Twelfth Night – March 2012

7/10 (preview)

By William Shakespeare

Directed by David Farr

Venue: RST

Date: Thursday 22nd March 2012

This was an excellent production with very good performances, and a huge improvement on last night. The set was by the same designer, Jon Bausor, and used the same basic design. The floorboards were still there, and there was still no walkway front left. This time the corner area did have water in it, and we were reminded of Singing In The Rain at Chichester last year, so sitting in row C, right by the aisle, we were glad Steve brought a carrier bag to protect the program. As it happened, the ‘tsunami’ didn’t wash up as far as our row, but there were a few wayward splashes – warm water, of course – and others who were nearer did feel the effect. The staff were very good in the interval, sorting out any problems, though some in the audience may have wished they’d provided more of a warning beforehand as well as the towels that were so freely available after the first half!

The crane track had become a girder tonight, and was partly boxed in. There was another girder at right angles to it, also partly covered, and around the join there was an area of crumbling ceiling, very reminiscent of the industrial grunge set of David Farr’s King Lear a few years ago, also a Jon Bausor design. The metal post with ironwork was more visible tonight, and it turned out to be a whole row of them which had been mostly hidden during The Comedy Of Errors. The vertical part of the ramp from yesterday seemed to be at a couple of different angles tonight creating a slightly lower angle, and tonight the objects on there included a bed (reminded Steve of the recent Taming bed, much reduced in size) and a table with a lamp. There was also a bathtub suspended over that general area – took me a while to spot what it was. Behind all of this I could now see the back wall of metal with at least two portholes in it. It’ll be interesting to see how this develops for The Tempest.

At the back of the thrust and to the right of the stage a sloping ramp led off, and was blocked by a revolving door set at the same slanting angle. Just to the left of that was the reception desk area, with lots of pigeonholes behind a short curve of desk. A small screen to the right of this desk, combined with a telephone, allowed Maria to observe who was at the gate, which was a nice touch. This was also the hiding place for Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian during the letter scene. To the left of that was a pillar leaning drunkenly, with a leather seat around it; the leather looked the worse for wear as did most of the furniture on stage. Further to the left was another leather armchair, and beside that a large globe with the land areas positioned round an open mesh. Behind this chair, towards the back of the stage, was a lift, the old fashioned kind with expanding metal doors. With a small platform beside it at the top, the lift shaft was encased in a metal mesh, so we could see a lot of what went on inside it, though it was used for a magnificent reveal later on. Further to the left, a flight of stairs led up to the first balcony, and below that stood a grand piano with a picture of Olivia’s brother on it surrounded by candles, flowers, etc. I didn’t spot this right away, but then there was so much else to look at.

Coming forwards, there was a low padded stool over on the front right of the stage which seemed to have a chess board set up on it; there was still room for people to sit on it or put a tray with coffee things there if need be. A plain chair sat further back from that, while over on the water side there was a diving board built out from almost the centre of the stage to just over the water. The floorboards had a ragged end, in keeping with the style of set, and some dipped down towards the water. The only other thing I remember at this time was the chandelier, which was swathed in black cloth. I first noticed it when someone in Olivia’s household switched it on, a nice reminder of her emphatic mourning.

The costumes were all modern dress, and worked very well I thought. The men usually wore suits, although Sir Toby was in casual gear with a colourful Hawaiian shirt, and Sir Andrew tended towards casual sportswear. Olivia’s maidservants wore black dresses with white aprons, and Malvolio was immaculate in his pinstripe suit, toupee severely slicked down to one side. There were two guards in uniform – white shirts, black trousers – and Antonio wore a large waterproof jacket. Olivia was in black for the first half, a calf-length dress, and changed to a flower print frock during the second half, via an ivory wedding dress. I’ll describe the Viola/Sebastian combo later, along with the nifty outfit Malvolio chose to impress Olivia with.

So to the staging (this may take some time). When the lights went down at the start, I saw various actors come on and take up their positions, mostly lying down. I thought we were going to get the shipwreck stuff first tonight, as the performance opened with Viola emerging suddenly from the water (there’s a long slide apparently, so they don’t have to hold their breath for too long). She stood up in the water, then clambered out, and turning to the audience she asked “What country, friends, is this?” She then spotted the bag lying by the side of the water; it was clearly Sebastian’s, and she knelt there, grieving over the bag and her lost brother while Duke Orsino leapt up, from the chair I think, and carried on with “If music be the food of love”. He was in a pretty rough state with his clothes dishevelled, as you might expect. The good news was that from the beginning tonight we could hear almost every line perfectly well – no worries there. After this scene, the sea captain continued by answering Viola’s opening question, coming on from the back somewhere and bringing on a blanket for her to use. He agreed to help her disguise herself, and I was very aware that with her brother’s bag she would naturally have some of Sebastian’s clothes to wear.

Sir Toby emerged through the revolving door for the next scene, and was as drunk as a skunk, if not drunker (apologies to skunk-lovers, and indeed, skunks everywhere). I think a servant may have switched on the chandelier at this point, but I’m not sure. Sir Toby sat in the armchair, and dangled his feet over the side when he was talking about his boots. Maria was brisk in her chiding, and for once Sir Toby seemed to be in earnest when he complimented Sir Andrew. Given his state of inebriation, he might actually have believed what he was saying.

Sir Andrew’s arrival a short while later was all we could have wished. We heard his horn before we saw the man, and he entered still wearing his biker’s helmet. When the helmet came off, his fair hair erupted into a tousled mop which got a laugh all on its own. Bruce Mackinnon’s performance was absolutely impeccable, and we were soon warmed up and chuckling away at his wonderfully funny delivery of the lines plus his comic expressions and business. He illustrated the “back-trick” by moonwalking backwards – we applauded, eventually – and when he left the stage the audience was definitely in a livelier mood than when he entered.

Valentine and Cesario came on next, and while Valentine sat on the diving board to light up a cigarette, Cesario stood in the middle of the stage, wearing green trousers, a light blue jacket and a patterned shirt, and also lit up. Her inexperience with cigarettes was obvious – she had the cigarette the wrong way round and nearly lit the filter, then coughed a bit once she did get it going – and then Orsino rushed on, clothes still in disarray, to speak with his new favourite. They didn’t make anything of the other servants being sent away that I could see, which is fine, and during their conversation Orsino took the cigarette from Cesario to smoke it himself. Emily Taafe’s Cesario was well done; with her short hair and slight figure she did look boyish, and her voice was low pitched enough to fit with a young lad, so it was believable that the Duke would see the female aspects of Cesario without realising he was actually a woman.

It was at the end of this scene, after Viola’s “myself would be his wife”, that she stood in the middle of the stage with the lights lowered on her and the rest of Orsino’s staff, and then Sebastian also popped up out of the water, sloshing a bit more onto the floor around that corner. He also stood up, slicked back his hair – Viola echoed that movement – and as they were wearing identical costumes it was clear this was the very Sebastian whom Viola had assumed was drowned. He pulled himself out of the water and lay beside it, resting, while the next couple of scenes played out; a little distracting, but not a problem.

The next scene had Maria scolding Feste this time. She brought on some coffee and cups on a tray and put it on the stool near the front. Feste looked hung over and was wearing sunglasses, wincing a bit as he took them off and the light hit him. The jesting between them was pretty good, and then Olivia turned up with her small entourage. She was pretty snippy with Feste at first, but softened as he wormed his way back into her good books with his catechising of her. For this bit she was sitting in the armchair, and he took another upright chair, placed it beside her with the back of the chair between them, as in a confessional box, while he knelt behind the chair to act the priest, as he would do later, of course, with Malvolio.

