Tag Archives: Courtyard Theatre

Henry IV part 2 – August 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Richard Twyman

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 2nd August 2007

This was a huge improvement on part 1 which we saw a couple of nights ago. The play starts with Rumour, played by Forbes Masson, who enters dressed as Bagot and dragging Richard’s coffin, which he opens. This releases Richard’s ghost, who wanders off and reappears occasionally. Rumour then tells us all about his work, making it clear that the stories Northumberland is about to hear are false. Sure enough, he hears the wrong story first, and there’s some posturing as the messengers try to make out their story is the accurate one. A third messenger has the right story, and Percy knows the worst. I found this a bit boring, and couldn’t always make out the lines, and the staging was still pretty static.

The next scene gives us John Falstaff checking on his urine test, complaining about his mate the Prince, complaining when he can’t get what he wants in the way of goods, and then being upbraided by the Lord Chief Justice (Richard Cordery). I was paying more attention this time to Richard’s performance, to see how his rehearsal process might affect it, and he certainly was paying attention all the time to what was happening on stage.

Falstaff pretends to be deaf, and there was lots of humour. David Warner really seems to have grown into the part. At the end of this long scene he sends Peto to deliver some letters, and take something to Ursula – for this he takes out a carrot – plenty of double entendres there.

Next the rebels plotting together – a long speech from the Archbishop, and much concern about the likely success of their actions. Then it’s a lovely scene where Mistress Quickly tries to arrest Falstaff over the money he owes her. Along comes the Lord Chief Justice, and hears her complaint. As well as denying her the money he owes her, Sir John is reneging on his promise to marry her, but it looks like she’ll forgive him if they do wed. This was a great performance from Maureen Beattie. Honest, respectable woman that she is, she can’t help flaunting herself at the Lord Chief Justice, showing off her tits, wiggling and pouting, all very “respectable”  but liable to be misinterpreted! The Lord Chief Justice sees past all Falstaff’s prevarication, and pushes him to make amends to Mistress Quickly, which he does with more promises, getting more money out of her all the time. Meanwhile news comes of the King’s army, and they head off to the wars.

Harry and Poins are next. Poins pushes the bed on, with Harry asleep on it, and with his finger on his lips, invites us to keep quiet. Then he pulls the cover off Harry, who reacts quickly. Their conversation clearly shows that Harry is beginning to adjust his thinking and his behaviour to reflect his own noble position more – a warning to the audience that he will be renouncing his former companions before long. Bardolph arrives with a letter from Falstaff, warning Hal not to be too friendly with Poins, as Poins wants Harry to marry his sister. Poins semi-denies this, and here I got the impression that he might well have been thinking about it. They decide to spy on Falstaff that night, disguised as tapsters.

Next Northumberland, his wife, and Hotspur’s wife enter. Despite his intention to join the rebels, Hotspur’s wife points out, at length, that he broke his oath when he failed to turn up to help his son, so he might as well fail these other people, of so much less worth than her dead husband. With his wife joining in the pleas, he decides to head for Scotland.

At the tavern, the tapsters are in the know about the Prince and Poins’ ruse, Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet are the worse for wear, but Doll does at least feel better after throwing up (thankfully faked). Doll and Falstaff quarrel, and when Pistol is announced, Mistress Quickly refuses to let him in, saying she can’t abide “swaggerers”. Her hands are really shaking. Falstaff persuades her that Pistol is a gentle man, and well behaved, so she allows him in. Unfortunately, he’s as quarrelsome as they come (would any sane person actually believe what Falstaff tells them?), and with Doll having a go at him with a knife (they’ve all had too much to drink), he draws his sword. Mistress Quickly manages to calm him down a bit, though the way she strokes his sword wouldn’t normally have that effect on a man. Steve reckons it’s a good job he didn’t have a pistol, as it would have gone off!

Eventually the brawling gets too much, and Pistol is hit over the head and falls into the basement. Falstaff and Doll are getting on better now, and he talks to her of the Prince and Poins, insulting them. They reveal themselves – they’d only just arrived, with moustaches to disguise themselves – by shouting “Anon, anon, sir” when Sir John calls for more sack. Hal challenges Falstaff to worm his way out of the insults he’s just heard, which he does by saying he dispraised the Prince before wicked people so that they would not love him. Harry is testing him by asking whether each person there is wicked or not, and Falstaff’s just about managing OK, but then Peto comes with news of the gathering forces, and Hal realises he has to get to court. Falstaff is also called for, and off they all go.

Now King Henry graces us with his presence, and after sending off some letters, tells us all about insomnia. It’s much worse for kings, he reckons (why are so many powerful people such self-indulgent wimps?). Then the lords he wrote to turn up, as quick as if he’d texted them (impressive), and they discuss the situation briefly. Again, Henry is more caught up with how things have changed, and recognises that Richard II’s earlier prophecy about the split between him and Northumberland had some truth to it. Warwick puts things into perspective and helps to steady Henry’s resolve – altogether a calming influence. Obviously, Henry’s feeling the guilt, and this scene prepares us for his coming illness and death. I felt there was still some more to come here – not all of the “why can’t I get any sleep when all these ordinary people can” whinge came across clearly.

