13/1/11, RSC at the Roundhouse
Superfluous smoking alert (though it wasn't actually lit)
3 hrs. Michael Boyd directing once again in the demountable "travelling Courtyard" theatre which performed so well in this space during his productions of the Histories two years ago. This wasn't quite up to the same standard, with the notable exception of Katy Stephens as Rosalind, who is quite simply one of the best Shakespearean actresses I've seen. She manages to mime and telegraph reactions throughout without appearing to overdo it: she is engaging, mischievous and (at the start) immensely frustrated. An independent woman unjustly sidelined in a male-dominated world, who relishes her chance to play the guy and does it with wonderful wit and swagger.
Three weeks on and in no particular order here's some of what I remember. Arden is no Eden: it's cold and dangerous and the men go armed with greatcoats and sporting rifles and skin rabbits (real ones) on stage. The back wall and the floor alike are full of panels which open for entrances and exits. There is formal dancing at the court which manages (as they progress downstage straight towards the audience) to be really quite menacing. Orlando has an Irish accent which is strangely more unsettling than the fact that Rosalind's father is black. The comedy is broad even by the standards of a play whose comedy is frequently extremely broad: Audrey turns up for her wedding in Essex girl white high heels and very short skirt; Touchstone misfires rather as a lanky cove with a distant air, and tries unsuccessfully to entertain the audience with mooncalf clowning as we return from the interval (during which the whole auditorium is plastered with great placards carrying Orlando's poetry). Jacques (Forbes Masson) plays the guitar and sings I thought like a lugubrious Bill Bailey though everyone else says Tim Minchin (wouldn't know... never seen him). The wrestling (fights by Terry King, of course) is highly convincing and there is much blood -- so convincing indeed that when the wrestler Charles came back as a courtier with an Elastoplast on his forehead some of our party thought he'd really been injured. The costumes, in classic RSC style, start off in 16th century period but then lurch into the 20th century with the shift to Arden.
Not a production to make you think this a great play. The plotting is all over the place and afterwards I started trying to compare it unfavourably with Shakespeare's other comedies... only to realise that their plotting is all over the place as well.
Showing posts with label rsc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rsc. Show all posts
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
A WINTER'S TALE
14/12/10, RSC (Roundhouse)
Missed it: had to work.
Missed it: had to work.
But I'm reliably informed it contained an episode of Superfluous Smoking.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
DUNSINANE
22/2/10, Hampstead Theatre
Another cracker from David Greig, whose plays are consistently witty, surprising and politically engaged, in an RSC production by Roxana Silbert (who directed Orphans, which we saw at Edinburgh).
His starting point is the end of Macbeth. The tyrant (never named) is killed and replaced on the throne by a puppet, Malcolm, supported by an invading English force led bu Siward (Jonny Phillips), a bluff, tough so9ldier. But Macbeth's widow, Gruach, and her son have survived as a focus for discontent and rebellion.
Siward, attempting to impose peace by force, is baffled by a country where the local warlords apparently prefer continued violence and instability and rivalry to peaceful coexistence. Think Afghanistan.
Malcolm is a wonderfully cynical, camp figure who educates Siward gradually in the realities of Scottish politics, where nothing is ever quite as it seems. He's played by the red-headed Brian Ferguson who reminded us of the brilliant Jonathan Slinger in the RSC's The Histories. Gruach is Siobhan Redmond, slinky and seductive in black dress and spectacular red wig.
There are English soldiers lamenting their fate at being stranded in this cold,w et, craggy, boggy inhospitable country; and a comic English officer, Egham, played by Alex Mann, first seen moaning self-pityingly with an arrow in his arm, who turns out to be duplicitous and greedy as well as charmingly baffled by the Scots (he promises Gruach her son will be safe in hiding in some Glen, in exchange for liberty for his men to trade and buy provisions; but when it suits him happily betrays the boy to Siward).
Hampstead Theatre reconfigured to create a thrust stage by putting part of the audience at one side of the stage, facing a simple set of piled-up rocks. A live three-piece band on stage (cello, guitar, percussion) and two women (Gruach's attendants, in Muslim-style headscarves) who sing Gaelic songs. Siward accuses them of sending secret messages to those outside the castle in their singing; Gruach scoffs; by the end you think he may have been right.
A clever, well-acted and witty parable about the modern world, the perils of military intervention in other people's affairs, the difficulties of exporting political systems developed in one (supposedly enlightened) country into another (more backward?) country, and about Scots-English relations down the centuries.
Another cracker from David Greig, whose plays are consistently witty, surprising and politically engaged, in an RSC production by Roxana Silbert (who directed Orphans, which we saw at Edinburgh).
His starting point is the end of Macbeth. The tyrant (never named) is killed and replaced on the throne by a puppet, Malcolm, supported by an invading English force led bu Siward (Jonny Phillips), a bluff, tough so9ldier. But Macbeth's widow, Gruach, and her son have survived as a focus for discontent and rebellion.
Siward, attempting to impose peace by force, is baffled by a country where the local warlords apparently prefer continued violence and instability and rivalry to peaceful coexistence. Think Afghanistan.
Malcolm is a wonderfully cynical, camp figure who educates Siward gradually in the realities of Scottish politics, where nothing is ever quite as it seems. He's played by the red-headed Brian Ferguson who reminded us of the brilliant Jonathan Slinger in the RSC's The Histories. Gruach is Siobhan Redmond, slinky and seductive in black dress and spectacular red wig.
