“As You Like It” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Wednesday 24th April 2013

*Originally written for Exeunt*

Around two-thirds of the way through Maria Aberg’s production of As You Like It, as yet another bizarre wooing scene took place and various characters continued to appear unannounced bearing news of important plot points, it dawned on me just how little sense Shakespeare’s summer comedy makes. It’s a hotch-potch of language, genres and characters complete with a strange forest lord, some couples who fall instantly in love and one unhappy wife at its ending. But while many directors choose to trim the text to bring out certain themes, Aberg chooses to leave pretty much the whole messy, convoluted text intact and embraces its anarchy, so that what we get is a raw production full of passion, demonstrating the necessity of love and its relationship to nature.

The first act begins with Orlando (Alex Waldmann) sweeping leaves centre stage, an oppressive timber structure behind him shutting out light and silencing dissent with its menace.

“The Winter’s Tale” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Wednesday 30th January 2013

Originally reviewed for Exeunt.

I think it’s worth, in the interests of full disclosure, acknowledging that The Winter’s Tale is probably in my top three “favourite Shakespeare plays”. It’s maybe even my favourite. I should also point out that I recently spoke to Lucy Bailey about the production so was probably more well-versed in what the production was trying to do than many people coming to see the show would be. Despite these points, however, I’m still of the opinion that The Winter’s Tale is one of the most exciting, intriguing and affecting productions the RSC have produced in a long while, giving David Farr’s take on the play in 2009.

A thought struck me while watching The Winter’s Tale (which, to my mind, is one of Shakespeare’s most ‘modern’ works as a dramatist); depending on your view or interpretation, one could either view the first half of the play, set in Sicilia, as the longest set-up ever written, or the second half, in Bohemia, as the longest epilogue. Though this is, to an extent, a false dichotomy, Bailey seems to veer towards the former, for it is the second half, after Leontes’ break-down, which contains within it the points she is attempting to make, showing Bohemia to be a place of hope and joy, succeeding where many directors fail.

The first act opens in the court of Leontes (Jo Stone-Fewings), with cushions and hookah pipes splayed around the stage, courtiers dressed in pageant finery and half a dozen sleeping courtiers. At the back of the thrust stage sits a large circular dais which supports a semicircular ivory bench and foregrounds a 10 metre high screen which hangs just behind the RST’s proscenium arch, showing images of calm water. This is a peaceful, idyllic setting, where the people are forever holidaying and completely insular. As Leontes’ jealousy grows, however, darkness falls; the colourful robes are thrown off to reveal Victorian whites and blacks, passion grows and the waves on the screen become more stormy. This is the effect of a troubled, tyrannical brain.

(I was a little worried at first that William Dudley’s video design seemed to be a little – for want of a better word – flimsy. The animation felt a little basic and some images didn’t feel as imposing as they ought to. As the piece progressed, however, it became clear that Dudley’s actually being pretty smart in using this aesthetic. Firstly, it means this setting is placed against this background, allowing for a more intense exploration of the central metaphors. By layering over watercolour brush strokes, too, we see a visual representation of Leontes’ thoughts which would otherwise be more difficult to imagine. Most importantly, however, the synthetic quality of the animation hints towards expressionism, reminding us that this is a fiction and not reality. There are many more people who could write about the subject of aware falseness and synthetic reality far more intelligently that I, but I think you get the gist.)

A rather large spoiler about the production is necessary in the next paragraph. Skip it if you’re planning on seeing the show.

As the first act draws to a close, after Polixenes (Adam Levy) has left and the reported deaths of Hermione (Tara Fitzgerald) and Mamillius, the dias on which Leontes sprawls begins to raise out of the ground, extending upwards to create a 10-metre tall tower in a stunning coup-de-theatre. It has a steampunk-y appearance and becomes a central visual symbol in the second act, demonstrating the disconnect between the industrialised working class and the king at the top of his ‘ivory tower’. Leontes remains there for the entirety of the Bohemia scenes, prostrate and broken.