Now we had the interval, and during it, young Davy, servant to Justice Shallow, sets up the stage for the next scene in Gloucestershire. There’s a lot of funny business here – Matt Costain, Director of Rope Work, plays the part, and he needs a lot of gymnastic ability. He tried to pick up three folding stools, leaving each stool where it was while he went for the others, and of course they all fell over. Then he spent some time attaching bunting to the tower at the back. The first attachment point was in reach, but the second, round to the right, was too high, so he had to get a ladder. He wasn’t in quite the right position, so he shifted the ladder several times without getting off it, making it more and more precarious, until eventually it fell over, and left him clinging to the railing of the tower. There was a bit of audience participation here, as he signalled to those on the right-hand side to help him. Eventually one did, the ladder was restored, and the bunting was attached. Hooray! As he closed up the ladder, he reacted as if he’d caught a tender part of his anatomy in it – an old trick, but never let it be said we’re not easily pleased.

We had been looking forward to the next scene, Shallow and Silence, since this morning’s talk from Jonathan Bate, about Shakespeare and the law. He has an interesting theory on the go that Will may have spent some of his missing time in the Inns of Court, possibly even Clement’s Inn, but as he intends to publish, he didn’t want us to spread it too widely beforehand. Anyway, he read out a lot of the opening part of this scene, and very entertainingly, so that my appetite was whetted. I’ve often lost a lot of this dialogue and tended to regard Shallow and Silence as being on a par with Dogberry – you have to put up with them, but the more they can be cut the better. This time, I understood the lines much better, both from Jonathan’s reading, and from the performances.

After the two old men get through their reminiscences, or rather Shallow’s reminiscences as Silence lives up to his name for the most part, Falstaff arrives to enrol the men that Shallow has provided for the King’s army. Mouldy does indeed look pretty foul, and the reactions of the others suggest a lack of personal hygiene. Shadow is very white and ghost-like, and tends to faint easily, not the best constitution for a soldier, one would think. Wart is bent almost double, and Francis Feeble is as tasty a pantomime young man as one would wish to see (played by Katy Stephens). He’s also the only one who comes close to being courageous. Bullcalf is big and strong, and it looks like he’s the pick of the bunch, but once Falstaff and Shallow go in for dinner, the real transfer negotiations take place (isn’t that always the way?). Bullcalf and Mouldy bung Bardolph several pounds to avoid conscription, and amazingly enough Bardolph and Sir John keep faith with them, taking all the others instead. Shadow faints (again).

Falstaff tells Bardolph to give the new enlistees guns, which they take out of the chest they’ve brought with them. Bardolph gives Wart a rifle, and shows him how to shoulder arms, ending with bringing the gun to his middle front. When Wart tries it, apart from being a lot more shaky, he ends up banging the gun on the ground in front of him, which makes it fire! Bardolph takes the gun away again, and they troop off.

Falstaff promises to visit Justice Shallow again, and once left alone on stage proceeds to tell us how he plans to “fetch off these justices”. He’s upset with Shallow both for lying and for having done so well for himself despite being such a pathetic fellow at Clement’s Inn. This is the nastier side of Falstaff, and it comes across pretty well. (If I remember rightly, Davy removes the bunting at some point, possibly before, possibly after this speech.)

Now we see the rebels again, preparing their forces for war. Northumberland has sent his apologies, and news comes of the King’s forces led by his son John. The Duke of Westmoreland arrives, from Prince John, to ask what grievances the rebels have. They talk. And they talk. And they talk. Unlike the Henry VI’s, this isn’t martial banter, this is political manoeuvring. Both sides are attempting to take the moral high ground, and the language is quite dense. I certainly didn’t pick up all of it at the time, although I got the gist.

Finally, Westmoreland takes a list of the rebel’s complaints to the Prince, and they discuss whether they can trust his word or not. Of course, they can’t, but Hastings and the Archbishop seem to be the trusting sort. With the arrival of the Prince, declaring that he’ll satisfy their demands, peace appears to break out, but sadly the rebel troops disperse too quickly, and soon the Prince’s officers surround and arrest the rebel leaders. I notice the same level of sneakiness with both Falstaff and the Prince – effective strategies though they may be, I’m not keen on the lack of integrity on show. Also, I think some of the drinking lines were cut, as there seemed to be very little gap between the peace agreement and the arrests.

The next scene is a short one, designed, it would seem, mainly to remind us that now the battle is over, Sir John is heading back to Gloucestershire to tackle Justice Shallow. Falstaff comes across a wounded knight, and takes him prisoner, as he’s too injured to fight. The Prince and Westmoreland turn up, and the Prince chides Sir John for arriving so late to the party. Falstaff’s response is breathtakingly cheeky. The prisoner is led off to be executed with the rest of the captured rebels, and the Prince heads off to London to see his father, who is now sick. Left alone again, Falstaff rails against abstemious men, extolling the virtues of sherry sack, and swearing he would have all his sons, if he had any, learn to drink this magic liquid. Off he heads to see the Justice again.

