“Boris Godunov” by Alexander Pushkin (translated by Adrian Mitchell)

at the Swan Theatre, Wednesday 28th November 2012

Originally written for Exeunt.

After a slow-burning first hour, Michael Boyd’s production of Boris Godunov comes into its own in the final sixty minutes, as he throws Alexander Pushin’s drama about autocracy and rebellion into fifth gear, hurtling towards a powerful conclusion. And though it’s not Boyd’s most inventive, exciting or powerful production, it makes some nods towards his style as Artistic Director and is a fitting end to his tenure.

The story of Boris Godunov is similar to many of Shakespeare’s kings. A Russian Tsar who came to power in 1598 through questionable circumstances, popular opinion of him soured during his seven years in office before he died of a heart attack as rebel forces, led by the pretender Grigory Otrepiev (a young monk), began chipping away at his regime in the guise of Prince Dmitry, the dead heir. In 1825, Pushkin mythologized and distorted the story somewhat to make the narrative one of power and revolution, though it was banned by censors and never really given a proper staging until the 1980s.

Michael Boyd’s production (utilising a poetic translation by Adrian Mitchell) moves through eras smoothly, opening with actors dressed in sixteenth century garments and moving steadily through the ages to Stalinistic furs and, finally, simple business wear complete with iPhones and microphones. It’s a simple idea, and is done with a light enough touch that we don’t really notice until key points that the tone has changed. The point it makes, however – that Russia has been ruled by tyrants for as long as anyone can remember – is hardly subtle, and I question somewhat the hope this gives for any stable future in Russia it’s suggested that the country is basically ungovernable.

Boyd’s trademark during his time at the RSC has become the singular, striking image, and there is no shortage of them here. From the loud opening montage of moments which we will see over the next two hours to the disconcerting levels present in the final tableau, this is a production which works through a conversation with aesthetics. The climactic battle scenes are as good as any in the Histories cycle, complete with semi-gymnastic movement and a constant stream of actors. At another point, a fountain is beautifully and simply evoked using bowls and jugs.

Tom Piper’s simple set consists of a brushed wood floor and a gold scaffold with hanging costumes (another charming nod to the design of the Histories), and allows breathing space for some charming performances. Though he takes a while to warm up, Gethin Anthony as Grigory presents himself as a man of the people and a more worthy leader than Boris; his wooing scene with Lucy Briggs-Owen’s Princess Maryna is delightfully balanced, as she offers the perfect foil to his presumptuous advances. Lloyd Hutchison’s Boris is the opposite of Grigory, portraying a strong, sturdy man who achieves his goals through talking rather than action and gets rid of his opponents with knowing hints to Prince Shuiskii (played by the brilliant James Tucker who, quite frankly, steals every scene he’s in).

But for all it’s strengths, Boris Godunov fails to really capture the imagination or probe deeply into the question at hand. By having the mob commit violent acts towards the end of the play, Pushkin clearly attempts to make some point about the dangerous nature of revolution and its relationship with tyranny, but all these interesting ideas feel hidden at the end of Boyd’s production. Then again, this sums up what Boyd’s best at; making the personal political and vice versa, drawing on a range of influences to get the widest possible scope. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting something a little more exciting for Boyd’s final show, but it’s nonetheless a production with the detail, power and humour which has defined his Artistic Directorship.

 

“Richard III” by William Shakespeare

at Shakespeare’s Globe, Saturday 28th July 2012

Many actors explain that for every character they play, no matter how evil, they have to be sympathetic in order to craft a truthful performance. In Richard III at the Globe, Mark Rylance goes a step further, ensuring audiences fall deeply in love with the anti-hero. We don’t love to hate him, but love to love this gentle, misunderstood and unstable Richard. But though Rylance’s performance and the support from those around him are strong, under Tim Carroll’s direction the two never quite work together.

