleaze and corruption. No redeeming features to this den of iniquity.

Business appears to be bad. The box is where the bawd and her minions hang out – all 50s style, with a lovely air of seediness. They’re down to their last three whores, and they’re past their shag-by dates. Boult is sent off to the market to find fresh meat, and brings back Marina – a virgin. Hooray! She’ll make their fortunes. Or will she? We see two sailors leave the place, vowing never to enter such a house again – what can be going on? Then we see a man in a grubby raincoat, looking every inch the perv, and pretending to be blind, approaching the door. He’s obviously well known to the occupants, as the bawd informs us “Here comes the Lord Lysimachus, disguised”. Turns out he’s the governor of the place, and when he throws off his covering, they’re all suitably impressed at the way he fooled them all. Hanging the grubby coat on the back of the door, he enquires if there’s any fun to be had, or some such, and they offer him Marina, probably a last-ditch effort to get her to co-operate. He takes on the task with relish, and after a bit of small talk, the others leave the two of them together.

Marina’s clearly not happy with what she’s being asked to do, and as he undresses, taking off his tie and then his trousers, he asks her about her past, how she came to this line of work and so on. Her replies rebut his assumption that she’s a prostitute; as the bawd knows only too well, she’s yet to have intimate contact with anyone! She keeps turning his words against him – when he points out that she’s in a house of prostitutes, she asks if, knowing this, he would come here? She reminds him of his honour, that he is, to all outward appearance, an honourable man, and he ends up giving her money. And then more money. Then he dresses again, and heads off, throwing the grubby coat into the corner – the sign that he’s given up on paying for sex completely. The bawd is at her wits’ end when she finds out. Boult offers to give Marina  her induction course, so they leave him to it, but she manages to persuade him that they’ll be better off using her talents – singing, weaving, sewing and dancing – to earn money honestly. She gives him the money the governor gave her, and he agrees to help her as best he can.

Meanwhile, Cleon has found out that Marina is dead, and who killed her. He’s rather upset, but his wife persuades him to go along with her plan to say Marina died of natural causes, and to mourn her as if they cared. When Pericles finds out his daughter is dead, he’s so grief-stricken, he goes on a seriously long Mediterranean cruise, refusing to leave his cabin, to shave, etc. Eventually he arrives at Mitylene, where the governor comes aboard to enquire after his health (plus carry out customs checks, probably), and finds a man suffering from serious depression. Naturally he thinks immediately of the amazing girl he met at the bawdy house, who has since been wowing Mitylene society with her beauty and wisdom. Fortunately, she happens to be close by, and soon arrives to help the poor unshaven man on the ship. This is such a moving scene, and I found myself sniffling quite a bit during it. At first, Pericles doesn’t want to see or speak with Marina, and he rejects her physically when she tries to touch him. When he does look at her, he’s reminded of his own dear queen, and it’s here that many productions insert some physical attraction for her that echoes the earlier incestuous relationship between Antiochus and his daughter. But re-reading the lines confirms what this production has done – there is no actual reference to, not even a hint of, Pericles having lustful thoughts towards his daughter. Naturally, he’s overcome with emotion as she tells her story, and of course, she doesn’t know who he is at this point. I think that’s one of the difficult things with this scene – clearly establishing who knows what about whom. Anyway, there’s a touching reconciliation. Then the governor shoves his oar in, as he was only holding back from proposing to Marina because she wasn’t of a high enough status, but now he can ply his suit, and is accepted.

When Pericles takes some rest – it’s all been a bit much for him – he sees a vision of Diana, here doubled with Thaisa, who tells him to go and give thanks at her temple in Ephesus. There, Diana’s statue is led on by a group of nuns, among them Thaisa, and after Pericles’ speech of thanks, she recognises him and faints. It all comes out then, the family are reunited, lots of sniffles all round, and Gower finishes off by telling us how all the baddies get their just desserts, and all the goodies are rewarded. A happy ending.