There are English soldiers lamenting their fate at being stranded in this cold,w et, craggy, boggy inhospitable country; and a comic English officer, Egham, played by Alex Mann, first seen moaning self-pityingly with an arrow in his arm, who turns out to be duplicitous and greedy as well as charmingly baffled by the Scots (he promises Gruach her son will be safe in hiding in some Glen, in exchange for liberty for his men to trade and buy provisions; but when it suits him happily betrays the boy to Siward).
Hampstead Theatre reconfigured to create a thrust stage by putting part of the audience at one side of the stage, facing a simple set of piled-up rocks. A live three-piece band on stage (cello, guitar, percussion) and two women (Gruach's attendants, in Muslim-style headscarves) who sing Gaelic songs. Siward accuses them of sending secret messages to those outside the castle in their singing; Gruach scoffs; by the end you think he may have been right.
A clever, well-acted and witty parable about the modern world, the perils of military intervention in other people's affairs, the difficulties of exporting political systems developed in one (supposedly enlightened) country into another (more backward?) country, and about Scots-English relations down the centuries.
Monday, 28 December 2009
HAMLET
26/12/09, BBC 2
A Boxing Day telly version of the RSC's recent Hamlet starring the BBC's current superstar, David Tennant (who was all over the Christmas schedules in everything from this and Doctor Who to Desert Island Discs), thus giving those of us who missed it in the theatre (because we couldn't get tickets or because he got ill at the start of the London run and had to withdraw) a chance to see what all the fuss was about.
Penelope, whose enthusiasm for Tennant knows no bounds, has penned a review which I shall paste in immediately below. Before reading it I'll say that Tennant makes a fine Hamlet, and catches the man's antic disposition perfectly, pretending madness with tremendous wit and playfulness. He picks the text apart with almost Russell Beale-like intelligence, but lacks Russell Beale's way with the soliloquies: the superlative Simon seemed to me making it up as he went along, a Renaissance humanist philosopher at once fascinated and appalled by the directions his introspection took him in; the divine David looked tortured and spoke the lines prettily, but remained just a fine actor acting. But I did get a powerful sense from this production of just how impossible Hamlet finds action, and quite what a dreadful king that would have made him: both his father and his uncle would, you feel, have had Claudius for toast within 24 hours of the chat with the ghost.
Patrick Stewart was an equally fine and Machiavellian Claudius (I especially liked his "so it goes" little shrug when presented in the final scene with the poisoned cup); Penny Downie was a sexy Gertrude; Oliver Ford Davies a simply marvellous and definitive Polonius.
Greg Doran the director seemed to have made minimal changes for television, and those he had presumably made weren't entirely helpful. The occasional shots through Big Brother CCTV cameras didn't quite fit with the 1960s dress of the court and Hamlet's business with an 8mm cine camera during the play scene (we saw part of the play through Hamlet's camera too). But then Tennant's jeans, trainers and beanie hat in the graveyard scene, in which he looked every inch the noughties student, didn't fit with the prevailing aesthetic either and that, to judge from the publicity photos, was in the original stage production.
And it was a brave decision, I thought, given that this was family viewing time at Christmas, to leave in Tennant's shamelessly blunt take on the Elizabethan double meaning in "country matters". I wonder if they'll get complaints.
And now here's Penelope:
Hamlet was the first production I saw this year, twice, and so it’s fitting for me that it should also be the last, this time on television. One of the many magical things about theatre is that it’s live – the action unfolds in front of you. So, I was slightly apprehensive watching this production – filmed over several weeks this summer and reuniting the principal members of the RSC cast. But every time I see Hamlet, my understanding of the play is enhanced. This managed the delicate balancing act of TV and theatre without a false or clumsy note. The stage is replaced by a handful of key sites, but the essence of the original production remains; all smoke and mirrors, glitzy chandeliers, gorgeous costumes and a sense of impending doom. Added to this is a new theme of surveillance. Hamlet is often watched, and often by those who wish him harm. So there are CCTV cameras everywhere and the audience becomes the camera’s eye at several key moments. As a device, I thought it worked well.
David Tennant is Hamlet. And it’s an extraordinary performance. In the theatre, you get a distant view of the actors and you see them from only one perspective. In television, you get close ups and see them from different angles. In this case, it really helps the storytelling. Tennant has the range for Hamlet – at times quiet and tender, anguished, confused, outraged and in feigning madness. He acts with his entire body, not just that hyper-expressive face but with arms and legs too. During the ‘coward speech’ where he’s trying to decide how to deal with Claudius, he moves around the set, bare foot, waving his arms, beating his chest, covering his face while talking about his dear murdered father. Hamlets are judged by how they deliver the famous “To be or not to be speech”. I thought it was an incredibly brave decision by the director, Gregory Doran, to film the beginning of this from behind, in silhouette. So as Tennant, very quietly, starts “To be…..” we can’t see his full face. What we have are the words. And they are such powerful words. Hamlet is wretched, he cannot decide if it’s better to live or die. As he starts to ruminate about sleep and death, the camera turns to his face and Tennant looks and it (and us) as he talks about shuffling off this mortal coil. The effect was breathtaking.
Hamlet pretends to be mad in order to expose Claudius as his father’s killer. Claudius (and the father) are both again played be Patrick Stewart, who is majestic, and makes Shakespearean verse sound like normal speech. Polonius has to be one of the most irritating and amusing characters and Oliver Ford Davies accomplishes both wit and grief with aplomb. I found myself once more enjoying Peter de Jersey as the ever faithful Horatio and Mariah Gale shines as Ophelia.
