“The Mouse and His Child”

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Saturday 8th December 2012

The Mouse and His Child is, hands down, the most fun I’ve had at the RSC since Matilda. It is also the most inventive, playful and well-put-together show I’ve seen the company produce in the past two years, even with the fanfare and pomp of the World Shakespeare Festival and Boyd’s final season. Since watching it yesterday, I’ve been thinking a lot about the genre of children’s theatre (or theatre for children) and whether it can teach us something about theatremaking in general.

The show itself is an adaptation of Russell Hoban’s book of the same name, in a script penned by Tamsin Oglesby. It’s a charming Christmas tale about a clockwork mouse-and-child toy who find themselves in the wilderness on their own and looking for a family made of other toys and the animals they meet on the way. The cast, led by Daniel Ryan and Bettrys Jones as the eponymous heroes, is universally brilliant, with energetic performances from Carla Mendonca, David Charles and Michael Hodgson among others.

Director Paul Hunter employs – for want of a better phrase – a devised, physical theatre style approach in his rehearsal room, allowing anyone to chip in ideas, improvising, shaping and moulding until the right solution is found. Pots and pans take the place of instruments (don’t worry it’s better than Stomp) and the simplest of objects are turned into puppets, whilst costumes only hint towards character with simple accessories rather than making fully-blown mouse outfits.

Every moment is imbued with a sense of imagination and childishness, and not one scene is dull or unnecessary. It’s bizarre, however, that many still see this as not workable within a more ‘mature’ theatre environment. We seem to separate children’s theatre from actual theatre, and prefer a more intellectual approach to Shakespeare and the classics. But why shouldn’t these texts be explored in a similar way? Some of the best Shakespearean productions I’ve seen have been meant for kids, and are no less satisfying or rigorous because of it. As adults, we disregard childish, playful thoughts far too quickly without recognising the positive impact we could have. What The Mouse and His Child and its ilk do is remind is there is nothing to be ashamed about in having an imagination and a sense of play; in itself a rather subversive political idea.

This sense of playfulness isn’t just apparent in the performances but also in the very fabric of the production, including perhaps the best use of the thrust space since the Histories. The 3D-ness of the theatre is utilised fully, complete with trap doors, flying things, multiple entrances and four revolves, leading to never-ending movement and frequent surprises. The use of shadow puppet-style animations projected onto various surfaces also aids the storytelling and means huge set changes aren’t necessary. In Borrowers style, small objects are made large, so that we see a huge string of fairy lights on the back wall and a spool of thread hanging above the stage.

Hunter’s production also revels in its own theatricality, never once attempting any attempt at naturalism. It’s also highly self-referential (here followeth a spoiler). One hilarious moment sees an ugly larvae turn into a puppet dragonfly, which soars around the stage before being zapped by a lightbulb and smacking onto the floor. After a roar of laughter, the puppeteer exclaims “What?! It’s called The Mouse and His Child isn’t it? Not The Bloke with the Dead Dragonfly“. Michael Hodgson as the slightly pantomimic (but utterly superb) Manny Rat, complete with Trunchbull-esque hunch, also has a wonderful rapport with the audience and makes no attempt to disguise the fact he is an actor playing a character.

I’ll no doubt be chided for looking too deeply into a children’s production, but it’s hard not to wish this style were employed more universally. Many have suggested the production is too complicated, and complained that without knowing the story the narrative is lost, but seeing as the way it is told is just as important this misses the point (and is, in my opinion, slightly idiotic; I knew neither the book nor the story yet still got every moment). The story also has a wonderful moral, suggesting cooperation is better than competition as the Child laments “Why does everyone want to eat everyone else?” I know it’s ‘only’ children’s theatre. But it’s bloody good children’s theatre. And it could teach the rest of us a thing or two.

“Julius Caesar” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Friday 1st June 2012

*The performance reviewed was a preview*

Doran’s ‘all black’ production (an odd description, in my opinion: you wouldn’t necessarily describe a cast as ‘all white’) of Julius Caesar, cut down to two hours and fifteen minutes, feels like a modern political thriller, though it lacks any real drama and could do with having more pace. Seeing as Caesar is murdered halfway through the text, this cannot be blamed much on Doran, though the second half of the production feels slow by comparison and fails to really say much about the nature of dictatorships.