I loved this production, and was totally happy that we’d booked to see it again at the Winter School. All the performances were good, and the whole production had a liveliness and joy of the storytelling that made it a delight to watch, and to listen to. Joseph Mydell was exceptionally good as Gower, as was Richard Moore as Simonides. But the whole ensemble were excellent, and I left with my spirits high, looking forward to another performance. We won’t often see such a good production as this.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Winter’s Tale – December 2006

Experience: 6/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Dominic Cooke

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 14th December 2006

This production sees the Swan boarded over to create a promenade space, with the seating being in the galleries only. It reminded me of the Roundhouse production, and given how much the RSC has taken on this year with the complete works, doing many productions themselves, it wouldn’t be surprising if they decided to reuse several good productions of the recent past. After all, Michael Boyd has resuscitated his Henrys (seeing those in February).

There was a long, curved walkway spiralling down from the right gallery level to the ground by what would normally be the main entrance to the auditorium. All metal. There was a walkway across the left front of the gallery, the side we were sitting on this time. At the back, the balconies had been extended forward, to create a reasonable sized room for some of the scenes – Mamillius’s bedroom and  Leontes’ study. It was a bit small, though, and the actors had to keep out of each other’s way so characters could get in and out of the door. I know Leontes shuts himself away, but this is ridiculous! Otherwise, various pieces of furniture, platforms, etc., were brought on as needed.

At the start, there was an actor sitting on the walkway just to my right. He was dressed as a gardener and appeared to be working with a tray of seedlings. I had no idea who he was (he turned out to be Time, who delivers the introduction to the second half), but he blocked my view quite badly at the start, so that I lost much of the emotional aspects of the early stages, especially Leontes inciting Camillo to kill Polixinus. I also found I lost a lot of the dialogue – not sure how much was down to the more open nature of the performance space, and how much down to delivery. The more experienced actors were fine, on the whole, but some of the younger ones weren’t so punchy, and didn’t always inflect their speeches so well. There was music at the start which continued over the dialogue, and I found that got in the way a bit.

Autolycus was as scantily clad as I’ve seen in the Swan, excepting Tales from Ovid, but didn’t impress me (as a production choice, I mean). The sheep-shearing celebration seemed a bit tame – although the promenaders helped in terms of numbers, they were just standing around, and made the whole thing seem a bit dull. It was also a bit off-putting when it came to the more intimate scenes, such as Camillo advising Florizel and Perdita to flee to Sicilia. I still got emotional at the reunion scene.

All in all I felt the production didn’t suit the Swan space, the rearrangements made it difficult to see what was going on, and to hear clearly, and although it was a lively production with a lot of good performances (Nigel Cooke and Anton Lesser particularly) it just didn’t sparkle for me.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Moon For The Misbegotten – December 2006

Experience: 9/10

By Eugene O’Neill

Directed by Howard Davies

Venue: Old Vic Theatre

Date: Wednesday 6th November 2006

Although I enjoyed this play enormously, and suspect that this is about the best production of it we’re likely to see (even assuming we get to see another one!) I felt it was just below 10/10 status for me. But only just. The play itself is a marvel, reminding me of the skill and power of Terence Rattigan in In Praise of Love. The story is basically about the relationships among three people. For long periods there are only two actors on stage, yet it constantly gripped and moved me. I wanted to see what happened to these people – would they make it out of their own personal hells?

The set was visible from the off. A Hopper-esque mid-western landscape with a splash of Dali in the crooked shack, and achingly blue skies stretching into forever while a few clouds failed to look important in the distance. Lovely. Actually, the play is set in Connecticut, which I don’t associate with the empty prairie look, but then what do I know?

Eve Best plays Josie Hogan, the daughter of Phil Hogan (Colm Meaney). The opening scene involves her helping her brother Mike (Eugene O’Hare) to run off. He’s tired of the old man’s beatings, and wants to better himself. We learn that there’s another brother who’s done the same thing before. Josie chooses to stay with her Dad; she can handle him OK, as we see when he turns up looking for his lazy good-for-nothing son. She gets a big stick and threatens him when he turns on her and he soon backs down.

Their conversation is rambling, and entertaining, and gives us a lot of the background. They’re working a pretty difficult farm – mostly stones – and not actually paying rent to the owner, Jim Tyrone (Kevin Spacey) the son of the original owner. Jim is a drunk. He used to be an actor, and apparently talks like he’s headed back to the bright city lights, but he never seems to do anything but mooch around and drink away his inheritance. He comes over regularly to hang out with Phil, mostly in the nearby bar, and despite his joking around we can see he’s really interested in Josie. Their relationship develops over the course of a drunken, moon-soaked night, and naturally we find out why Jim drinks. Phil has been spinning yarns again to encourage Josie to get Jim to propose, so that she can have a good life and not have to keep working on the farm, but it doesn’t quite work out. Although there’s not a happy ending as such, there is a sense of completion, as Josie forgives Jim for his assumed guilt.