From the moment he limps onto stage, Rylance is utterly magnetic. He holds the attention of the audience with a simple look or a well-timed sniff. At one point, a mobile phone beeps and he darts his head in the direction of the sound like a meerkat looking out over the desert. His laugh bellows around the auditorium, and it’s not until he’s bumped off a few enemies that we realise he’s the bad guy. Rylance suggests a slight autism in this Richard; his remarkable cunning is balanced by relatively weak social skills, meaning that along with his deformity he is truly an underdog. Like true Brits, we support him wholeheartedly, and indeed are implicit in his rise to power, taking the part of the civilians in the monk scene. Then again, we also support his downfall, as Richmond summons our cheers; just like our everyday selves, we can be played by politicians’ hyperbole, and change our mind without hesitation.

Rylance’s final scenes are truly heartbreaking, as the suggestion that he never really knew what he was doing becomes apparent. He sees the ghosts of his victims during his battle with Richmond (after seeing them looking like white turds in his dreams) and it suddenly dawns on him that he’s a murderer. His struggle is a constant one between latent violence and pure gentleness, and its the meeting of these which cause his demise.

Contrary to my words in my Henry V review, the Globe here finds strong support for Rylance. Liam Brennan’s grounded and kingly Clarence shows what England missed out on, and Paul Chahidi’s somewhat effeminate Hastings shows the corruption doesn’t just lie with Richard. Roger Lloyd pack is somewhat prone to declamation as Buckingham, but his comic timing forgives this, and though it initially seems James Garnon’s Duchess of York is going to be a caricature, there is surprising depth to this portrayal which goes beyond the visual joke of her gliding across the stage. Johnny Flynn’s Lady Anne doesn’t quite manage to capture the hurt the new queen suffers, though perhaps his performance is simply made to look weak against Samuel Barnett’s fine turn as Queen Elizabeth, demonstrating strong, principled opposition to Richard’s actions.

But though Carroll discovers some intriguing performances, it’s difficult to see why this group of people weren’t able to stop this gentle Richard. Their weaknesses are barely tangible; the only way this Richard would be able to come to power would be if he was surrounded by bumbling sycophants, but in this case the court is (mostly) fairly astute.

I also suspect that Jenny Tirimani’s Elizabethan costume and design, though gorgeous, doesn’t help matters. A Richard as different as Rylance’s needs an alternative context in which to work due to its removal from Shakespeare’s initial pantomimic portrait. The reason behind the decision to have an all-male cast in this instance also eludes me, for it seems to neither to add nor take away anything. These performances would not be much different in a black-box studio with a mixed cast (at least then we’d be rid of the Globe’s determination to create lazy comedy). Some would argue that ‘original-practices’ is a form of avant-gardism, which is ludicrous, seeing as to do so is to reject the last four hundred years of development in theatre. Still, that argument is for another day.

Watching Richard III on the same day as Henry V brings an interesting contrast to light. At the climax of each tetralogy of the Histories, Shakespeare shows two major uses of theatre; as reflection on issues within society (Richard III) and as a vehicle for hope (Henry V). And though it’s not quite as simple as that, it strikes me that perhaps this is the reason why neither production really works. There are elements of exposing corruption and hope respectively, but neither goes the whole hog. Nonetheless, they are representative of a general rise in the Histories’ popularity over the past few years (since the RSC’s cycle) as these plays get the recognition they deserve and we attempt to understand better our own links with history and where that may lead us in the future.

“Henry V” by William Shakespeare

at Shakespeare’s Globe, Saturday 28th July 2012

Two years ago, following the superb Henry IVs Parts 1 and 2, I begged “for Jamie Parker as Henry V at some point in the near future”. Well, my prayers were answered (yes, I like to think this was all down to me) and I wasn’t wrong; in Dominic Dromgoole’s production of Henry V at the Globe, Parker gives a wonderful performance as the charismatic king. Unfortunately, however, the production is let down by a less than impressive ensemble and rather indulgent direction.

I don’t understand how it has become normal at the Globe to have strong central performances and weak supporting actors. Granted, it’s a hard space to master, but the likes of Parker, Rylance, Allam and Best prove it’s not impossible. Why, then, do shows consistently cast actors who feel it necessary to gesticulate wildly and lose all trace of awareness of the space? It’s all well and good to do straight-laced productions of Shakespeare, but the least we expect from that is a strong cast.