Betrayal, madness, murder, loyalty and love – these are the central themes of the play. Many of the play’s central characters are dead by the end. As Hamlet lies dying in the arms of Horatio, Tennant should be able to wring a tear from the hardest heart with “If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story”.
Hamlet may not be conventional Boxing Day fare, but this production is very special. One can only hope that the RSC and David Tennant are reunited before too long.
A Boxing Day telly version of the RSC's recent Hamlet starring the BBC's current superstar, David Tennant (who was all over the Christmas schedules in everything from this and Doctor Who to Desert Island Discs), thus giving those of us who missed it in the theatre (because we couldn't get tickets or because he got ill at the start of the London run and had to withdraw) a chance to see what all the fuss was about.
Penelope, whose enthusiasm for Tennant knows no bounds, has penned a review which I shall paste in immediately below. Before reading it I'll say that Tennant makes a fine Hamlet, and catches the man's antic disposition perfectly, pretending madness with tremendous wit and playfulness. He picks the text apart with almost Russell Beale-like intelligence, but lacks Russell Beale's way with the soliloquies: the superlative Simon seemed to me making it up as he went along, a Renaissance humanist philosopher at once fascinated and appalled by the directions his introspection took him in; the divine David looked tortured and spoke the lines prettily, but remained just a fine actor acting. But I did get a powerful sense from this production of just how impossible Hamlet finds action, and quite what a dreadful king that would have made him: both his father and his uncle would, you feel, have had Claudius for toast within 24 hours of the chat with the ghost.
Patrick Stewart was an equally fine and Machiavellian Claudius (I especially liked his "so it goes" little shrug when presented in the final scene with the poisoned cup); Penny Downie was a sexy Gertrude; Oliver Ford Davies a simply marvellous and definitive Polonius.
Greg Doran the director seemed to have made minimal changes for television, and those he had presumably made weren't entirely helpful. The occasional shots through Big Brother CCTV cameras didn't quite fit with the 1960s dress of the court and Hamlet's business with an 8mm cine camera during the play scene (we saw part of the play through Hamlet's camera too). But then Tennant's jeans, trainers and beanie hat in the graveyard scene, in which he looked every inch the noughties student, didn't fit with the prevailing aesthetic either and that, to judge from the publicity photos, was in the original stage production.
And it was a brave decision, I thought, given that this was family viewing time at Christmas, to leave in Tennant's shamelessly blunt take on the Elizabethan double meaning in "country matters". I wonder if they'll get complaints.
And now here's Penelope:
Hamlet was the first production I saw this year, twice, and so it’s fitting for me that it should also be the last, this time on television. One of the many magical things about theatre is that it’s live – the action unfolds in front of you. So, I was slightly apprehensive watching this production – filmed over several weeks this summer and reuniting the principal members of the RSC cast. But every time I see Hamlet, my understanding of the play is enhanced. This managed the delicate balancing act of TV and theatre without a false or clumsy note. The stage is replaced by a handful of key sites, but the essence of the original production remains; all smoke and mirrors, glitzy chandeliers, gorgeous costumes and a sense of impending doom. Added to this is a new theme of surveillance. Hamlet is often watched, and often by those who wish him harm. So there are CCTV cameras everywhere and the audience becomes the camera’s eye at several key moments. As a device, I thought it worked well.
David Tennant is Hamlet. And it’s an extraordinary performance. In the theatre, you get a distant view of the actors and you see them from only one perspective. In television, you get close ups and see them from different angles. In this case, it really helps the storytelling. Tennant has the range for Hamlet – at times quiet and tender, anguished, confused, outraged and in feigning madness. He acts with his entire body, not just that hyper-expressive face but with arms and legs too. During the ‘coward speech’ where he’s trying to decide how to deal with Claudius, he moves around the set, bare foot, waving his arms, beating his chest, covering his face while talking about his dear murdered father. Hamlets are judged by how they deliver the famous “To be or not to be speech”. I thought it was an incredibly brave decision by the director, Gregory Doran, to film the beginning of this from behind, in silhouette. So as Tennant, very quietly, starts “To be…..” we can’t see his full face. What we have are the words. And they are such powerful words. Hamlet is wretched, he cannot decide if it’s better to live or die. As he starts to ruminate about sleep and death, the camera turns to his face and Tennant looks and it (and us) as he talks about shuffling off this mortal coil. The effect was breathtaking.
Hamlet pretends to be mad in order to expose Claudius as his father’s killer. Claudius (and the father) are both again played be Patrick Stewart, who is majestic, and makes Shakespearean verse sound like normal speech. Polonius has to be one of the most irritating and amusing characters and Oliver Ford Davies accomplishes both wit and grief with aplomb. I found myself once more enjoying Peter de Jersey as the ever faithful Horatio and Mariah Gale shines as Ophelia.
Betrayal, madness, murder, loyalty and love – these are the central themes of the play. Many of the play’s central characters are dead by the end. As Hamlet lies dying in the arms of Horatio, Tennant should be able to wring a tear from the hardest heart with “If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story”.
Hamlet may not be conventional Boxing Day fare, but this production is very special. One can only hope that the RSC and David Tennant are reunited before too long.
