Tag Archives: RSC

Henry IV part 1 – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 17th January 2008

This was a huge improvement on the first performance we saw, way back in August last year. At that time, the production seemed terribly under-rehearsed and unsure of itself. Now it’s come together wonderfully, to give us a really good look at this “roaring” play.

The main improvement is in the performance of Hal himself (Geoffrey Streatfeild). From his earlier, rather stiff performance, he’s blossomed into a lively, energetic prince, full of expression and fun, enjoying the tricks he and Poins get up to, and holding his own in banter with Falstaff. He also shows more of the king to be, albeit in small glimpses. When swearing to the king that he would do great deeds which would shine so bright as to obscure his murky past, he was sincere, but it was still bravado – he hasn’t done any of it yet. It was noticeable how the king’s attitude changed as Harry showed his worth on the battlefield; he obviously realised he had been mistaken.

The dialogue with Falstaff came off remarkably clearly. I think the main problem I have with the language in this play is the archaic terms, which make it difficult to follow. It’s easier when the nobles are discussing war plans, as they tend not to get too highfalutin – it’s a practical business, warfare, at least under this regime. But in the playful exchanges down Eastcheap way, the language can stretch and scratch its balls, so to speak, and it often does.

The playfulness between Hal and Falstaff also came across more tonight. I liked the way Hal impersonates his father’s posture when playing him, and his delivery of “I do, I will” gave me the impression of the boy growing up into the man, and seeing what he will have to become. Mistress Quickly’s reactions to Falstaff’s portrayal of the king seemed stronger; she was really enjoying herself tonight. In general, David Warner’s performance as Falstaff seemed more assured. I expect this was partly because Hal himself was giving him more to work with.

The scene with Hotspur ranting and raving went a little better tonight. There’s still too little reaction from his father and uncle though. After a lifetime of listening to the lad shout the odds at every opportunity, you’d think they’d be a bit tired of it by now, but these two were pretty stoic about it all, except when Hotspur’s yelling after the king. I’ve seen it done with much more reaction, and as well as being funnier, it allows the other characters to breathe a bit, too.

I enjoyed the “anon, anon” sketch last time. I could see what Hal was trying to do – get Poor Francis, the drawer, to reply “anon, anon” to everything he says. It’s a pretty shabby trick, but then nobles in Shakespeare’s play don’t always act nobly. The timing didn’t work quite so well tonight, I felt.

The fight between Hal and Hotspur was interesting. Hotspur is obviously the odds-on favourite, with his wealth of experience at killing people, but Hal’s learned some sneaky tricks during his time at Eastcheap, and puts them to good use here. He actually bites Hotspur at a crucial moment, which floors him, literally, and then Hal can finish him off. Except that this Hotspur refuses to be killed. Terminator-like, he heaves himself across the stage, still trying to kill his opponent, but eventually the red eyes flicker and die, as it were, and Hotspur is finally dead. Not that that will settle things. Falstaff’s quick to claim the glory, and here Hal is surprisingly willing to let him, and even seems glad about it. It’s surprising because one of Hal’s reasons for playing the dissolute prince-about-town was to gain all the greater glory when he shows his true colours. I would have thought he’d be at least a little miffed that Falstaff steals his thunder.

For the robbery scene, the almost compulsory rope work was involved, and I liked Bardolph’s interpolations of “shit” and “bollocks” when he couldn’t get up the ropes to get away. I’m sure Will would have approved.

Before the battle, I noticed for the first time that Hotspur’s arguments to his wavering colleagues are identical to those that Hal will use later before the battle of Agincourt. The fewer soldiers, the greater the glory. With Hotspur, I get the impression he’s just saying it for himself, as a natural expression of his belligerent nature. With Hal, it becomes a tremendously stirring speech, designed to rouse his men for battle. This was one of the many ways I see these two characters being contrasted and compared throughout these plays. Both give their fathers concern, though for different reasons. Both have similar attitudes to war and power, and in many ways they could have been great friends. But their respective positions on either side of a power divide make that impossible. It’s similar to the way the king and Falstaff are contrasted as Hal’s two ‘fathers’. It’s debatable how much Hal takes after either of them in the end, although he certainly learns all he can from each.

Another change was that the audience on the far side of the stage was encouraged to stand up to become the “pressed men” referred to in the text. Mildly amusing, perhaps, but I’m not sure how much that sort of thing can be inflicted on an audience. Did they really have to stand up, or could they just have been indicated by the actors? Anyway, it shows this cast are more comfortable working with the audience and playing off them than ever before.