Malvolio’s reactions during this scene were excellent. He clutched his folder tightly, looking severe and grimacing when something particularly unpleasant happened, such as somebody having fun, even when it wasn’t at his expense. The animosity between him and Fests was palpable, and set us up nicely for his later mistreatment at the hands of Sir Toby and the rest. Olivia echoed his folded hands when she talked of “a known discreet man”, gently reproving him with those lines.

Maria was using the screen on the reception desk when she informed Olivia that there was someone at the door. Sir Toby seemed even drunker than before when he turned up – a lovely performance by Nicholas Day – and had great difficulty getting his words out, the way drunks do when they have to think long and hard about everything, like words, walking, breathing, etc. He reminded me of Frank Gallagher in Shameless at this point.

When Malvolio returned he was clearly disturbed to have spent time with someone who upset the natural order. Olivia had some trouble getting him to describe the young gentleman, and as her back was to me at the relevant point, I’m not sure what it was that piqued her interest enough to have the young man brought before her. She had her maids cover themselves as well, and as at least one of them took off her apron as well, I could see how difficult it would be for anyone who didn’t know the household to tell which woman was Olivia. All four of them sat or stood around the room, so when Cesario arrived, he was immediately unsure of himself.

The dialogue was well done for this bit, and soon Olivia and Cesario were alone. Olivia was well unhappy at Cesario’s insult regarding the tenacity of her looks, but I didn’t spot any particular reaction from Cesario on finding out how beautiful his ‘rival’ was. Later, when Cesario was telling Olivia of the lengths he would go to if he loved her as Orsino does, my view was blocked by Olivia herself, so I’ll have to pick up on their expressions next time, but even from the back I could tell that Cesario’s passion was having an effect on the lady.

That effect continued through Cesario’s departure and her reflections on the speedy nature of infatuation. There was such a loving glow about her that when she gave her ring to Malvolio – she turned her back on him and removed it from a chain about her neck by ripping it off, hiding the chain in her hand – he mistook her radiance combined with the way she put her hand on his arm as a sign of affection towards him, another pointer to his later misapprehension of the letter.

Finally Sebastian was able to get up from the floor, as he responded to Antonio’s question. Their conversation was short, and for once I could have sworn Sebastian actually mentioned Viola’s name, but it’s not in my text and apart from some lovely comedic touches later on, I didn’t spot any significant changes during the play. They did cut some lines, but that’s to be expected. Cesario entered next, and shortly after she came on we heard a beeping sound. It turned out to be the sound of one of those trolley cars, as used by the elderly, only this time it was being driven by Malvolio. Health and safety requirements were well to the fore, as the beeping noises continued throughout the scene (my hearing aids were going nuts!) as well as two flashing amber lights. I liked this staging very much; it not only explained how Malvolio managed to catch up with Cesario, but gave us an extra laugh as he drove the cart round in a large circle before parking it near the back, so we could all see the sign on the back of the seat: For Management Use Only. The ring was dropped contemptuously on the rug in front of the chair (stops it rolling away, I would guess) and after Viola had finished sharing her thoughts on this latest development, she threw it into the water tank. No real splash; it was too small.

Sometime earlier I had noticed an actor sneak on to the left of the stage and lie down behind the piano. I wasn’t sure who it was, but it now became clear – it was Sir Toby, who struggled to his feet to advise Sir Andrew, likewise well gone, on the exact nature of ‘early’. They were both wonderfully drunk, so drunk that a rowdy song was inevitable, and I enjoyed this scene from beginning to end. Feste wasn’t as bad as the other two, but he joined in the merriment, and even took a picture of the three of them together at the appropriate moment on his mobile phone – “Did you ever see the picture of we three?”

Feste had brought on something I didn’t recognise at the start of this scene, and left it on the stool at the front. When he sang ‘O mistress mine, where are you roaming’, this turned out to be an electronic keyboard of some kind, which he used to accompany the song. He also used a microphone. It was a slow, melancholy number, and nicely done. They were soon into the livelier number ‘Hold thy peace’ – I think they cut Sir Andrew’s line about constraining “one to call me knave” – with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew playing bottles, and Feste using the reception desk bell as his instrument. This expanded into Feste banging an oar on the floor, Sir Toby possibly using the microphone(?) and something equally noisy from Sir Andrew.

Maria couldn’t persuade them to keep quiet, and when Malvolio turned up in his dressing gown he was suitably nasty to them all. He even grabbed Maria’s arm when she went to get some wine for Sir Toby, and she was quite shaken by his threat to tell Olivia. The plan to trick Malvolio is always hers, but often the others, especially Sir Toby, are involved to some extent; this time the others are on no fit state to devise any plan whatsoever. Sir Toby’s enquiry as to the reason for Sir Andrew to beat a puritan was dropped (worked well for me, especially as the line itself got a good laugh).

I’m not sure when it happened, but sometime during the first half Sir Andrew took a little dip. (The trouble with non-textual business is that it’s harder to remember where it occurred.) He was sitting on the end of the diving board, with Feste beside him, and I noticed he was gradually edging further back. Finally he fell off, and caused a huge wave of water to wash over the side of the tank, soaking anything on the ground level around it. (Programs were replaced.) I reckon this must have been the scene, presumably when Malvolio turned up, but I really can’t be sure – I’ll pay closer attention next time.

Back at the Duke’s court, Orsino was looking all rumpled again. His chat with Cesario about love was fine, and then Feste turned up again to sing his song ‘Come away death’. He used a guitar this time for accompaniment, but I thought it was little out of tune; he only strummed it occasionally so I wasn’t sure. (It’s always a problem with stringed instruments, bringing them onto a stage under lights – changes the tuning horribly.) I enjoyed his comments to Orsino this time about his mind being an opal; they came across much better than I remember from previous productions. After Cesario’s story of his ‘sister’, which was OK but I missed some of the visuals again, they left the stage and we were into the letter scene.

Fabian made the third in this production, a nice performance by Felix Hayes. The ‘box-tree’ they hid behind was actually the reception desk, and for most of the letter-reading they were peering over the desk with an object held in front of each of them – a vase of flowers, a book and a soda siphon. When one of them made an exclamation, he put down his object, and then had to grab the item held by the person next to him, which went down the line, so the objects were being passed around on a regular basis. Later, Sir Toby left the shelter of the desk and wandered over behind the pillar seat, which he had to dive under to hide himself once or twice. It was all wonderfully funny, including Sir Andrew’s recognition of himself as a “foolish knight”.

Maria left the letter on the stool, propped up on the chessboard I think, which didn’t seem a very obvious place to leave it. Even so, Malvolio managed to spot it, after he’d done a lot of preening and primping beforehand, of course. There was a slight adjustment to the toupee, and a fair amount of posturing, but the main comedy lay in the delivery of the lines, and the comments by the watchers. For “revolve”, Malvolio went over to the revolving door and did a circuit there. His “smiling” was also funny, although he did actually produce some leering smiles from time to time before that. Maria was anxious to know if her trick had worked, and Sir Toby literally prostrated himself before her when she first came on, so delighted was he with their success.

Next up was Feste, sitting on the pillar seat with his keyboard, playing a little music, so when Cesario came along their conversation began very naturally. The chat with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew was brief but funny, and then Olivia came along to make her declaration of love to Cesario. Rebuffed, the first half ended with her sitting sad and alone on the stage, with the lights going out.

The second half began with Sir Andrew’s determination to leave immediately. He was on his mobile phone calling for a taxi at the start, and at some later point in his conversation with Fabian and Sir Toby said ‘yes, I’ll hold’, all very funny. Sir Toby took his mobile away from him, and ditched it in the water at the end of this bit, before Maria arrived to fetch them to see Malvolio. Then there was the short scene between Sebastian and Antonio, followed by the much anticipated arrival of Malvolio on stage.