Monday, 6 July 2009
THE WINTER'S TALE
27/6/09, RSC (Courtyard, Stratford)
Written by Penelope
The Winter's Tale is the one with the bear, and the most famous stage instruction of all time: "Exit, pursued by a bear". It's not the easiest scene to pull off: real bears aren't plentiful in Warwickshire these days and men in large brown costumes can look absurd. But the best thing about this RSC production is its design. Designers don't often get a mention, but Jon Bausor has got to the heart of the play with his clever use of both set and costumes. His bear is a kind of large puppet operated by two men which engulfs the unfortunate Antigonus.
The play opens in Leontes' lavish palace where a banquet is starting. The set is gorgeous. The table is laden with food and candles and the room is surrounded by skyscraper-high bookshelves.
I must admit that the key moment in the play is baffling to me. Why does Leontes manage to persuade himself that his loving and hugely pregnant wife, Hermione, is being unfaithful to him because she does exactly as he asks her, and persuades Polixenes to stay in their house longer? His misconception and jealous rage cause much of the subsequent tragedy in which Hermione and their son die, and his daughter is lost to a shepherd. And Shakespeare doesn't help us out very much with an explanation.
The play proceeds with great pace. Greg Hicks as Leontes is by turns affectionate, irrational and repentant, with a good deal of self-pity thrown in. It's a good performance. He's described as a tyrant several times and Hicks achieves this, without you losing all sympathy for him later on when he gets his second chance. Hermione's role isn't huge, but Kelly Hunter pulls off being tragically misunderstood without being a total victim, which can't be easy. For me, one of the strongest performances was Noma Dumezweni as Paulina. She has a strong, clear voice and gives great passion and meaning to the verse. Her honesty and integrity are crucial to Leontes' realisation that he was wrong. Samantha Young as Perdita is both acrobatic and girlish, she portrays the comedy and tragedy of her role with aplomb.
But back to the design. The costumes are beautiful: smart suits, uniforms, rags, dancing sheep, the aforementioned bear and travelling musicians all look great. The first half ends with Leontes' realisation of his mistake and as he says "come and lead me unto these sorrows", the bookshelves collapse around him and every single book lands with a thud on the stage and papers swirl into the stalls. It's really effective and dramatic.
I've been to the Globe but this was my first time seeing a production in Stratford and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Having the audience on three sides, with the musicians above the stage does allow you to see Shakespeare more as he intended than many of the London theatres can achieve.
Written by Penelope
The Winter's Tale is the one with the bear, and the most famous stage instruction of all time: "Exit, pursued by a bear". It's not the easiest scene to pull off: real bears aren't plentiful in Warwickshire these days and men in large brown costumes can look absurd. But the best thing about this RSC production is its design. Designers don't often get a mention, but Jon Bausor has got to the heart of the play with his clever use of both set and costumes. His bear is a kind of large puppet operated by two men which engulfs the unfortunate Antigonus.
The play opens in Leontes' lavish palace where a banquet is starting. The set is gorgeous. The table is laden with food and candles and the room is surrounded by skyscraper-high bookshelves.
I must admit that the key moment in the play is baffling to me. Why does Leontes manage to persuade himself that his loving and hugely pregnant wife, Hermione, is being unfaithful to him because she does exactly as he asks her, and persuades Polixenes to stay in their house longer? His misconception and jealous rage cause much of the subsequent tragedy in which Hermione and their son die, and his daughter is lost to a shepherd. And Shakespeare doesn't help us out very much with an explanation.
The play proceeds with great pace. Greg Hicks as Leontes is by turns affectionate, irrational and repentant, with a good deal of self-pity thrown in. It's a good performance. He's described as a tyrant several times and Hicks achieves this, without you losing all sympathy for him later on when he gets his second chance. Hermione's role isn't huge, but Kelly Hunter pulls off being tragically misunderstood without being a total victim, which can't be easy. For me, one of the strongest performances was Noma Dumezweni as Paulina. She has a strong, clear voice and gives great passion and meaning to the verse. Her honesty and integrity are crucial to Leontes' realisation that he was wrong. Samantha Young as Perdita is both acrobatic and girlish, she portrays the comedy and tragedy of her role with aplomb.
But back to the design. The costumes are beautiful: smart suits, uniforms, rags, dancing sheep, the aforementioned bear and travelling musicians all look great. The first half ends with Leontes' realisation of his mistake and as he says "come and lead me unto these sorrows", the bookshelves collapse around him and every single book lands with a thud on the stage and papers swirl into the stalls. It's really effective and dramatic.
I've been to the Globe but this was my first time seeing a production in Stratford and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Having the audience on three sides, with the musicians above the stage does allow you to see Shakespeare more as he intended than many of the London theatres can achieve.
Monday, 2 March 2009
TAMING OF THE SHREW
26/2/09, RSC at the Novello.
(Written by Penelope)
I have a confession to make. I left at the interval. This production is such a mess that it made me unwilling to leave my glass of wine at the bar and return to my seat. That's a first.
We all know the play isn't exactly written for the 21st century. It's deeply misogynistic and the two women characters - Katherine and Bianca - are symbols of a late 16th century woman's unhappy lot. Katherine is the property of first her father, Baptista, and then her husband, Petruchio. It's enough to make anyone squirm.
A clever production would make you value Katherine's early spirited independence and rejection of convention. Instead, what you get in this RSC production is crass, crude and grim. I was surrounded by uncomfortable, nervous laughter at some of the more graphic aspects of the director Conall Morrison's interpretation.
Michelle Gomez as Katherine is expected to endure too much 'mock' physical abuse and Stephen Boxer as Petruchio makes far too many lewd gestures with beer bottles, food and items of clothing. There is nothing subtle, knowing or satirical.