Finally, I really appreciated the diversity of language in this play, after the total verse of Richard II. It made the whole piece seem more alive. And why ‘roaring’? Well, Hotspur roars, Falstaff roars, King Henry roars, Hal roars (occasionally), even Mistress Quickly roars (with laughter). There’s so much roaring in this production that any escaped lions from Dudley zoo would have felt quite at home. As it was, I’m glad there weren’t any lions; it made the whole experience much more enjoyable.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Noughts And Crosses – January 2008

8/10

By: Malorie Blackman

Directed by: Dominic Cooke

Company: RSC

Venue: Stratford Civic Hall

Date: Thursday 17th January 2008

This came across even better than last time, mainly because I was familiar with the story and could get into it a lot more than before, and partly because we had a different angle, so we caught some things we hadn’t seen before, giving us a fresh take. There were no real changes that I could spot, but I did notice during the funeral get-together where Sephy is rejected, that one of the other mourners had an armband on. The symbol on it was red, with four black diagonal lines, and several white concentric circles over that – possibly the Liberation Army symbol? I was also moved to tears several times, such as when Lily’s ordeal is uncovered, when the bomb was being reported, and at the end.

The courtroom scene had seemed very jumbled before; this time it came across more clearly, with the participants easier to identify. I noticed throughout the play that the actors were working hard to move around and give us all a chance to see what was going on, and it worked a treat. We did have the advantage of having seen it before, but even so, they did a great job.

The performances were all still fantastic. Callum’s father’s part came across more strongly this time, and I also noticed Sephy’s mother more, helped by the change of angle – the look of suffering on her face was deeply moving. This woman has been through a lot, and this time I was more aware of Sephy not having the experience to be able to understand her mother, rather than Sephy’s own frustration at not being understood. It was a lovely performance, and one of the best in an amazing ensemble production.  I was more aware of my ideas changing, and I was tremendously impressed by the range and depth of this production, ostensibly aimed at teenagers, but with more power than many more “grown-up” shows.

Having re-read my original notes, I suspect that my reason for suggesting a lack of depth in the characterisations was through not being familiar with the play. I didn’t have that feeling this time at all, and the power of the piece was what I took away with me. I also wondered if Sephy’s mother and Callum’s dad had been having an affair, as Jasmine, Sephy’s mum, is so keen to see him get off. Could this be the source of the rift between the two women?

This production was well worth seeing again, and good luck to them on tour.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Wednesday 16th January 2008

At last! I managed to sit through over three hours of drama with hardly a cough! Wonderful. And on top of all that, we got to see a production that has already become an old friend – we shall miss seeing it every few months (only now we’re thinking of doing some of the plays again, in London, so who knows?).

Our seats this time were as far round as you could get, and in the front row. I was a bit worried about the gardening scene, in case we were sprayed, but the chap at the cloakroom reckoned it was the high numbers who were in for a soaking. So much more fun when it’s someone else, isn’t it? We still had a pretty good view, and as well as seeing a different emphasis in some scenes, there were some additional details that I hadn’t seen at all before. It’s possible these were new, though I suspect some were simply hidden from us in the past. There were lots of lines I lost in the first half, as the receiver for the headset was set to the wrong channel – now I know how to deal with that in future – but everything was clear as a bell in the second half. Incidentally, these seats had a different risk – that of getting our eyes poked out by the sword tips that were swishing around, but fortunately no doctor was required.

There were a number of changes that I noticed, and a number of things that struck me this time. There seemed to be a reduced amount of sand falling on Richard. Steve and I remembered it lasting through the Queen’s chat with him. I spotted the eyeing that both the future Henry VI and Queen Margaret gave each other at the end of the gardening scene – another example of carrying the characters through the set of plays. When Bolingbroke refers to himself as “a trueborn Englishman”, I was reminded that Richard was born in France, as Paul Edmondson mentioned this afternoon. Throughout the opening scene, Richard looked scared – I took this to be his fear that Mowbray will implicate him in Gloucester’s death. The ending gave an extra sense of the guilt weighing Henry down, with Richard’s body lying in his coffin at the foot of the steps, and Henry himself finding it harder to walk up them. I also found the explicit use of Bagot as the murderer, in place of Exton, a lot clearer this time. I heard all of the Duchess of Gloucester’s speech this time – nicely done – and in general the performance had the feel of a cast well used to the play, putting in extra details here and there, bringing out even more of the resonances and echoes. At the end, as Richard is dying – he has to have a few lines before he finally snuffs it, of course – he seemed to be hunched over a bit, in reference to the later Richard?

At the start, I was more aware of the formality of the dance, the sound of feet on floor (ballet only seems glamorous till you hear the thuds and thumps), the complete absence of music, and the presence of dead Gloucester. It’s as if we were watching from behind thick glass, as if the sound had been taken away (mostly), and the movements were all. From this point, I was more aware of the spectacle of Richard’s court; that he was all mouth and no action. Paul had also mentioned that this was one of only four plays that Shakespeare had written entirely in verse, and I realised that contributed to the artificial nature of everyone’s behaviour. I can’t remember how long Gloucester stayed on the stage before – this time he left during his widow’s speech.