In this scene, Olivia entered first, and it was clear that she’s been much affected by her passion for Cesario. I think this may be where she pulled a rope at the side of the stage and removed the black cloth from the chandelier; in any case she’s definitely in a state over her situation, having declared her love to a ‘man’ who doesn’t want her. Malvolio’s appearance, far from being the sober, calm presence she wanted, was entirely unsuitable for any occasion. He came down in the lift, and although the walls were see-through, they obscured enough of his costume for it to be a mystery all the way down. I felt this was a good way to make his entrance – we got the full impact all at once, and it was certainly an eyeful!

He was wearing yellow stockings, and they looked a bit tight from where I sat. They were cross-gartered all the way up, which didn’t help the circulation either. He had on a yellow tie which we could see when his jacket opened up, usually when he spread his arms wide, and little else. The posing pouch which adorned his nether regions was well padded (I cast no aspersions) and had studs; apart from that he was butt-naked, literally. This outfit, plus the grinning, would have sent many another woman screaming from the stage, but Olivia was made of sterner stuff. She did back away from him down the diving board, and for a short while I thought we were in for another splash, but at the last minute she grabbed him so she could swivel him around – he enjoyed that bit – and she was free! (And dry!)

Malvolio’s scene with Sir Toby and the rest was very funny too, and I loved Fabian’s line about “an improbable fiction”. With Malvolio gone, the mischief makers moved on to Sir Andrew when he turned up with his freshly drafted challenge. As Sir Toby read it out, I enjoyed Fabian’s comments; Felix Hayes has a deep resonant voice, and his comments of “good” were perfectly timed to make the most of the humour. After Olivia’s short scene with Cesario, Sir Toby and Fabian returned again to issue the challenge to him. Cesario was terrified, of course, and attempted to flee up the stairs to get back to the house. Fabian blocked his way, and as they were struggling on the steps, Sir Andrew came back on via the walkway. Sir Toby’s comment that “Fabian can scarce hold him yonder” was very apt, and gave Sir Andrew completely the wrong impression. Instead of his horse, he offered to give Cesario his Kawasaki 750 – he handed Sir Toby the keys – which fitted very well with the situation.

Each ‘man’ was given something to fight with – not swords as such, just bits of wood – but there was very little chance of them doing any damage as they never got near the other with their wild swings. Not that Antonio noticed this when he arrived and drew on, as he thought, Sebastian’s side. The officers were there amazingly quickly to arrest him – one of them, Solomon Israel, was using a West Indian accent – and Antonio was almost off the stage before he could even ask ‘Sebastian’ for his money. Viola reacted to being called ‘Sebastian’ – this is the first indication she’d had that her brother might be alive – even before her lines indicated that was the way her thoughts were going.

Feste’s argument with Sebastian was good fun – I was increasingly happy with Kevin McMonagle’s interpretation – and the fight with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew went badly as usual. Sebastian had two of them holding him and still managed to break free, although he took a tumble over the chair as a result. This was the turning point for Sir Toby; Olivia was so angry with him for hurting her beloved that even he realised he couldn’t go on causing problems in her household, and although his lines to that effect don’t come till a later scene, his reaction at this point made it clear. I’m not sure exactly when Olivia changed into her summer frock, but I reckon she was wearing it by this time. Sebastian was ready and willing to go along with whatever this beautiful woman wanted, and she was delighted to find him so amenable.

Now the stage was darkened, and I could just make out a vague shape rising up through a trapdoor in the centre of the stage. I did wonder briefly about the mechanics of the water slide vis-à-vis this trapdoor, but that’s a question for a post-show discussion sometime. Up on the platform by the lift, Maria was kitting Feste out with his Sir Topaz outfit, and after Sir Toby arrived, Feste went down in the lift to visit Malvolio. A faint light allowed us to see the poor man, now stripped of his jacket and tied to his cart, which appeared to be broken although the amber lights were flashing (no beeping this time, thank goodness). Feste’s taunting of Malvolio was soon over, and for once I could see the inference that ignorance was a worse form of darkness than the lack of physical light. When Sir Topaz met Feste himself (a neat trick) he slapped him a couple of times before heading back to the lift.

Sebastian came down the stairs from Olivia’s chamber bare-chested (not an ordeal to watch, by any means) and continued to dress himself as he reflected on the strange situation he was in. When Olivia arrived with the priest, decked out in her wedding dress and saying “Blame not this haste of mine”, I suddenly thought she was worried she might start to show a bump before the marriage and lose her reputation. Sebastian was clearly a quick decision-maker, and accepted her offer of marriage on the spot.

Fabian and Feste were next on, and the short exchange between them was good, with Feste giving Fabian Malvolio’s letter and then taking it back again before he’d had a chance to read it. Mind you, he was pretty slow in that department. With the Duke’s arrival we were into the end game, and it all happened pretty fast from here on. At least Orsino had tidied himself up for this visit; instead of his usual scruffiness he looked smart, and his attendants carried the flowers and chocolates which he intended to give to Olivia. Feste’s fooling was well done, and Antonio’s arrival filled the time nicely till Olivia came along.

She was in a foul mood though, at least with Orsino. She dumped his flowers and chocolates in the water, but kept making sheep’s eyes at Cesario. It was so obvious that Orsino would have had to have been even stupider than Sir Andrew not to have spotted it, and this Duke was no fool. He was already going through the revolving door, with Cesario hard on his heels when Olivia’s “husband” called them back. With the priest confirming Olivia’s matrimonial claims, things already looked bad for Cesario when Sir Andrew came through the door with a smear of blood on his forehead. He shied away from Cesario when he saw him, as did Sir Toby who followed shortly afterwards. His line “I hate a drunken rogue” seemed to give him pause, as if he was starting to realise that he may fall into that category himself.

And then Sebastian turned up, went straight over to Olivia and apologised on bended knee for hurting her kinsman. The crowd were all alarmed – seeing twins seems to have that effect in Shakespeare’s plays. Olivia was standing on the board, Viola front right, Orsino back right and Antonio back left at this point. With Sebastian looking at Olivia to begin with, he didn’t notice Viola at all, and then when he saw Antonio and faced him, Viola was directly behind him. When he did turn round, their reunion was as good as I wanted (sniffled, of course), and Olivia for once seemed perfectly happy with her good fortune, after the initial embarrassment of realising that she had actually fallen in love with a woman!

With these twins having a significant difference in their height, they didn’t go in for further mistaken identities this time, which suited me fine. Malvolio made his entrance clad in just his suit trousers this time, and despite Olivia being conciliatory he was too far gone to do anything but snarl his threat of revenge at them before he left. He even included the audience this time, not nice. The priest was on stage for this final scene, and reacted a bit to Feste’s admission that he impersonated Sir Topaz, though there’s scope for more there I fancy. Orsino and Olivia were well reconciled by the end, and as Feste settled down to sing us the final song, both couples ended up on the bed at the back; first the women perched themselves on it, then the men followed and snuggled up beside their partner. I was again reminded of the Taming production, where Lucy Bailey had commented that the whole point of a comedy is to get two people into bed together: mission accomplished. We gave them a long round of enthusiastic applause, and left well satisfied that we would be seeing this one again.