I think the actors do their best, despite the director's interpretation. Gomez (best known for her comedy role in the Green Wing) is lively and spirited. Petruchio isn't an easy character to like and Boxer succeeds in making him cunning, manipulative and two faced.
But while they and the rest of the cast may be talented, they are totally let down by a production which should have been buried in Stratford and not brought to London.
Of course, things may have dramatically improved in the second half, but I fear not. The RSC can, and almost always does, do so much better than this. The theatre was half empty - and I can't say I'm surprised.
(Written by Penelope)
I have a confession to make. I left at the interval. This production is such a mess that it made me unwilling to leave my glass of wine at the bar and return to my seat. That's a first.
We all know the play isn't exactly written for the 21st century. It's deeply misogynistic and the two women characters - Katherine and Bianca - are symbols of a late 16th century woman's unhappy lot. Katherine is the property of first her father, Baptista, and then her husband, Petruchio. It's enough to make anyone squirm.
A clever production would make you value Katherine's early spirited independence and rejection of convention. Instead, what you get in this RSC production is crass, crude and grim. I was surrounded by uncomfortable, nervous laughter at some of the more graphic aspects of the director Conall Morrison's interpretation.
Michelle Gomez as Katherine is expected to endure too much 'mock' physical abuse and Stephen Boxer as Petruchio makes far too many lewd gestures with beer bottles, food and items of clothing. There is nothing subtle, knowing or satirical.
I think the actors do their best, despite the director's interpretation. Gomez (best known for her comedy role in the Green Wing) is lively and spirited. Petruchio isn't an easy character to like and Boxer succeeds in making him cunning, manipulative and two faced.
But while they and the rest of the cast may be talented, they are totally let down by a production which should have been buried in Stratford and not brought to London.
Of course, things may have dramatically improved in the second half, but I fear not. The RSC can, and almost always does, do so much better than this. The theatre was half empty - and I can't say I'm surprised.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
6/2/09, RSC, Novello.
(Written by Penelope)
"The course of true love never did run smooth" Lysander tells Hermia right at the start of A Midsummer Night's Dreamy. And so it proves for every character in the play. With jealous fathers and lovers, mischievous fairies and magic spells which go awry, it does look like love will go wrong for everyone. This is a clever, genuinely funny production where the themes are love, identity, illusion and nature. Directed by Gregory Doran, it has pace, humour and moments of surprise and stark emotion.
The RSC is renowned for its ensemble work and this play demonstrates how effective that can be. All the actors are accomplished, are generous to each other and spark off one another. However, there are some performances which stand out - Peter de Jersey as the grumpy, controlling king of the fairies, Oberon, is wonderful and authoritative. Joe Dixon as Bottom gives a fabulous comic performance full of confusion and slapstick. Edward Bennett as Demetrius has noticeably grown in confidence and presence since standing in for David Tennant in the recent Hamlet (few actors have his clarity of speech and ability to project).
But Natalie Walter as Helena steals several scenes with her sad yearning for Demetrius and then her comic timing when Lysander pursues her in the wood; she is both knowing and innocent and it's a lovely portrayal.
The sets, costumes and fabulous lighting combine to show the contrast between the scenes in the wood, controlled by the fairies and the more stark, city scenes. The difference between the dreamworld and reality - at the heart of the play - is superbly enhanced by them. The choreography of the fairies where they move, slightly eerily together, being at the same time visible to the audience, but invisible to the players, works remarkably well. The ass's head worn by Bottom, with its expressive, floppy ears is wonderful. And there is some creepily effective puppetry.
The plot is complicated - there are three simultaneous stories and a lot of hilarity - but this production allows you to follow all three and they hold your interest equally. For me, the bawdy humour in the play scene after the three weddings was a bit laboured and relentless. But judging by the laughs around me, I was in a minority.
The cast managed the delicate balancing act between Shakespeare's jokes and the moments of serious emotion and tragedy well. It's enormously moving and shocking when Hermia (Kathryn Drysdale) says of Lysander (Tom Davey), after Puck's spell has made him fall out of love with her, "What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! Wherefore!".
When all the spells are broken and the chaos is over, we are left with the perverse logic of the trickster, Puck. His message is that while his shadows and enchantments may have offended, everything is now fixed so we can all be friends. It's a huge and hopeful contrast to many of Shakespeare's other plays and one which leaves the audience smiling and nodding in agreement.
(Written by Penelope)
"The course of true love never did run smooth" Lysander tells Hermia right at the start of A Midsummer Night's Dreamy. And so it proves for every character in the play. With jealous fathers and lovers, mischievous fairies and magic spells which go awry, it does look like love will go wrong for everyone. This is a clever, genuinely funny production where the themes are love, identity, illusion and nature. Directed by Gregory Doran, it has pace, humour and moments of surprise and stark emotion.
The RSC is renowned for its ensemble work and this play demonstrates how effective that can be. All the actors are accomplished, are generous to each other and spark off one another. However, there are some performances which stand out - Peter de Jersey as the grumpy, controlling king of the fairies, Oberon, is wonderful and authoritative. Joe Dixon as Bottom gives a fabulous comic performance full of confusion and slapstick. Edward Bennett as Demetrius has noticeably grown in confidence and presence since standing in for David Tennant in the recent Hamlet (few actors have his clarity of speech and ability to project).
But Natalie Walter as Helena steals several scenes with her sad yearning for Demetrius and then her comic timing when Lysander pursues her in the wood; she is both knowing and innocent and it's a lovely portrayal.