The preparations for the duel seemed more elaborate than I remember, but that may just have been the different perspective. I did notice that Richard starts out by asking the Marshal to find out who these men were, and why they were here to fight – as if he didn’t know! This added to the theatricality of the proceedings – everyone’s playing a role. (And doesn’t Shakespeare love playing with that idea!) Richard is more dismissive of Henry than I remember, ignoring him after they first speak, and the oath swearing bit was dropped, Mowbray exiting on the line “To dwell in solemn shades of endless  night”.

The next scene, where Richard’s mates are lolling about in comfort while his wife stands around, looking like a spare chastity belt at an orgy, served to give more emphasis to Richard’s dubious relationships. It includes a lovely song which all the men are singing, and which I don’t remember happening before. When Richard arrives to visit John of Gaunt, after a splendid “sceptred isle” I may add, Richard is clearly put out at the way Gaunt refuses to play the part of a loyal, happy subject, fulfilling Richard’s fantasy of himself as a divinely ordained King for whom everything goes wonderfully well. He moves quickly from pampered happiness to pouty sulks, and John of Gaunt’s tongue-lashing gives him plenty of opportunity for that. At first, with Gaunt’s clever punning on his own name, the court is happy, as he seems to be finally joining in with the spirit of the age, but that soon changes.

The Duke of York is even more of a dither when the news comes that Bolingbroke has landed. Northumberland’s flattery of Bolingbroke, by saying that his company has made the journey seem lovelier, is stronger this time, and contrasts really well with the opening of Henry’s reign, when everyone’s being nasty to everyone else, flinging gages right, left and centre. There’s a huge heap of them in the middle of the stage by the time Henry calls for Richard to come and hand over his crown.

Before this, in the scene where Richard arrives back in England, we see both the epitome of Richard’s fantasising, and the beginning of his awakening to reality. He’s up and down like an emotional yo-yo, playing at being a royal king, then despairing and lashing out at supposed betrayers. The language is wonderfully moving, and Scroop’s way of delivering the news tightens the screw beautifully. First off, he’s incredibly long-winded about how bad his news is, then he takes ages to mention minor details like the Duke of York’s gone over to the other side, you don’t have any troops, etc. I found myself feeling more sympathy than usual for Richard at this point. He’s a child-king, never able to develop properly, and that’s as much part of his downfall as his other failings.

Back in hetero-land, Richard’s about to give us some of Will’s best language as he hands over his crown. We reckoned there was less of the physical tug-of-war this time, more emphasis on the language. I could see a bit of Richard’s reflection in the mirror from this side, and I wondered how easy it would be for an actor to play this scene without having a real reflection to look at. A question for another production, I think.

I enjoyed the “pardon” scene, along with its precursor. The duchess actually sits on York’s lap to try and prevent him from going to the king, and she’s just as insistent as ever when she finally turns up at court. After that, it’s just the slaying of the ex-king and the final reports of dead traitors, complete with bloody heads (in bags). The gore and sand were as before – a messy business, these histories.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Seagull – December 2007

6/10

By: Anton Chekov

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Company: RSC

Venue: New London Theatre

Date: Saturday 22nd December 2007

I had hoped to see some improvement from the previous performance of this production that we saw in Stratford, but apart from one or two details, it was pretty much the same, still lacking that warmth and empathy that would help me enjoy it more.

Like the King Lear, the different acting space helped a bit, as it all seemed much closer than before, and our seats gave us a good view of the stage. The detail in the servants’ comings and goings was more noticeable this time, but I didn’t catch anything extra in the main performances; they were just as good as before. The main difference was that this time William Gaunt was playing Sorin, and his portrayal was less doddery. As a result, the lines came across better, although he had to fade pretty fast by the end.

Frances Barber wasn’t limping this time, but she wasn’t throwing herself about quite so much either, as I recall. I still enjoyed her performance, and still felt very distanced from the events and characters. It’s a shame, perhaps, but maybe the next production will show me something different.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Fantastic Mr Fox – December 2007

6/10

Adapted by Sarah Woods from the story by Roald Dahl

Directed by: Steve Tiplady

Company: Little Angel Theatre

Venue: Stratford Civic Hall

Date: Thursday 20th December 2007

This was one of those shows where adults like us can feel a bit out of place, turning up without any kids in tow. Who cares! We’re always keen to enjoy ourselves, and as we’d liked the Venus and Adonis that Little Angle Theatre did as part of the Complete Works, we decided to give this a go as well.

It was great fun. We were in the minority – most of the audience were significantly under ten – but that didn’t matter a bit, although we might choose less conspicuous seats next time. Right in the middle of the front row was a bit obvious. It led to me being the strange ‘thing’ Mr Fox warned his cub not to go near, as he didn’t know where I’d been!