One of the worst perpetrators of this in Henry V is Sam Cox, who plays Pistol as a cross between Russell Kane and Jack Sparrow but who is let down by supreme self-awareness and seems to be working by the mantra ‘do anything, as long as it gets a laugh’. Brid Brennan’s Chorus is equally uninspiring, and speaks the lines with such anger and wide-eyed menace that it’s difficult to take her seriously; there is little chance we will imagine the scenes she asks us to with such bizarre delivery. When Olivia Ross speaks her lines as the young boy, her hands seem to be imitating an air traffic controller, though she is redeemed by her sweet portrayal of Katherine.

Nigel Cooke’s Exeter injects some charisma into proceedings and Brendan O’Hea’s Fluellen is – most of the time – hilarious. But no one even comes close to matching Parker’s affable, strong-willed, knowing Harry. He walks around the stage with such ease and converses with the audience in such laid-back tones that we really do feel part of his army. “Once more unto the breach” is delivered with searing energy and when he looks you square in the eye and says “We happy few”, it’s explicit that you’re on his side. It’s only a shame he didn’t get to play the king in the same season as Hal; I suspect his performance would be even richer in a shorter timeframe.

Jonathan Fensom’s set is a disintegrated version of the Henry IV design, and the squabbles between the nations of Britain here are brought to the forefront, showing a kingdom on the edge of collapse (with so much talk of “Britain” at the moment this play comes across as supremely English). The stylised fight scenes are also a nice addition, though more enthusiasm from certain members of the cast at these points wouldn’t go amiss.

But perhaps what’s most interesting about this production, especially considering so many aspects are taken from the previous Henry IVs, is that it shows Henry V to be very much a play which only makes sense in the context of the histories. The Falstaff scenes are lost on much of the audience and some of the characters are paper-thin in this play without the aid of previous narratives. The fact Dromgoole doesn’t attempt to smooth over these issues is an oversight, and though Parker shines, its difficult not to think he’s driving a slightly faulty vehicle.

“Henry VI Part 3″ by William Shakespeare

at Shakespeare’s Globe, Sunday 13th May 2012

As someone who is of a generation whose collective memory kicks in just as peace was being restored to the Balkans, it’s easy to forget the region’s turbulent past. Henry VI Part 3, presented by the National Theatre Bitola in Macedonian, manages to remind us of these terrible wars whilst maintaining a light-hearted tone, commenting on and joking about the nature of conflict.

John Blondell’s production is smart, stylish and slick. In a pared back and intelligent aesthetic, everyone wears a deep blue, with accessories to determine whether their allegiance is to York or Lancaster. Heightened violence mixed with a brutal honesty keeps the battle scenes sharp, but when necessary we are left alone with the characters and the words to allow Shakespeare and the actors to work their magic.

The divisions here are clearly along family lines, and care has been taken to make relationships between the characters truthful. Edward (Ogne Drangovski), Richard (a vicious terrier-like Martin Mirchevski) and George (Filip Mirchevski – the brother of Martin, I assume) are a brilliant trio, and their roles are balanced perfectly. In contrast to Drangovski’s laddish Edward is Peter Gorko’s gentle, wise Henry VI, tired of the fighting but egged on by those around him.

Most impressive in this production are the women. When Gabriela Petrushevska’s marvellously persuasive and headstrong Margaret meets with Sonja Mihajlova’s manipulative Warwick and Kristina Hristova Nikolova’s flamboyant Lewis of France, we are treated to one of the best scenes in the production. Their initial hostility quickly becomes a realisation of their shared power, acting as metaphor for the role of women in conflict.

What makes this production so successful, then, is the way it handles contrast: men with women; peace with war; funny with serious; real with surreal; solitude with madness. This hinges on the soliloquies of Henry and Richard towards the end of the first act, delivered with wit and eloquence, underscored neatly by Miodgrag Nećak. And though the thought that what we are witnessing is a putting to rest of the Balkan’s difficult past is probably aided by the presence of the Albanian and Serbian companies earlier in the day, it can’t be helped considering these complex and wide-ranging plays as allegories for the not-so-distant past.