The sets, costumes and fabulous lighting combine to show the contrast between the scenes in the wood, controlled by the fairies and the more stark, city scenes. The difference between the dreamworld and reality - at the heart of the play - is superbly enhanced by them. The choreography of the fairies where they move, slightly eerily together, being at the same time visible to the audience, but invisible to the players, works remarkably well. The ass's head worn by Bottom, with its expressive, floppy ears is wonderful. And there is some creepily effective puppetry.
The plot is complicated - there are three simultaneous stories and a lot of hilarity - but this production allows you to follow all three and they hold your interest equally. For me, the bawdy humour in the play scene after the three weddings was a bit laboured and relentless. But judging by the laughs around me, I was in a minority.
The cast managed the delicate balancing act between Shakespeare's jokes and the moments of serious emotion and tragedy well. It's enormously moving and shocking when Hermia (Kathryn Drysdale) says of Lysander (Tom Davey), after Puck's spell has made him fall out of love with her, "What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! Wherefore!".
When all the spells are broken and the chaos is over, we are left with the perverse logic of the trickster, Puck. His message is that while his shadows and enchantments may have offended, everything is now fixed so we can all be friends. It's a huge and hopeful contrast to many of Shakespeare's other plays and one which leaves the audience smiling and nodding in agreement.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
HAMLET, RSC
London transfer, with and without David Tennant
(Written by Penelope)
I liked Edward Bennett, I really did. He was a good Hamlet. (Bennett was understudy for David Tennant, who was absent from the RSC's London run of Hamlet for three weeks, while Tennant had an operation on a prolapsed disc). Bennett was clear, focussed, his 'To Be or Not To Be...' was moving and effective. I believed in his love for Ophelia, his love for Gertrude and his death scene made several people in the audience around me cry.
I was incredibly lucky, though, a week after seeing Edward Bennett to see David Tennant play the role.I don't mean to be cruel, but the two actors really are in a different league. Bennett shows promise and has poise. Tennant is an actor who makes you suspend your disbelief, forget where you are and who inhabits a part. He doesn't just speak the verse, he becomes the words and the emotions in it. It was the most extraordinary performance I've ever seen at the theatre (the only other that comes close was seeing Patrick Stewart play Macbeth a year ago).
So what was so special? Tennant shows an understanding of Shakespeare and of the part that makes you forget he's best known for playing a 900-year-old Time Lord. He seemed to absorb all the joys and miseries of Hamlet and make them his own. His descent into madness was both moving and very funny. He manages to make 400 year old verse sound contemporary and fresh. Watching his 'To Be or Not To Be' was amazing - there was such a spontaneity that it was as if Hamlet were formulating his thoughts about what he should do right in front of your eyes. He convinces you that he feels every emotion and and that the revelations in the final duelling scene are making his heart break.
He's very physical and athletic, he moves around the stage a lot, but his Hamlet is more than just about perpetual movement; it's about the words. From his acerbic disapproval of his mother's marriage to his uncle -- "I shall in all my best obey you, madam" -- to his preposterous labelling of Polonius as a 'fishmonger' and finally, his wretched, premature death -- "I thou didst ever hold me in thy heart" -- all of these were delivered in such a convincing way that you were whisked into another, darker world and made to not only understand, but feel the meaning of the verse.
He plays to the audience but also to his fellow actors. David Tennant's impact on the other members of the cast was also very marked. Oliver Ford Davies, who played Polonius, was described by one critic as the best ever in that role. He was good with Edward Bennett. But against Tennant's Hamlet, he was funnier, louder, bigger, sadder, more tragic, more exasperated and more loveable. Hamlet's accidental murder of Polonius was somehow more tragic in the Tennant version. Penny Downie as Gertrude was different too -- their scene in her chamber was so tender and passionate that it was almost painful to watch. Her later realisation that Claudius had duped her and that her son had been right was shocking in its intensity. And with Tennant, Hamlet's love for his faithful friend Horatio (Peter De Jersey) was palpable.
Patrick Stewart was magnificent in both versions, but his interaction with Tennant's mocking Hamlet sent shivers up your spine. Seeing two talented Shakespearean actors playing against one another was joyous.
If I wanted to be critical, I would say that years of television mean that Tennant needs to work on projecting his voice better. A couple of times he was almost inaudible to those sitting in the upper tiers of the theatre. And while I found his grief for Ophelia at her graveside astonishingly affecting, I wasn't entirely convinced by his love for her in their earlier scenes together. But overall, I would say that I can't quite believe my luck that I managed to have a ticket to see one of the most magical performances from an actor who is clearly on top of his game and who promises so much more in the years to come.
And while I'm not exactly a screaming teenager, I would say that David Tennant really has amazing talents and is so much more than Dr Who, wonderful as he is in that role. If I were the RSC, I'd line him up now to play Macbeth in 5-10 years.
(Written by Penelope)
I liked Edward Bennett, I really did. He was a good Hamlet. (Bennett was understudy for David Tennant, who was absent from the RSC's London run of Hamlet for three weeks, while Tennant had an operation on a prolapsed disc). Bennett was clear, focussed, his 'To Be or Not To Be...' was moving and effective. I believed in his love for Ophelia, his love for Gertrude and his death scene made several people in the audience around me cry.
I was incredibly lucky, though, a week after seeing Edward Bennett to see David Tennant play the role.I don't mean to be cruel, but the two actors really are in a different league. Bennett shows promise and has poise. Tennant is an actor who makes you suspend your disbelief, forget where you are and who inhabits a part. He doesn't just speak the verse, he becomes the words and the emotions in it. It was the most extraordinary performance I've ever seen at the theatre (the only other that comes close was seeing Patrick Stewart play Macbeth a year ago).