The Civic Hall had been transformed from when we’d seen Noughts and Crosses. The only seating was what had been the central block before, and the puppet theatre took up the front of the acting space. There was a jumble of screens, boxes, sheets, and walkways, which I can’t possibly describe in detail. The set also came to pieces – flaps opened up to show us the foxes tunnelling underground, and as the nasty farmers dug down to try and catch them, that part of the set was gradually taken away to show how far down they’d dug. A section on the left became the food store in the third farmer’s cellar. There were lots of cider bottles, and a mouse which was obviously very happy as it could drink itself silly whenever it liked.

The story is all about how Mr Fox (the fantastic Mr Fox) saves his family and steals loads of food from the three farmers who are so mean they want to kill Mr Fox and his family to stop them eating any more of their livestock. He’s a great tunneller, so he can dig himself and the family out of pretty much any difficulty. His kids follow him and have a great time seeing their daddy at work, but there are a few close shaves. Will Mr Fox save his family? And will they have enough to eat? Of course they do. It all ends happily with the farmers trounced, the foxes and their friends happy and safe, and lots and lots of delicious food to eat. Given that the rabbits have also been invited to the feast, I was a bit concerned that some of the guests might not make it back home, but this one’s for the kids, so let’s not go there.

The puppetry was fabulous again. We could see the puppeteers clearly, as they were in the light the whole time, and wearing ordinary but plain clothes. They also did the voices, and had to be pretty dextrous to manage all the various puppets that were moving around at the same time. Once again, I could have sworn the expressions on the puppets’ faces changed, but of course they didn’t. Different sizes of puppets were used at different times, to give a sense of perspective, and yes, I did get Steve to buy one of the cuddly Mr Fox’s on offer in the shop afterwards (he’s so cute!). (That’s the fox, by the way, although Steve’s pretty attractive too.)

I can’t comment on individual performers here, as I wasn’t really paying attention to them at all – how on earth do we do this thing in our brains where we can see people moving the puppets and completely ignore them like they’re not there? But it was very good fun, and entirely suitable for adults as well as kids. So there.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Noughts And Crosses – December 2007

8/10

Adapted by Dominic Cooke from the novel by Malorie Blackman

Directed by: Dominic Cooke

Company: RSC

Venue: Stratford Civic Hall

Date: Wednesday 19th December 2007

This was a powerful drama, well acted, and successfully aimed at the younger generation. Starting from the problems of racial segregation and repression, Malorie Blackman’s story of the love between a young boy and girl takes the Romeo and Juliet theme and turns things on their head, producing a modern story told by adolescents about the difficulties of growing up and leading a life of your own choosing when society’s prejudices stand in the way. A lot for one evening, and it’s amazing how it all gets fitted in – Dominic Cooke has adapted this really well, though not having read the book I can’t say how faithful he’s been, just that this works well as a drama.

I felt the first half was a bit slow, but it did set up the characters and situation well for us. The second half introduced the other family, and this helped to round out the relationships and the context of a repressive society. The plot concerns Callum, a young white man, and his friend Sephy, a young black woman. In this society, whites are called “noughts” and blacks, “crosses”, or “blanks” and “daggers”, respectively. This is a society in which black people are well off, in charge, and determined to keep it that way. White folk are despised, denied opportunities and treated like shit. Naturally, Callum and Sephy’s friendship doesn’t go down well with anyone, and they go through all sorts of ups and downs in their relationship to each other, as well as their family and friends, culminating in Callum’s refusal to save his own life as it would mean Sephy agreeing to abort their baby. The play ends with Sephy cradling her new born girl – a ray of hope for the future.

Along the way we get to see how people can become involved in violence and lose their way when so many bad things happen to them and their families. Callum’s sister was beaten up for dating a cross, and retreats into madness for a few years before killing herself. Callum’s Dad gets involved with a Liberation group, and allows himself to be convicted for setting off a bomb which killed seven people. He does this partly to protect his other son, Jude, who was involved, and partly out of grief for his daughter’s death (at least, that’s what I reckon). His determination to die leads him to attempt escape, which gets him killed. Sephy herself is beaten up at school for daring to sit with noughts at lunch. It’s a bleak picture, and yet there’s a lot of humour, and the love between the two main characters lightens much of the darkness. There’s a strong sense of compassion. We see the suffering in Sephy’s family – a mother who drinks, an absent father more interested in his political career than his family, and an unexplained rift between the two mothers, who had been on some sort of friendly footing until a few years before. Although the story is mostly told from the youngsters’ point of view, we do get to see the effect the social situation is having on the people around them.