This Bohemia is a northern seaside town in England which is in the process of celebrating Wakes week. Everyone is relaxing by the pier, getting up only to revel and dance to Jon “Bellowhead” Boden’s toe-tapping, foot-stomping folk music. This is a celebration of all things human, and Perdita and Florizel lay at the centre of it, as the townsfolk around them invest all their hopes and aspirations in this younger generation. Refreshingly, this is an honest, down-to-earth representation of a couple in love, with Emma Noakes and Gavin Fowler refusing to take on the lofty, romantic tones of many actors in these scenes.

The humour in the second act is also fantastic, being demonstrative of a joyful but dour outlook on life which these people embody. Captivating performances are given by David Shaw-Parker and Nick Holder’s shepherds, and Pearce Quigley’s Autolycus is perhaps the best Shakespearean fool I’ve seen on stage.

Though the first act contains within it some of Shakespeare’s best poetry and features impressive (though sometimes slightly over-emphatic) performances from Stone-Fewings and Fitzgerald, the second half is undoubtedly the most entertaining and is clearly where Bailey’s heart lies, finishing in a stunning dénouement in the statue scene (lit gorgeously by Oliver Fenwick) where the two aforementioned performances come into their own and are supported brilliantly by Raike Ayola’s calm but powerful Paulina.

Throughout all this, however, is the clear idea that hope for a better, more equal kingdom in the future lies in the younger generation. Only they can connect the worlds at the top and bottom of the ivory tower and throw off the tyrannical and violent urges  of their parents. Ultimately, then, Bailey’s production of The Winter’s Tale is one of reconciliation and hope for those who may not have the comforts of the court but sure as hell have a passion for life.

“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.

“The Tempest” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Saturday 14th April 2012

*The performance reviewed was a preview*

Perhaps the way the Royal Shakespeare Company’s ‘Shipwreck Trilogy’ improves as we move through Shakespeare’s plays chronologically is a reflection of the Bard’s own refining of his literary prowess – the plays start off silly and move to a more mature, considered pinnacle. More likely, however, is that, seeing as the company is cast perfectly in The Tempest, the same ensemble was never going to be as good in The Comedy of Errors and Twelfth Night. Farr’s production of Shakespeare’s last solo-authored play is a marvel in all aspects of its production, and shows the play to be about self-awareness more than anything else.

Jon Bausor’s set, which is at a basic level the same as the other two plays in the trilogy, is here used to full effect. Nothing is superfluous and the theatre allows entrances from the back, above and below. A perspex box sits at the back of the stage, which becomes at various points in the play the doomed ship, Prospero’s library and a magical realm. Jon Clark’s lighting evokes a land where nothing is to be taken at surface value, and Adem Ilhan’s chilling score, coupled with Christopher Scott’s booming sound, means we are constantly wrenched back to the harsh reality of life on a desert island. Unlike other plays in the trilogy, there is no water on stage; this is an arid, desolate wasteland.

Except for Emily Taaffe as Miranda and Soloman Israel as Ferdinand, every cast member brings something new to their roles (though I don’t envy these two aforementioned actors being handed such comparatively dull characters). Kirsty Bushell and Jonathan McGuinness are fantastic as Sebastian and Antonio, and create a more equal relationship than we have ever seen more in these characters. Felix Hayes and Bruce Mackinnon’s Trinculo and Stephano have an endearing, brotherly companionship and are nasty to Amer Hlehel’s Arabic Caliban more out of sheer ineptitude than malice. Sandy Grierson’s Ariel is a mirror of Prospero, and stage manages the whole play, always lurking in the shadows.