“Henry VI Part 2″ by William Shakespeare

at Shakespeare’s Globe, Sunday 13th May 2012

The time has come. After a handful of sub-par productions presented as part of the World Shakespeare Festival, the Globe to Globe season has struck shit with the National Theatre of Albania’s take on Henry VI Part 2. I can’t remember the last time I saw such a shoddy, lazy production of a Shakespeare play.

If there was an interpretation, it was nigh-on impossible to spot. The extent of Adonis Filipi’s direction was a decision to put the opposing sides in red and blue and shove in a number of under-rehearsed movement pieces, which involved out-of-time actors performing steps either up and down or round and round (the séance is particularly laughable). Oh, and Filipi also throws in some scooters at the beginning for good measure. Don’t ask me why.

If audience members come out of this production thinking it was a play about people standing and shouting at one another, they’d be forgiven; I don’t know whether or not the National Theatre of Albania has an amateur-quota to fill, but it certainly feels that way. The actors look bored when not speaking, gazing into space or looking at the audience. Indrit Cobani’s Henry is weak and lifeless with no clout, and Yllka Mujo’s performance as Eleanor is completely overdone. There is some redemption in the form of Ermira Hysaj’s stoic Margaret, though her relationship with Suffolk (a passable Dritan Boriçi) is barely explored.

Lay this on top of Anila Zajmi Katanolli’s showy costumes, Armand Broshka’s quietly filmic but ill-fitting music and scene changes which wouldn’t look out of place in a school play, and you can imagine the results. I didn’t know it was possible, but Filipi has managed to create a production one of Shakespeare’s most political plays which says almost nothing.

“Henry VI Part 1″ by William Shakespeare

at Shakespeare’s Globe, Sunday 13th May 2012

I don’t envy National Theatre Belgrade for being given Henry VI Part 1 as their play in the Globe to Globe season; creating an exciting, sustained production of – arguably – one of Shakespeare’s worst plays without the narrative of the rest of the trilogy to prop up ideas is no mean feat. Astonishingly, however, under Nikita Milivojević’s direction, the play is given drama, intrigue and dashings of comedy.

Henry V’s ashes preside over the central round table, watching down on these squabbling protagonists until the end of the play. As his friends and heirs fight it out over who the kingdom belongs to, we are constantly reminded of a more harmonious period. In the present, however, there is no chance of peace any time soon, and whenever is slips into reach, it disappears swiftly.

Milivojević’s production, performed in Serbian, revels in the farcical nature of these factions. Much is made of Pavle Jerinić and Bojan Krivokapić’s comic messengers, who guide us through England’s confusing history with some wonderful bits of slapstick.

Elsewhere, it’s very clear to see that this is a production which sees the differences between the Yorkists and Lancastrians as petty and inconsequential. Boris Maksimović’s ingenious set, consisting of the central table which splits into various sections in order to create multiple settings, becomes a character in itself, dividing and segregating; the characters take their anger out on it by bashing loud drum beats on its surfaces to the time of Bora Dugić’s doom-laden music.

It’s easy to forget there are only twelve actors performing the many roles in this play. Though characterisations are sometimes reduced to archetypes (Predrag Ejdus’ Winchester) and some actors succumb to overacting at times, most cast members shine. Hadzi Nenad Marićić’s Henry and Aleksander Srećković’s Charles are well balanced, whilst neither Boris Pingović’s Somerset nor Slobodan Beŝtić’s Plantagenet come off well in their feud. Jelena Dulvezan, the only woman in the play, seems like the only sane person in this world of men.

There are a few issues; the slow-motion fighting could be a lot tighter and the scene changes smoother, but these are small problems in an otherwise brilliant piece of work. Marina Medenica’s intricate period costumes anchor the production in the past, but throughout we are constantly reminded that these banalities are exactly the basis for many wars. And as Henry V’s ashes are spilt by the messengers in a hilarious scene at the close of the play, it feels like the spectre of the past has disappeared and the stage has been set for clear future. If only that were the case.