The performance space was new to us. It’s basically a flat area with seats on three sides, and entrances in the corners. The two leads often came on and spoke directly to us without any props. When needed, furniture was brought on by the cast, chairs were held up until all were ready, and then slammed down together – very energetic and lively. Occasionally the people on stage would freeze, while Callum and Sephy would talk or move around them. It was a very direct style, and worked well, especially for the asides. With the audience on three sides, it was noticeable that the two leads were careful to include everyone, moving around as necessary, even when on the loo! (It’s in the small toilet cubicle which gets wheeled on to stage that Sephy gets beaten up.) When the characters turned on the TV for the news, the reporter would walk onto the stage, along with any interviewees, and speak directly to the viewers. Talk about having TV in your living room! I found this worked very well, as it emphasised the closeness there was between the characters in the action and what was being showing on TV.

The cast were excellent. The two leads – Richard Madden as Callum and Ony Uhiara as Sephy – gave superb performances, managing to grow up just the right amount over the two or three years of the action, maturing from gawky adolescents to young adults. The physical aspect of their love was also well done, developing from the first exploratory kiss, heads to one side, to full blown sex described only in words, but all the more powerful for that (for some things, less is more). Their first night together in Sephy’s bed was a lovely depiction of innocent love, and the way Sephy’s mother nearly caught him the next morning was very funny. Fortunately, Sephy’s ally Sarah, her mother’s secretary, helps out by pushing one of Callum’s shoes under the bed.

It’s difficult to single anyone else out, but I do want to mention Jo Martin as Sephy’s mother, Jasmine. She gave a wonderful sense of that character’s “hinterland”, her suffering as she gives in to try and make things work, the drinking to “smooth out the rough edges”, the support she gives secretly to help Callum’s father during his trial, and the unknown reason for all this – what happened those few years before that caused the rift between her and Callum’s mother?

Although I found it interesting to see this topsy-turvy view of racism, I didn’t really relate to either group. I found it hard to believe the noughts were really downtrodden – was that just my conditioning, or was I influenced by possibly unconscious body language from the actors? I can remember wanting to belong to a group when I was that age – we’d moved several times, and it always seemed hard to find like-minded friends of my own age – but I don’t ever remember wanting to create a “them” to support the “us”. Maybe I was lucky not to fall in with the “wrong” sort?

Looking back, probably the only criticism I can find is that the play does sometimes feel a bit like a checklist of discussion points to be covered. The action comes so thick and fast, especially in the second half (20 minutes longer than the first half), and the scenes are so short, that there’s not a lot of time for depth of character to develop. Actually, it’s surprising how much depth is achieved – another compliment to the actors and the adaptation.

Anyway, the play raised a lot of interesting questions, and more than usual I find myself wondering how I would handle some of these situations. The youngsters at the play tonight were obviously engaged as well, and I suspect there will be some interesting discussions as a result of this.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – December 2007

8/10

By: WIlliam Shakespeare

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Company: RSC

Venue: New London Theatre

Date: Wednesday 12th December 2007

This was a definite improvement on the Courtyard performance. For one thing, we could see what was happening on stage from the start, and although I didn’t get a headset, I found I could hear pretty much everything as well. There was one change to the cast that we noticed – Frances Barber was indisposed, and so we got to see Melanie Jessop play Goneril, which she did at the start of the run in Stratford but without being reviewed. I probably preferred Frances Barber, of the two, but this wasn’t bad at all.

Before I forget, I’ll just mention the palaver at the start, as about 400 women queued for about ten loos, causing the start to be delayed by a few minutes. This was why I didn’t get a headset, and God knows why we were sent into the auditorium from the wrong end of a very long row! Not the best start, but once the play got underway, I soon settled down to enjoy myself. I will also add that there was relatively little coughing, especially during the first half, although the mobile phones in the second half must have been unpleasant for those that heard them. (Four, according to Steve – I just caught the ice-cream van one near us.)

Enough of that stuff. The stage here was less thrust than in Stratford, and this suited the set much better – the action at the back wasn’t so far away. In addition, the open nature of the auditorium (more like Chichester’s main stage) made the action seem to come forward more. We were practically straight on to the centre of the stage, and got a really good view of everything.

The opening bit with Lear demonstrating spiritual as well as political leadership of his people was OK. It does set up his dominance, and also gets the opening characters on stage plausibly. I liked William Gaunt’s Gloucester in this – he’s well-meaning but gullible, and apart from Kent’s passionate reactions, he’s the main source for our emotional response to the way the King’s being treated. Or perhaps I should call him the ex-King, as his loss of power is very clearly demonstrated here.

We finally saw the speeches, as Lear stood at the lectern and used his cards to prompt himself. The court was obviously used to pandering to his every whim, and understood the need to flatter him, although the sisters were a bit unsure to begin with. I noticed this time that Cordelia stood at the back, didn’t give us her asides, and seemed to regard it all as a joke on her father’s part. Perhaps this explains her different relationship with him – her sisters know how unreliable he is and have suffered too much at his hands, while Cordelia indulges and is indulged. Boy, is she in for a surprise.