Jonathan Slinger’s Prospero is sublime, offering a welcome retreat from many other actors who have played the same role. He is not at all shouty – if anything, years in isolation with only himself to talk to (Ariel looks and is dressed the same) have made him insular, quiet and ever-so-slightly odd – and exhibits no dominating fatherly ‘love’. The moment he sees Miranda fall in love with Ferdinand, he turns to us with a look of “Well there’s nothing I can do” and understands the important of letting his daughter make her own way. When delivering the line “Our little life. Is rounded with a sleep”, the second word is almost spat; this Prospero truly understands his position as a man. The final speech is delivered with such searing plainness and in full light, that the audience doesn’t know when or if to clap.

Some other nice touches include some subtle movement (Ariel moves like a heavy puppet and during the Juno sequence all goddesses are manipulated by spirits) and the fact all apparitions are dressed in Elizabethan costumes. Farr shows that an awareness of our place in time and space leads to eventual retribution and happiness. It is only when characters reevaluate themselves according to those around them that a conclusion is reached.

The Tempest is without doubt the strongest play in this new season, and more than the others stands alone as a vibrant, exciting take on the play. It’s a shame that it feels this play was cast before the others, meaning the ensemble has to slide into odd roles for the other productions, but its a small price to pay for such a powerful piece of theatre. The final speech has never moved me so much and the company’s unforgiving sense of metatheatricality throughout means we are never quite sure where the play stops and real life begins.

“Twelfth Night” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Friday 13th April 2012

*The performance reviewed was a preview*

“Do not,” says Hamlet to the players, “saw the air too much with your hand”. It is advice which should be heeded to the company of the “Shipwreck Trilogy”, who slice the space with such voracity that the beauty of the language is lost. Then again, maybe that’s the idea, for there seems to be such little characterisation done here that flailing and shouting is all that can be managed. And although David Farr’s production of Twelfth Night is funny enough, it lacks any genuine concern for the text, and an inconsistency in performance is perhaps the cause.

The production begins with a soaking Viola (Emily Taaffe) climbing onto stage, but she is not quite as wet as Jonathan McGuinness’ Orsino, who is so lacking in charisma it’s surprising the members of his court even listen to him. Kirsty Bushell as Olivia has next-to-zero gravitas, and is closer to a screeching teenager than a grounded woman, though towards the end of the production she is redeemed by a quieter, more real persona. Most disappointing are Cecilia Noble’s wooden Maria and Kevin McMonagle’s bland, dull and altogether-too-jolly Feste, which clashes so much with the lines he’s saying you can hear the character struggling to escape.

Nicholas Day’s Toby Belch and Bruce Mackinnon’s Andrew Aguecheek verge on ridiculous, but at least some thought seems to have gone into these characters. The saving grace is Jonathan Slinger’s Malvolio, which is so beautifully nuanced and bears such detail that it puts the rest of the cast to shame. His slightly camp, almost autistic take on the character shows his wry humour, but ensures we se him as the victim, not bully. What we witness on stage is not an actor but a character, who, although demeaned somewhat by directorial choices, we feel genuine sympathy for and understand as a human being.

If Farr’s overarching ideas were tight, we may forgive the distinctly average company, but the fact is comedy is put above anything the play says in itself. This is no bad thing per se, but after the fanfare surrounding this ‘multicultural’ take on the play, you’d expect a little more insight. The closest Farr comes to making a comment on internationalism is the decision to have an Irish Viola (the boyish and energetic Emily Taaffe) and Sebastian (the suitably charming Stephen Hagan), but one can’t help feeling that because their first language is English they don’t feel nearly as isolated as many in society do on a daily basis.

Again, this in itself is no bad thing, but when the production is so clearly set in the present-day, with mobile phones and computers, this isn’t saying as much as it could. Jon Bausor’s impressive dilapidated set shows a once-majestic early-to-mid-twentieth century court, but is on the whole superfluous and makes no comment on the play (parts of it are also criminally underused). I don’t begrudge the creative team focussing more on comedy (even if it does weaken the text as a result), but then the expense directed towards design is wasted if there is no reason for it being there.