Back in London, the King is in a wheelchair, and in his bedroom. Most of his sons are present, but not Harry. He warns young Clarence to keep well in with Hal when he succeeds, and act as a mediator to help prevent his excesses from damaging their relationships. He’s very worried about what will happen once he’s gone, and convinced that his son will not make a good king, although he is aware of some of his good qualities.

Warwick again puts in a more balanced view, stating that Hal is only finding out what goes on amongst the lower classes, but the king’s not persuaded. News of the victories arrives – Westmoreland tells the king of Prince John’s success, while another messenger informs us all that Northumberland and the Scots have been defeated by the Sheriff of Yorkshire. Despite the good news, the king swoons, and has to be helped to bed. Although he recovers a bit, he wants to be left alone to rest, so they exit. Prince Hal has just arrived, and decides to stay with his father. The crown is lying on a pillow to the right of the king – he fought hard to get it, and he’s not letting it out of his sight now!

I noticed as he was put on the bed that a few feathers drifted down to land on him. I wondered if it was planned, and now it was confirmed. After ruminating on the pressures of kingship (Elizabeth must have loved Will’s work – he’s always pointing out the hardships that royalty has to endure), Hal notices that a feather isn’t moving, and despite not having any medical training, jumps to the conclusion that dad’s snuffed it. What cheek! A few words of sorrow, and then he puts on the crown and runs off with it, though only to the next room, presumably to adjust to his newly-acquired status.

When the king wakes up, he calls for company, and on hearing that Hal is around, asks to see him. Nobody knows where he’s gone, and then the king spots the empty pillow! I could envisage alarms and sirens going off, security doors slamming shut, all based on King Henry’s rage at finding his son has prematurely taken the crown. Warwick, ever the calming influence, tells the king that Hal is next door, sobbing his heart out (bless).

Now for some of the biggest speeches in the play. Henry and Hal have a heart-to-heart – it’s a bit like Jerry Springer, but a bit more civilised. The King accuses Hal of all the things he’s worried about – that he’ll let all his drunken, criminal buddies have power when he’s King and ruin the state. Only he takes a lot longer to say it than that (46 lines). Hal then responds (39 lines) with one of the most grovelling apologies I’ve ever heard. Several thoughts struck me. One is how noble he suddenly sounds, another is that the performance by Geoffrey Streatfield is growing on me, and the other is that I’ve never really understood Hal’s motivation in seeming worse than he is to gain greater glory when he shows his true colours. I’m sure it makes sense to him, but so far it’s escaped me.

King Henry (43 lines) is so taken with Hal’s speech, that he’s reconciled to him on the spot, and sits him down on the bed for some fatherly advice on how to run the family firm. Basically, prevent civil strife at home by fighting wars abroad (why does that sound familiar?). Once done, he feels bad again, and asks to be taken to Jerusalem (the room, not the city) to die.

Back in Gloucestershire, Shallow is combining dealing with household affairs, insisting Falstaff stays for longer, and considering a plea from Davy to help a friend of his. As Davy is also sorting out the household affairs, it makes for a very confused scene. Again, it ends with Falstaff having another go at Shallow, privately, to us. This would be boring if it weren’t for the improved performance of David Warner as Falstaff – it was much more entertaining than Part 1.

With the King now dead, the new king’s brothers meet the Lord Chief Justice to tell him the news. All are convinced that the Lord Chief Justice is in for a hard time now that Hal has become King, as he had Hal committed to prison for striking him when he was acting with the King’s power and authority. However, Henry V enters less brashly than expected, and speaks gently to his brothers, assuring them they are all safe. He got a good laugh on the line “This is the English not the Turkish court”. He does challenge the Lord Chief Justice, true, but his response is so upstanding that either it reassures Hal, or it persuades him not to take revenge, and he confirms the Lord Chief Justice in his position, promising to be guided by him as by a father.

Back with Falstaff and the Justices, Davy comes on to spread a picnic for them. A pit had been prepared, and Davy produces a frying pan and starts to cook something – too far away to tell what. Various requests for wine go unanswered; Falstaff in particular appears to have an empty cup for a long while. Silence has obviously been at the sherry – he sings several songs, interrupting the dialogue, and then sinking back down on the bench at the back. All is jollity, and then Pistol arrives to announce the old King’s death and the crowning of Prince Hal as Henry V. They’re all convinced Falstaff is a made man, and rush off to London, where Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet have just been arrested. As the beadles take them away, Doll Tearsheet and Mistress Quickly get in plenty of rich insults. Doll appears to be pregnant, but as the beadle observes, it’s only a cushion. It’s a short scene, presumably to allow others to regroup and change if need be, but also to flag up the coming rejection of Falstaff by the new King.

For the final scene, Falstaff and his entourage arrive from all corners, clambering onto the stage in their haste to become part of the power elite. Falstaff excuses his bedraggled state as showing how much he wanted to see Hal again, and Pistol brings the news of Doll’s arrest. They gather round the main stage, waiting for the procession from the coronation.