We also see one T Steadman Harder (Billy Carter) whose land adjoins Phil’s farm. Phil has been taking liberties with Harder’s ice pond, tearing down the fence between the properties and letting his pigs enjoy themselves in a nice cool pool. Harder turns up to try and thrash things out, but ends up getting thrashed himself, as Phil and Josie gang up on him and accuse him of letting their pigs onto his land where they might drown or catch a cold from the chilly water! Very entertaining, and it shows father and daughter working as a team, which they do very effectively.

All the performances were great, with so much detail in them it was difficult to know who to watch especially when all three leads were on stage together. I do hope this production wins awards.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

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

Therese Raquin – November 2006

Experience: 3/10

By Emile Zola, adapted by Nicholas Wright

Directed by Marianne Elliot

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Tuesday 28th November 2006

          This was a disappointment in a number of ways. Although it started off well, and the performances were excellent, the adaptation has problems, and the production lacked the thrill and suspense I associated with the first version we saw back at Chichester in 1990.

         One of the main difficulties I had was with the “music”. I presume they were trying to depict the tension the couple were living under after the murder, and were using a repetitive, droning chord – I don’t know what instrument was being used, but for me it was an instrument of torture. I believe such sounds are actually used to cause people physical discomfort, and it certainly worked that way for me. I didn’t find it too disturbing until near the end, but by then it was giving me a headache and making it very hard to concentrate on the play. I even considered leaving, but reckoned I didn’t have much longer to endure – even so, I wouldn’t voluntarily go through that sort of abuse again.

         One advantage of the Chichester production was the small space of the Minerva Theatre, which made the whole atmosphere much more claustrophobic. On the Lyttelton stage, a wide open space, it was much harder to create that sense, although the description of the flat as draughty was certainly believable. Somehow the couple’s secret passion didn’t come across so well, perhaps because Therese was played with very little show of emotion, so a lot of the action seemed a bit dreary at times. We certainly didn’t need such a long series of tableaux of the couple’s restlessness and divisions – once through the loop would have been more than enough. Frankly, by the time they chose to end it all, I was glad to see the back of them.

         The set was pretty bleak. A large room, with windows high up, grey walls everywhere, a kitchen area off left, flanking the stairway down to the shop, doors to a walk-in wardrobe, the door to Madame Raquin’s room, then the cubby-hole bed for the son and niece. With only a large table and a few chairs to furnish it, this flat looked very empty. A screen was used to distance us from the action at the start and end of scenes, God knows why, as I already felt distanced enough from the action after a short time. The cast were superb, given the limitations of the adaptation. Camille was talkative and fussy, just the sort of husband you’d want to bump off if a looker like Ben Daniels came your way. I didn’t feel the sense of danger with his Laurent as I did first time round, but that’s this production for you. Therese was very withdrawn, though she did show her passionate side in the early scene with Laurent. Mainly, she seemed to hate rather than love, to want revenge for the way she’d been treated, and sex with Laurent was as good a way as any. Definitely a woman to avoid. It’s not clear in this version how often they’ve been having sex, possibly just the once? Maybe I was just missing bits – with such a large auditorium (more of a lecture hall than a theatre) it can be difficult to pick up all the dialogue.

         The family friends – M Grivet and M Michaud – who turn up regularly to play dominoes, were great fun, especially Mark Hadfield as Grivet, all fussiness and self-concern. Madame Raquin managed a good line in self-concern as well, resolutely thinking of nobody but herself, and by extension, Camille, the whole play through. Actually, it’s a little amazing that Therese stayed as sane as she did.