For all its negatives, and the fact its parts don’t quite fit together, Farr does create some hilarious moments. The orchard scene is, of course, brilliant (mainly due to Slinger’s astonishing delivery), and the Cesario/Olivia relationship builds to a satisfying climax. But I can’t help feeling that more can be said about the plays and about us without losing any of the comedy. Like The Comedy of Errors, it is an opportunity lost to have a genuine debate about these plays and the people they represent. That is, if I’m not mistaken, the point of the whole ’2012′ affair, is it not?

“The Comedy of Errors” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Thursday 12th April 2012

*The performance reviewed was a preview*

And so the World Shakespeare Festival begins for me, not with a bang, but a whimper. What Country Friends is This? or the ‘Shipwreck Trilogy’ are being staged and performed throughout the cultural olympiad (I refuse to capitalise it), attempting to make comments on internationalism by “exploring dislocation, crossing borders and arriving as a stranger in a strange land”. Sounds like a wonderful utopian project with the best will in the world. The problem is, Amir Nizar Zuabi’s production of The Comedy of Errors just isn’t very good.

As if having one major production of this text already playing to large houses wasn’t enough, many of the jokes and references in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s version at the RST have already been used by the National’s – wrongly, in my opinion – much-lauded offering. With such a short and arguably straightforward play, this is inevitable, but then it’s counter-intuitive to have them both playing near-simultaneously. You’d expect the companies would at least talk to one another.

Much like Cooke’s production (comparisons are unavoidable), Zuabi makes a clear point about multiculturalist undercurrents in the play, but rather than ground it firmly in a specific time and place, it ends up occurring in a confusing jungle of inexplicable colour, but where most people seem to be of English-descent. The Duke Solinus (a half-terrifying Sandy Grierson) is clearly meant to be a Gaddafi-style dictator, yet the dark moments on stage aren’t exploited to their full worth, and it feels like our director is attempting to cross the comedy/tragedy boundary without really succeeding in either.

In terms of humour, this play makes the National Theatre’s disappointing attempt seem positively masterful. Almost every joke has been seen countless times before, and laziness takes precedence over graft. Of all the actors, the two Dromios, played both touchingly and bashfully by Felix Hayes (Ephesus) and Bruce Mackinnon (Syracuse) are able to garner the most laughter, though most of the time this is through fleeting glances rather than any cohesive direction.

Only utter fools could mix up these two Antipholuses (Antipholi?), mainly due to their substantial height difference. Jonathan McGuinness’ Syracuse could well have little-man syndrome and Stephen Hagan’s Ephesus is probably suffering from superiority complex. Then again, those who are fooled are namely Adriana and Luciana, who are here played with such idiocy and hysteria by Kirsty Bushell and Emily Taafe all sympathy is removed. There is also too much hamming from Nicholas Day as Egeon and Cecilia Noble as Emilia.

A deceptively simple shipwreck set from Jon Bausor, complete with rigging and water, is underused, but it is punctuated well with Adam Ilhan’s atonal music and Jon Clark’s bright lighting. But just like the rest of Zuabi’s production, everything seems slightly out-of-kilter and compromised. It’s solid enough, with some moments of brilliance, but you’d hope the RSC’s offering to the world in 2012 would be of a little higher standard. Let’s hope the season improves and doesn’t live up to its name.

(A footnote: I wonder whether the RSC are aware of the irony which surrounds their choice of BP as sponsor for the ‘Shipwreck Trilogy’, that company which has in the past caused so many living creatures to be washed ashore, clinging to life, just like many characters in these plays. It feels like not much thought was put into that decision.)

Greg Doran: the new Michael Boyd

Today, it was announced that Greg Doran is to take over as artistic director of the Royal Shakespeare Company in September. Very few of us can say we didn’t see that coming. He’s a solid, safe pair of hands. He believes in the integrity of Shakespeare’s language and his productions in the last few years have been nothing but good. As Michael Boyd’s right-hand man, he understands how best the company should be run and no doubt realises where improvement is needed. In discussions, he is gentle, respectful and humble. He seems the obvious choice.