King Henry arrives, walking down the circular stairs in the tower, followed by the Lord Chief Justice and his family. He’s done up in a white suit with a cloak and the crown, looking very regal. He ignores Falstaff’s greetings, telling the Lord Chief Justice to talk to “that vain man”. Henry then makes it clear he is no longer going to involve himself in the life he led before, and all the people he knew from that time are banished from the court. He does show some kindness in granting them an allowance to avoid penury, and promising to reward them with positions as they earn them. Off he goes, leaving Falstaff’s crew totally undone. Sir John tries to put a brave face on it, by claiming the King will send for him in private – this was just the public “spin” – but Shallow’s not buying it. He’s lent Sir John a thousand pounds, and wants it back – he’ll be waiting even longer than Mistress Quickly, I reckon.

Finally, the Lord Chief Justice enters, and has them all sent to the Fleet Prison, while the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John discuss this satisfactory outcome (at least, it is for them). Prince John reckons they’ll soon be sending soldiers off to France – a little bird told him. Could he be right? We’ll have to wait till November to find out!

I enjoyed this performance a lot more than Part 1. The story came across better, the staging was more entertaining (especially Davy’s business with the bunting), and I heard almost every line clearly. I still feel there’s more to come, especially in the final scene with the reactions from Falstaff and his group. This Prince Hal certainly changes over the plays, but other performances have conveyed this even better for me, and I do hope this role comes on before November.

The performances I particularly liked were Julius D’Silva as Bardolph and Maureen Beattie as Mistress Quickly. Julius was part of the Spanish Golden Age season a few years back and it’s nice to see him return, although neither of us recognised him at first with all the makeup he wears. He certainly seems to fill the role very well. Maureen Beattie gets a lot of the humour out of her part, more so than I can remember from other productions, and she can scream invective as well as the best of them, not that Mistress Quickly gets many opportunities for that. Forbes Masson as Rumour gave us one of those threads through time that are integral to these productions, and there were many other enjoyable performances. In general, the play seemed better balanced and happier than Part 1 – roll on Henry V.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry IV part 1 – July 2007

2/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Tuesday 31st July 2007

This needs work, but as we were seeing only the fourth performance, that’s not surprising. The press night isn’t for a couple of weeks, and we’re due to see it again in November, so I’ll be interested to see how much it’s come on by then. There’s certainly enough entertaining stuff to hope this will be worked up into a very good production.

The main problem is the unevenness. There’s a lot of roaring and quick-paced dialogue, making it hard to follow what’s going on, interspersed with some slower, static sections, which I felt were a bit dull at times. Falstaff in particular hardly moved in a couple of scenes. I appreciate that as a character he’s not keen on unnecessary movement (unlike Big Brother’s Helen, he probably doesn’t care for blinking), but as a stage performance it drags the energy right down, and makes it harder to tune in to the faster-paced scenes following. Occasionally the onlookers stood in rows at the back, as in the tavern scenes, and it seemed so false. Hopefully that will all be tightened up.

Having said that, I started to enjoy the production during the robbery scene, when Falstaff puts on his disguise – a false nose and moustache! It’s so important that such a dissolute character has at least one semi-redeeming feature, and with Falstaff it’s usually his love of life and his sense of humour. I hope they emphasise these more as they develop the performances.

Hal took a bit of getting used to. He seemed very surly at first, lying in bed with Falstaff, and it was hard to see why he was spending time with him. It was also hard for the people behind us to hear, and the other problem with the static staging was that it kept the characters further back than was acoustically helpful.  Hal did develop a bit into the honourable prince role, but as I couldn’t make out much in the expressions, I possibly lost some of the detail. The fight scene with Percy looked a little shaky still, but practice will take care of that.

Hotspur himself was the usual firebrand, but he lacked definition in his speech, so that we lost most of the lovely comedy when he constantly drowns out his uncle, Worcester. In a few scenes he was fine, and the lines came across very clearly – his explanation of Henry’s faults and an earlier scene back home just before he heads off for Wales – but mostly it was a jumble, though not through lack of volume. His scene with Glendower just lacks a little oomph – we need to see more of Glendower’s arrogance and pride about his birth, to set off Hotspur’s total lack of social skills in denouncing the significance of the trembling ground. I think it’s important to see how incompatible Henry’s opponents are, to fully appreciate their eventual destruction and Henry’s unifying effect (which is sadly lost a couple of generations later).

King Henry’s performance was very interesting. At the start, I noticed a reprise of some of the work done in The Pilate Workshop, where Pilate washes his hands at a table covered in a white cloth. He uses a basin, with a jug beside it. I’m not sure if the candlesticks were also there, but I wouldn’t be surprised. As Clive Wood played Pilate, perhaps he suggested it to Michael Boyd? Anyway, there’s a biblical reference just afterwards, as Henry begins to speak, so the symbolical washing of hands fits very well, emphasising the guilt and the political concerns that Henry has at this point, having provoked Richard’s death, if not directly caused it. His performance continued strongly throughout, and looks like it could provide the strong bedrock for the whole production to flourish. I particularly liked his references to Hal showing himself too much to the public, as Richard had, which was supported by the choice of costumes. Henry is still in solid black, while Hal sports a more cheerful off-white, with hints of the flounces and ruffs of Richard’s over-the-top drag act. (I mean that in the nicest possible way!) It also made me wonder what’s going on, as in Richard II it’s Bolingbroke who seems to court the public, but perhaps it simply indicates the newspeak of the new court – reality is as he says it is.

