Tag Archives: Yvonne Arnaud

Orestes – September 2006

Experience: 6/10

By Helen Edmunson, from the play by Euripedes

Directed by Nancy Meckler

Company: Shared Experience

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date Friday 15th September 2006

This is an adaptation of the Orestes by Euripides, done by Helen Edmundson. Set in a lavish bedroom, with gold sheets on the bed and pairs of gold shoes hanging on the door, I found it was an interesting production which raised some good questions about the reasons people have for killing each other, without trying to come to any specific resolution to answer them all. I like this type of theatre.

The performances were excellent. Electra (Mairead McKinley) was the powerhouse of the piece. She was the one who had seen their father killed in his bath, but was unable to take revenge until Orestes’ return. She is an odd combination of sanity and obsession, not helped by Helen’s cruel remarks about her (relative) ugliness and lack of children. She conveys all the suffering which can lead to a lust for revenge, together with the intelligence and cunning that comes from waiting a long time to get that revenge. She it is who hits on the idea of killing Helen, to pay back Menelaus for daring to take the throne from her and her brother, the rightful heirs (or matricides, as the mob outside the palace prefer to call them). She has more loose screws than B&Q, yet she’s still saner than her brother, whose final descent into total insanity horrifies even her, although that’s partly because he’s just buggered up their one chance to escape the mob. She is also able to argue convincingly against Tyndareos, their grandfather (yes, it’s another Greek dysfunctional family, folks), who is practically baying for their blood, though in slightly more civil terms than the mob outside. His focus is the law – they have killed their mother (his daughter), so they must die. He’s not so hot on why the law didn’t crack down on Clytemnestra and her lover when they killed Pops, but that’s politicians for you. A lovely performance from Jeffrey Kissoon.

Menelaus (Tim Chipping) is wonderfully portrayed as a weak, indecisive type, who’s nevertheless prepared to take advantage of his niece and nephew’s plight to gain political clout for himself. After depleting the forces of wherever he ruled before the Trojan War, he’s now looking for a new country to rule, and here’s a place that’s just lost its rulers, and about to execute their heirs/killers, and hey, he just happens to be family, so why not offer to step into the breach? Do not allow this man to make you a cup of tea; if you’ve got anything he wants, it’ll be laced with something deadly. Despite this, Menelaus comes across as one of the nicer people to begin with – bit softer, more caring and understanding, willing to help the besieged couple. Not that he’s prepared to carry through with it, and in the end, he loses more than he’d bargained for.

Orestes seems to be under his sister’s thumb in many ways, and yet she looks to him for leadership, strength and love. It’s that odd kind of relationship where it can be difficult at times to tell who’s leading and who’s following. He’s plainly more affected by their killing spree than she is – she’s wanted the revenge all along, but he’s suffering the guilt, and it’s after killing Helen that the guilt drives him to lose it completely. Alex Robertson judged his performance in this role very nicely. There’s an intriguing moment as they are heading down the suicide route, where they kiss and look like they’re tempted to make love. I don’t think this implied any pre-existing sexual relationship between them, although as this is based on Greek drama, I could be completely wrong. I just saw it as a last despairing expression of love between them, especially as Electra had been so hurt by Helen’s complete refutation of her womanhood. Still a virgin, this could be her only chance.

Helen arrives in the palace ahead of Menelaus. She’s brought their baby, who is tended to by a slave woman. Helen, though beautiful, comes across as a real bitch. Admittedly, she’s talking to the pair who killed her sister, so you have to make some allowances, but she’s so full of herself, being part-God as she claims (and there’s a cock-and-swan story, if ever I heard one!), that she’s bound to cause trouble wherever she goes. Still, she reminds us of the massive impact of the Trojan war on this world, equivalent to the First World War in more recent times, where so many died for so little reason. And those deaths are the trigger for all that happens afterwards. There are red figures lurking at the back of the stage – dummies – and for me they mainly represented the many dead on all sides because of one beautiful woman and her fatal choice. It’s a powerful confrontation, Helen and Electra, and Claire Onyemere as Helen more than holds her own. The slave woman, played by Claire Prempeh, has little to do but nurse the baby and shrink into the background, and I would have liked to have heard more from her. She does have a short conversation with Electra later, which demonstrates that, for all her reasons to suffer, she’s much more at peace than any other character in the play.

