Coriolanus - Review

Barbican Theatre, London


***

Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Angus Jackson

Haydn Gwynne and Sope Dirisu

Set in a time of modern day civil/class  warfare, Angus Jackson’s take on Coriolanus offers up glimpses of masterful performance. With design and costume by Robert Innes Hopkins, the production sets out to contrast the similarities between ancient, strife-torn Rome and today’s United Kingdom, polarised over Brexit. As the plebeian citizens revolt, clad in hoodies and torn denim and brandishing barbed wire donned bats, the patrician elite surrounded by glowing marble and cascading canopies have discarded their weapons in favour of carefully nursed champagne flutes.

It’s an intelligent concept, and there is some real beauty on stage, but the piece (much like Blanche McIntyre’s Titus Andronicus in this current RSC Rome season) lacks a weight in its argument. The cast are fairly young (too young?) and in the title role Sope Dirisu who while clearly a strong and intelligent actor, does not yet possess the gravitas or age to make his Coriolanus credible. Granted, his agility lends itself brilliantly to Terry King’s fight scenes; bloody, exciting and believable as they are, but the depiction of a boy playing at war does not stir the audience.

The saving grace of this piece lies with the women. As the more socially present of the two tribunes, the voices of the poor among the socialites, Jackie Morrison’s Sicinius Veletus is a feisty and undeterred figure. Her performance is almost Nicola Sturgeon-esque in her political battle to banish Coriolanus from Rome, with again a relevance to Britain’s current political standing being cleverly played. Not from this play, but referencing Morrison, Shakespeare’s words “Though she be but little, she is fierce”, are apt.

The evening’s star performance comes from Haydn Gwynne who brings a strength and elegance to Volumnia. Playing the ever loving yet overbearing mother of Coriolanus, she dreams of success and glory for her son, successfully moulding him into the figure of state that she longs to be but is just out of her grasp. Gwynne’s presence is magnetic, owning every inch of the stage from the moment she arrives. Her second-half speech, begging her son for peace toward Rome after his banishment and unity with their enemy is an unmissable masterclass in Shakespeare.

Runs until 18th November

Reviewed by Charlotte Darcy

Photo credit: Helen Maybanks (c) RSC

Titus Andronicus

Shakespeare's Globe, London

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Lucy Bailey

Matthew Needham, William Houston and Indira Varma

Much like General Titus himself, Lucy Bailey’s production of this most bloodthirsty of Shakespeare’s works, makes a glorious and triumphant return to Shakespeare’s Globe. Under Bill Dudley’s black and oppressive velarium spread atop the yard space, the groundlings are spared blistering sunshine, but remain exposed to the pouring rain, which on press night only added to the ghoulish horrors of the ghastly tale. Guttural percussion and pungent incense assault one's senses on entering the Globe’s performing space and even before the players take to the stage, this production hints at being a festival of Shakespearean fun.

The classic story is driven by the vengeance that Tamora, the Goth Queen and Titus her conqueror, wreak upon each other's families for the various acts of murder, rape and mutilation that their children have suffered. Around these tribes and fuelling their appetites for revenge, Aaron, Tamora's Moorish lover, spins a web of lies and deceit that adds to the body count. Whilst the horrendous rape and disfigurement of Titus’ daughter Lavinia occurs offstage, nearly all the other carnage occurs in full view of the audience. For those who like their literature served bloody, this play truly is a rare treat.

Lavinia's rape is evil and Flora Spencer-Longhurst puts in a moving performance as the victim, pleading to Indira Varma’s Tamora woman to woman that she should call off sons Chiron and Demetrius from ravishing her. Elsewhere in the play however, and as can be so often the case with horror, there is much comedy. When Tamora gives birth to a mixed-race baby, conceived illegitimately with Aaron, the proud father boasts to her shocked legitimate sons. When they accuse him of having “undone” their mother, he retorts “I have done thy mother”. Obi Abili convinces as the malevolent Moor and deftly extracts a deserved guffaw from the crowd. Some of the play's comedy is occasionally overplayed and Matthew Needham’s Emperor Saturninus is at times just a little heavy on the Kenneth Williams style antics.