         I found Suzanne, Michaud’s niece, an odd character. The part seemed to be well enough played, although I probably missed more of her lines than anyone else’s, but I was never too clear on what her part in the drama was. Was she just there to show a more normal approach to relationships? Or were we meant to contrast her naivety and idealism with Therese’s experience and world-weariness? We may never know. And given that I didn’t enjoy this production enough, I’m unlikely to read the playtext to find out.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – November 2006

Experience: 6/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by David Tse Ka-shing

Company: Yellow Earth Theatre & Shanghai Dramatic Arts Centre

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Thursday 23rd November 2006

          Although part of the Complete Works Festival, we opted to see this production in Guildford, on its tour of the UK. I found it interesting, though not as emotionally engaging as I’m used to with Lear. The mixture of actors – half from the UK, speaking mainly English, and half from China, speaking mainly Mandarin – worked pretty well, although it can’t have been easy rehearsing this work. Checking out the surtitles, I realised that sometimes a short English line would translate to about two minutes of Chinese, while long English lines would occasionally produce a few terse Chinese syllables. I did feel this affected the rhythm of the piece, with some bits of dialogue trundling on long past the delivery of the emotional content (or the time it took to read the surtitles, depending).

The core idea was of a slightly futuristic world, with China now the major superpower, and Lear handing over the reins of his global business empire to his three daughters. Some of this worked quite well, and some just jarred. The final battle between Cordelia’s forces and the sisters’ troops was shown as a trading war on the exchange floor, with figures flying up and down so fast it was impossible to see what was going on. Hardly life and death. And what was the purpose? To break the Lear business empire? A bit difficult to do in one trading session, I would have thought. This version weakened the end scenes, when lives have supposedly been, and are being, staked on who ends up in charge. But in other ways this setting worked quite well. The use of mobile phones and text messaging to replace most of the usual letters was very well done. The initial scene with the daughters being asked to vie for their father’s love used video conferencing to good effect. Cordelia has obviously been sent to run the business interests overseas, and so has lost touch with her roots; she finds it difficult to speak what she feels, as Chinese is no longer her first language, and her cultural understanding has changed too. We can readily accept in our society the idea of older, Asian cultures having a strong paternalism that’s no longer so prevalent here. And family business empires are often run by Alpha+ males, who expect everyone else to obey without question, while perhaps having a few quirks of personality that can seem out of place in an otherwise rational person. So all that fitted, and Cordelia’s obvious separation from her family comes across loud and clear. The marriage proposals had to be ditched, but that’s a minor price to pay.

With so few actors there was a lot of doubling as well, even with the cuts. Only Zhou Yemang stuck to the one role, Lear. I found it confusing at first, especially when David Yip came on in one scene, having previously been Gloucester, now playing Albany. I realised eventually that there were subtle changes of costume, but it took me a while to adjust. Overall, it worked reasonably well.

One excellent idea was to have the fool expressed as Lear’s inner thoughts, adding to the sense that he’s cracking up. The rest of the cast, wearing uniform robes, stood round him speaking some of the fool’s lines, while Lear reacted much more emotionally to what he was hearing. I liked this interpretation a lot. In fact, I found Zhou Yemang’s portrayal both restrained and moving – he conveyed a sense of the barriers this man has erected around himself, and the tremendous upheaval he’s going through very well, especially considering the language difference.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Number – November 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Caryl Churchill

Directed by Jonathan Munby

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Friday 17th November 2006

This play deals with the subject of cloning – a wonderfully open area for speculation and exploration, as yet largely untouched by dramatists. (I suspect sci-fi writers have already had a field day.) A father is confronted by three versions of his son – the ideal one, the original, flawed version, and another copy who’d been brought up without knowing his origins. The mother had died in an accident, and the original son had suffered from the loss of his mother, or from his father’s subsequent behaviour, or more likely from both – the father treats his son abominably, leaving him alone for hours on end, presumably beating him badly, and the like. Then the father decides to try and get his original “sweet” son back, to replace the monster he’s now got. So he opts for cloning, and gets back a lovely little baby, who turns out to be a “good” son. The other has been shuffled off into care. Unfortunately, the people doing the experiment, either for scientific research, or because they have to have some spares in case some don’t take, produce around twenty clones of the original, all of them still living. It’s this revelation that the “good” son brings to his father at the start, and the whole story unravels from there.

This production was immeasurably helped by the casting – Timothy West as the father and Sam West as the son. It did make one change of emphasis – when the son asks the father “Are you my father?”, we know the answer – it’s staring us in the face. With other casting, it might be possible to leave even more doubt in the audience’s mind about the relationships going on here. But this is not a complaint, merely an observation.