We enter the theatre to jovial music and a lively, crowded stage, and as the lights go down it’s clear that Caesar is loved by all. He had led his people to a victory and created a happier lifestyle. What’s odd, though, is that this feels like the jubilation which follows a revolution, and though images of tyranny (a large statue, pictures of Caesar) are present, this is far too happy a state and doesn’t bear the marks of repression at all. This means the plot of Brutus and Cassius to overthrow the ‘tyrant’ comes out of nowhere and is difficult to understand.

And while this production manages to ask questions about the nature of military coups and the shifting nature of politics internationally, the attempt to mix it with images of the Arab Spring falls short. This play is about the politician, not the ordinary man, which is utterly incongruous with the clips of popular uprisings we have seen over the past eighteen months.

That said, the central cast play the manipulative and charismatic politicians of the play with impressive honesty. Jeffery Kissoon’s ageing Caesar bears resemblance to many past-it dictators, and puts on a kind face for the masses. The problem is, we never really see him lose his rag and his wrongdoings aren’t evident, meaning Cyril Nri’s bewildered Cassius has a harder job to convince us that he deserves to die. Ray Fearon’s Mark Antony is powerful though gentle, and is the closest we get to hearing the people speak; his speech to the populace is fantastic, though by the end of the play it’s easy to see that he could just as easily follow in the conspirators’ footsteps by creating another dictatorial regime. Paterson Joseph is here on top form as Brutus, overly ambitious and willing to die for what he believes, even though that opinion is tough to endorse. They are supported by a fine cast who inject energy into the play (though the accents are sometimes a little, shall we say, scattered).

There are clear military references in Michael Vale’s set, which looks like the steps of the Pergamon built out of Soviet breeze blocks, though it feels a little static for a play which sees such broad shifts in location, tone and government. A bizarre moment sees a section of the copper back wall rise up for no apparent reason, and scene changes could be smoother. It’s also lit to excess by Vince Herbert, though Akintayo Ekinbode’s African music is interwoven well and changes with the state, as it moves from happy union to a land of turmoil.

Doran’s production is solid and strong, and I welcome the cutting of an interval in order to create a more thrilling atmosphere, but it’s difficult to shy away from the fact that, no matter how hard we try to philosophise in the UK, it’s tough to really know the effect and questions surrounding the Arab Spring. There are also holes in the plot and drama which means this Caesar doesn’t feel that tragic, plodding along with an unclear trajectory.

I also wonder about the verisimilitude of the term “World Shakespeare Festival”, particularly the Royal Shakespeare Company’s take on the idea. Though Boyd et al have invited companies from Iraq and Brazil to perform in their theatres, the majority of productions have been created by British directors – Roxana Silbert and David Farr co-ordinate the ‘Nations at War’ and ‘Shipwreck Trilogy’ respectively. This production of Julius Caesar now adds to that list, and though British directors setting plays abroad is by no means a Bad Thing (after all, Shakespeare did it), it feels remarkably like the RSC is giving us a peculiarly British version of the world. Naturally, collaboration between nations should be encouraged, but it feels slightly disingenuous to use the adjective “World” to mean “British-directors-setting-plays-somewhere-that-isn’t-Britain-with-a-few-actors-from-around-the-world”. It would be far better to have foreign directors tackling these plays with the RSC’s resources to give an entirely different perspective in order that we may learn from one another.

Overall, this once again feels like a missed opportunity to have a genuinely global discussion; perhaps in a different context Julius Caesar would be more impressive, but under the banner of the ‘World Shakespeare Festival’ it falls at the first hurdle.

Pinterest board here: http://pinterest.com/danhutton/julius-caesar-by-william-shakespeare/

“King Lear” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Wednesday 16th March 2011

One would expect that after a year of performances a production would generally improve somewhat. We imagine performances have time to mature and problems are ironed out. It is a shame, therefore, that David Farr’s production of King Lear still remains somewhat stale, even though it has gained an extra dynamic in its transfer from the Courtyard to the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre.

It is an interpretation which never really made much sense; this is an Albion which has “come to great confusion”, with an array of costumes from various period sitting among furniture from various periods lit with everything from strip-lights to flaming torches. This is ostensibly a world which cannot understand itself, but rather than heightening an understanding of the text, it seems at time to detract from it, as we wonder what the characters’ motivations are in this mixed-up kingdom. It just doesn’t compute.

