Category Archives: Historical

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

Blonde Bombshells Of 1943 – March 2007

6/10

By: Alan Plater

Directed by: Mark Babych

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 5th March 2007

I really enjoyed myself tonight. The story was good, the acting very entertaining, and the music was excellent. What more could I ask?

The play covers one day in the life of a teenage girl, who joins a wartime all-girl band, and ends up playing and singing on radio that night. It’s topped and tailed by her granddaughter, played by the same actress, who says it’s the story her grandma told her after she’s sung her grandma’s favourite song for her birthday.

We get to see the motley crew assemble in a cold theatre space with some bomb damage, especially to the drums. The band leader has been in the business for years, and is the usual hard-bitten type with a heart of gold, though it doesn’t often get used. Her regulars are a trumpet player whose husband was taken prisoner by the Japanese, so she’s had no news of him for months, a bass player whose husband went down on the Royal Oak, and an Australian piano player. All were good musicians, but I particularly liked the bass player – very funky.

First to audition is a schoolgirl (granny), who joins in their warm-up number on the clarinet. A gifted musician, she later plays the saxophone first time out with no practice, but that’s theatre for you. The next to audition is a nun, who entertains them with a George Formby number – she can play a number of instruments, and her enthusiasm is very obvious – perhaps explaining why the Mother Superior thinks she would be such a valuable asset to the war effort somewhere other than the convent!

Next there’s the upper class totty – a good looking woman who has that irritating ability to just pick up any old instrument and get a tune out of it, by ear – no reading sheet music for her. Her commanding officer has sent her along, after hearing that the band needed new members – it’s amazing the effect a large group of GIs can have on female morale. At least the girls in the band are never short of nylons!

Finally, the new drummer turns up, only he’s not quite what they were expecting. He’s basically a chancer on the run from his call-up papers, and they reluctantly agree to take him on for one night only, as it’s their big opportunity to show what they can do on the radio. The two existing members have naturally got a down on him, as their men have done the decent thing, so towards the end of the concert, the leader, Betty, announces he’s enlisting, which he does.

We see the auditions, some rehearsals, as the band shelters in the theatre’s basement during an air raid, and then the concert, and it’s a great combination of good fun and moving stories. I really liked the way the ladies stayed in character throughout, especially the over-enthusiastic nun, and the naive schoolgirl, almost wetting herself with excitement at being in the band. Even hitting the triangle almost gave her an orgasm.

There was some interesting historical stuff, too, such as the band not being able to announce where they were playing on air, in case the Germans came and bombed the place. And there was a lot of humour, like the joke about the nun and the penguin, although the real nun wasn’t too happy. We enjoyed it, though.

© 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

Richard III – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

Coming at the end of a long day’s play watching, it’s not too surprising that I felt a bit overdone by the end of the evening. I did enjoy this production, however, although my mind wasn’t as sharp as it might have been.

I don’t need to go through the story for this one. There were a few edits that I noticed, specifically the reference to time when Buckingham is asking Richard for his promised reward. On the whole, though, this seemed a fairly complete reading, and carried on where the Henry VIs had left off.

This play is much more about the political manoeuvring between the various factions and Richard’s manipulation of everyone, with the battle being saved for the final scenes. As a result, it seemed calmer than the prequels, though there’s still a lot of action. Richard does bustle about in his efforts to get the throne, and Jonathan Slinger reflected that in his performance. It’s always interesting to see how much Richard is in command and how much he’s winging it. Here I would say he’s more of a brash gambler, making his play and putting heart and soul into it. If it doesn’t come off, too bad, but he’ll do everything he can to make it happen.

The wooing of Anne was successful, as usual, but I wasn’t fully convinced he’d pulled it off. Richard’s manner rarely changed; he was much the same throughout the play, so there was less light and shade than I’m used to (or should that be shade and darkness). I felt the humour was being worked at a little too hard at times, though it was all still enjoyable. The build up to this play through the previous two was excellent, and so his character was already developed from the off.