What else do I need to say at this stage? The lighting was a bit gloomy for me, until the end when a golden glow brightened the stage considerably. Olivia lay on the bed at the back through all the opening scenes, until shortly before she arrived on stage herself. I didn’t realise it was her at first, but as various characters rose up from their positions on the stage to take part in the play, it became obvious who she had to be. We were both very relieved that the problems with delivering the lines which we’d experienced last night with The Comedy Of Errors were not apparent in this performance, so I apologise if any of my comments on that performance reflected badly on the cast; they’re clearly up to the challenge of Shakespeare already, but perhaps the Comedy production just needs longer to settle than this one. This was only the fourth preview performance of this play, with press night scheduled for 25^th April (the Comedy press night is a matinee).

The Comedy Of Errors – March 2012

Mar22

5/10 (preview)

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Amir Nizar Zuabi

Venue: RST

Date: Wednesday 21st March 2012

This has the potential to be a very good production, but as yet the cast still seem to be finding their feet. This was only the 5th preview (press night 25^th April). The dialogue was far from clear, so although I know the play pretty well, I reckon I would be struggling to follow the plot if it was new to me (and assuming I hadn’t read the program notes). The two Dromios are both well matched and also well differentiated; each wore an ‘I ♥ ____’ T-shirt with either ‘Syracuse’ or ‘Ephesus’ on it. They were the best thing in this performance, but even their comic business was being lost at times by the excessive staging.

The set was very important in this production. Ephesus is a thriving international port in this play, so that’s where they’ve set it; a good choice overall, though it did make the domestic scenes a little difficult to stage. The front left walkway had been removed, and that corner of the stage had been given a glossy black finish, representing water, and lots of rubbish has been plastered on it, representing the detritus floating in many a modern harbour. Another puddle sat a bit further back from this, also with a rim of debris, and there were wooden crates, oil drums and those big white canvas-looking builders’ bags around the place. A crane track ran diagonally from back left to front right, and various items were lifted onto the stage by this means, including the Virgin Mary (I kid you not!).

The rest of the stage was covered with wooden floorboards; at the back these rose up from the stage, first in a short shallow ramp, then as a vertical backdrop with jagged edges, lower at the left where the crane was operating. Several sacks had been stuck on this upright floor, and there were two bollards near the top with ropes wrapped round them which disappeared up into the flies. It was an interesting perspective, suggesting a topsy-turvy world as well as being a clear reminder we were at a port. Behind this panel of floorboards we could see an old fashioned metal post that’s the upright for some structure or other; it had curved metalwork corners suggestive of Victorian architecture. [23/8/12: Since learned that this is a structure in the Roundhouse which can’t be moved, so they decided to incorporate it into the set in Stratford as well.] There was another panel behind that which looked like corrugated iron(?) but I couldn’t see it clearly enough to be sure. There were two obvious trapdoors in the shallow ramp and the vertical part at the back, while others were concealed below oil drums and crates. At the start, there was also a fish tank sitting in the middle of the stage.

So it was a pretty grim setting for such a light comedy, and with gloomy lighting as well making it harder to see what was going on, this wasn’t the brightest version of the play I’ve seen. The opening sequence can be a very moving scene, with the Duke explaining to Egeon (and us) just how much trouble he’s in, and Egeon in turn telling the Duke (and us) the sad history of his life. This time it was both unpleasant and unclear. The lights went down, and when they came up Egeon was having his head dunked in the fish tank by an armed guard, while another guard directed the light and the Duke came on in his dressing gown using a microphone to broadcast his words over the tannoy system. He only used this for the first few lines and some others during this scene; the rest of the time he spoke normally, which was a shame, as I found I could hear him much better with the amplification.

Egeon’s head was dunked several times, and at first I felt this was unnecessary brutality – this is a comedy, after all. Then I considered that this was simply a way of showing the life and death risk that Egeon, his son Antipholus and his Dromio are all taking by coming to Ephesus. Fair enough, but this is still a comedy, and I found myself wondering if the current generation are perhaps becoming too desensitised to this sort of thing, as was discussed during the post-show for Marat/Sade. Anyway, when Egeon hesitated before telling his story, the guard dunked him again a couple of times, and by this time I had spotted the Duke’s hand gestures to the guard telling him when to raise and when to lower. He even looked as his watch once to time it – very callous. Once Egeon did get started, the dunking stopped, thank goodness, and there were some signs that his listeners were being affected by his tale, but only a few. The dialogue wasn’t clear, I had the Duke’s back to me for a fair chunk of this section, and only my knowledge of the play kept me going – I just wasn’t engaging with these characters at all for once.

Things improved with the arrival of the other two Syracusans, Antipholus and Dromio. As the tank was cleared, and Egeon was dragged off to search through the city for someone to bail him out, a crate was carried on by the crane and lowered down on the far side of the stage. A nervous-looking chap paid off one of the workers and lifted the lid using a crowbar. Out popped Antipholus and Dromio, clearly determined to get into Ephesus by any means available to them, while the merchant’s opening lines warning them of their danger were almost irrelevant given this staging. With Dromio dashing off to the Centaur and the merchant very eager to free himself from Antipholus’s handshake as quickly as he could, Antipholus of Syracuse was soon left alone on stage to comment on his situation. Again, the lines weren’t delivered well enough for me.

Before Dromio of Ephesus arrived, another crate opened up towards the back of the stage and a young chap came out of it. When he turned round and saw Antipholus, he froze for a moment; they regarded each other warily, and then the young man ran off. Illegal immigrants were clearly a problem in this Ephesus. I think this was where the woman came out as well, with her fake designer handbags and red tracksuits. There was some good humour in this; it was clearly a Mary Poppins crate, with more coming out than the crate could hold. After the woman ran off to sell her wares, the scene between Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Ephesus was OK, and I found myself wondering how easy it was to follow this story if you didn’t know it at all, especially if the dialogue didn’t come across well. Dromio of Ephesus was very clear, mind you, and suffered a lot of physical abuse for it. I do hope they don’t get too many injuries during the run.

The next scene with Adriana and Luciana was staged on a hanging platform which was brought on by crane. With a post at each corner, it held a dining table and three chairs, as well as the two women. It was lowered to the ground at first, I think, but later on it was raised slightly. This meant that it swung around a bit, as well as leaning drunkenly depending on where the characters stood, and they even made it spin deliberately, just to add to the distraction. And it was a distraction; this was probably the least interesting Adriana and Luciana I’ve seen so far. Mind you, the weak delivery of the lines and bland characterisation didn’t help – I’m assuming this will change for the better with practice. To be fair, Steve did reckon the actresses looked nervous on their swinging perch, so perhaps that was behind the lack of depth to these portrayals – they certainly came across better when their feet were on solid ground.

With that scene over the platform was raised again and carted off while the action continued below. Again, this was pretty bland, and much of Dromio’s humorous dialogue was cut, sadly. With more beating of servant by master, there wasn’t much of the joshing relationship between this pair that we’ve seen before, which weakened the performance for me.

Adriana’s arrival and pleading to her husband was reasonably good, but ‘Plead you to me, fair dame?’ was followed too quickly by the next line, and the laugh was lost. I did like the way they shifted the scene to the front door of the house, though. A door was carried over by the crane and lowered down towards the back. The characters all went through this, with Dromio being hit twice by the door, once by Adriana and once by Antipholus. It was funny each time, and half the pleasure was the anticipation – we could see it coming a mile off.

Antipholus of Ephesus’s arrival with his friends was a strange affair, not so much because of their entrance but because a group of younger folk behind us were clearly finding a lot more humour in the performance than I was. Their laughter was inexplicable to me a lot of the time, and even got to the point where I felt I was watching a not very funny play and hearing canned laughter which was slightly out of sync with the action, an unusual and rather surreal experience. I did miss a few funny moments admittedly, such as Adriana’s reaction later on when her husband gave the ring back to the courtesan and thanked her for her hospitality – hope to pick that up next time around – but for the most part I reckon we just had different senses of humour. Anyway, Antipholus of Ephesus came on with his mates, singing a song, and that was that.