That said, however, in true David Farr style, it does manage to show a state in the middle of collapse. The final moments of the first half show are some of the most impressive, and the storm scene is striking. This is mirrored by the littering of bodies across the stage as the performance ends, showing that as soon as an infrastructure is destroyed, the lives of people will follow not long after. Jon Bausor’s set shows a state in decay and is lit superbly by Jon Clark. Keith Clouston and Christopher Shutt’s music and sound also show discordance, but here is the issue; Farr’s interpretation never shows enough coherence for us ever to become engaged.

This isn’t helped by the ensemble’s performances, which, although strong, never truly excel. Tunji Kasim’s Edmund is nothing short of a wet flannel and Sophie Russell’s Fool is dogged by the ghost of Kathryn Hunter. Greg Hicks is technically strong in the title role, but fails to emote and show his normally impressive range. I still hold that he is ten years too young for Lear, especially in the light of Jacobi’s recent showing. Katy Stephens as Regan offers some redemption, as does Darrell D’Silva in the role of Kent, but the actors across the board seem to be as confused by the on stage world as we do.

This isn’t a bad production, but one which never really lives up to its potential. A strong company of actors is never truly stretched and a stunning design team seem to be steered in the wrong direction. The new RST shows itself to be impressive, however, proving to have perfect clarity and injecting energy onto the thrust stage from the audience, but this is not in itself enough to save the show. Granted, Farr’s production has justification in the text, and a world with no cohesive elements does make sense, but without sign-posting it is hard to care. As a consequence, actors, direction and audience all become as confused as each other.

“What You Will” and “Lights, Sound, Action”

at the Swan and Royal Shakespeare Theatres, Wednesday 15th December

The Royal Shakespeare Company are certainly firing on all the engines at the moment. Not a day seems to go by without some event to showcase the new theatres. On some days audiences are treated to more than one, and the brilliant thing is they could not be more different.

Roger Rees’ one-man show What You Will is a cross between stand-up and traditional performance, mixing anecdotes about Shakespeare with some of his most famous speeches. Rees has condensed some of the most memorable and entertaining moments of his professional life into a ninety-minute show which stretches from laugh-out-loud funny to deeply moving.

We start with Rees joining the RSC with his friend Ben Kingsley, telling us how he was given non-speaking roles, essentially playing a “mime-artist”, before moving on to greater things. We hear mention of Olivier, Richardson and Dench among others, and hear fleeting moments of greatness. Another structuring method is the use of reference to Rees’ four favourite actors, providing anecdotes on each to strengthen our understanding of the trials and tribulations faced by the Shakespearean actor.

But it is not all storytelling. Inserted throughout are references to the views of Dickens and Shaw on the Bard and advice to actors from the 1940s. Most engaging are the answers given by pupils about the works of Shakespeare, providing nuggets of hilarity at regular intervals, such as “Shakespeare was born in the year 1564, supposedly on his birthday” and “He wrote in Islamic pentameter.”

Most successful are the famous speeches, however, and the rest of the performance pales in comparison when Rees utters the Bard’s immortal words. We are treated to Sonnet 18, the Prologue to Henry V and Romeo’s address to Juliet on her balcony. Some of the most famous words in the English language spoken afresh. It sometimes seems that the rest of Rees’ show is simply a vehicle to showcase this enormous talent, but this shouldn’t sound like a criticism. Most would be happy to sit through dirge to see these lines spoken by such a wonderful actor.

Following What You Will we can kill a few hours exploring the new theatre complex. The insults chair and tower are worth a look, and one has to keep an eye and ear out for quotes projected onto various walls and spoken from small crannies. The Swan exhibition room seems somewhat lacking at the moment, concentrating on the transformation project, but will no doubt take on a life of its own when hosting new installations.

The day finishes with a demonstration of the tech in the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Lights, Sound, Action. We are introduced to the lighting, sound and automation managers for the company before being treated to a demonstration of each. At times there are a few too many in-jokes to be funny to outsiders, but what is said is interested nonetheless. The real treat comes at the end of the evening, when the lighting, sound and automation departments put their skills together, turning the theatre into a Disneyland-ride-cum-disco. Sound rumbles through the floor, lights swivel rapidly and levels are raised and lowered from the gods. A simple idea, but one which truly showcases the scope of the new space. A director’s dream.