I didn’t see Regan reacting to the gift of territory this time – last time she was clearly thinking her portion wasn’t big enough; she’s a girl who always wants more. Cordelia still thinks it’s all a joke when she starts off at the lectern, but it all goes rapidly downhill when she doesn’t trot out the paean of praise her father expects. Her shock is clear, and was well played. I always like the bit where France takes up “what’s cast away” – sniff, sniff. After Cordelia’s “farewells” to her sisters (more like “drop dead, you bitches” in this performance), Regan and Goneril discuss the situation, and here it’s clear that Regan just hasn’t been attending those AA meetings. She snaffles not one but two drinks this time, the second on her way out.

The letter scene between Edmund and Gloucester was well done. I was even more aware this time that Gloucester had earlier come back on stage with France and Burgundy just as Kent is leaving to go into exile. His comments about the situation seem more pertinent because he’s only just caught up on events, and his use of an actual pamphlet to read out the predictions was a nice touch. Of course, the predictions are all going to happen, so it’s double fun to hear Edmund ridicule his father’s gullibility – partly because he’s right in general terms, and partly because he’s wrong as far as this play goes. Edgar, probably the only decent man in the play, made it clear that spending two hours in conversation with his father was a real snooze-fest. Ben Meyjes’s performance was just as good as I remembered from last time, with no significant changes that I noticed.

When Lear comes on with his cronies for his après-hunting drink before dinner, the rowdiness was either more than before or just more noticeable on the trimmed down stage. There seemed to be more interaction among the group during this scene than I remember, and the early signs of Lear’s madness are evident. Goneril didn’t react as strongly to his cursing, although she did still collapse, and the fool’s comments all came across clearly. “Nothing” is the key word of this play, and Lear’s response to one of the fool’s enquires echoes Cordelia’s “nothing” perfectly. He’s quite a good writer, this Shakespeare chap.

When Kent, in disguise, arrives at Gloucester’s place, there’s a party in full swing inside, and he’s waiting outside when Goneril’s servant arrives. Kent’s standing in front of the light, so naturally the other guy can’t see who he is, and the next thing he knows he’s being attacked, when he has nothing but his cowardice to defend him. Edmund takes a hand, and soon everyone comes out. Believe it or not, Regan doesn’t actually have a drink with her! But a tray with four goblets is brought out, and trust me, she has three of them.

I’ve just realised how Kent’s deliberate rudeness to this group both echoes and contrasts with Cordelia’s unintentional slight of Lear in the opening scene. Cordelia hardly says anything, Kent says plenty; she’s sent away, he’s put in the stocks. I do get Cornwall’s point, though; it’s easy enough for people to be rude and cover it up by claiming they’re just “plain speakers”, but then spin cuts both ways. Flattery can cover a multitude of sins as well.

From here it’s much as before. I keep recognising the validity of the sisters’ arguments – Lear has set up an almost impossible situation for them, and I’m not convinced even Cordelia would have been able to handle it, if she’d stayed. It’s often easier to be the one who comes in now and again, and who doesn’t have to put up with the daily grind of looking after an ageing parent. But of course they are two villainous bitches (apologies to any female dogs offended by that last comparison), and that was brought out fully in this production. It helped that Lear was relatively sympathetic – misguided and stupid, but not specifically malicious or monstrous. The sort of chap who was pampered and flattered as he grew up as heir to the throne, and never really got a sound grasp of reality, nor learned how to deal with setbacks. As long as everything went fine for him, he was easy enough to get on with, but woe betide anyone who crossed him, as he wouldn’t be able to handle it reasonably.

One other change I noticed was the way that Regan draped herself erotically against some poles when she gets a chance to be alone with Edmund. She whipped her coat off so quick she risked getting friction burns, and flung herself provocatively onto the prop, just before he turned round and saw her. Nifty work.

The fight between Edmund and Edgar looked a little weak this time, as if they’re getting a bit jaded. Some of the movements didn’t make sense, and didn’t seem to connect properly, and the energy wasn’t as focused. Kent’s departure at the end had him actually taking his gun out of his holster, an advance on last time, making it even clearer that he’s off to kill himself. In fact, I was half-expecting a gunshot off stage after Edgar’s closing lines – it would have added tremendously to the emotional impact at that point.

The whole production had a tremendous amount of detail, and all the performances were good, but the central part of Lear is key, and Ian McKellen’s performance was outstanding. I’ve already mentioned that this Lear was more sympathetic than most, but McKellen’s depiction of Lear’s emotional journey into madness was superb. It started early, was soundly based on Lear’s personality and developed in an intelligible manner, beautifully paced. It’s perfectly logical that he should strip off when he does (and it doesn’t hurt the box office).