The door obligingly swung round a bit during the next bit so that we could see both Dromios as well as Nell, with her graphic vegetables. She was well padded, and took every opportunity to get up close and personal with her man, as she believed Dromio of Syracuse to be. Antipholus of Ephesus probably lost his temper – I know the play so he must have – and before he left with the others he took several runs at the door but it defeated him each time, finally leaving him prostrate on the ground.

After they left, Antipholus of Syracuse re-entered, doing up his shirt and trousers, although it wasn’t so clear this time how they came to be undone. Luciana followed him a few moments later to tell him off; I have no idea how the lines went, but she was only too ready to rush into his arms and kiss him a short while later so I guess it was business as usual. I was looking forward to the interval by this time. When Luciana left, the door rotated with her on the other side, so as it came round she was in front of it again. They played with this nicely; Luciana realised she was back in the same room as Antipholus, and after a bit of simpering she turned the door back round again. (It was pink on the reverse so we would know which side was which.)

Dromio of Syracuse’s description of Nell was so-so – again, the lack of a comedic relationship between master and servant didn’t help with this – and then he was sent off to find a ship they could leave on while Antipholus of Syracuse met up with the goldsmith and received the chain. When Antipholus suggested the goldsmith take his money then and there, he actually held out a banknote to him. I reckon it was nothing like the amount the chain cost, judging by the goldsmith’s reaction; he laughed indulgently and turned it down with the line “You are a merry man, sir”. After Antipholus’s final lines, the young man who had also emerged from a crate came on stage trying to get away from the guards, but they had him cornered. As they closed in, Antipholus was convinced they were going to catch him as well, but of course they thought he was their Antipholus. They surrounded the two men, arrested the young man, and included Antipholus in their group photo which ended the first half.

The second half began with an invented scene. The Duke, Egeon, some guards and the band entered on the right hand walkway, with the recording of the Duke’s earlier line about finding someone to help Egeon blaring out several times. The band was good musically, though they had a strange habit of turning up in all sorts of different costumes during the play. They were in dockers’ gear, including hard hats and Day-Glo vests, in S&M outfits, all in red tracksuits (the ones the woman had been selling) and one or two other costumes. I suppose they fitted in with whatever else was going on, but it didn’t add to the performance for me. Anyway, the guards hoisted up a dead body wrapped in black clingfilm – we could see a foot sticking out at the top of the parcel – and hooked it up to the crane. It was then taken towards the back, swinging slightly as these things do, and dropped off the dock behind the floorboards; there was a splashing sound and some glitter was thrown back over the boards to suggest water. Another reminder of the harshness of this regime and the high risk of death – they must think we’re incredibly stupid and/or have very short attention spans. I did think the body may have been that of the man they captured just before the interval, but if so his foot looked decidedly lighter in colour than the skin tone of the live man, so I don’t know if that was the intent. This extra bit didn’t really add anything for me.

The next scene proper had the merchant and the goldsmith entering with the officer – a menacing looking individual with a nasty looking stick – and the goldsmith was very keen to get his debt paid and avoid arrest. The scene unfolded in a pretty straightforward way, with Antipholus of Ephesus’s arrival, the arguments over who has the chain, etc., etc. I did enjoy Dromio of Syracuse’s entrance with a lifejacket and lifebuoy; he was so enthusiastic that we couldn’t help laughing at him.

For the scene between Adriana and Luciana, the platform came back with the fish tank on it, and Adriana was dunking Luciana in it, demanding to know what her ‘husband’ had said. This made more sense, and did at least give us some comic payoff from the opening scene. I noticed that the water level was much lower this time around, presumably so that Luciana’s hair didn’t get too wet. When Dromio of Syracuse turned up, they spun the platform round again, and got a little humour out of the way Dromio had to either run round with it to talk to Adriana, or stand still and speak to her every so often when she came around again. She also lashed out at him with her foot a few times when she came round. At the end of the scene, Adriana put her own face in the water as a sign of her dejection, also funny, but the bulk of the dialogue was lost again in the spinning.

For Antipholus of Syracuse’s next entrance, the band and everyone else were wearing the red tracksuits and showering him with gifts. When they left, Antipholus was standing on an oil drum which was on its side, so he had to balance on it as it gradually rolled a little backwards – an impressive feat. When his Dromio turned up with the money he’d got from Adriana, Dromio started off his questioning about the strangely absent officer by mouthing the words at first, which I enjoyed. Then he went through the long, roundabout descriptions, and finally Antipholus got his meaning; this was the first sign of some connection between these two. The courtesan arrived in a slinky short dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her posturing was also pretty graphic, although this wasn’t the coarsest Comedy I’ve seen by a long way. Dromio hid behind an oil drum during this scene, gesturing to Antipholus to run away from this she-devil, but as she was bending provocatively over another oil drum at the time, Antipholus was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. Eventually Dromio tried to roll his oil drum at her to chase her off, but it had been specially flattened on one side and didn’t go very far. As Antipholus finally ran off, he threw her over it, another opportunity for injury, and as she got up she hissed in reply to Dromio’s parting words. I remember she took off a shoe – she was wearing very high heels – and threw it at somebody – don’t remember who – before saying her lines about going to Adriana and then limping off.

Antipholus of Ephesus, with his hands tied, assured the officer he wouldn’t try to run away, and then did just that a moment later. Poor fool, there was nowhere to run, and the officer had him in custody again almost immediately. Dromio of Ephesus’s entrance was good fun. He came in on the walkway trailing the rope behind him. As Antipholus stood there, Dromio pulled the rope through and piled it up in his arms; with more and more coming along it made a huge heap, almost obscuring Antipholus’s face. Dromio looked very pleased with himself, but he was soon unhappy again at his master’s anger.

Doctor Pinch’s arrival is something I usually dread, but this was one of the better versions of this scene. Jonathan Slinger gave us a camp gothic Pinch, with a crew of S&M attendants and a nasty pair of electrodes which he used whenever he could. The gleam of pleasure in his eye when he reckoned he had a madman to deal with was alarming, and Antipholus and Dromio were eventually bound in black clingfilm before being taken away on a trolley, accompanied by occasional prods with the electrodes.

Adriana was just sorting out the extent of Antipholus’s debts with the officer when the Syracusan pair arrived, and with this Antipholus brandishing a small knife, the rest ran off, afraid as much of their power to escape Pinch as the ‘sword’ itself. The meeting with the goldsmith and his creditor then followed, and this creditor had managed to conceal a considerably larger sword about his person which would have made the fight with Antipholus rather one-sided had Adriana and the rest not turned up to ‘recapture’ them.

This was when the Virgin Mary turned up. Rising above the boards at the back, her statue was brought forward by the crane. It also swung back and forth a bit, enough to make it funny rather than creepy. Everyone on stage stopped and looked at it, as did the audience. We also laughed. Then some angled doors lit up in the vertical ramp at the back; this was the abbey entrance which Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse escaped through – more laughter.

The abbess came out almost immediately, and in no time at all she had established who was boss. Adriana even tried to hit her, but the abbess grabbed her fist and squeezed, and in no time at all Adriana was on the floor, saying ‘ow’ and with a very sore hand. When the throng threatened to rush the doors, a metal panel slid shut behind them – one of the highest security abbeys I’ve ever seen – but it opened again to let the abbess back in. As she stormed past the characters on stage towards the back, they all got out of her way sharpish, including the officer, who jumped aside looking very alarmed – no way was he going to tangle with that woman!