The set was minimal – a square floor, two chairs, lights that swept back and forth as if “scanning” the characters, and a vast array of test tubes hanging from the ceiling like a modern light fitting. This play is so tightly scripted, that we really don’t want anything too fussy to take attention away from the dialogue. And the performances tonight were excellent. There’s a lot of half-sentences, words tailing off into nothing, that say more than the words could do, and all of this was meat and drink to two such skilled actors. It took me a moment or two to tune in to the accents, but then I found the play almost Pinterish in its intensity and compactness. Not a word is wasted. The three sons are easy to distinguish, and the unfolding relationships are very compelling to watch. It’s a short play – only 50 minutes long – but it packs a lot into a small space. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

We did have one distraction the night we went. A lady in a wheelchair was taken ill towards the end, and several people were helping her – it looked like a doctor came down from the side seating to help out. She was taken out, and an ambulance was arriving just as we were leaving the theatre. I hope she was OK. Although it was visible to at least one of the actors, they carried on superbly, and we were able to keep our focus mostly on the play. There was also an appeal at the end for an actors’ charity, so buckets were to the fore on the way out.

I did miss some of the dialogue at times, which is the problem with theatre in the round – they’d put seats at the back of the stage as well this time, so the actors had to keep moving. Overall, though, it was a really good piece of theatre, and raises some interesting questions.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – November 2006

Experience: 6/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Claus Peymann

Company: Berliner Ensemble

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 16th November 2006

This was an interesting experience. Apart from the Othello adaptation at the start of the Complete Works Festival, I haven’t seen much German theatre before, possibly none, so this was a first for me. (I’ve seen Cabaret, but that doesn’t really count.) I found much of it a bit dull, but I did learn a lot, and there were some lovely pieces of action, so all in all, it was quite good fun.

It was done in German, with surtitles, which were mostly in Shakespeare’s own words. It was heavily edited, and had one of the most intriguing bits of doubling I’ve ever seen. More of that later.

The set – the Courtyard was converted into a white box, with lots of panels to make windows and doors as needed, and two gaping holes either side. The walls sloped in towards the back, and white lines painted on the floor gave an exaggerated perspective. The rear panel lifted up (rather slowly – some of the scene changes were painfully slow, although we were entertained by lots of banging and clunking noises in the meantime), and revealed a contracted snooker table also with exaggerated perspective, mostly hidden behind a pillar. The pillar had two ledges on the front, which acted as seats and also the throne. At other times, the pillar and table were taken away to leave a large open space behind the walls, bare apart from two tiny ships, cut-outs, presumably, which were sailing along the back wall, except that one of them was sinking. Were we supposed to make anything of them, I wonder? Nothing was said, no reference was made to them that I caught. The other item on the stage at the start was a dead dummy, which I took to be the murdered Duke of Gloucester, the trigger for the action in the play. The same dummy reappears at the end, this time representing dead Richard, a nice touch.

I tried to avoid reading the surtitles, as I knew the play fairly well, but I wasn’t getting much from the performances at first, so I gave in and read them as often as I wanted to. It was a good choice. Even so, parts of the first half dragged a bit for me. It took me some time to get used to the performance style. The costumes were modern, with a 30’s influence and some surreal touches – one character had what seemed to be a black codpiece strapped over the front of his trousers. The actors were mostly whited up, not too solidly, and there was a black line on Bolingbroke’s face, from one ear, across the jaw and over the other ear, presumably a minimalist beard. Another actor had very red ears – I’m assuming it was make-up! Movements and expressions tended to be either very restrained or totally over the top. Together with the white faces and the blank set, this gave the whole production a surreal, clownish air. I certainly didn’t connect very deeply with any of the characters at this stage.

The gauntlet-throwing scene was the first bit I really enjoyed. The gloves had been stiffened and weighted, with darts inserted through the fingers, so they could be flung down (fairly carefully!) and would stick upright in the floor. Very effective. The second gauntlet-throwing scene was even better. It used the same gloves, but with many more challenges the floor fairly bristled with them. Very funny.

Veit Schubert’s interpretation of Bolingbroke took a bit of getting used to. I’m not sure I liked it though it was interesting to see how he developed the character through the play. He came across more as a buffoon – very nervous and diffident at first in front of the King, flaring up into temper during the accusations, but quickly abashed when the King intervenes. I wasn’t sure how this would work out further on, but he managed to get some menace and authority into the characterisation.