As a general point, we find that Trevor Nunn’s productions are clear, decisive, and tend to the literal interpretation. For example, Lear’s comment at the end “and my poor fool is hanged”, which has been interpreted in various ways, is here demonstrated just before the interval, when Cornwall’s soldiers capture Gloucester and hang the fool. It’s a style of production that brings out a great deal of the plot and makes every line significant, and there’s much to commend it.

However, I still found myself not able to applaud for long afterwards. I did enjoy myself, and found it a very comprehensive and clear performance, with many individual highlights, and a strong sense of understanding the play, but I didn’t feel as enthused as for some Shakespeare productions. I’m very glad we saw it again, and from a better angle, as well as in a more supportive performance space, and I would recommend it to anyone (if you could get the tickets!), but I still felt a lack of connection somewhere – an intelligent but not necessarily a heartfelt production.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Twelfth Night – September 2007

2/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Neil Bartlett

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Friday 28th September 2007

I was a bit disappointed with this production, and there were several reasons for this, not all to do with what was happening on the stage. To begin with, this was the first time we’d sat so far back, under the overhang, and I just didn’t feel connected to the performance emotionally at all. I felt the action was a long way away, and I just couldn’t get involved. This may be because we’ve been so close for so long that we’ve adjusted to that, or it may be the performance wasn’t being “sent out” enough, I don’t know. Either way, it made the evening less enjoyable, sadly.

Another difficulty was that we’ve seen the Chichester Festival version of Twelfth Night so recently, and it was so magnificent, that echoes are bound to carry over, and it’s hard not to compare. While this production is clearly different, the fact that I couldn’t engage with it meant I could never overcome the comparison, and it fell short on that score as well. This was unfortunate, as normally we’d have months if not years between productions.

The set was also unfortunate. The acting space went right to the back of the theatre, from what I could see, although there was a door at the back so the set wasn’t right up to the back wall. The walls were clad in backstage plasterboard, and there were racks with clothes either side at the rear, so the setting was clearly meant to remind us that all the characters are playing a part. There was a screen at the front of all this, at the upper level, which created a deep overhang for the rear part of the stage, and which separated later on to show us Malvolio imprisoned in the drying room, but was otherwise a sombre presence, not entirely helpful to a comedy. All of this was in drab colours, and with the black of many of the costumes, which were unequivocally Edwardian, the whole effect was depressing rather than uplifting. The attempt to create a space with no clear time and location might have been better served in other ways than precise period costume and immediately recognisable setting, but that’s life.

The biggest problem I found with the performance itself was that Viola, played by Chris New, was the most masculine Viola I’ve ever seen. Apart from a little bit of simpering, some semi-mincing and some hair patting, this was basically another Sebastian. I was never able to see him as a woman, and there was very little of Viola’s vulnerability, or at least her awareness of her vulnerable position, and no real sign of her grief. Other performances were OK, and any weaknesses I’d put down to the production. The cross-casting of males and females, which seemed to be mainly to get the right proportions for the companion Comedy of Errors, meant that Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian were played by women, and done pretty well, while Viola was still the only female part played by a man. Sir Andrew, in particular, was well done, as an aristocratic silly-ass, who was obviously trying to emulate Sir Toby in everything. Sir Toby was a weaker character than some I’ve seen. His drinking had obviously got the better of him some time ago, and Maria (Siobhan Redmond), all wiggles, was clearly going to have the upper hand in their relationship. They snuck off with their luggage while everyone else is partying at the end.

John Lithgow as Malvolio was also very entertaining. Starched upright, he moved as gracefully and sedately as if dancing a mournful minuet, so when he did break into a trot, to catch up with Viola, he looked wonderfully absurd. His fantasises about being married to Olivia built us up nicely for the actual letter reading, and with no attempt at greenery, the attempts of the watchers to hide themselves were even more funny. Malvolio’s excessive joy at finding his dreams have come true was expressed by rubbing the letter all over his face, and the practice smiles, which took a bit of doing, were wonderfully grotesque. This was undoubtedly the best scene of the play.

The later Malvolio scenes – the cross-gartering, the madness and the revenge – were all good, with Malvolio showing more dignity in the latter two than I’ve seen before. Finally, the discovery sequence was good, although I wonder if that’s just the quality of the writing rather the performances, and I particularly liked the way in which Olivia is in turmoil after finding out she’s married a man she doesn’t know, and who isn’t the man she took him to be (after all, she doesn’t know Cesario that well either). She has to think really hard about whether she’ll accept this marriage or not, but eventually decides to make the best of it. A good level of ambiguity with which to end the performance.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Penelopiad – August 2007 (2)

10/10

By: Margaret Atwood

Directed by: Josette Bushell-Mingo

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 9th August 2007

I managed to wipe my memory clean for the start of this performance, forgetting what I’d seen before, to allow me to see this as a totally new experience. I did start to get “flashbacks” later on, but I found it surprisingly easy to move into forgetfulness – perhaps the influence of Lethe?