For the Duke’s entrance, Egeon was brought on by the crane, suspended high up and dangling near the front of the stage. His feet were supported, but even so he was there for quite a long time before being lowered down. The Duke came on with his assistant and guards and they were very jumpy, brandishing their guns around as soon as look at you. The Duke took out his own gun and was pointing it at people when he wanted them to talk, though at first the scene started off amicably enough. Adriana made her plea for assistance, kneeling down to the Duke as she did so. Her servant arrived, and that was when guns were first drawn; the poor chap looked terrified, but then so did everyone else.

When Antipholus of Ephesus and his Dromio turned up, this Antipholus still had a chair attached to one arm by the clingfilm, and there were scorch marks all over his suit. He pleaded with the Duke for justice, everyone told their version of the story, and by the time the Duke sent for the abbess he was waving his gun around and making everyone even more jumpy. At this point Egeon spoke up, and got a good laugh at his lines – he was looking right down at Antipholus of Ephesus at that point. He was lowered to the stage and unhooked while his apparent son and servant disclaimed all knowledge of him, and then the abbess returned, heralding the arrival of the other two twins. I couldn’t see them at first from my angle, so I lost some of the effect of this bit, but they were soon in view for the (sniff) reunion scene.

The Dromios had been very well cast, and looked plausible as twins, as well as having similar comedic styles. The Antipholi (Antipholuses?) weren’t going to fool anybody, being at least six inches different in height, and although they were facially similar, the fact that one of them had a chair strapped to one arm would have surely made it a bit easier to tell which was which. Once again, nothing was made of the wonderful line by the abbess, or Emilia as we then knew her to be – “where is that son who floated with thee on the fatal raft?” There was a general tendency in this production to skip quickly over the text-based humour in favour of the physical stuff, but this really is a gem of a line requiring some reaction from the assembled throng. There was hugging and revelations and I sniffled (I really can’t help it), and then the abbess invited everyone into her place for a feast. When only the Dromios were left, they said their lines very touchingly, but before they exited, the flying Virgin came back again for a final swing across the stage. It got a good laugh, and was OK on that basis, but it did spoil the energy of the ending. This time, the lights simply went out and that was that.

There were some other bits of staging that went quite well, but I’ve forgotten exactly when they happened. Dromio of Ephesus used rap rhythms for a few of his lines to his own Antipholus, which he did very well. The Syracusan pair hid in oil drums at the back of the stage at one point, with Antipholus fitting nicely in his, and Dromio having to lift the drum up and hide his upper body while his legs showed below – good fun. He also ran off still holding the drum, another funny bit. There were enough of these good ideas to make the evening an OK experience, and to suggest that the production may be quite good once it’s worked in, but from my perspective they do need to work on the dialogue a lot more. A lot of the ensemble are making their RSC debuts, so perhaps the voice work they’ll do here will bring them on; it certainly helped a number in the very long ensemble that spanned the Courtyard/new RST period.

The two Dromios – Bruce Mackinnon, a very good Algernon in The Importance Of Being Earnest at the Rose recently, and Felix Hayes, very good as Snug the joiner in the recent RSC A Midsummer Night’s Dream – were the clear stars of this production, and I’m already looking forward to seeing them again in this and in their other roles. Nicholas Day did the best he could with Egeon’s part, but the staging didn’t do him any favours, and of the rest I enjoyed Jonathan Slinger’s Pinch, Sargon Yelda’s Angelo (the goldsmith) and Solomon Israel’s officer.

Almost forgot to mention – the noise of the crane as it moved back and forth was another distraction we could have done without; Steve noticed it more than I did.

Being Shakespeare – March 2012

Mar18

7/10

By Jonathan Bate (with a bit of help from William Shakespeare)

Directed by Tom Cairns

Venue: Trafalgar Studios 1

Date: Saturday 17th March 2012

The set consisted of a square platform with one step along the front and side, placed at an angle to the front of the stage. Four plain wooden chairs were stacked against the dark right-hand wall. The light-coloured wall on the left had two windows high up, and there was another light-coloured part wall behind the platform. Two trees emerged from the darkness at the back of the stage towards the end of the first half, and were replaced by two more trees during the interval; these encroached further forward. The platform held various props – sword, paper crown, globe, cap, books, small mobile with figures dangling from it, etc. – as well as having two trapdoors, one of which provided flames for the early Mark Antony speech from Julius Caesar – “Friends, Romans” – and another occasion later on. There was a sweep of dark marbly bits to the left of the platform – a slight nuisance, as they kept tracking across whenever Simon Callow walked on them – but otherwise the stage seemed bare from our angle.

The play was very interesting and entertaining. Using Shakespeare’s Seven Ages Of Man speech – spoken by Jacques in As You Like It – Jonathan Bate has devised this ramble through Shakespeare’s work and what we know about the historical context in which it was written, both political and personal. Simon Callow delivered it all very well, although at times the lecturing style of the author shone through; not a bad thing, but less dramatic than some other parts of the afternoon. I recognised many of the readings, of course, but there was a lot of newer information as well, and the overall framework made it more easily digestible. Things went a little wobbly around the ‘soldier’ part, with the lack of evidence about Will’s life making it harder to stick to the speech, but with an actor of Simon Callow’s talent we were in safe hands. His delivery was very good, and my only quibble was that he had so little time to set up the speeches that I wasn’t able to make as strong an emotional connection as I would have liked. Still, the purpose of the piece was to take us on the lifetime journey, and that it did very well.

Bette And Joan – March 2012

Mar17

8/10

By Anton Burge

Directed by Bill Alexander

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 16th March 2012

I have to hand it to Anita Dobson and Greta Scacchi, they made it possible to spend nearly two hours in the company of these out-and-out bitches and enjoy ourselves enormously. Of course the writing helped, with its clever intercutting of the conversations each actress was having with the audience – they rarely talked to each other – and the whole evening was a much better experience than I’d hoped for.

Neither Steve nor I had been attracted to Joan Crawford or Bette Davis as actors, or as people for that matter, so we weren’t familiar with their work and hadn’t seen What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? It didn’t matter; we knew enough of their reputations and the back story was cunningly interwoven with their chat to us so that anyone could have followed the story easily. In fact, for a play which was mainly exposition, the writing managed to avoid being clunky or obvious, which was a remarkable feat. There was a lot of humour, often through the juxtaposition of comments from each woman, and enough insight into each actress’s background to allow us to relate to them as people; I still wouldn’t want to spend time with them, but I can at least understand something of their challenges and how they rose to meet them. Or went down to meet them in Joan’s case.

The set was craftily designed to show us both of the dressing rooms, with the mirrors back to back. These didn’t actually exist; the walls were cut away to leave an open space between the two rooms, although in other respects there were a lot of furnishings to set the scene. Joan had her weighted belt to make Bette’s life hell during the lifting scene, while Bette’s trick on Joan was less nasty; she just ordered a Coke dispenser for the studio floor, as Joan’s last husband, now deceased, had been CEO at Pepsi. The performances were excellent, and we were very glad this came on tour after its success in London.

On Golden Pond – March 2012

Mar14

6/10

By Ernest Thompson

Directed by Michael Lunney

Company: Middle Ground

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Wednesday 14th March 2012

This is not our preferred type of entertainment; nothing wrong with the production or performances, but the story itself is on the bland side. An elderly couple spending the summer by a lake are visited by their daughter and her new partner. The parents end up taking care of the partner’s 14-year-old son while the younger couple have a holiday in Europe, and in the course of the summer some attitudes are changed and a major rift starts to be healed. It’s very predictable, and if it wasn’t for the good performances and a regular dose of humour, the evening would have been a complete snooze fest.