Falstaff (David Warner) took a while to get going. Perhaps it’s the static staging as mentioned before, perhaps it’s just taking a while for the character to click, but there are glimpses of how good this could be. His story of how 2/4/7/9/82 (or whatever) men attacked him, was very entertaining, and benefited from good reactions from the onlookers, especially Hal and Poins, of course. In fact, the lack of reactions from others on stage was a definite weakness throughout the production, which I hope will be addressed. I’m realising what a difference it makes to my interest in a speech if the other actors don’t look too involved in it themselves. This was particularly true with the Hotspur ranting mentioned earlier – a lot of the comedy I’ve seen before tends to come from his father and uncle’s reactions to his over-the-top tirades. Falstaff’s dislike of honour came across very well, too, although it took a while to get going. His “killing” of Hotspur certainly had the comedy, but I feel there’s more to come with this situation yet.

I liked the way the King’s men came on for the battle of Shrewsbury, backlit in the central doorway, moving slowly in unison, with slow-motion sword play. I spotted they all had crowns on, though not straightaway, and this points up the fact that Henry has several doppelgangers in his army, which the Douglas decides to kill off one by one. He does actually come across the real king, and I think he’s the one who refers to him as a counterfeit king (?). I felt this was a very apt line, as Henry has usurped the crown, and that’s what’s triggered all the coming bloodshed, and given Will so much to write about. I really got a sense of that tonight; that once Richard was deposed, never mind killed, the crown was up for grabs, and with Edward III’s proficiency at providing heirs, it would take a long time to work through all the options. There’s a great sense of the future reaching back through time and the past reaching forward through time with this cycle, and I’m enjoying seeing pre-echoes as well as post-echoes in all the plays.

The ending sets us up nicely for part 2. All the dangling ropes from the battle scenes were tied up into nooses, again reminding us that there will be deaths now the battle is won, but also foreshadowing more deaths from future battles. Then we see Henry’s remaining opponents lined up in the tower’s gallery, while Henry and his followers are ranged below them. As the lights go down, you just know there’s trouble to come.

There was a fair bit of coughing during the performance, which I found distracting occasionally. I was also aware of the lighting a couple of times during the battle scenes. When Hotspur dies, the bright white light that had bathed the stage went out, leaving it rather starkly lit, and I found it rather unwelcoming and distancing. Other than that, I only noticed the lighting when it was effective, such as at the start of the battle.

Steve saw an analogy with pre-season matches, where the players can be a bit ropy till they get their touch back. I predict promotion this season, based on this friendly, but they will need to spend some time on their set pieces.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – July 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Monday 30th July 2007

This could take a while. It was a great production, and some great performances. Well, actually all the cast were great, and I liked lots about the staging and ideas and echoes of earlier/later themes. What’s coming out of this year’s work is the element of time – plays written earlier which are later chronologically, and the echoes backwards and forwards.

Before each of these plays, we were treated to the usual announcement about switching off mobile phones, etc. A different actor came on each night, and there were some entertaining variations on the theme. Tonight’s announcemen was pretty straightforward, although he did advise us not to switch off pacemakers!

The start of the play was good. The other characters, led by Bagot, all came on in stately procession, moving slowly, and performing some kind of stately dance, with lots of bowing and courtesies, while Richard II walked on through the auditorium, accepting all the bowing and scraping as nothing less than his due. Jonathan Slinger was done up as Elizabeth I – effectively Queen Richard II. He played the part as very effeminate, very wimpish (I could understand why some of the hetero lords wanted rid of him) and very immature. I was thinking it might be difficult to move from there to Richard’s later awareness of the superficiality of it all, but he handled that very well, with the gradual stripping away of his finery underlining the changes. There was still an element of petulance in his telling Percy that his cosy relationship with Henry IV wouldn’t last, but his desperate understanding of his situation in his prison cell was very moving. I became aware of how in Shakespeare’s time, not having decent TV, they might spend time comparing and contrasting situations, just for fun, and Richard’s forcing of the issue, then coming up with a very good metaphor for humanity and its foibles, worked very well.

Mowbray and Bolingbroke complimented the King at the opening to the dispute scene, and I felt Mowbray was trying to outdo Bolingbroke, reminiscent of the opening of King Lear. I couldn’t see Richard’s responses to much of the Bolingbroke/Mowbray dispute, but for once I was really sad to see him break up the fight. They’d set up two jousting horses (suspended saddles) and it looked like we might have some fun, but then Richard threw his baton at a lady in the front row and it was all over. [Turns out the jousting is specifically referenced in Henry IV part 2, so although cumbersome I suspect this may stay.]

Tonight we had a very good John of Gaunt pre-death scene. He came across as really ill, and it was all he could do to get his lines out. Not too surprising he didn’t last much longer. Richard was wonderfully temperamental – at first consoling, then snappy, then pious, then practical about nicking his dead uncle’s dosh and never mind the rightful heir.