Mad Margaret, played by Katy Stephens, was the best I’ve seen, all fire and venom. Her character had become more bitter through her experiences, and she could still talk. Which is just as well, because that’s what her character’s there for – to tell all the others just how bad things are, how much worse they’re going to get, and how much she hates them all.

For this play, they were using modern weapons and we heard helicopters overhead. It can be a little awkward doing this when there are so many references to swords, but I felt they handled it very well. The scene where Richard is pretending to the Mayor of London that he’s under attack was staged with him and Buckingham besieged behind an overturned table, looking like there was a house to house gun battle raging. They convinced the Mayor enough to make him nervous too, although as he probably grasped something of the political situation he was getting involved in, he’d have been nervous anyway.

That’s all I can remember now, after a long gap. I made a cryptic note about the murders and the execution of the second murderer, but that will have to wait till we see them again next February. Hopefully it will all make sense then. I also remember that the ghosts before the battle were well done, but don’t recall the detail.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 3 – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

The civil war is now well under way, and poor Henry is going to be in and out of captivity a number of times during the period of this play. Actually, you could argue that he’s never out of captivity by this time, as both sides treat him as little more than a pawn, including his own people. We get straight into the action, with the Yorkists taking control of the parliament building, and setting Richard, Duke of York, on the throne. This is also our first sight of his son, Richard, of whom more later.

Henry turns up, with his backers, and they’re all riled up at York’s effrontery. Henry, however, is as peace-loving as ever – don’t you just want to give him a good slap? Basically the two sides have a slanging match, and even Henry says some strong words. He tries to argue his right, but York’s points cause one of Henry’s supporters to change sides, which leads Henry to waver (not that it takes much to do that). He offers a compromise – let him reign as King for his lifetime and the crown will then pass to York and his heirs. Sounds good, doesn’t it, but Henry has a son, and, more importantly, a wife, who will not take this lying down. There certainly will be trouble ahead. Sit back and enjoy.

Sure enough, immediately after York and his followers leave, the Queen turns up, with their son, and gives Henry an earful. Boy, can she talk. She’s along the same lines as Lady Macbeth, but much more talkative, and nothing like so successful at getting her husband to do his manly duty. So she heads off to get her army and start sorting out the mess her husband has got her into. (If you want a job done properly…)

Meanwhile, up in Yorkshire, York’s sons, especially young Richard (what a little scamp!), have persuaded their father to claim his crown now, not wait till Henry dies. Just at that moment, the Queen turns up with her army and besieges them. Battle ensues, and little Rutland, York’s youngest, is caught by the Queen’s troops and slain, along with his tutor. It’s a pitiable sight, but his slayer, Clifford, has already lost his father in the fighting, and has no compunction in killing a child. We get to see the depths people sink to when civil war rampages through a country, and, sadly, there are all too many modern counterparts around.

York himself is caught by the Queen, and put through worse abuse than being killed. They mock him as a pretend king, standing him on a molehill, and telling him about the loss of Rutland. The Queen even has a napkin, soaked in Rutland’s blood, which she gives him. She puts a paper crown on his head, and continues to mock him while he suffers. Fortunately, she allows him time to speak before they kill him, which has one great benefit – it gives Shakespeare an opportunity to write York some fine vitriolic lines to balance hers. It’s a wonderfully emotional speech, and this performance was very moving. Then they kill him.

Next we see Edward and Richard as they wonder what’s happened to their father. As they talk, the sun is rising, and they apparently see three suns. Taking this as a good omen, Edward vows to show three suns on his shield. Warwick joins them, and there’s a lot of military verbalising (boys will be boys), until the messenger tells them the Queen’s army is nearby again, and they head off for another battle. This would almost be boring if it wasn’t for the marvellous language and the way this production gets the last scrap of humour out of it.