The story actually stood the test of time pretty well. The slang of the late seventies had dated a bit, of course, but the sense of an out-of-the-way location and the effects of getting old were still understandable, while difficulties with relationships are never likely to lose their relevance, sadly. A good effort, and despite the modest size of the audience I felt we responded well both during the performance and at the end.

The Albion Band – March 2012

Mar10

9/10

Worthing Assembly Hall

Friday 9th March 2012

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Heresy Of Love – March 2012

Mar9

8/10

By Helen Edmundson

Directed by Nancy Meckler

Company: RSC

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 8th March 2012

This is a great new play; I really don’t think I’ll be able to fully express how moving and entertaining it was, but I’ll do my best. As an experience it felt very complete, and the actors in the post-show commented on how little the dialogue was changed during the rehearsal process. There were great performances all round and plenty of humour, although as the play drew to its conclusion that naturally lessened as death and destruction rained down on Mexico. It was full of ideas and arguments, but underpinning it all was that understanding of the direct approach of the heart, which knows no boundaries and heeds no rules made by man. And it was men making the rules in this society, and then using those rules to supress one half of the population – shame on them. They had their reasons, and I loved the way every character not only had a chance to express their point of view, but were given a valid perspective which I could respect, even if I completely disagreed with it; the piece was the stronger for it.

The play was based on the life of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, a Mexican nun who defied the rules to read widely and to write – plays, poetry and other material on a wide range of subjects. Her success was due to the influence of the Mexican court, especially the friendship and support of the Vice Regent’s wife, while her downfall was due to the unease felt by many men within the Catholic hierarchy at such a graphic and popular demonstration of mental ability by a woman. It was clear from the play that women’s roles in Spanish society at that time were very limited – wife and mother, nun, or fallen woman were all that seemed to be on offer – and so Sor Juana’s choice to take the veil had a degree of ambiguity to it; did she cloister herself from her love of Jesus or from her love of learning? And are the two things actually incompatible, or was that just the official (male) view at the time?

The play opened with a scene demonstrating the change of policy that came with the new archbishop, Aguiar Y Seijas (Stephen Boxer). The laxity of the Mexican Catholic community had troubled the central command of the Spanish church, so the new archbishop had been chosen to restore order, which included a crackdown on the freedoms enjoyed by, amongst others, the nuns of various orders. Two other clergymen had been summoned to meet him privately; one, Bishop Santa Cruz (Raymond Coulthard) was known for his work with women, especially nuns given to ecstatic visions, while the other, Father Antonio (Geoffrey Beevers) was Sor Juana’s confessor and in that role had persuaded her to take the veil. He was a vacillator: when chastened by the new archbishop about Sor Juana’s literary activity, not normally allowed to a nun in any order, he confessed that he had probably been weak in his work with her, but he had hoped to convince her of the error of her ways. Sor Juana’s view was that he had supported her in her activities, and she was quite shocked to discover his change of heart. Bishop Santa Cruz saw Sor Juana as a splendid example of what women could achieve, but given the way he was passed over for promotion and the incompatibility of his views with the new regime, he became interested in Sor Juana mainly as a political pawn, someone he could use to torment the archbishop while in public seeming to be on his side. His political manoeuvring supplied a lot of the comedy moments in the play, and was an interesting counterpoint to the machinations of the Duke in Measure for Measure, the other role played by Raymond Coulthard in this mini-season.

The scenes in the convent were usually in either the locutory or Sor Juana’s cell, if cell it could be called – bit bigger than the usual allocation. The locutory was set up by a circular wall of railings which was moved round onto the stage. It had a small door to the right, and stools were often set up outside it, as with the first visit of the Vice Regent and his wife. Sor Juana’s cell had a small table and chair against the back wall – this was covered by a large picture of the head of Christ on the cross – and not much else, although the characters talked of and pretended to look at lots of books which she’d collected. For the final scenes, the convent started to crumble, and so a large piece of the wall fell forward and stayed that way till the end of the play. For the scenes in the archbishop’s palace, there was a chandelier, a throne and not much else as I recall. The set supported the production beautifully, with costumes to match.

In the convent there was a lot of affection for Sor Juana which seemed to be based mainly on her popularity at court, with many gifts being brought for her (and what happened to the vow of poverty?) and many visits from the vice-regal couple. There was also jealousy, of course, manifesting in the bitterness of Sister Sebastiana (Teresa Banham) who was the convent’s gatekeeper. Her desire for revenge was so strong that she connived in the seduction and ravishing of Sor Juana’s niece, young Angelica, who was not yet old enough to take holy orders. The seducer was Don Hernando (Simon Thorp), one of the Vice Regent’s supporters, who had no compunction in ruining Angelica’s life and prospects of marriage. Sister Sebastiana also used Bishop Santa Cruz’s known interest in visions to lure him away from his support for Sor Juana; I reckoned at the time she was making it all up, although as she was clearly highly strung it’s possible that she believed in these experiences.

Sor Juana remained oblivious to all of these machinations which were whirled around her until a trick by Bishop Santa Cruz exposed her private thoughts on a sermon by the archbishop. With the threat of interrogation by the Inquisition looming over her, she had a final confrontation with the archbishop himself, during which both put forward their arguments passionately and clearly. It was only the mention of her niece’s fate that put Sor Juana off her stride; up to this point she was unaware of what had happened, and her realisation that she failed to keep her niece safe from the dangers of the world, as she was supposed to do, finally weakened her confidence enough to cause her to renounce her work and confess her ‘sins’. The play ended with the Vice-Regent and his family retuning to Spain, along with Don Hernando, as plague and torrential rain swept through Mexico City. Sor Juana, having confessed her sins and renounced her writing, spent her final days tending the sick in the convent, and also died of the plague. The last scene showed Bishop Santa Cruz turning up at the locutory only to hear the news of her death, and his final musings about putting up a statue to this unusual nun were a fitting end to the story of a woman whose talent and determination got her into so much trouble.

The play has so many levels to it that I find it hard to explain its effect on me. Helen Edmundson intended to use many of the themes of the Spanish Golden Age dramas to tell this story, and she’s done an excellent job. There were contrivances, disguises (Angelica pretending to be her much taller aunt was a funny one), servants who help and hinder, and even touches of Measure For Measure in the way the Bishop suddenly found himself sexually attracted to Sor Juana, his intellectual equal; the less well educated women he’d been helping out for many years had never interested him, despite gossip to the contrary. In fact, I reckoned it was this sudden change of awareness and accompanying sense of guilt that made the Bishop so ready to believe Sister Sebastiana’s cunning lie about Sor Juana. She reluctantly ‘confessed’ that she’d heard Sor Juana telling the other nuns about how he touched her during a previous visit, and that was why she was uncertain about spending time with him to describe her visions. This apparent slander on his good name, semi-deserved as it was, offended the Bishop greatly, and Sor Juana would no longer receive his protection. This sort of complexity was rampant throughout the play, and made for a very rich experience.

As Sor Juana, Catherine McCormack gave a splendid central performance. She had no problem conveying the woman’s intelligence, determination and lack of political awareness. I did find myself thinking at times that she was in the wrong to insist on doing something that was against the rules she’d taken a vow to obey, but at the same time she was championing the rights to free thought and free expression which are so important to all of us. It was a sad ending, though not a downbeat one, and I hope to see this play again sometime. It’s been an amazing mini-season in the Swan this winter, with intelligent plays that demand a lot of the audience – long may this continue.

Fairport Convention – March 2012

Mar6

8/10

Dorking Halls

Monday 5th March 2012

The guest act tonight was Kieran Goss, a singer/songwriter originally from Newry, but now living in Sligo. He talked about as much as, or even more than, he sang. Fortunately, it was very entertaining chat, including getting us to roar and cheer when he introduced his hit.

