“The Comedy of Errors” by William Shakespeare

at the Olivier Theatre, Tuesday 20th March 2012

Dominic Cooke had already been tipped by many to be the next artistic director of the National Theatre whilst Nicholas Hytner is still yet to announce his leaving date and before Cooke himself had even ventured into the building to direct something there. After The Comedy of Errors, however – his first production at the National – he’s lost a few places in the race for me. For, although this cosmopolitan production at the Olivier is impressive and creative, it fails to do what it says on the tin. It’s just not that funny.

Cooke has set the play in modern day London, complete with multicultural population and Soho nightclubs. It works perfectly for the play – themes of displacement in a community are drawn out, creating parallels with Sam Selvon’s Lonely Londoners and commenting wittily on one’s anonymity in a city. Bunny Christie’s astonishing design is the best I’ve seen in a long time, shifting and never in stasis, just like London itself. In one scene, we see the grimy backstreets, and in another the wealthy facades of Chelsea (a nice touch sees the three tower blocks lined up, with a single door on either side and a double door in the middle, echoing the configuration of the Globe). Ephesus here is remarkably recognisable, and Cooke keeps the verse snappy and modern – no mean feat in a theatre as grand as the Olivier.

But where the production fails is in its comedy. The visual jokes feel tired and cliched – pie in faces springs to mind – and it feels like not a lot of effort has gone into thinking about how the team could create their own comedy rather than just relying on gurning to the audience and silly voices. Lenny Henry in the role of Antipholus of Syracuse, for example, falls back too much on his infamy as a television actor in order to gain laughs; the humour in this production pales in comparison to the likes of One Man, Two Guvnors and Noises Off.

A generally strong cast (excepting the ensemble, who are nigh on ridiculous), is let down somewhat by Henry, whose verse speaking is close to incomprehensible and who, although emotionally strong, is let down by his lack of theatrical technique. Chris Jarman, as his opposite Antipholus of Ephesus, is the other way round; he is theatrically adept but emotionally barren. Daniel Poyser and Lucian Msamati as the two Dromios give us most of the laughs, even though their personalities are a little too similar. It is the two central women of this production, however, who stand out; Claudie Blakley and Michelle Terry as Adriana and Luciana respectively are simultaneously human and ridiculous, though I question the decision to make them both seem devoid of great mental capacity.

Paule Constable’s subtle lighting allows Christie’s superb set to shine, whilst Gary Yershon’s fantastic music creates hilarious scene changes as a group of four musicians plays pop songs in romanian – a nice touch which adds to Cooke’s comment on multiculturalism, especially when placed against the opening of the second act, during which we hear Dizee Rascal’s Bonkers blasted through the speakers. Although Cooke’s concept is sound, however, adding an extra dimension to the play which has rarely been considered, it is frustrating that this production fails to deliver on the most basic points. Perhaps it should be renamed The Play of Errors.

“Pornography” by Simon Stephens

at the National Student Drama Festival, Wednesday 13th April 2011

Pornography is one of the most versatile plays of the past five years. Simon Stephens allows for a variety of interpretations in his script, and it’s a shame that Cambridge University’s production, although strong, doesn’t take these liberties. What we get is a production which doesn’t really point to a central idea, except that during the 7^th July bombings, life was continuing elsewhere.

Nikki Moss’ production begins with an impressive movement piece. Instantly, we are captivated, but soon this engagement wanes as scenes, although delivered with clarity, fail to grab our attention. The play ends in the same fashion, as the actors create a mesmerising sequence of moves to signify a continuation of existence. These moments would not feel out of place in a Rupert Goold production, and we only wish they were used more often to create maximum effect.

We are given an impressive array of performances. Megan Roberts, with her touching portrayal of the Woman, feels vastly underused, and James Bloor’s vision of a teenage Jason is extraordinarily realised. James Wartenberg as the Bomber offers some contemplative moments, showing a truly moral man, and Tom England as the Older Man creates some impressive visual images. Most memorable are Chloe Mashiter and Joey Batey in the tough roles of a Brother and Sister in love. Oddly, this scene does not feel as shocking as it ought to be, but then perhaps that’s what spending a week at NSDF does to you.

George Lockett’s simple lighting design complements the strong performances, and Moss’ music is carefully chosen for maximum impact. But it can’t be helped thinking that these actors and the direction on show have so much more potential than is shown here. Some inspired decisions are made, but are never exploited. This great play has a vast amount of room for manoeuvre, and while Cambridge University have created a professional piece of theatre, I can’t help thinking they didn’t take a vast amount of risks.

“Bluebird” by Simon Stephens

at the National Student Drama Festvival, Wednesday 13th April 2011

Perhaps the creative team of Stop, Look, Listen should take a leaf out of Simon Stephens’ book in order to write a moving play about a road accident. Nottingham New Theatre’s production of Stephens’ Bluebird is calmly muted under the direction of Becky Catlin, giving a tender performance of a play whose tragic story is an anthem to London, recognising the joy found in the anonymity in city life.

A taxi sits on stage. Jimmy sits in it, accompanied by a variety of individuals. He talks to them about the transience of love and the
communicability of the human spirit. We see sides of individuals we would not imagine; a tender bouncer and a drunk toff. One beautifully tender moment simply sees a couple declaring their love for one another. These are merely the set up to the inevitable tragedy, however, which occurs when Jimmy’s wife Clare arrives and the couple discuss an incident which happened five years ago. At this point, Jimmy can declare how happy he is being alone, travelling around London and meeting people. It is presented as a not undesirable existence.

There are some unusual performances here, especially from Cem Aytacli as Jimmy, who portrays the protagonist with no emotion, choosing to remain deadpan throughout and only briefly wearing his feelings on his sleeve towards the end of the play. Hugh Williams and Simon Peal both put in good turns as the male fares, and Rosanna Stoker is heart-breaking as Angela. The stand-out performance comes from Alanna Southgate as Clare, who gives an outstanding performance as a woman broken by the past who has had to struggle on.

Catlin’s set, designed with James Herben and Philip Geller, puts a taxi in the middle of the stage with a raised roof, utilising the boot
door as a screen on to which images of London streets are presented. Herbert and Leventhall’s lighting is particularly impressive; giving a sense of it being night-time and lighting the actor’s faces well is not something which has been done an awful lot this festival. Some strange decisions have been made, such as choosing not to have Jimmy changing gears and steer, and these only serve to divert our attention.

This is a competent production, but it can’t be helped thinking that it’s simply carried by the script. Some of the performances are
too quiet and don’t push any boundaries. One can’t help thinking that the New Theatre at Nottingham should try presenting either a non-naturalistic play or a naturalistic play in a way that takes risks. All of their productions have been strong, but we always want a little more than naturalism when spending a night at the theatre.