There was some unexpected and presumably unwelcome audience participation tonight during the gardeners’ scene. The head gardener was John of Gaunt, still wearing the same clothes, so this was similar to when the dead bodies were recycled in the Henry VI trilogy. He sprayed some folk off to our right with water (he was carrying a hose) and Chuk Iwuji, as the other gardener, looked a bit too keen to use his shears. No dancing nun this time, sadly, but still a good scene overall, with some telling points made about the importance of managing the country well (one of Will’s hobby horses, that).

With Bolingbroke’s return, the difference between him and Richard is emphasised by his much plainer dress sense, and his refusal to be seduced by flattery. When Percy tried to brown-nose Henry about how his wonderful company made the long journey shorter, Henry just ignored him, and I fancied there was a slight look of distaste in his expression. He also communicates more directly and is far more business-like in his dealings. When he meets the Duke of York, tasked with protecting the realm while Richard is away, he gets a good telling off from his uncle for coming back, but then the Duke admits that he can’t do anything to stop him, so invites him in for dinner. I haven’t seen the character played as so weak before. He’s also in much more of a dither when trying to handle the crisis earlier, more so than I’ve seen before.

In the deposition scene, the passing of the crown was fine, with just enough of a lingering feel to it. If anything, Richard was more sparky than earlier, standing up for himself more now there’s nothing more to lose. He tore off his wig and wiped off his makeup as he deposes himself. I didn’t see that bit clearly, but then he has his own face as he looks in the mirror, which was a safety mirror so it didn’t shatter when he smashed it down. Later, for the farewell scene with his wife, there was some kind of dust raining down on his head for a long time – what was it? [sand, we discovered] I wondered how he could breathe and speak his lines. It did suggest a washing off of the anointing, and his transformation into a penitent.

During the second challenge scene, the vast number of gauntlets was really funny. It’s interesting that after accusing Mowbray, Henry now seems to be investigating what actually happened – or is it just a ploy to get rid of a political opponent? What is going on here?

For the Aumerle pardoning scene, it’s the first time I’ve seen other people come on stage with the Duke of York. Percy keeps the door shut on the Duchess, but you can’t keep Maureen Beattie off stage for long. (More than his life’s worth!) Richard Cordery as the Duke of York was glowering magnificently as his wife pleads for her son’s life. Even before he fell to his knees to plead against the pardon, he was well unhappy, and it showed.

Bagot took the role of murderer this time. He came down playing the piano, with a mask on. [Apparently the harness he had to wear meant a lot of talcum powder was used!] Chuk Iwuji played the groom, and there were three other knights with masks who came to kill the king, but he managed to fight them off, with Bagot killing him in the end. Richard’s dead body was dragged off by an arm and a leg, creating a swathe of blood on the stage – reminiscent of the pool of gore in the original Henry VI part 3. Lots of traitors’ heads were brought on in bags for the final scene and dumped in front of Henry, who was sitting on the steps which Richard stood on earlier.

Chuk Iwuji wafted around doing various messenger jobs, having started off as Thomas of Woodstock’s dead body, and this casting emphasised the haunting aspects of the play. Katy Stephens as the Duchess of Gloucester (still married to Chuk, I see) also pre-echoed the revenge theme with her tirade against her husband’s death.

Other things to mention: Richard had a lot of costume changes, reflecting both his descent from power and the opulence he lives in initially. The music was lovely, with some haunting singing which set up a good atmosphere for this staging. There was a strange light bulb sculpture – what was that for? It was interesting, but I’m not clear about its purpose.

I couldn’t possibly get down all my impressions of this performance, as there was so much detail, and so much I liked. I’m very much looking forward to seeing it again, and also seeing the way this play sets up the rest of the history cycle in these productions.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – June 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 9th June 2007

This is a relatively new experience for me, having to commend a production for its performances and some interesting insights, and yet come to the conclusion that it was all rather dull. It was the same thing last night at The Seagull, both by the same director, so it’s probably down to his style of production. I just find it odd that I should be able to get so much out of the performances, and yet feel so unenthusiastic at the end that clapping all through the bows was an effort. I’ve seen a number of productions where I clapped and clapped till my hands were sore, and still went on – Coriolanus in the Swan springs to mind – yet here I felt nothing much, not elated, not wrung out, not inspired, not cheated……. nothing. It’s very strange.

The performance did get off to a really bad start from our perspective – literally. As the organ ground out a massive ceremonial tune, a procession of all the nobles entered, togged up to the nines. They swept to the front of the stage, and then fanned out, beautifully obscuring the view, almost completely in our case. Fortunately, when Lear came on, they all bowed, knelt, and some even prostrated themselves (as far as I could see, that is). He was got up in some fancy robes that were more akin to religious finery than royal garb, although there’s often only a skimpy line between the two. He waved his arms around as if giving a Papal blessing to everyone, and then most of them wafted off, leaving Kent and Gloucester to introduce the novices in the audience to the political situation, and to Gloucester’s bastard son, Edmund.

Throughout the play, information about what was going on was very clearly delivered. I learned more about the plot than I’ve ever known before, and this opening scene was no exception. The only downside was that I didn’t get any real sense of embarrassment on Edmund’s behalf about the way his father refers to him. However, it was clear that Edmund got the point, and wasn’t too happy about things.