But that’s exactly the problem. When talking about Doran’s work and style, many words associated with mediocrity are employed; “solid”, “good”, “okay”, “fine”. He has rarely been talked of as “bold”, “ambitious” and “provocative”. Hence why he got the job, I imagine. With a company as respected and well-known as the RSC, the board couldn’t be expected to place the ship in a new, less-experienced pair of hands. Or so I imagine the argument goes.

Some of us, however, believe that’s exactly what the company did need. Boyd has done an incredible job over the past decade of bringing the company out of the slums of Noble’s tenancy and into the realm of the theatrical heavyweights. His return to the European model of ensemble has been a superb move (though it could still go further), and most can agree that the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre is one of the most exciting major theatres built in a generation.

This is precisely the reason the RSC doesn’t need Doran at the helm; my guess is he will bring much the same output as Boyd – good but not ground-breaking – and he will continue the outgoing AD’s legacy of raising the enterprise out of the ashes. This is fruitless considering the RSC is in a far better place than it was a decade ago. It is at the stage it should be (minus a London home), and does not need the same, ‘solid’, work in order to build its reputation. Now is the time, more than ever, when the company can afford to take risks.

Some of us were unfortunate enough to be born after the golden age of Hall and Nunn, when European companies were invited to Stratford to perform in the same spaces as British performers and experimental productions were mounted at The Other Place. We long for a return to those roots, which would entail shifting the focus of the company slightly away from Shakespeare and towards theatrical practices in general. There are companies all over the continent – nay, world – who are producing work far more challenging and exciting than anything the RSC has done in years, and on a fraction of the budget. We should learn from them; the RSC needs to stop pandering to the audiences who were watching thirty years ago and provide something for the next generation too. Doran said today on Front Row that it’s not as easy as simply reopening a new black-box studio theatre, and that TOP was more of an “idea” than a real venture, but if he’s to have any success in showing the RSC to be an institution not afraid of “taking risks” (outlined on its web page), then these sort of decisions need to be made.

All this may sound like I would champion the directorship of, say, Rupert Goold, but quite aside from the fact he apparently withdrew his application, even he remains someone who is relatively mainstream (though I imagine he’d have been more exciting than Doran). Granted, the company shouldn’t have been handed over to an unknown, but I imagine that the choice of someone a little younger and avant-garde would have been welcomed by a large percentage of its audience.

Naturally, it’s difficult and somewhat unfair to come to conclusions without letting Doran even have his say about his plans, but based on his track record it’s difficult to envisage the RSC going the places it ought to. Not all of us are middle-class, middle-aged theatregoers who enjoy safe, mediocre theatre.

“The Heart of Robin Hood” by David Farr

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Friday 2nd December 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

Origins stories are all the rage. In recent years, we’ve seen how Batman, Superman and even Sherlock Holmes came to be the heroes we know they are. Now, in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Christmas offering of 2011, David Farr revamps the classic myth of Robin Hood, giving a new twist whilst simultaneously making a comment on our current social conditions. But, although Gisli Örn Gardarsson’s production has some superb moments and clearly has a heart, overall it is somewhat lacking in intellect.

Farr’s text focusses on the traditionally placid female of the tale, Marion (Iris Roberts). After escaping the conclaves of the castle, she comes across Robin (James McArdle) and his vagabond gang in Sherwood Forest, choosing to trick them into allowing her to join as Martin, her alter-ego (they don’t allow women to be part of the gang). After much Shakespearean false-identity, child-nabbing and general-power-seeking, things resolve themselves in a joyful climax.