Both brother and sister rely heavily on an alleged oracular injunction to justify their actions, and it’s here that the play’s main interest lies. Is it OK to kill people because ‘God’ tells you to, or not? This, despite ‘God’ having spent centuries passing on the message that killing is not a good idea. In many languages! Through many wise people! I am firmly in the ‘killing is not a good idea’ camp, and I regard with deep suspicion anyone claiming that ‘God’ has given them a licence to kill. However, it does happen, and we need to come to terms with this particular insanity, which never seems insane to those who find it a handy excuse. It’s noticeable that these young siblings ask for their gods’ help after they’ve decided to kill Helen, not before. I got the impression that Electra was getting a taste for murder by then.

The couple try kidnapping Menelaus’ baby as a way of negotiating an escape, but it all goes horribly wrong when Orestes tries to fly off a cliff. Oops. Not having a handy cliff on stage, the shoe-laden door had to double as a dangerous precipice (from comments at the post-show, this didn’t involve any acting on the door’s part). I found this ending a bit confusing, because there was so much going on. On the cliff, we have Electra, in front of her brother but supposedly looking forward at him. He’s behind her physically, so he can use a rope to brace himself and appear to be flying or falling (take your pick). Menelaus is down below, screaming at everyone because he’s petrified his baby is going to be killed, and Helen’s dead body has somehow rolled itself onto the stage. God knows what Tyndareos and the slave woman are doing – I couldn’t keep track of it all. Orestes has also sprouted some feathers at his shoulders, which were intriguing, but didn’t help with the clarity at this point. Also, the rear semicircle of the stage burst into flames as all this is happening, so we had a few hazards to keep our minds off the action. Normally I like Shared Experience’s multi-layering, but this was a bit too much. I basically focused on Electra and Orestes, and left the rest to their own devices.

There wasn’t much else to report on the staging; the set worked well to convey the place and situation – an opulent prison – and the main focus was simply the performances, all of which were first rate. I would happily see this again.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The French Lieutenant’s Woman – September 2006

Experience: 10/10

Adapted by Mark Healy from the novel by John Fowles

Directed by Kate Saxon

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 1st September 2006

This was an excellent performance of a marvellous production of a brilliant adaptation – there wasn’t a single flaw in the whole thing. Set design, lighting, and costumes were all superb. The whole cast were excellent, the members of the ensemble supported the leading players magnificently. I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know how well it’s been transferred to the stage, but I enjoyed this piece so much, it doesn’t matter.

The set was amazing. Designed by Libby Watson, it seemed very simple, yet had many layers and possibilities. Split between two levels, there were curved platforms, curved steps, and in the middle an office space with typewriter and books, cleverly stacked so they could be used to climb up or down between levels. There were metal pillars, as used for seaside architecture, holding up the platforms, and small areas of grass and rock blending in with the scenery. From the steps and upper level rose tall posts, like tree trunks, but with snatches of rope and net, so they could be masts or trees or part of some beach or harbour construction. All very evocative, and it all worked together, so the action could move from outside to inside in an instant.

The play opens with the author, as a character in the play, asking how does he begin? He talks us through the way various characters come and go in his mind, but he ignores most of them. The other actors, in costume, are roaming the stage at this point, as the characters who are trying to catch his attention, and they’re quite miffed he’s dismissing them so easily. However, one character attracts him – he doesn’t know who she is, and wants to find out more. He introduces the character representing himself – the actor comes on like a robot, smoothly enough but without personality, waiting to be ’activated‘. Then the author has to decide how they will meet, and this leads to the opening scene of the hero seeing the French lieutenant’s woman, Mrs Woodruff, on the end of the mole. From here, the author is quite involved in the action, as he has to decide on the characters’ names, stories, etc. As the hero is talking with his fiancée and her aunt, the aunt has to pause several times, waiting for the author to fill in the relevant name. All very entertaining.

From here the author moves back a bit, and the action develops very nicely, with just some narration. We see the repulsive Mrs Poultney profess to charitable inclinations (as long as they don’t inconvenience her too much), and end up employing Miss Woodruff as a secretary, or dogsbody if you prefer. Mrs Poultney is one of those women who has read too much of the Bible and believed it all, at least all the really nasty bits where people (other people, that is) are damned and punished for their sins. As unpleasant an old lady as you could wish not to meet. Fortunately, our heroine stands up to her, and she even stands up to the author! In the job interview with Mrs Poultney, the author has her make some explanation for leaving her previous job. She rounds on him, and tells him she would never say that. Her choice is to say nothing, and so the scene is replayed with her doing just that. A marvellous device, this; it adds so much to our understanding of her character and I assume it follows the book more closely than the film.