Richard first appears playing snooker (or billiards) with his disreputable mates. He’s a slightly sunken figure, suggesting dissipation and a wasted life. The casual way he ‘remembers’ to put on the crown – gosh, almost forgot he’s king – got a laugh, and there was a lot to like in this performance, particularly in the abdication scene. The Queen doesn’t have much to do in these early scenes, but she makes the most of the later ones – be patient.

John  of Gaunt’s dying speech didn’t particularly move, nor did I find Richard’s “why, uncle, what’s the matter” as funny as I have seen it before. But Richard’s ruthlessness comes across well, and sows the seeds of his downfall. Bolingbroke, returning from exile to claim his lands, will find plenty of supporters in England.

The Queen’s histrionics over her husband’s departure for Ireland, to crush the rebels, were so OTT as to be laughable. But she was also sowing seeds (funny how this play brings out so many gardening metaphors!) for later reaping. One of Richard’s supporters (don’t know which – there’s supposed to be two of them in this scene – we only get one) tries to comfort her, but she collapses with grief. There’s a working tap strategically located on the left stage wall, and he uses it to get water to wake her up, which it does. But this woman is a serial fainter. After another collapse or two, the pattern is set, and little do we know how often she’s going to hit the deck before the end!

Bolingbroke’s meeting with his last remaining uncle, the Duke of York, had a few entertaining moments. The Duke seemed to be more intent on carrying out his duty to defend England and arrest Bolingbroke than I’ve seen before – he was having a real strop! – and was induced to support Bolingbroke more because his forces were too weak to oppose him than by sympathy for his cause. However, they soon make up, and the Duke invites them into his house, which appears miraculously at the edge of the set, peeping from behind the right wall, about a foot high and with lights showing at the tiny windows and door. Ran out of budget? Mind you, it was cute.

The killing of Bushy and Green didn’t do much for me, nor was I all that taken with Richard’s return to England, though I did like the parallel between Bolingbroke kissing the earth of his native land when he leaves and when he returns, and Richard patting the earth with his hands. Earth has always featured strongly in this play – and this production gives it full prominence.

OK, so Richard goes through his ups and downs – first he’s got lots of troops, then there are none, despair, hope, despair, etc. Then Bolingbroke turns up and does the swiftest capture of the King I’ve ever seen. So far, I hadn’t felt particularly engaged with this production. In fact, I had just asked Steve (in a whisper, of course) the rhetorical question ‘There is going to be an interval, isn’t there?’ when the whole thing changed, and the fun began. The herald of this transformation was a nun. A dancing nun. I kid you not. She pranced onto the stage in a seriously lively manner, flinging flower-darts at the floor with gay abandon. (She actually caught the Queen’s dress in one and had to redo it.) This nun then tries to do the impossible – cheer up her companion, the miserable serial fainter. Tough proposition. But this nun’s almost up to the task. She offers dancing, singing and telling stories as possible entertainments, but the Queen’s having none of it (although we do get a bit of singing). Her demonstration for the dancing suggestion consisted of some funky moves that wouldn’t have been out of place in a modern nightclub. Even though the Queen wasn’t joining in, the nun boogied for as long as she could. The amazing dancing nun. I don’t often get to see such a thing, and my mood improved massively.

Then the real mud-slinging started. A lower panel had been removed, and someone was trying to get a wheelbarrow through the gap. They failed. Umpteen times. The wheelbarrow kept banging against the wall. Of course, it was all deliberate, and eventually the gardener got through, brought the wheelbarrow over to the centre of the stage, and tipped out the earth it carried onto the stage. Several handfuls of dirt had already fallen out with all the banging, so the place looked a right mess by this time. Second gardener comes on, with a hose, connects it to the tap, and turns it on. Water shoots across the stage. The Queen and the nun are already lurking out of harm’s way, but the other gardener is in for a soaking, as is the mound of earth. As the water soaks into it, and runs all over the stage, the first gardener mixes it up, creating a nice splodgy mess. When they’ve got it good and mushy, they put it round the flowers previously planted by the nun.

