Inter Alia - Review

National Theatre, London

****

Written by Suzie Miller

Directed by Justin Martin

Rosamund Pike

Inter Alia is another theatrical gem from Suzie Miller, who in 2019 premiered Prima Facie. Staying within the jurisprudent ambit of the English legal system, Inter Alia sees Miller focus on Crown Court judge Jessica Parks and the challenges she faces in her domestic life when teenage son Harry is accused of a sex crime. 

Miller offers a meticulously detailed analysis of Park’s privileged life on and off the bench, where with her KC husband Michael, middle-class luxuries are plentiful until the idyll is painfully pierced. The script offers up a troubling glimpse of the manosphere, alongside Parks’s descent into her own personal hell as she finds herself facing profoundly personal conflicts. 

Coincidentally (one imagines), there are hints of the recent TV drama Adolescence in Miller’s narrative and if there is a flaw in the play that otherwise offers up a powerfully sympathetic critique of 21st century feminism, it is that much like Adolescence, the completely white casting of these stories’ lead families fails to reflect some of the more complex diversities of today’s world. And the end of Miller’s story, while being acutely painful, lacks a credibility.

The evening’s stagecraft however is world class. Rosamund Pike is Parks, onstage throughout the play’s 1 hr 40min one-act entirety, in a performance that is a breathtaking tour de force. As her character faces agonising realisations, Pike’s mastery of the dialogue is sensational, picking up the slightest nuances and inflections in Miller’s acutely perceptive script.

Jamie Glover steps up as her husband, also delivering a stunning take on middle-aged husbandry and fatherhood, with Jasper Talbot completing the play’s adult trio as the hapless Harry, again with an assured turn.

The production also showcases the flawless technical competencies of the National Theatre. Ben and Max Ringham’s sound design is exquisite, equally Natasha Chivers’s lighting work. Miriam Buether’s set is a wonder. In essence a staging of simple domesticity that momentarily can transform into a courtroom - however the brilliance of Buether’s achievement in the play’s final act has to be seen to be believed.

Runs until 13th September

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Julian Glover's Beowulf - Review

Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at Shakespeare's Globe, London


*****

Adapted by Julian Glover from the translations by Michael Alexander and Edwin Morgan and from the Bristol Old Vic production directed by John David and John Elvery

Julian Glover

Beowulf is an Old English (possibly the oldest English) poem. Known to have been written in the tenth century, but with probable older origins, it's verses tell of a time of dragons, sea monsters, smoking swords and throughout it all wassail and riotous assembly in cavernous mead halls.

Julian Glover has been reciting the poem for nigh on thirty years, in a version that he has painstakingly laboured over. His editing of the verse has led to it being mainly recited in the contemporary idiom, with an occasional stanza of Old English and his helpful programme notes tell us of history having stressed that Beowulf "should not only be read to oneself, but spoken out loud". Thus it was, for two shows only last weekend, that Glover was to give his final performances of the poem in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at Shakespeare’s Globe. 

The venue was enchanting. Lit mainly by flickering candles (supplemented by a floodlit yellow wash) the Playhouse offers an elegant Elizabethan intimacy and that it was packed on a pleasant spring afternoon speaks much for Julian Glover's reputation.

Glover's delivery is the work of a master. Such is the actor's genius that even when speaking in the ancient tongue, typically unintelligible to a modern audience, his rhythm enhanced by a perfect emphasis on the text's alliterative strengths made even the most incomprehensible language seem crystal clear.

Using minimal props (a tankard, sword and throne, all used only occasionally) and dressed in simple, sober modern blacks, Glover's recital, through perfectly honed inflection and nuance, was a step back in time. For what must be nigh on millennia, folk have been entertained by talented raconteurs telling stories and this is precisely the ambience that Glover achieved. A man as at home performing in a Broadway musical as he is mastering Shakespeare, this wonderful actor held the crowd in the palm of his hand.

This review covered the matinee performance. Later that evening Glover's son Jamie, an accomplished actor himself, was to inherit his father's mantle by concluding the recital and carrying on its oral tradition. 

Today’s writers, directors and dramaturgs would do well to attend the future recitals of Glover Junior. Simply staged and beautifully performed, the purest of theatre does not get better than this.