Again, there’s a long slanging match between the two armies, and another battle, with Richard showing himself a willing fighter. In the midst of all this, what’s King Henry doing? Why, he’s sitting in the middle of a field, ruminating, as you do, thinking how nice it would be to be an ordinary man, no royal responsibilities, just a simple life. As he sits there, a young man enters with a dead body – it’s someone he’s killed in the battle. As he checks the body for plunder, he realises he’s killed his own father, and is stricken with remorse. Then they flip round, and turn into an old man who’s slain a young one. The same revelation follows, only this time the man has killed his own son. King Henry observes all this and is quick to empathise with these men’s losses. Even so, he considers himself worse off than them. (I don’t agree – after all, it’s his wishy-washiness that’s partly caused all these killings, so suck it up!)

A dying Clifford is left on the battlefield after the rest of the Queen’s troops have fled, and Edward and his followers spare him nothing in revenge for the death of York. Fortunately for Clifford, he’s already dead before they get going, so he’s well out of it. Now Warwick decides to go to France, to ask the French King for his sister’s hand for Edward. Richard is given the Dukedom of Gloucester, and George that of Clarence, but Richard asks to change, as Gloucester is “too ominous”. Edward doesn’t take him seriously (silly boy).

King Henry, having escaped to Scotland with his wife, decides to revisit his own country, and gets captured by a couple of game keepers. This leads to an interesting exchange on allegiance, as the keepers were originally Henry’s sworn subjects, and he’s not dead, yet now they’re Edward’s loyal subjects. Fortunately, Henry’s a pretty cooperative chap, so he goes along with them to prison. Back in London, Edward, now King Edward, is dealing with the granting of favours. One Lady Grey, whose husband died fighting for the Yorkists, has come to ask for her husband’s lands to be restored to her. Edward is so taken with her, he gives her half of England! He woos her, overcomes her resistance, marries her, and all without letting Warwick know about this change of plans. (I see more trouble ahead.)

It’s at this time that we get the first taste of Richard’s lust for power. Just after Edward’s asked his brothers what they think of his choice of Lady Grey as his Queen, Richard is left alone on stage to tell us all about his ambitions. He’s not sure yet how to get the crown, as there are just too many people in his way, but he’ll figure it out, never worry.

Over in the French court, Queen Margaret is well received, but the French King’s courtesies are hollow when faced with the political reality. Henry is in prison, Edward on the throne, and the King would be foolish to back the recent evictee over the man in possession. Warwick, so full of bluster, is dissing Margaret and her companions’ claims, and getting well in with the French King, so the news of Edward’s marriage comes as a pretty big shock. So big, in fact, that Warwick immediately changes sides. Well, he considers himself the power behind the throne, and to find out he’s not hurts his massive ego beyond endurance. Margaret, meantime, has pounced on the news like a ravenous dog given a big meaty bone. She’s the consummate politician, immediately ready to accept Warwick’s offer of friendship and support to restore Henry to the throne, despite their previous contempt and bickering.

In all of this, I feel sorry for the Lady Bona, sister of the French King, as she’s been bartered for and then dumped. Naturally, she encourages her brother to lend support to the Lancastrians, to revenge the slight on her, and who can blame her? She even has to put up with another political match being arranged right under her nose, as to ensure his loyalty, Warwick agrees to marry his daughter to Edward, Henry’s son.

Back in England, Edward’s marriage is causing some divisions. Obviously all the new in-laws have to be given titles and well-connected brides, so there are fewer for his own brothers to snaffle. Also, there’s a message from Warwick, sending in his resignation and declaring war. (You just can’t do that in a text.) On hearing that Warwick’s daughter is to marry Edward (sorry, all these repetitive names do get a bit confusing), Clarence decides to change sides, and nips off to marry Warwick’s other daughter. Frankly, it all makes Dallas look a bit tame.

So off we go to battle again. Edward (the King, this time), is captured, then freed, Henry, now King again, hands all power to Warwick, who argues that Clarence should take precedence (will wonders never cease?), Edward gets help from Burgundy, fight, fight, battle, fight, then Clarence changes sides again, and finally Edward’s forces capture Margaret and her son, kill him, take Henry prisoner, and it’s all over (till the next play). Whew!