William Houston plays the wearied Titus well. Rome’s loyal servant, he comes close to losing his mind as he witnesses the terrors that befall his family, though in the play’s final scenes, adorned in chef’s hat as the Bard instructs, his serving up of the pie in which Chiron and Demetrius have been slaughtered and baked, is delivered with relish. One should also give a nod to Brian Martin and Samuel Edward-Cook's performances as the errant young Goths, destined to fill Titus' infernal pasty. Their final scene before Andronicus slits their throats is excruciating to watch. Suspended by their ankles for what is probably five minutes but seems an eternity, their ultimate despatch comes as a blessed relief to the audience.

Ian Gelder is a wise counsel as Titus’ brother Marcus, though it is also largely through this play's creative team that Bailey has also achieved her success. Django Bates’ music, haunting trumpets and relentless drums, suggest a world of violence and discord. Terry King, arguably one of the greatest fight directors, choreographs the mayhem with aplomb whilst Pam Humpage’s make-up effects go a long way to convincing us that the onstage horrors are for real.

If you can stomach violence (and 13 people were spotted being helped from the auditorium during act one alone) then Bailey's production truly is Shakespeare for the people. The yard space is used to the full as the groundlings become Rome’s plebeians and the bacchanalic splashing of wine over the squealing crowd only adds to the merriment. Shocking, upsetting and at times hilarious, this Titus Andronicus is bloody good Shakespeare.

Runs until 13th July 2014

King Henry IV Part I

Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Greg Doran

Antony Sher and Alex Hassell

It has often been mooted that Henry IV Pt 1 should arguably have been re-named Sir John Falstaff, such is the impact of the legendary bon-viveur upon the history play and Greg Doran’s production at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre only endorses the argument.

Commencing with the spirit of Richard II gazing down from the gods (a robed and long-haired David Tennant lookalike) we find Jasper Britton has assumed the mantle of Bolingbroke, opening the play as the newly crowned king. Britton’s performance is assured and he convincingly presents first, as a father initially struggling with his son’s errant Eastcheap ways and later as a monarch grappling with the destructive forces at work amidst his realm.

Alex Hassell is Hal, giving a performance of the Henry V (to be) that defines the young royal’s energy, vivacity and nobility far better than any recent stage portrayal of the warrior king. The robbery at Gadhill and Hal’s banter with Sir John is royal japery at its finest, yet Hassell also defines both mettle and honour in the play's later scenes, defending and loyally supporting his father. The young actor displays astonishing talent and of his generation he is unquestionably “one to watch”. Matched against him is Trevor White’s Hotspur. Envious of Hal’s preferment and bearing a chip on his shoulder, Hotspur is one of Shakespeare's more unforgiving roles. White’s energetic effort is hampered by an overplayed chip, trying just a little bit “too hard”.

The jewel in this production’s crown however is unquestionably Antony Sher’s Falstaff. A corpulent, drunken profiteer, as likely to be found in the arms of the pox-ridden Mistress Quickly (a wonderfully be-scabbed Paola Dionisotti) as to be gaming with the Prince of Wales. Sher relishes Falstaff’s every moment and that his sozzled patrician Falstaff is so at ease with the Eastcheap cutpurses only adds to the color of his character. With a perpetually unpaid bar bill and the quickest of wits, Sir John precurses the latter day comic creations of Arthur Daley or Norman Stanley Fletcher, each a quintessentially lovable rogue. One of our finest actors, Sher’s “What is honesty?” soliloquy is an outstanding delivery, with so many of his lines being pathos-laden comedy gold. A good comic must master timing as well as voice and physical presence, Sher nails the lot and one is unlikely to see a finer Shakespearean performance this year.