So what was so special? Tennant shows an understanding of Shakespeare and of the part that makes you forget he's best known for playing a 900-year-old Time Lord. He seemed to absorb all the joys and miseries of Hamlet and make them his own. His descent into madness was both moving and very funny. He manages to make 400 year old verse sound contemporary and fresh. Watching his 'To Be or Not To Be' was amazing - there was such a spontaneity that it was as if Hamlet were formulating his thoughts about what he should do right in front of your eyes. He convinces you that he feels every emotion and and that the revelations in the final duelling scene are making his heart break.
He's very physical and athletic, he moves around the stage a lot, but his Hamlet is more than just about perpetual movement; it's about the words. From his acerbic disapproval of his mother's marriage to his uncle -- "I shall in all my best obey you, madam" -- to his preposterous labelling of Polonius as a 'fishmonger' and finally, his wretched, premature death -- "I thou didst ever hold me in thy heart" -- all of these were delivered in such a convincing way that you were whisked into another, darker world and made to not only understand, but feel the meaning of the verse.
He plays to the audience but also to his fellow actors. David Tennant's impact on the other members of the cast was also very marked. Oliver Ford Davies, who played Polonius, was described by one critic as the best ever in that role. He was good with Edward Bennett. But against Tennant's Hamlet, he was funnier, louder, bigger, sadder, more tragic, more exasperated and more loveable. Hamlet's accidental murder of Polonius was somehow more tragic in the Tennant version. Penny Downie as Gertrude was different too -- their scene in her chamber was so tender and passionate that it was almost painful to watch. Her later realisation that Claudius had duped her and that her son had been right was shocking in its intensity. And with Tennant, Hamlet's love for his faithful friend Horatio (Peter De Jersey) was palpable.
Patrick Stewart was magnificent in both versions, but his interaction with Tennant's mocking Hamlet sent shivers up your spine. Seeing two talented Shakespearean actors playing against one another was joyous.
If I wanted to be critical, I would say that years of television mean that Tennant needs to work on projecting his voice better. A couple of times he was almost inaudible to those sitting in the upper tiers of the theatre. And while I found his grief for Ophelia at her graveside astonishingly affecting, I wasn't entirely convinced by his love for her in their earlier scenes together. But overall, I would say that I can't quite believe my luck that I managed to have a ticket to see one of the most magical performances from an actor who is clearly on top of his game and who promises so much more in the years to come.
And while I'm not exactly a screaming teenager, I would say that David Tennant really has amazing talents and is so much more than Dr Who, wonderful as he is in that role. If I were the RSC, I'd line him up now to play Macbeth in 5-10 years.
Saturday, 3 January 2009
THE TRAGEDY OF THOMAS HOBBES
5/12/08, RSC, Wilton’s Music Hall
2hrs 50. New play by an American, Adriano Shaplin (from Burlington, VT, and a member of the Riot Group) about the early years of the Royal Society and the rise of empirical science (“natural philosophy”) as opposed to an older, purely intellectual approach to philosophy represented by the aged Thomas Hobbes, returned from exile in the dying days of Cromwell’s regime. One of the first productions by the RSC’s new ensemble, together for (two? three?) years, like the Histories ensemble. Commissioned jointly by the RSC and Mass Inst of Tech, of all people!
Wilton’s reconfigured. Steeply raked stalls going right up to the level of the gallery at the back: solves the problem of the lousy sight lines, though the bare back wall of the stage still means the acoustics aren’t up to much. A bridge across the top of the stage linking the gallery on either side, with a staircase down through the scaffolding onto the stage (which was also, I think, higher than normal and raked…).
Done in 17th century costume and written for the most part in a “high-flown” style which occasionally sounded authentically Restoration, at other times just overblown, but with occasional anachronistic modern interjections. Gresham’s College was referred to throughout as “our group”; one of the “actors” said “OK” at one point; the king, Charles II, was played by Arsher Ali as a kind of louche rockstar in fright wig. The last scene was an extract from Thomas Shadwell’s 1667 play, The Virtuoso, a satire on the “experimentall” philosophers and “virtuosi” of Gresham’s (by now the Royal Society) with their odd goings-on, like dissecting lobsters and building vacuum pumps – in other words, just the sort of thing we’ve seen the “real” virtuosi in Shaplin’s play getting up to.
A great sprawling play, not lacking ambition, but packed if anything with too many good things: any one of half a dozen elements could have been extracted and turned into a play in its own right. A cast of 15, never boring, but ultimately a bit unsatisfactory.
Hobbes (Stephen Boxer) was in fact a rather minor character and unsympathetic. He was a trimmer because he believed only a strong sovereign could save society from violence, war and disorder – which was one of the ideas that might have been worth expanding dramatically. His arrogance wouldn’t let him see that the Gresham-ites were the future: he engages in a pamphlet war with one who criticises (correctly) his grasp of geometry and then gatecrashes the Gresham-ites’ big presentation to the king with a curious dramatical-satirical interlude which lost me completely.
If the play was anyone’s tragedy it was Robert Hooke’s, the hunchback, working class mechanical genius recruited by one of the virtuosi and then stolen by another (Robert Boyle, Gresham’s wealthy patron as well as the framer of Boyle’s Law). Hooke (Jack Laskey – very good) eventually went mad, committing some of the same mistakes as Hobbes, refusing to admit, for instance, that the young Isaac Newton had done more than simply regurgitate Hooke’s ideas with one tiny addition – a failure to acknowledge, as D observed, that science progresses by each generation standing on giants’ shoulders.
