“Medea” by Euripides (adapted by Mike Bartlett)

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 13th November 2012

This piece covers only my initial thoughts on the production. I’m writing a 3000-word essay for December on how Bartlett’s version reacts to the original and Greek tragedy in general, and that’ll go into more detail. I’ll see if I can make it available after writing it.

One of the main criticisms levelled at placing classic texts in modern settings is that the language seems anachronistic and allusions to weapons (daggers, swords etc) end up making little sense when the protagonists are wielding iPhones and laptops. In Headlong’s new production of Medea, however, this problem is solved by adapter/director Mike Bartlett, who makes Euripides’ original completely his own, introducing themes of depression, parenthood and twenty-first century gender politics. Under his direction, the play blends the best parts of both contemporary theatre and Greek tragedy, and though the final few moments are a little disappointing, there are some powerful moments throughout which bring to light a number of issues.

Strikingly, though Bartlett has basically rewritten the play himself, utilising his trademark quick-fire dialogue and hyper-aware modernist discussions, he remains alarmingly faithful to the structure and narrative thrust of Euripides’ original. Looking through an old translation, the scenes follow the same events and the tone of each is constant. Even more impressive, though (on the whole) the long speeches of the Greek version have been done away with, in certain scenes (specifically the first Jason/Medea scene) the power balance mirrors who’s talking in Euripides’ text. The effect, therefore, is that the grand Greek tragedy is always heard whispering beneath the surface.

Bartlett doesn’t shy away from asking similar questions to Euripides. The play is still about alienation, motherhood and fate, and each step of the way every one of these themes is questioned, interrogated and analysed with the same rigourousness of Euripides. In a post-Freudian era, however, the text shows itself to be even richer, as Bartlett attempts to understand some of the psychologies of these characters. They are still, broadly, the archetypes of the original, but he also slides in some thoughts about the causes and effects of depression and how modern ‘conveniences’ can have a negative impact on our social life.

The design, by Ruari Murchison, does something which is not possible in Medea’s original context. In it, we see a nondescript suburban house, complete with Ikea furniture and primary colours, and which can be opened and closed as necessary like a giant doll’s house. Some events happen within it and others outside, watched by the local builder. Whereas Euripides’ play was about the public consequences of private events, then, we see these more secretive moments occur and recognise the shift between Medea’s public and private personas.

There’s also some impressive work by lighting designer Johanna Town, who, alarmingly, actually brightens the stage as the action progresses; in one of the final scenes, the entire house is lit in bright white light, as clarity exists for the first time within Medea’s mind. Tom Mills’ composition is also extraordinary, at times taking filmic, thriller-type turns and at others using simple melodic motifs to highlight shifts in focus or finalised decisions.

The best thing about this production, however, is the performance given by Rachel Stirling in the title role, who manages to capture both the hugely tragic potential of this character and Bartlett’s depiction of twenty-first century womanhood. She is just as witty and fiery as Euripides’ original, and no attempt is made to shy away from her witch-like qualities. The whole show rests on this performance, and is successful because of it. Next to Stirling’s commanding portrayal, the rest of the cast look even more like the broad archetypes they are, with Sarah, Pam and the Workman (Lu Corfield, Amelia Lowdell & Paul Brendan) acting as a cross between the nurse, tutor and choric characters. Adam Levy’s Jason carefully walks the line between normal, charming father and complete and utter wanker. His scenes with Stirling are the best in the piece.

More than all this, however, Bartlett’s production demonstrates that Greek tragedy is possible in 2012, and that though we’ve moved to a more ‘enlightened’, rational sensibility, these events and stories are still just as moving as they ever were. The ‘perpetrators’ of these events may longer be the gods, but Headlong contest that similar fatalistic forces – like the state and society in general – are to blame for decisions such as the one to kill one’s own son (more on this later in follow-up essay).

This debate comes to head in the final moments when (*Spoiler alert*) Medea stands on the roof of her burning house (a nice nod to the vertical axis employed in Greek amphitheatres), shouting to God and asking him show himself, her dead and bloodied son lying next to her. In print, this scene is chilling, but something about the projected flames and over-elaborate set-change means these five minutes run the risk of seeming farcical. I wonder whether a similar effect could be achieved with less fuss; Bartlett’s words do the work for him, and by adding this parerphernalia his compelling argument, which has been so powerful in the previous ninety minutes, is lost.

“Boys” by Ella Hickson

at the Soho Theatre, Monday 4th June 2012

Since the British public were treated to a Conservative government, there seems to me to have been a drive towards plays which contemplate big issues surrounding modern life; Mike Bartlett is at the forefront of this wave of Big Issue plays (I’ll come up with a better name in time), with the likes of Laura Wade and Headlong following suit with Posh and Decade respectively. For my money, I’d be willing to bet that, like it or not, this style of theatre will become more and more popular in the coming years. Ella Hickson’s Boys is a step in this direction, cementing a style of theatre which embraces theatricality as a way of tackling sprawling topics.