The final scene shows the happy York family enjoying the fruits of warfare. I’ll never forget the wonderful ESC production which set this in Edwardian times (appropriately enough), ending with a final line from Richard (Andrew Jarvis) “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York”. This production echoes that slightly, by again having all the other actors towards the back, laughing and having a good time, while Richard comes forward, stands at the front of the stage, says “Now”, and then the lights go out.

Again, I felt the political shenanigans came across very well in this version, and there was even more humour as Richard, that shalt be King hereafter, gets into his stride. It’s an impressive feat to keep the audience interested in such complicated toing and froing, but Michael Boyd and his talented cast manage it very well. The use of slow motion and silhouettes continued, to good effect. I still found the energetic fighting a bit difficult to like. It may just be battle fatigue given current events, but in many ways I’m happy to feel like this. Raw patriotic fervour is all very well, but these battles are not helping anyone but the ambitious and proud.

In some ways, I would have liked to have had more time to absorb this performance on its own, before plunging into Richard III. We’ll be doing them again early next year, hopefully, so I may have more thoughts then, as well as commenting on ways in which the production has moved on.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 2 – February 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

At the end of the previous play, we had seen Margaret’s picture presented to the King – basically, the actress herself standing in a large picture frame, wheeled on to the stage. This framing device was used several times throughout the series, sometimes lowered down from above. As this play starts, Margaret arrives in person, to be presented to the King by Suffolk, who has married her in France as the King’s stand-in (and carried through with the nuptials?). All is well, until Gloucester, as regent, reads the marriage contract, and discovers that the bulk of the English holdings in France are to be given to Margaret’s father, while she herself comes without a dowry. As Henry takes his new bride off to be crowned, the leading nobles thoughtfully remain on stage so we can eavesdrop on their discussion.

They’re not happy bunnies, not one of them. The only slightly positive prospect is that they might unite against this foolishness of the king, but no, they still bicker and fight amongst themselves, with the naughty Cardinal seeing this as an opportunity to oust Gloucester, and the regent being concerned about England’s wealth and prosperity. Others take sides, and Richard, Duke of York is already planning to take the crown he believes he deserves. I see trouble ahead. The scene was well played, and got across the deepening divides in English government circles. (And you think Tony vs. Gordon is bad!)

Next we see the Duchess of Gloucester, a prototype for Lady Macbeth, trying to seduce her husband into bidding for the crown himself. It’s all glossed over as being a dream, but we can see she’s an ambitious lady, and when her husband leaves to join the king, she arranges a session with occult practitioners, to get more information on her glorious destiny (Maureen Beattie can play an obsessed woman to perfection). Unfortunately, the chap who’s organising all this is in the pay of the Cardinal and Suffolk – more plotting and machinations. He’s also played by Jonathan Slinger, as he’s not yet got going as Richard, so we know he’s up to no good as soon as we see him. He’s pumping up her fantasies, as if they needed it, helping her rise to a greater fall.

The political divisions are reinforced with the following scene, where several petitioners are looking for the Lord Protector to give him their petitions, and are intercepted by the Queen and her “close” supporter, Suffolk. Their petitions to the Lord Protector wind the Queen up terribly – she wants to be the wife of a powerful king, and resents the airs and graces which the Duchess of Gloucester has been putting on. The battleground is set, and now we’re going to watch several hours of it all unfolding.

Bickering and dissension flare up even more in the English court, and Henry, poor benighted soul, manages to make the worst possible decision, by selecting two sworn enemies to act as regent in France. Gloucester shows his wit and wisdom during a hunting scene, by shrewdly making a chap who’s pretending to have been cured of blindness expose himself as a liar.  Unfortunately, the trap has already closed around his wife, and her disgrace leads to his inevitable dismissal as Lord Protector.  The wolves gather.