Next up is the division of the spoils of war. The war in question is a war of words amongst the three daughters of Lear – who can flatter Daddy the best? Sadly, like a TV quiz, the winner has been picked in advance, and both Goneril and Regan are playing off for the minor places. (And they know it!)

Let me describe as best I can the way this was staged. Various servants brought forward a table towards the rear of the thrust, while a couple of chairs were placed in the front corners. One of these was just in front of us. Then, as the royal family and nobles enter, Regan and Goneril are shown to the chairs, and sit there for most of the scene, wide skirts fanning out beautifully to block even more of the view. Their respective husbands stand behind them, adding to the effect. So I can only tell you from the later events, that there was also a lectern to the left of the table, and it’s from here that Lear reads his apparently prepared speech, from index cards, tossing them away after he’s finished with each one. It is also from here that Goneril speaks, invisibly, to her father, and receives his approbation. When Regan does her turn, with her husband there behind her, giving her encouragement, I could at last see what I’d been missing. Fortunately, Monica Dolan gave us an excellent Regan. Hesitant at first, she gathers pace after a glance at her husband, and smarms a smile onto Lear’s face – he’d been bored with her comparisons to her sister. When she comes over to see what she’s getting, there’s a lovely look of concern and nosiness on her face, and as she heads back to her chair, she’s pouting at what she obviously sees as an inadequate return for her efforts.

Cordelia was standing behind her father during all of this, so we don’t get her asides this time. She delivers her “Nothings” just fine, and Lear sends her packing, which in this case means off to the entrance on our left. I found the Burgundy/France scene moving, and had a few sniffles, as I often do. Lear’s rage was well done, and sets us up nicely for his coming madness, and his two elder daughter’s concerns for the future. Incidentally, Regan picks up on Masha’s fondness for a glass of something, as she’s the only one to take a cup of whatever celebratory drink was on offer. In fact, she’s rarely seen without a glass in her hand, which proves her undoing later.

Kent is banished before Gloucester returns, so there’s a look of puzzlement on Gloucester’s face as they pass on his way in. Cordelia says goodbye to her sisters, and they then confer, more cosily than I’ve seen before. The impression so far is of Lear as a tyrant, ruling with absolute authority and becoming subject to serious mood swings. If he looks angry, everyone ducks. The costumes suggest Russia. The only problem, and it’s the usual one, is that if Lear is so despotic, why is Kent so loyal? Or Cordelia, for that matter?  It weakens them both to be devoted to such a cruel King.

As the chairs and table are removed, we see Edmund, on all fours, close to the ground towards the back of the stage. As I dealt with my irritation from the early difficulties with the sightlines, I reckoned I would start to get involved with his first monologue. It’s usually entertaining to see a villain lay out his wares, and this was a good reading of the part. He winds up Gloucester beautifully. I realised that Gloucester wasn’t there when Kent was banished, so of course he’s muttering about that as he comes on. I also liked Edgar’s little yawn and look of boredom when he confirmed he’d spent a couple of hours in conversation with his father the previous evening.

Kent comes back on in disguise, and we get to see the rabble of knights that Lear has surrounded himself with, as they lollop on stage, baying and shooting and generally causing mayhem. I do have some sympathy for Goneril at this point. Yes, she’s a malicious bitch (look who brought her up), but it would drive anyone mad to have to put up with a geriatric lad-about-town and his accomplices. I noticed that her complaint to Lear was in incredibly formal language, and quite hard to understand – why, I wonder?

Now we get the first appearance of the fool. Sylvester McCoy was good, though not the best I’ve seen. A lot of the humour and criticism of Lear came across, but not all. As we might have expected, he gets to use his spoons. At least there were several knights with Lear, to suggest his large retinue. There are some early signs of madness, as Goneril rejects his demands and he heads off to Regan. Lear’s cursing of Goneril leads to something of an over-reaction from her, I felt.

The tiff between the messengers was OK, but nothing special. I noticed that Regan was still at the booze. The scene where Kent, in disguise, is put in the stocks was quite mundane, and didn’t get much across.

The rumblings of the storm start a little earlier than I remember happening before, and I enjoyed the lengthier build-up. Lear’s increasing loss of sanity is very well depicted, and Edgar was also very good as Poor Tom. I liked Lear’s recognition of the plight of the homeless, and his decision to strip off makes perfect sense. When Gloucester helps him, he brings him secretly back into his own home, against orders, and the first half ends with Gloucester, having just got the King away, being arrested by armed guards, and the Fool being hanged, just for fun. Good staging.

In the second half, when Gloucester sends off a servant to lock the dangerous letter in his closet, Edmund takes the key from the servant when he returns – he’s shaping up nicely as a serious villain. I didn’t look too closely at the blinding bit, but I did notice that Regan was squealing almost orgasmically as each eye was removed. She’s another nasty piece of work. She helps Cornwall off this time, rather than ditching him.