Other notables are Joshua Richards with a wonderfully pagan Owen Glendower and Simon Thorp's Rickman-esque Lord Chief Justice.

The RSC is again at its creative best. Terry King elicits breathtaking fightwork (Sean Chapman’s scottish Douglas menaces with the mace) whilst Tim Mitchell’s lighting and Martin Slavin’s sound design effectively suggest both location and time. A finely produced treat, Greg Doran’s interpretation is thoughtful, perceptive and hilarious.

Plays to 6th September 2014, then tours.

Wendy & Peter Pan

Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

*****
Written by Ella Hickson
Adapted from the novel by JM Barrie
Directed by Jonathan Munby

Fiona Button and Guy Henry

Yet again the RSC surpass themselves with their festive offering of Ella Hickson’s new adaptation of the JM Barrie classic. The ingredients are all there for a fabulous family theare trip. Lavish flocks of flying actors, scenery that swirls from the Darling children’s bedroom in Edwardian London, to the lagoons and secret hideaways of Neverland. A thoroughly dastardly Captain Hook (for once not doubled up by the actor playing Mr Darling) and possibly the most stylish Crocodile ever to grace the stage. Oh and the pirate ship is impressively scary too.

So, with the kids sorted, what have the RSC laid on for the grown-ups? Quite simply a tale that will make one think, laugh and leave tear ducts positively drained by the final curtain. Introduced to the Darling children, all played by adults and thus lending an enhanced air of make-believe/pretend to the whole tale, we meet Wendy, Michael and John along with their fourth sibling, Tom. Early on, Tom takes ill and dies. (His death is not at all visually harrowing for little ones, but lays down an emotional sub-text of such simple power that it renders many adults sobbing in the first 15 minutes). And this is where Hickson strikes pure gold. Wendy, the most caring of the children, is concerned for the grief of her family and from her desire to just “bring Tom back” to assuage their pain, so does Peter Pan become conjured up as the play takes us to Neverland to look for Tom amongst the Lost Boys.

In her debut RSC season Fiona Button is Wendy. Wanting to play with the boys, but weighed down by the expected sexist burdens of expected household and family responsibilities, hers is a cracking performance of a young woman on the verge of a much longed for emancipation. The depth of Wendy’s character and how Button makes her soar (in all senses of the word!) will stay with me for a long time. Sam Swann is Peter, playfully pushing at Wendy’s naivete yet craving the maternal nurturing for so long denied him in a performance of clever complexity. Guy Henry’s Hook is truly boo-deserving, capturing a neediness to Hook that hints at a desire for Wendy. As the tick-tocking crocodile (a classy green-eyed Arthur Kyeyune) swims past his ship, Hook’s sad reflection on the passing of time is another wonderfully perceptive comment from Hickson. 

Amongst a company of perfect performances, a sparkling gem of this Neverland is Charlotte Mills’ Tink. No size-zero diminutive waif, this fairy is an amply proportioned Estuary-English voiced chav who rips up our “fairy-tale” expectations of Barrie’s famous sprite and makes her a spirit for the modern common era. Bravo to the RSC for making a bold statement that rips up at least one of today’s ghastly role-models, so easily foisted on young girls.

Andrew Woodall and Rebecca Johnson’s Darling parents are subtle portrayals of devastating grief and also some touching humour. As he occasionally hits the bottle whilst she, in a nod to the Suffragette times, explores a world of employment outside the home, so does the RSC subtly educate and inform.

A (truncated) roll call of the show’s creatives salutes fightmeister Terry King who has packed the show full of swashbuckling sword fights, Colin Richmond’s gorgeous designs that use the full height and drop of the world class Royal Shakespeare Theatre and Matt Costain’s breathtaking aerial work. All under the wise and clever helm of Jonathan Munby.

This is a classic tale, re-imagined and brought bang up to date whilst staying true to its heritage. Flawless perfect theatre that is unquestionably unmissable. Fun for all the family – and don’t forget your tissues!

Runs until 2nd March 2014