Richard, Duke of York (Richard III’s daddy), explains his claim to the throne to Salisbury and Warwick, using stones to demonstrate the bloodlines from Edward III. His reasoning is clear, if a trifle long-winded and both men agree to support him in his claim. Meanwhile Gloucester, now unprotected, is brought down by the scheming court, and France is lost to the English crown. What more could possibly go wrong?

Well, Ireland rebels, and York is sent off to deal with it. Gloucester is bumped off, and Warwick and Suffolk square up to each other, Warwick accusing Suffolk of the deed (accurately), and Suffolk brazening it out. However, the commons make a temporary impact on the play, by demanding that Suffolk be executed or banished immediately for Gloucester’s death, so the King banishes him. His final scene with Margaret is almost touching, given that they’re a pair of villains. Oh, and the Cardinal also dies, and Suffolk is killed by some sailors when trying to go abroad, as revenge for Duke Humphrey’s death. So with several of the troublemakers now dead, will things be more peaceful? Not a chance.

To keep the country unsettled, the Duke of York has arranged for Jack Cade to lead a revolt of the common people, claiming that he’s the rightful heir. He’s soon defeated, but not before giving us a potentially entertaining look at what the country would be like if the less well educated were running the show. They even get someone up from the audience, and take them off to be executed! (But they came back again, whew.) On the Duke’s return, demanding that Somerset be thrown into the tower as a traitor, the real quarrel breaks the surface, and York announces his claim to the throne. Civil war has begun. The play ends with the first battle, a Yorkist win, but more is to come.

One aspect of the staging that I particularly liked was the recycling of the dead bodies, and there are plenty of those in this play. Gloucester, the Cardinal, Suffolk and the rest, all reappear during the play, especially during the Jack Cade sequence, as ghostly versions of themselves, and as participants in the action. It’s noticeable that the Duke of Gloucester and the Cardinal have got over their spat since their deaths – it’s nice to see them working together for a change. It was also interesting to see how this gave a very strong sense of the killings all being linked, and of the death toll mounting up and building even higher. And in many ways it reduced the confusion there can sometimes be in these plays, as actors are reused in different parts. Instead of having to stop and think who’s playing what part, I found I could just relax and go with it. Plus you have to get those dead bodies off stage somehow, so why not under their own steam? They’re also helped by a kind of Death figure, played by Antony Bunsee, who opens the doors at the back for them as they leave for the other world.

Another theme that worked its way through the whole set was bones and stones. York uses stones to show his claim, and bones appear several times during the plays – the conjuring scene, a scene with Joan of Arc, etc. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but with such a long time span to cover, I feel it helps to bind the plays together. Also, there’s a lot of prophecy in these plays, which can seem a bit redundant in some ways. After all, Shakespeare’s audience knew their recent-ish history pretty well, I assume, so they’re not going to be surprised at the twists and turns. I suspect this is a way of reassuring the audience, of letting us know that we’re in safe hands – a kind of “Next week, on Henry VI” trail of forthcoming attractions. Perhaps he’s also being a bit tongue-in-cheek, knowing full well his audience knows the story, and also knowing that several characters take the prophecies the wrong way.

While I found the political machinations much clearer this time, I still found the sheer number of characters confusing. Many are scarcely introduced to us before they’re deeply involved in the action, so that it’s hard to keep track of who’s who, apart from the major players. Perhaps Will was getting a bit carried away with having a large, talented ensemble to work with? We may never know.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 1 – February 2007

6/10

By: WIlliam Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 9th February 2007

I’d forgotten so much about these plays, and this production, that I felt I was watching these for the first time tonight, until I recognised some of the things that I hadn’t enjoyed so much first time round. Firstly, the music. I liked it most of the time, but occasionally it continued to drone on over and behind the dialogue, making it harder to hear what was going on. The smoke machine was fully warmed up by the end of the evening as well, as everything from wisps of mist to full-on fog rolled out of various apertures throughout the performance. I remember being practically choked by the fog at the start of Richard III many years ago – fortunately, this wasn’t so bad.