One boy’s treasure – nice gentle one to start

Just around the corner – very funny story with this one, about the way each singer changes a song to suit their own style. Nice song too.

The reason why – his hit, with a bit more rhythm than the others.

Reasons for leaving – another long story about Irish emigration, his sister in Toronto, and how she nearly stole the show when he performed there. Very entertaining. Good song as well.

After these solo numbers, he introduced Fairport and they sang Reach Out (I’ll be there) together, an unusual choice. Then Kieran left them to continue with their set:

Sir Patrick Spens – a good start

Walk Awhile – also good

Farewell, Farewell

Happy Birthday for sound engineer John – 31 today.

Albert and Ted – an interesting instrumental. Personally I didn’t notice the join between the two pieces of music, but then I’m not the most musically literate person in the world, and they’re a very talented bunch of musicians.

The Cell Song – one of my favourites. Chris Leslie sang this beautifully, as usual.

Genesis Hall – hadn’t heard this one before, and couldn’t make out the words. I may come to like it once I’ve listened to the CD a few times.

John Gaudie + tunes – always good fun!

Interval, with the usual retail opportunity (we waited till the end)

Second half:

Mercy Bay – Chris Leslie’s song about a ship stuck in the ice for three years. We both decided we liked it after about two lines of the first verse.

Fotheringay – preceded by a short piece of pre-recorded wordless harmony to get us in the mood. Lovely song.

Celtic Moon – Nice and lively, and with an easy to sing chorus.

Rosie – sweet little song, though the only Rosie in the audience seemed to have a very deep voice!

Jewel In The Crown – Lovely.

I Wandered By A Brookside – even lovelier.

The Hexhamshire Lass – Fairport Convention meets punk. A very mild form of punk, admittedly, sounding more like ordinary folk rock to me, but that’s not a problem for us. We certainly enjoyed it.

Hiring fair – new one on me, and I liked it.

Danny Jack’s Chase – excellent instrumental.

Matty Groves – an old favourite, and done in double quick time!

Tonight’s encore was of course Meet On The Ledge, with Kieran returning to help out with the vocals. Then off to buy up the CDs (two from each) and get the autographs with a bit of chat, and we were out into the cold night air. A great evening, and lovely to have another fix of folk music, our favourite.

The Recruiting Officer – March 2012

Mar1

8/10

By George Farquhar

Directed by Josie Rourke

Venue: Donmar Theatre

Date: Thursday 1st March 2012

A great start for the new regime – a strong production of a classic play with some very good performances. To begin with, the Donmar has changed a bit since our last visit (Richard II) with the wall at the back of the auditorium removed and new seating with patterned cushions. I don’t know if any of that was just for this production, but they don’t usually lash out money unnecessarily so I reckon it’s an upgrade. And very comfortable we were too.

The set was very rustic, with wooden floorboards and wooden planks across the top of the stage, large round candlelit chandeliers and wooden stairs and posts in the back corners. They began proceedings before the start of the play with the band, a five-piece who also played the minor parts. They had a drummer who also strummed a small guitar, a proper guitarist, a fiddler, a flute player and a double bass player who wore his instrument like a guitar for most of the time. When we turned up about fifteen minutes before the off, they were already on stage and entertaining us all with some period music, ranging from slower ballads to lively jigs. They played a lot during the performance as well, particularly the song Over The Hills And Far Away, one of Steve’s favourites – we nearly joined in.

While they played, some of the cast came on stage to light the candles – the chandeliers were lowered for that purpose – which took some time as there were lots of candles on each one. There were also some pretend lime lights all around the edge of the stage – small electric lights inside shaped holders. When everything was ready, the band drew our attention by gathering in the middle of the stage and playing softer and softer, then breaking out into a more lively section. After that finished, they lined up across the stage and began to play some strange sounds. Many in the audience laughed straightaway, but it took me some time to recognise what they were doing – playing ring tones! I spotted the flute at the end, and we applauded when they finished and moved off the stage. When the applause died down, Sergeant Kite came on to start the play proper, and I was reminded of the ending of Our Country’s Good a few weeks ago, when this opening scene was performed in that play’s last scene.

I won’t go through the story for this one, it would take too long. There are two ladies and their suitors, a maid, a country wench, a fop, a judge and a rascally recruiting sergeant who moonlights as a German fortune teller. All end happily except for Lucy the maid, who loses her chance to marry the fop and become a lady. There are plenty of laughs along the way, and although there are undoubtedly references that would be funnier in Farquhar’s day, we didn’t feel left out by the language.

The performances were very good, although I felt the judge was showing his age a little in his hesitant manner; this weakened the performance slightly but not too much. Mackenzie Crook was fine as Sergeant Kite, but really came into his own as the fake German fortune teller, with his false goatee beard and black eye makeup. I liked the way they simply hung up a rope with a bead curtain part way along it to form the entrance to his room; a chaise longue, table and chair completed the furniture, and the table was laden with all sorts of bric-a-brac suitable for the charlatan’s trade. Tobias Menzies as Captain Plume was excellent with his smooth charm and willingness to cheat and swindle anybody to recruit more men into the army, specifically the Grenadiers. Mr Worthy, played by Nicholas Burns, was a good match for him, and I loved the way Worthy and his beloved, Melinda, had a coy little kiss at the end while Plume and Sylvia were having a proper snog in the middle of the stage.

Sylvia (Nancy Carroll) and Melinda (Rachel Stirling) were also very good. We’re accustomed to Nancy Carroll’s talent for playing men, but this time I felt she made her Wilful a little more feminine, appropriate for this production. Melinda was great fun. At the start she put on such an overly posh accent that we could barely understand her, while Sylvia made excellent fun of her ‘ears’ and graces. At the start of the second half, she spotted the Maltesers on the lap of the lady next to me and made for them with a gleam in her eye, only to stop herself at the last moment with a cry of ‘no’! The same lady was singled out later by Worthy as the person he had been coming to the park to meet, and she took in good part all the references that were made to her during this conversation and later on. Melinda also bumped into one of the posts as she made her way off stage after the reconciliation with Worthy, and did a nice job of staggering around a bit before finding her way past the posts and into the wings.

The maid and Rose, the country wench, were also fine, and we noticed that Plume was very gallant when Rose came on with her skirt all rucked up; he kindly sorted it out for her so she wasn’t showing off her knickers to all and sundry, although from the way she was behaving earlier we weren’t sure if that was part of the performance or not. And finally Mark Gatiss as Captain Brazen was an excellent fop, the sort of man you’d run a mile to avoid, but very funny when you only have to endure him from a comfortable seat in the auditorium. He was very civilised, though – he kept handing his hat or cane to people in the audience to hold for him while he enacted a scene, and always thanked them most graciously when he took those items back again.

The dialogue was very clear throughout, and made more sense than usual; the language of this period can seem very dated if not delivered well, but today it was fresh and understandable, which helped to make the production so enjoyable. The pace was good too, with two and half hours skipping by like frisky spring lambs. It was nice to see this play again, especially so close to Our Country’s Good, and we’re looking forward to the Donmar’s next offering.

Romeo And Juliet – February 2012

Feb25

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Robert Icke

Company: Headlong

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 24th February 2012

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ilovetheatre

Notes on theatre performances since 2006

Twelfth Night – March 2012

The Comedy Of Errors – March 2012

Being Shakespeare – March 2012

Bette And Joan – March 2012

On Golden Pond – March 2012

The Albion Band – March 2012

The Heresy Of Love – March 2012

Fairport Convention – March 2012

The Recruiting Officer – March 2012

Romeo And Juliet – February 2012