We follow the two main characters through their doomed love affair, with various changes being made on the fly by the author, and at least one more significant change made by Miss Woodruff herself – it’s her choice not to tell the hero about their baby. At one point, the author decides to involve himself more closely with the action, and takes on the role of Doctor Grogan himself. He tries out several accents for his opening line, rejects the first two, and finally settles on a mild Irish brogue. (At least, I think that’s what it was – I was never very good with accents.)

All of this was so well done that I fell in love with it. The dialogue was excellent – so often in a Dickens or Bronte or Austen adaptation, the dialogue seems so stilted. It may represent contemporaneous speech patterns more accurately, but it’s bloody awful to have to listen to for hours. This dialogue carried the sense of period beautifully, but also felt real, the sort of things real people would say in these situations. The hero was over wordy and a bit pompous – typical – and Mrs Woodruff was much more direct and blunt, even when lying. The other characters were well formed – Ernestina’s girlish enthusiasm and outspokenness, her aunt’s good sense and kindness, Mrs Poultney’s bitterness and vitriol, Doctor Grogan’s authority and Sam’s ambition – all of these came across clearly, and drove the action plausibly. The interval came after the hero has left Mrs Woodruff in the cabin, and she asks the author, will he return? The author’s answer – I don’t know, give me some time – leads us nicely into the break.

Apart from mentioning that it was fun to see the respectable aunt transformed into a brothel-keeper in one scene, I’m not sure if I can add anything more to this. I might read the book; it’s a good enough play to at least pique my interest in that. I would certainly see it again, if I get the chance, and I would love to get the play text. I was totally drawn into the lives portrayed, the characters mattered to me, and time flew by. It was a great night out, and I would have clapped for ten, if I could have.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Kingfisher – August 2006

Experience: 6/10

By William Douglas-Home

Venue Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 21st August 2006

This was a fairly straightforward comedy about an older man trying to get back together with an old flame, the one true love of his life, now that her husband’s died. In fact, he’s invited her to stop off for tea on the way back from the funeral! His tactlessness was one of the main sources of comedy, although a scene where the two older love-birds attempt to sit on a grassy mound to relive their youthful love affair became very funny when they try to get up again.

It was a three-hander, with Francis Matthews and Honor Blackman playing the two leads, supported by the faithful butler, who has been in love with the master of the house for many years. The wobbly he threw at thinking he’s no longer wanted was good fun. Not a bad piece, though a little dated, but well performed.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Marlon Brando’s Corset

Experience: 6/10

By Guy Jones

Directed by Ed Curtis

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 24th July 2006

This was good fun. A spoof on celebrity and what it does to people who crave fame, it turned into a black comedy with murder, dismemberment and cover-ups.

Les Dennis plays the harassed writer of a medical soap opera (“Voted number one medical soap by Which Medical Soap Magazine!”). Some changes he’s making don’t please all of the cast, but one actor is particularly interested in what else he’s writing. And then the writer turns up dead, in a chair, whacked on the side of the head. And all in the first half.

Turns out he was writing an exposé on the leading man’s sexuality, outing him as gay. He needed the money to pay off some serious gambling debts, as the heavies were due to kneecap him the following day. The cast then end up sort of working together to cut up the body, and take various bits to remote locations, to burn and bury them (and not to throw them into the sea as one chap wants to do!), and all with the connivance, not to mention forceful persuasion of the show’s director (Mike McShane). With five bags’ worth to dispose of, each actor should have dealt with at least one, but the blonde floozy did her helpless female number till the good-hearted mug took hers as well. He and the sensible woman did theirs OK, but the leading man, cause of all their troubles, flunked it, and the next morning, with the police due to arrive, he finally admits the bag, with the head still in it, is behind the sofa! Just then the heavies turn up to collect the money, and a solution is found. All is well, and the final scene shows us the resulting careers of the various actors.

All of this is interspersed with interviews for a behind the scenes program, letting us see how the actors portray themselves to the public. We also see the missing confrontations between the writer and the cast members that lead up to his death.

This was very televisual, based as it was on the cult of celebrity that only works because of TV. The only real set was the green room, although for interviews, actors would be spotlit to imply a different location. It worked really well, taking the piss out of so many sacred cows, and the performances were excellent. A fun evening, and one I would see again.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me