I also recognised many of the actors who performed tonight, including Keith Bartlett as Talbot, who presumably remembered a lot of his lines from playing the part last time round. Jonathan Slinger, who’s playing Richard III later in the cycle, was preparing us for that role with a bit of limp and the suggestion of a shoulder, as he played the Bastard of Orleans – an unfortunate name, I always feel. Clive Wood, as Richard, Duke of York, also hinted as his son’s deformity during the scene with Joan of Arc, by adopting the crookback and grimacing – both nice touches. I shall watch for more hints during the next two plays, when Richard of Gloucester makes his appearance.

The set we saw during the Two Gents production (many moons ago now) was indeed the Henrys set – very industrial looking, with a large spiral staircase encased in a metal tube centrally placed towards the back of the stage. It allowed for a balcony, and the two big doors at the bottom were regularly thrown open and clanged shut to set scenes for us. One staging that was repeated through this play, and, I suspect, the others, was to have a phalanx of people standing in the doorway, with lights behind throwing them into silhouette, giving an impression of a mass of people. They entered slowly, demonstrating the power of the particular group, and in the case of Henry VI’s coronation in France, this emphasised the bitter discord amongst the English nobility, as the group breaks apart suddenly and descends instantly into vicious bickering. Poor Henry, young as he is, does all he can to broker a peace deal, but only ends up making things worse. Firstly, he picks one of the faction’s symbols to try to encourage both sides to overlook their differences – a tricky manoeuvre at the best of times – and then he expects two enemies to work together to further England’s interests in France, without staying to keep an eye on things himself. It’s an excellent portrayal of how a weak ruler can make problems worse rather than better. Reminds me of last night’s King of Hearts, where the Prime Minister understood the need to have a hated right-hand woman, someone who could get tough on dissenting voices within his own party – Henry could have done with one of those.

The Joan of Arc storyline is always a little disappointing from my point of view, but I can understand why Shakespeare wrote it as he did, especially given the nature of the religious troubles at the time. He couldn’t very well have portrayed a French Catholic heroine in his plays – the public, and very probably the Lord Chamberlain, might not have appreciated it. Still, I do find it difficult to accept this version of her story, and tonight that was made worse by the warfare element. I accept that this is exactly what Shakespeare’s writing about, but perhaps our recent and current involvement in war is making me less willing to enjoy representations of the “glory” of war on stage. Talbot is an heroic character, true, and does represent many good virtues – loyalty, unselfish service to his King and country, heroism in battle, etc. – but it’s hard at the moment to be enthralled by battle stories, winning or losing.

The political element is much easier to take, although I was finding it hard to hear the lines tonight – one of the problems of a large thrust stage with so many characters milling about. Geoffrey Freshwater is playing a wonderfully villainous Bishop/Cardinal, whose feud with the Lord Protector will, I fear, end in tears for all concerned. The Lord Protector may be less at fault, but he’s not very effective at controlling the malicious cleric. In fact, he’s not much cop at controlling anything. He sets up a perfectly good match for the King, only to have it overturned once Suffolk seduces Henry with his descriptions of Margaret, daughter of the King of Naples and Suffolk‘s intended mistress. Margaret, doubled with Joan, is a saucy temptress. Looking like a 40s vamp, she’ll be more than a match for most of these men.

I liked the three women who played Joan’s “fiends”. They wore simple red dresses, and emitted strange, low humming sounds, with some crooning noises, which were disturbing and beautiful at the same time. They also joined in the fighting, lining up behind Joan and following her movements as she fenced with first the King and then Talbot, indicating the extra strength she received from them. They also assisted in “persuading” the Duke of Burgundy to re-enlist with the French forces.