Hickson’s play is set in an Edinburgh flat, in which Benny, Mack, Timp and Cam live (the first two are students, the latter living there as the rent is cheaper). It is the end of exams and the quartet party regularly, boozing and snorting the nights away. The bin bags have been piling up for weeks as the council refuses to remove them; Benny thinks this an outrage whilst Mack argues they are not “entitled” to free rubbish collection and fails to see why he should do anything about it. Hickson here shows a disenfranchised and hopeless youth, for while many are out protesting, the vast majority are sat at home wasting time. References to Disney throughout signify a desire to hold on to innocence and a time when fairy-tale endings were possible. It’s a clever trick; you’d be surprised by the number of times Disney is discussed and played by students in 2012.

The slowly accumulating bin bags are symptomatic of an underlying strain, for they bring out both protesters and police who proceed to face-off whilst the boys and their girlfriends party in the flat (Benny recounts the story to us from the window). After the big bags are heaved into the flat at the demands of the police, they cannot stay dormant for long, and in a rather beautiful moment the bags and their contents are thrown around the stage in a sort of binman’s ballet. This is where Hickson’s awareness of theatricality truly shows itself, and the detritus is left strewn around the flat for a long time afterwards.

The storyline surrounding Benny and his recent past (*highlight for spoiler* his brother recently hung himself) feels somewhat unnecessary to the narrative, though it’s clear he represents the death of one final hope for this generation, who have now been made devoid of ambition and power since their collective voice is listened to less and less. Those who want to fight are laughed at and ridiculed.

Robert Icke’s production, though a little slow, captures these images of loss and protest with some simple theatrical flair on an otherwise naturalistic set (Chloe Lamford). Samuel Edward Cook, Lorn Macdonald and Tom Mothersdale as Mack, Cam and Timp are frustratingly carefree and fail to notice the shift happening right outside their window. Equally, Laura and Sophie, played by Alison O’Donnell and Eve Ponsonby are not aware that the lives they are living have become pointless. It is only Benny who seems to care about the world around him, and Danny Kirrane’s endearing and open performance commands our sympathy.

Boys is not without its faults; the second act could do with some cuts and there are at times too many questions raised (interestingly, these are the same accusations which have been levelled at Bartlett in the past). But it manages to capture a mood among young people which straddles the line between wanting to do something but feeling powerless. Hickson, I suspect, will write better plays on similar subjects, but here we are witnessing the germination of a new era of playwriting in theatre. I don’t know exactly what it looks like yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s coming.

Pinterest board here: http://pinterest.com/danhutton/boys-by-ella-hickson/

“The Merchant of Venice” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Wednesday 18th May

You can say what you like about the RSC – that they represent the establishment, don’t push boundaries and have too much funding – but, like Michael Boyd’s recent Macbeth, Rupert Goold’s production of The Merchant of Venice proves that the company is once again trying to take risks, reinterpreting classics and showing them to be more than the stale stage versions we often see. Although Goold’s production isn’t without its faults, it presents a spectacle and a highly charged concept which brings out elements of Shakespeare’s text which weren’t previously evident.

Opening in true Gooldian style, with a casino pre-show followed by a song-and-dance routine, this Vegas production is brought headlong (gettit?) into the twenty-first century, and, for the most part, the text survives relatively intact. The world of excess in which the characters find themselves fits the themes of risk and greed perfectly and, like Goold’s ENRON and Earthquakes in London previously, we get a vision of a world obsessed by the material. Shifting the world of Belmont to a Deep South game show – “Destiny” – is nothing short of genius, offering a performative mirror to the showiness of Vegas.

The play, so often associated with racism, here becomes something different; this testosterone-fuelled world is exclusive of any sort of difference, showing our society to be a despicably intolerant one. The religious zealotism of America is the focal point – like gambling, believing in any form of god or otherwise is a risk. Some extraordinary moments in this production come through the sometimes heavy-handed concept. The ‘Destiny’ game show scenes are truly tense, and the final trial scene is stunningly performed by all.

In fact, the weakest link in this production is also its star name. Patrick Stewart, once again, plays Patrick Stewart, although this time with a dubious American accent. His two registers are more pronounced than usual, and he never portrays enough gravitas for us ever to take notice. The “If you prick us” speech comes out of nowhere and his voice simply limps through the space. Far more engaging are Jamie Beamish’s fantastical Launcelot ‘Elvis’ Gobbo and Howard Charles’ vicious Gratiano. Scott Handy provides a contemplative Antonio, and Richard Riddell’s Bassanio is the confident leader of a group of ‘Lads on Tour’. The performance of the evening, however, comes from Susannah Fielding’s aspirational Portia, whose pretence of putting on a classy public persona eventually forces her to break-down.

Tom Scutt’s garish blue and gold set-design evokes the trashy showiness of Vegas casinos, and Rick Fisher’s lighting makes the reflective surfaces both glamorous and grungy. Adam Cork’s music utilises Elvis, Duck Sauce and Glee, providing a perfect backdrop to Goold’s excessive world.

Although Goold’s concept sometimes comes through at the expense of the text in the first half, there are plenty of moments in which Shakespeare’s words are heard loud and clear. Some great performances and hilarious gags make this a highly watchable production which doesn’t see any issues with this ’problem’ play. Goold and his team have once again created a spectacle, emphasising a material world, ploughing through and never looking back.