“Two Roses for Richard III”

by Companhia Bufomecânica, based on Shakespeare’s Richard III

at the Courtyard Theatre, Tuesday 8th May 2012

*The performance reviewed was the last preview*

In 1863, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote of his concern that the work of artists would become “surcharged with immense and incoherent imagery, with exaggerated descriptions and strange creations”, making us “regret” reality. The Brazilian Companhia Bufomecânica’s Two Roses for Richard III, presented in Portuguese as part of the World Shakespeare Festival, is guilty of exactly these vices, and is such a hotch-potch of ideas and images (many of which are fantastic), presented with little coherence, that it is extremely difficult to follow, lacks drama and leaves us craving for a little sanity.

According to the programme notes, this production has taken inspiration from all eight of Shakespeare’s histories in order to present a new, contemporary version of Richard III. Alas, this barely comes through in the final production, which is basically a translated and conservatively edited production of the last History with a smattering of references to the prequels and a few postmodern asides to the audience (“I don’t know how to die on stage. I’m just an actor!”).

The show opens with an orgiastic movement number, with actors discarding their modern clothes in favour of generic-Elizabethan apparel. Richard, semi-naked, recounts his favourite speech, but before we know it three different actors are playing the character in the Lady Anne scene (supposedly to demonstrate his multi-faceted personality). Rowan Atkinson look-a-like Savio Moll takes most of Richard’s lines for the rest of the play, playing him as petulant and short-tempered, before Carol Machado plays the falling king in the final scenes opposite Julia Lund’s stoic Richmond. These shifts work academically, but on stage without signposts like common costumes or accessories it becomes difficult to follow who’s who and the nuanced differences between the versions.

Total theatre is attempted by directors Cláudio Baltar and Fabio Ferreira, incoporating projection, music, dance and acrobatics into the performance, but it is not fully achieved due to the overwhelming sense that the pieces of the jigsaw do not fit together. Renato and Rico Vilarouca’s video images look stunning, but have little in common with the subject matter of the scene, and Paulo Mantuano’s movement, though clever, too often lasts longer than is welcome (when the women are mourning, the cast just moves around the stage slowly for five minutes). Fernando Mello da Costa and Rostand Albuqueque’s set provides a sweeping blue platform for these aspects to play on, falling down from the back before jutting out and down towards the audience like a dropped ribbon.

The defining moments of this production are the carnivalesque circus acts, choreographed by Renato Linhares, which are used to represent murders or the supernatural. Clarence’s murderers climb onto a floating ladder to murder their charge and the two princes are slaughtered within what look like gigantic finger-traps, whilst the ghosts berate Richard and champion Richmond from high above the audience. Some stunning images are created, and along with Fabiano Krieger and Lucas Marcier’s fantastic soundtrack, which covers everything from basic drumming to contemporary electronica, we are treated to some moments of unadulterated theatricality.

Unfortunately, however, these stand-out scenes are negated by the saturation of ideas presented, which makes it difficult to know where to look or what to listen to (a fact not helped by the fact we find ourselves reading the English subtitles throughout). The visual effects do not add anything to the storyline and actually detract from the drama of Shakespeare’s text even if they do create memorable snapshots. As an academic exercise, Two Roses for Richard III throws up some interesting points about the play, its context and theatre in general, but the company would do well to undergo a little reflection to pare the production back in order to serve itself better as a piece of theatre. As it stands, it seems de Tocqueville was right, and over much of this long three-and-a-quarter hours we long to return to a concrete reality.

“Henry V” by William Shakespeare

Thank goodness a company has stepped up to the mark to criticise England amid the throng clamouring to declare their undying love for the country. In his production of Henry V, Edward Hall shows us that the king is not as much of a hero as me may like him to be; here, he is a tyrant, not caring about anything but his own lust for power and prestige.

The play is performed by a modern-day band of brothers, dressed in khaki and donning costumes which are collected from a range of centuries. Michael Pavelka’s scaffold set is made to feel like an oppressive box, and acts as a container for these boys and their toys. In true Propellor style, scene changes are fantastic and underlined with an eclectic soundtrack (which includes London Calling).

Hall demonstrates that male camaraderie should not be praised so highly, as these men unwaveringly take the lives of others in order to seem more masculine. Dugland Bruce-Lockart’s Henry, a little older than most who play the role, and looking like a slim Kenneth Branagh, is actually quite terrifying, presiding over the other men with only experience to fall back on. He worms his way into people’s pockets with a deceitful charm before snapping at them at the slightest hint of betrayal.