The Gresham-ites, despite being the future, came across as rather unsympathetic – variously grasping, pompous, drunken and obsequious, except for Boyle who was an emotionless prig and was played for some reason by a woman (Amanda Hadingue) – the only woman in the cast, and one of the weaker links.
There was a sub-plot involving a pair of actors, thrown out of work by Cromwell’s closure of the theatres. One (played by the extraordinary Angus Wright – tall, angular, wonderful resonant posh voice; we saw him as the German officer in War Horse at the National) has been reduced to male prostitution in white facepaint and woman’s gown when picked up and recruited as companion by the homosexual Boyle. Then he falls out with Boyle when Hooke arrives, and ends up with Hobbes, enemy of all the Gresham-ites, helping to mount his satirical dramatic ambush. Confused? I was.
Quite a lot of the play was confusing, in fact. Maybe because Shaplin had tried to get too much in. At one point Boyle asks whether Hooke is a member of “our secret sect”, or words to that effect. Since Boyle has already been established as homosexual I thought that’s what he meant. My god, you ask yourself, was the entire Royal Society gay? Were the foundations of modern empirical science laid by a bunch of inverts? Later it becomes clear the sect is Anglicanism, driven underground by Cromwell’s Presbyterians.
2hrs 50. New play by an American, Adriano Shaplin (from Burlington, VT, and a member of the Riot Group) about the early years of the Royal Society and the rise of empirical science (“natural philosophy”) as opposed to an older, purely intellectual approach to philosophy represented by the aged Thomas Hobbes, returned from exile in the dying days of Cromwell’s regime. One of the first productions by the RSC’s new ensemble, together for (two? three?) years, like the Histories ensemble. Commissioned jointly by the RSC and Mass Inst of Tech, of all people!
Wilton’s reconfigured. Steeply raked stalls going right up to the level of the gallery at the back: solves the problem of the lousy sight lines, though the bare back wall of the stage still means the acoustics aren’t up to much. A bridge across the top of the stage linking the gallery on either side, with a staircase down through the scaffolding onto the stage (which was also, I think, higher than normal and raked…).
Done in 17th century costume and written for the most part in a “high-flown” style which occasionally sounded authentically Restoration, at other times just overblown, but with occasional anachronistic modern interjections. Gresham’s College was referred to throughout as “our group”; one of the “actors” said “OK” at one point; the king, Charles II, was played by Arsher Ali as a kind of louche rockstar in fright wig. The last scene was an extract from Thomas Shadwell’s 1667 play, The Virtuoso, a satire on the “experimentall” philosophers and “virtuosi” of Gresham’s (by now the Royal Society) with their odd goings-on, like dissecting lobsters and building vacuum pumps – in other words, just the sort of thing we’ve seen the “real” virtuosi in Shaplin’s play getting up to.
A great sprawling play, not lacking ambition, but packed if anything with too many good things: any one of half a dozen elements could have been extracted and turned into a play in its own right. A cast of 15, never boring, but ultimately a bit unsatisfactory.
Hobbes (Stephen Boxer) was in fact a rather minor character and unsympathetic. He was a trimmer because he believed only a strong sovereign could save society from violence, war and disorder – which was one of the ideas that might have been worth expanding dramatically. His arrogance wouldn’t let him see that the Gresham-ites were the future: he engages in a pamphlet war with one who criticises (correctly) his grasp of geometry and then gatecrashes the Gresham-ites’ big presentation to the king with a curious dramatical-satirical interlude which lost me completely.
If the play was anyone’s tragedy it was Robert Hooke’s, the hunchback, working class mechanical genius recruited by one of the virtuosi and then stolen by another (Robert Boyle, Gresham’s wealthy patron as well as the framer of Boyle’s Law). Hooke (Jack Laskey – very good) eventually went mad, committing some of the same mistakes as Hobbes, refusing to admit, for instance, that the young Isaac Newton had done more than simply regurgitate Hooke’s ideas with one tiny addition – a failure to acknowledge, as D observed, that science progresses by each generation standing on giants’ shoulders.
The Gresham-ites, despite being the future, came across as rather unsympathetic – variously grasping, pompous, drunken and obsequious, except for Boyle who was an emotionless prig and was played for some reason by a woman (Amanda Hadingue) – the only woman in the cast, and one of the weaker links.
There was a sub-plot involving a pair of actors, thrown out of work by Cromwell’s closure of the theatres. One (played by the extraordinary Angus Wright – tall, angular, wonderful resonant posh voice; we saw him as the German officer in War Horse at the National) has been reduced to male prostitution in white facepaint and woman’s gown when picked up and recruited as companion by the homosexual Boyle. Then he falls out with Boyle when Hooke arrives, and ends up with Hobbes, enemy of all the Gresham-ites, helping to mount his satirical dramatic ambush. Confused? I was.
Quite a lot of the play was confusing, in fact. Maybe because Shaplin had tried to get too much in. At one point Boyle asks whether Hooke is a member of “our secret sect”, or words to that effect. Since Boyle has already been established as homosexual I thought that’s what he meant. My god, you ask yourself, was the entire Royal Society gay? Were the foundations of modern empirical science laid by a bunch of inverts? Later it becomes clear the sect is Anglicanism, driven underground by Cromwell’s Presbyterians.
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