All this while, the gardeners have been discussing the regime change (yes, the play does actually go on while all this is happening), and the Queen gets upset. And we know what happens when this Queen gets upset, don’t we? She rushes over to tell the gardeners off. Now I thought she’d do her best to keep her lovely white frock clean, but no. First off, she grabs the end of the gardener’s spade and starts shaking it, so she’s already got her hands mucky, plus some dirt gets on her dress. But then the pressure escalates, and plop, down she goes, slap bang in the middle of what’s left of the mud heap. What fun! And how handy there’s a man with a hose ready to wake her up. Definitely not a production to see from the front row, unless you’re well water-proofed. We weren’t surprised that the interval came just after this scene.

We were surprised, though, to find they’d left all the mud on the stage for the second half. Not only that, they added more. As Richard and his queen tried to say their goodbyes, missiles of mud came flying diagonally across from behind the walls to crash against the far walls, making the whole stage look like a disastrous episode of Ground Force. The mud was put to good use, however, as Aumerle uses it to write “Richard forever” or some such on the back wall, just to show he’s about to become a traitor. The race to beg for Aumerle’s pardon/demand that he be executed, was so-so, while the abdication was suitably fraught with “will he, won’t he” tension, and the mirror scene was interesting, as for once Richard holds the mirror up so we in the audience can see his reflection as well. Given what’s gone on before, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised that the mirror too gets smashed on the floor, but I was. Even more mess to clean up. I also recognised some of the lines as echoing Helen of Troy’s description as “the face that launched a thousand ships”.

Despite there being several “spare” actors who could have taken on the role of Exton, killer of the king, there was an interesting choice made in this production to use the Duke of York for this job. Very interesting choice, emphasising the Duke’s readiness to ingratiate himself with the new regime, and perhaps even the necessity to do this. As a result, the pre-death scenes for Richard have to be slightly curtailed, as he knows his assassin all too well, so we just get his musings on his life now, a bit of the music and his thanks to his jailer (no groom), and then it’s goodnight from him. Richard did come across quite well here, showing a degree of emotional and mental development from the early stages, and I found it quite moving, if a little brief.

The final scene has Henry IV washing the mud off the walls with the hose. With each wall, the Duke of York brings on another computer printout with news of more traitors’ deaths. Henry looks less than happy to be interrupted, and drapes these printouts over the back of his throne. At the end, the Duke announces the delivery of Richard’s dead body (the dummy), and is inevitably banished by the king. One important cut here – I was glancing at the surtitles, and noticed that the part line “love him murdered” was omitted. The implication for me was that Henry really didn’t mind Richard’s murder, but had to make a show of remorse for public consumption. Very interesting choice.

Although I didn’t enjoy this as much as some other productions I’ve seen, I have to admit it was a well-thought out version of the play, bringing out some interesting connections and patterns, and placing much more emphasis on the political aspects. Warfare at home and abroad, regime change, despotic leaders, failed assassination attempts, fearing to express opposition, bumping off political rivals, connections with the land – perhaps there’s something in recent German history that makes these things resonate today?

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof – November 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Tennessee Williams

Directed by Richard Baron

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Wednesday 8th November 2006

I didn’t remember much of the previous production I saw, so this was a very interesting one to see. The bulk of the first act is down to Maggie, the cat of the title, all jumpy because her husband hasn’t given her a child yet, and she sees her comfortable life slipping away if Big Daddy leaves his estate to the well-offspringed brother-in-law. For a women who has clawed her way up from close to the gutter, it’s not an appealing prospect. Her husband, Brick, doesn’t have a lot to say for himself in this act, but he makes up for it later on. All the performances were good. I didn’t notice much slippage in the accent department, although I’m no expert, and the reading of the play worked well for me. I could see who the characters were loud and clear, and the production was balanced enough not to take sides – just as well, since few of the characters get anywhere near likeable. It says a great deal for Tennessee Williams’ skill as a playwright that it can be so fascinating to sit and watch so many unpleasant people for nearly three hours.

The revelations over the next two acts were unsurprising, but the presentation made them very watchable. I was especially moved by Big Daddy’s stories of his time abroad, and the abject poverty he witnessed. Brick’s despair and grief were obvious, and I liked the nice tussle between him and Maggie over the pillow. He kept putting it on the couch where he’d been sleeping since his friend died, and she kept returning it to the bed, where she wanted him to be. God knows what any child born into that family would have to put up with (now there’s and idea for a sequel). It’s a shame this wasn’t better attended, but fortunately there were lots of younger people there who may have got an insight into more powerful drama than we usually get on stage, and even on TV.

© 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