It does feel like there is a neglect of an overall aesthetic, which would be forgiven if more were made of the framing device of soldiers producing a play, and the decision hasn’t quite been made as to whether an audience is supposed to laugh or not, meaning we feel unnecessarily aware of our reactions. Nevertheless, the show is slick and pacey (though the second act feels about ten minutes too long) and Ben Ormerod offers up some impressive lighting during the battle scenes.

This being an ensemble company in the truest sense, it’s difficult to pick out performances, but Chris Myles’ Exeter is quietly menacing and Nick Asbury’s Montjoy has a slimy quietude; his descent into a gibbering wreck at the close of the play is astonishing. As Pistol, Bardolph and the Boy, Vince Leigh, Gary Shelford and Karl Davies are a brilliant threesome, making their demise all the more tragic.

Hall is not afraid here to suggest that England has drifted dangerously close to tyranny in the past, and by setting the framing device in a modern war zone he tells us not to let our guard down. By showing Henry V to be a play about tyranny, it brings it in line with the likes of Macbeth and Richard III, asking us to re-examine England’s influence and behaviour on the contemporary world stage.

“Richard III” by William Shakespeare

at the Swan Theatre, Monday 16th April 2012

*The performance reviewed was a preview*

Richard III is one of those plays which, on the page, seems to have many issues and feels a little like it doesn’t make sense and that characters’ motives are out of kilter with their actions. But rather than go down the route of many directors who try to smooth over these imperfections through ingenious devices, Roxana Silbert, in her production for the Royal Shakespeare Company’s “Nations at War” season, shows that these difficulties are part of the play. She shows us a distorted thriller, capitalizing on Gloucester’s ‘oddness’ in the charismatic, energetic performance of Jonjo O’Neill as our tragic hero.

Silbert’s setting is pretty much timeless, and puts the action at the heart of proceedings. At first, Ti Green’s tall steely set seems straight-laced and ordered, but within moments it’s clear that the floor panels are angled to look like off-centre reflections in a mirror. A Frankenstein-inspired light fitting (in a dark design by Rick Fisher), complete with wire frame and lightbulbs, hangs over the thrust. Doors and windows are constantly discovered at the back of the set, opening up portals onto ideas not yet contemplated. Nick Powell’s music is superb, and uses the tones and rhythms of a fifties spy thriller in order to set the scene. During the final sword fight, it makes everything feel like it is performed in slow motion.

Unfortunately, a few performances are over-acted. Pippa Nixon’s Lady Anne is not quick enough to match up to O’Neill’s Richard, and she is somewhat too liberal with her gestures. Likewise, Mark Jax’s Edward IV falls a little flat and Sandra Duncan’s Duchess of York verges on dull. Nevertheless, we are treated to solid performances from Edmund Kingsley’s Clarence and Alex Waldmann’s Sir Catesby, whilst Brian Ferguson’s Buckingham and Siobhan Redomond’s Elizabeth offer some impressive foils to this production’s Richard.

Jonjo O’Neill in the title role is, for me, nigh-on definitive. He moves away from so many actors’ decision to play the tormented prince as someone who is jolly in the presence of characters and sullen in the audience’s gaze. Instead, he is perpetually charming, and woos us with his skills as a comedian and presenter. We are entirely implicit in his rise, and when he addresses the citizens, we can’t help feeling we’re egging them on as Richard’s minions. The verse builds up in his mouth before being spat out, his tongue gliding over the vowels and dancing over the consonants. I haven’t ever heard these speeches spoken with such relish.

What’s particularly striking about this production is the number of times we find ourselves laughing. Right up until the incredible final sword fight (haven’t seen a proper one of those in a while), we are laughing along with Richard. It is this, matched with his oddity, which makes his demise so tragic. It feels like he may just joke his way out of execution, but just like him we’ve been able to see deep down the pain which would culminate with death. Richmond (Iain Batchelor) tries to take over by appealing to us near the end, but we can’t help feeling that with Richard dead, the state will be a far less interesting place to live.