There were some changes to the cast. Sarah Malin, who had played Odysseus so well last time, had been taken ill, so the parts were re-arranged to cover. This meant there were only eleven maids tonight, but that didn’t spoil it for me. On the whole, the understudies did a great job, and I possibly just preferred this Helen (Lisa Karen Cox). Odysseus was played by Kelly McIntosh tonight, and the only snag was her height. When so many people comment on Odysseus’s short legs, it needs a bit more effort on the audience’s part when Odysseus is one of the tallest people there. However, apart from that, and some uncertainty in the bow-stringing scene, this was another good performance, remarkably so in the post-marriage bed.

It was interesting seeing it again from a completely different angle. Before, we had more of a panoramic view – here we were much closer to the action, and could see the expressions on their faces more clearly. I was also aware of the sound effects more – how recordings were used for various lines to create an effect. I hadn’t realised how much this went on when we were up in the second gallery. I also saw some things that hadn’t been so visible from above – Penelope talking to one of the maids who was off to one side, for example. And of course we missed seeing that beautiful pool this time. I’m glad I had my memory to call on for that one.

The darkness at the start seemed to last longer this time. When the light shafted down, Penelope was standing there with her veil over her head, and speaks the first few lines like that. I don’t remember if it was the same last time. Either way, it was very effective. When she removed the veil, and wrapped it round herself, she was grinning, and very girlish. The changes of emotion through the opening scene came across very well, and I noticed this time that when the maids came on from the back they too had veils over themselves. When the next scene starts, showing us Penelope’s childhood, that’s when they throw off the veils and start playing the other parts.

I was able to see Penny Downie’s drowning performance much better tonight – it was very effective, giving the impression of someone falling through the water, and struggling for air. The birds still seemed more like seagulls, but who cares? The audience seemed more responsive tonight; I heard more laughter on the funny lines than I remember from before.

She dances a bit when talking of the “vapid dancing” that goes on in the fields of asphodel – that may be new. The curtain at the back that came down for the childhood scene, I think, didn’t properly come down, so the group that huddles behind it for the wedding night activities are partly exposed. I thought Penelope screamed a bit quicker tonight, and seemed to be enjoying the deception a lot more.

The sea journey to Ithaca was clearer from this perspective. I noticed Penelope throwing up more than once, and the maids were hauling on ropes and bailing out the ship. Odysseus was positioned aft, steering their course. With the dramatic lighting, it made more of an impression on me this time. I was prepared for the introduction of the in-laws this time – there seemed to be more bleating, though whether it was the wife or the goat, I’m not sure.

The birthing scene was well received this time, and certainly looked effective, with the baby suddenly popping out. I had a greater sense of Penelope being held back from her baby, being cut off from her natural role.  The scene where Odysseus leaves for Troy registered more with me. The audience responded more to Odysseus’s comment about having thought the oath up himself – hoist with his own petard.

It’s after this that Penelope has a go at Helen, calling her a “septic bitch”, and immediately after that she draws back the cover on the pool. For several of the scenes, when the maids or their characters were giving us the main action, I noticed that Penelope was standing towards the back of the stage, usually on the left, and with her back to us she was looking over her shoulder at what was going on. This gave a lovely sense of her detachment from the maids’ version of the story, while still emphasising her importance as the central character.

The meeting with Helen in Hades was just as good as before. I liked Helen’s calm assurance that, even as a disembodied ghost, she’s still worth looking at. The rape scene was just as powerful, and I felt the contrast with the feather fan song even more acutely. It’s a tough thing to pull off, bringing in a song like that when we’ve just had an extremely emotional moment, but they’re still managing it very well.

The dream sequence is triggered by Eurycleia bringing in a drink for Penelope. She holds a huge drinking bowl up, and runs around her, waving it in the air. Then Penelope dreams. She sees the sailors, the sirens, and Telemachus with his toy boat on his head, walking across the stage, and meeting with Helen. The one-eyed monster seemed to be missing this time, but it all seemed much clearer from this angle.

I realised that Penelope is teasing Eurycleia when she tells her to wash the stranger’s feet. Knowing that she’s already recognised Odysseus helped, I think. The tension wasn’t quite the same for the bow-stringing scene, and Odysseus had some difficulty removing his breastplate to become a maid again, but the hanging scene was even more effective, as I could see the maids rise up – the equivalent of their bodies dropping down – one by one. It was macabre and very moving. For their final bows, Penny Downie took a moment to acknowledge each of the understudies.

Overall, I enjoyed this almost as much as the first time. The changes due to illness did remove a bit of the energy, but the performances were even more remarkable for the last-minute rearrangements. Seeing it close up was also a bonus, and I still think Penny Downie should receive every acting award available for this performance. I’d love it to come back after the stint in Canada, but heigh-ho, we’ll just have to cross our fingers.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

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