It’s an ingenious time to be staging such a production, which shows that, while we are told society is ‘broken’ by our rulers, it is they who are truly corrupt as they arrest innocent civilians, fiddle with taxes and shout loudly about royal weddings. But while I don’t disagree with the sentiment, Farr’s script flits between frivolous and dark like a Tory government which can’t make its mind up about selling off forests. Gardarsson’s production too often strays into pantomime too, lowering itself to cheap jokes regularly and mixing ingeneous stagecraft (instruments as animals and impressive aerial choreography by Selma Björnsdóttir) with obvious ideas. Yes, this is a family show, but the RSC has itself proved that family shows can appeal to adults and children alike if bold decisions are made.

And although the cast is strong, they all lack the character which Börkur Jonsson’s set (complete with overhead branches and a massive slide which allows for dynamic entrances) embodies so easily. We never truly believe McArdle and his Merry Men are people of the earth, and Prince John’s men, led by Tim Treloar’s Guy of Gisborne, are hardly very frightening. Roberts’ Marion does a good job of providing the emotional heart of the piece, and Ólafur Darri Ólafsson copes well with letting the audience in as her jester Pierre, but it is Martin Hutson’s Prince John who impresses most. Hutson superbly straddles the line between pantomime villain and a James Bond nemesis, and is the creator of some of the best moments in the production.

Björn Helgason’s magical lighting and Högni Egilsson’s epic sound hark back to the story’s legendary roots, while Emma Ryott’s costume has echoes of the contemporary, but just like the script and tone of the production, the design lacks a real sense of cohesion. While The Heart of Robin Hood ultimately fails to truly capture our hearts and tries to do too hard to shoehorn in lots of ideas, it is nonetheless better than most ‘family’ shows, and provides a good rubric for future shows. Perhaps we’ll see Beowolf’s Sword within the not-too-distant future.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by William Shakespeare

at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Saturday 6th August 2011

We see Shakespeare’s most famous plays so often that they can fail to give us anything new on each subsequent visit. Every now and then, however, a production comes along which makes us see a play completely afresh. Nancy Meckler’s somewhat psychadelic production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream puts a whole new perspective on this loved comedy, and provides some of the funniest moments of Shakespeare I’ve seen.

Meckler’s concept makes perfect sense; the world of Athens is a patriarchal, tyrannical warehouse, where women are not listened to. As Hippolyta (Pippa Nixon) falls asleep and becomes Titania in her dream world, her desires and worries are played out in front of her; her realisation then leads to the cleansing of the tyranny of Theseus’ (Jo Stone-Fewings) court. The lovers are part of this world, shown by some sensuous and mesmerizing physical theatre.

The four lovers are on fine form. The gentle Nathaniel Martello-White is given a run for his money by Matti Houghton’s fiery Hermia, while Alex Hassell’s powerful Demetrius is matched perfectly with the Lucy Briggs-Owen’s extraordinary and neurotic Helena. Nixon and Stone-Fewings are both calm, considered beings, and should be matched again soon. Arsher Ali’s plain-spoken Puck begins a little shakily, but quickly has the audience in the palm of his hand.

The Rude Mechanicals naturally give us the majority of laughs, presided over by Marc Wootton’s oblivious but remarkably charming Bottom. Michael Grady-Hall’s androgynous Flute and an autistic Snug (Felix Hayes) mean this isn’t your usual set of wannabe-thesps. Their performance of ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ matches anything in One Man, Two Guvnors.

Katrina Lindsay’s set turns from whitewashed blandness to colourful dream-world with the help of Wolfgang Gobbel’s glorious turquoise and orange lighting. What we are watching is clearly a dream, as pillows and chairs cover the stage and characters never feel quite human. Keith Clouston’s imposing score has a variety of moods, from thunderous drum beats to jovial jigs.

What Nancy Meckler has done with this Dream is to show that’s exactly what it is; a dream. The lack of ‘magic tricks’ actually makes the production far more magical, and the energy never drops. This is in fact a production showing the redemptive power of sleep and the importance of dreams, whatever their form. Now truly settling into their new home, the Royal Shakespeare Company is well and truly back in business.

“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.