There was copious use of ladders, trap doors, and a lowered platform to create different spaces. Sometimes I feel this goes too far, and distracts from the performances. For example, when Talbot’s men swing in from the sides of the gallery, they pair up, hanging over the middle of the stage, and to keep them together, one attaches his line to the other’s, so they can point their weapons. It looks really clumsy. Then, to release themselves, they have to unclip the lines and swing back again – all fine from a health and safety point of view, but not much cop from a dramatic perspective.

Chuk Iwuji was good as Henry, all youth and innocence, coupled with good intentions. I enjoyed seeing John Mackay again. He played Sir Andrew Aguecheek in the last Twelfth Night, and made him both comic and sympathetic. Here he’s the Dauphin, and it’s clear this Dauphin is anything but in charge in France. Much like Henry in England, in fact – they’re well matched in a strange way.

Our seats were fine, and very comfortable – which is just as well, as we’re in the same ones for all four productions! Roll on the rest of the cycle.

© 2007 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

Frost/Nixon – October 2006

Experience: 10/10

By Peter Morgan

Directed by Michael Grandage

Venue: Donmar Theatre

Date: Thursday 5th October 2006

This was an excellent play brilliantly performed. There was a remarkable degree of dramatic tension, even though the outcome is already well known. I hadn’t known about the events leading up to the interviews, so there was a lot to learn. This is a dramatised account, of course, so you have to make allowance for artistic licence, but even so this was a great piece of theatre.

The Donmar is so small, there’s rarely much to the sets. A 6×6 bank of TVs on the back wall gave us any documentary footage or close-ups as needed, otherwise it was just chairs, desks, etc being brought on as required. We saw the development of the idea to interview Nixon, and some of the difficulties that had to be overcome, for example Nixon wanted a significant amount of money to do the interview, which David Frost apparently paid out of his own pocket. Nixon’s focus on the money side, obsession almost, was very clearly demonstrated. His abilities as a politician were also evident, and it was clear that the interviews were not going Frost’s way until the final session. Extra information had come to light, or rather been spotted by one of his researchers, which allowed Frost to combat Nixon effectively over Watergate. We could see the former president crumple before our eyes (and on the big screen as well). It was very powerful, and felt as if we were actually watching the real event unfold before us.

The differences of opinion between the Americans and Brits were also news to me, and added to the build-up of tension. There was also plenty of humour to help the two hours along. The two central performances were stunning. Michael Sheen was totally believable as David Frost, and caught his mannerisms to perfection. (He even appeared on Bremner, Bird and Fortune recently doing his David Frost as part of a sketch – pretty impressive.) Frank Langella wasn’t as jowly as Richard Nixon, but he conveyed the powerful presence of the man very well, and his delivery was excellent. All the support cast was good, and I hope this gets the transfer it deserves so more people can see it (and we might even sneak in a repeat performance ourselves).

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Life Of Galileo – October 2006

Experience: 10/10

By Bertolt Brecht, in a version by David Hare

Directed by Howard Davies

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Wednesday 4th October 2006

This was excellent. It was lovely to see Simon Russell Beale again. I’ve missed many of his performances, for various reasons, and it was good to see he’s still as talented as before. He commands the stage, taking full advantage of the scope this part gives him. Even when he shows us Galileo’s unkindness towards his daughter, we can at least understand some of his reasons. He’s not a monster so much as a man obsessed.

The play covers a range of issues, but the central conflict is between science and dogma. The portrayal of the Catholic Church is refreshingly neutral, with church officials ranging from extreme dogmatists to enlightened thinkers, and it was good to see the niceties of the Church’s concerns put across. It was OK to talk about the Earth going round the Sun as a hypothetical mathematical concept, so long as it was said in Latin so the ordinary folk couldn’t get wind of it. In other words, don’t rock the boat, or we’ll throw you overboard! The overweening concern of those in power to stay in power was clear, although they tried to justify it by pretending their concern was only for those poor people who would lose the will to face such difficult lives without their absolute faith in God, as propounded by the Church. There were some lovely nuances through the play – I particularly liked the subtle innuendo of the Cardinal inquisitor (Oliver Ford Davies – another excellent performance) as he worked on Galileo’s daughter to recruit her as a spy, via her confessor. Although he could just have been warning her that anything they did would get back to him, so watch your step.