Edgar’s performance was very moving both before and during the discovery of his father’s fate. Gloucester’s eyes weren’t bandaged this time. Regan does her best to entice Oswald to give it up (the letter to Edmund, that is), and is well unhappy when he refuses.

Albany is a bit wimpish throughout. Edgar’s gulling of his father about the cliff felt a bit flat (like the ground itself!), though his caring for his father, and Gloucester’s acceptance of his situation came across clearly. I missed Edgar’s comments on the two old men chatting together, which were cut, but then their sufferings were plain to see. In Edgar’s fight with Oswald we start to see how he’s toughened up.

After the battle, the doctor is brought on with Lear and Cordelia, and leaves his medicine chest behind. Goneril spots this, and sits on it, carefully taking a bottle out of the top shelf and secreting it in her pocket. She then uses it to poison the bottle of champagne that she pours Regan a glass from. Will Regan drink it? Of course she will, she’s got as little restraint as Masha. Even when Regan’s doubled up in pain, and carried off by some guards, she’s not going to let go of that bottle!

The fight between Edgar and Edmund was very good. It took some time, and involved wrecking the stage, such of it as hadn’t already been trashed by previous events. I got the impression that Edgar had probably had some training in how to use a sword when he was younger, but didn’t really care for the sport. However, he’s changed enormously through his own suffering, and seeing what’s happened to others, especially his father, and now he’s ready to put his fighting skills to use. They’re pretty rusty, but they get him through. Edmund, of course, is a seasoned villain and swordsman, but just can’t overcome his unknown opponent.

Lear carries Cordelia on – she’s a tall girl, so Ian McKellen must be stronger than he looks. Kent actually heads off after his line about joining his master, lifting up the flap of his holster to get his gun out as he goes. Finally, we get the closing lines, and we can all go home. Hooray!

It’s a shame I found this production so uninspiring, but there were good performances and some interesting ideas. Better luck next time.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Seagull – June 2007

6/10

By: Anton Chekov

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 8th Jun 2007

We like the theatre, our seats were good, the hearing device was comfy, the set was fine, the translation clear and very enjoyable, the performances superb, and the production excellent. There was more comedy here than I’d ever seen in a Chekov play, helping me to see what Chekov meant when he described his plays as comedies. What also came across very clearly thanks to all of these factors working so well, was that this play has no heart. It’s a shell, an empty shell, with tremendous window dressing and nothing inside.

All of the characters were suffering, and how! For example, Masha, brilliantly played by Monica Dolan, was a suffering addict, obsessed with the idea of loving Konstantin. She attempts to assuage these yearnings with snuff and alcohol, and eventually with an empty marriage, but I got the feeling she’s determined never to be happy, silly cow. Wonderful as the performance was, and the humour she gets out of it, I couldn’t relate to her beyond a superficial level, and this was true of all the characters.

At the post-show discussion, Romola Garai, who plays Nina, reckoned that she just couldn’t play the upbeat, optimistic ending to Nina’s final scene as written. She felt it wasn’t right for her character at that point, and this sense of despair seems to permeate the whole play. I haven’t  been aware of this emptiness before, so I’m assuming it’s mainly down to this production, but it certainly doesn’t make me more inclined to see the play again (I probably will, though).

It’s hard to remember now all the marvellous bits of delivery and business, but I do want to record a few items. Ian McKellen played Sorin tonight (he’s sharing the role with William Gaunt), and was a great source of humour. His hair was very fluffy, his character grumbled a lot, but he was also one of the kindest people there. Richard Goulding as Konstantin was a superbly spoilt brat, emotional age about twelve (or less). He threw a real tantrum when his mother spoiled his play, and while his emotional tizzies were very believable, they certainly weren’t attractive. He matures Konstantin into a more focused, determined person, though still with the emptiness inside. If only he could have got his end away with Nina, this whole play might have turned out differently. Or not. Romola Garai gave us a naive, rather stupid Nina, obsessed with romantic notions of fame, and far too easy to seduce. Her reprise of the opening of Konstantin’s play showed us how much she had come on as an actress – she filled it with despair and longing – and how much she’d been through as a person. Trigorin (Gerald Kyd) was good-looking, but empty. His description of what it’s like to be a writer may be Chekov’s equivalent of Shakespeare having Hamlet deliver a lecture to the players.

Finally, Frances Barber as Arkadina was superb. Despite her knee problems, she was throwing herself at Trigorin literally as well as emotionally. Their tussle on the rug was a bit stilted, as apparently she’s wearing a brace under her dress (post-show info again), but it worked. She managed all the rapid changes of expression that Arkadina goes through perfectly. I especially liked her howls of “I don’t have any money!”

I don’t want to imply that I didn’t enjoy myself tonight – this is still an interesting play about the Russian artistic set of the time, when various changes were taking place, and the production brings out aspects I haven’t seen before. So although I don’t feel cheated as such, I just couldn’t empathise with the characters’ situations, and therefore don’t see this as such a great production overall, compared with others that we’ve seen.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard III – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 3 – February 2007

6/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 2 – February 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 1 – February 2007

6/10

By: WIlliam Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 9th February 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – November 2006

Experience: 6/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Claus Peymann

Company: Berliner Ensemble

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 16th November 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me