There were plenty of characters representing concerned friends, who wanted to support Galileo’s work, but who feared for his safety and that of his daughter, and others who supported him and wanted him to challenge the establishment and damn the consequences. Some of these were very disappointed, even angry, when they realised he had recanted his views, and I realised how much we human beings invest in our images of other people, how much we expect them to be perfect or heroic for us, rather than taking responsibility for our own lives and accepting others’ human frailties. I also saw how much we do this to God as well. So many people in this play saw no alternative to the Earth-centred, God created view of the world that would still allow God to exist as God. If not the still Earth at the centre, then chaos. Weird, given our greater knowledge now. Still, reason did not completely win out. The effects of Galileo’s choices left his daughter without a husband, so the human cost also had to be considered.

At one point I almost shouted out to contradict the Senior Cardinal, one of the pompous opponents of Galileo’s work. His view was that God would not have sent His only son to some little backwater of a planet on the edge of the universe. I felt like pointing out that He allowed His son to be born in a manger, so there! Obviously, this play got to me more than I realised, but I like that.

All the performances were excellent. The carnival scene reminded both of us of Cabaret, and I loved the astronomical images projected onto the back screen. The set was on a revolve, with the grid of an observatory dome at the back, not moving, three sets of French windows in bay formation at the front, or rotated to the back, and various doorways and walls with windows which could be moved around to form all sorts of acting spaces. Costumes were modern dress, and this worked well for me.

Some of the fun moments: Galileo is visited by a Dutch student looking for tuition, who tells him of the telescope people inHollandare using. Galileo grasps the idea immediately, sends out for some lenses, and pinches the idea in order to get a higher salary from the Venetians. The Dutch student’s main complaint is that he’s coloured the tube red. Then the fun begins. When the young Duke of Florence, Cosimo de Medici, comes to check out the telescope with his entourage, we get to see some of the ridiculous objections people had to Galileo’s discoveries. The mathematician objects to looking through the telescope, because logic dictates that if the agreed view of the solar system held that there were no objects orbiting bodies other than the Earth, then the telescope must be doing something wrong if it shows such things. The philosopher objected because he believed Aristotle to be correct, therefore the telescope must be wrong. (I’m getting the impression that far from being an important early scientist, Aristotle was a bit of a road block on the path to discovery.) When challenged to believe the evidence of his own eyes, he retorted that he did believe their evidence, when reading Aristotle! This nonsense was very entertaining, and although it has some echoes today, I found it more interesting as an indication of how far we’ve come since then.

We also get to see the robing of a Pope, Urban VIII. This is a long-winded business. The poor chap has to wear so many layers, presumably all representing something significant to Catholics at that time, that he wouldn’t be able to use a toilet easily. This is also the scene where the Cardinal Inquisitor requests permission to torture Galileo to get him to recant. Given Galileo’s squeamish nature, he reckons he only needs to show him the instruments of torture to do the trick, and the Pope agrees to that. The recantation scene itself was masterfully done. We see Galileo’s supporters waiting outside – his daughter, his housekeeper’s son, Andreas, whom Galileo introduced to science, the monk who ‘converted’ to Galileo’s views, and his lens-grinder. His daughter was praying for him, presumably so that he would recant. The others were bolstering their confidence by assuring each other that he wouldn’t. As the news broke, and the declaration is being read out, they crumble, none more so than Andreas, who rushes to attack Galileo when he appears. We actually see Galileo approaching first, through the windows, and he hesitates, obviously aware how his choice will have upset his friends. My thoughts about imposing expectations of heroism on others are above.

The masked ball was good, too. Again, the modern dress worked fine, and they were just skimpy masks rather than huge ones, but it got the effect across very well.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me