Measure For Measure - Review

Barbican Theatre, London


***


Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Greg Doran

Members of the company of Measure For Measure

Measure For Measure is one of Shakespeare’s less performed works. A comedy (or such as was, in its day) exploring morality, sex, corruption and forgiveness, it has long been recognised in the modern day as a challenge to present. Greg Doran has translated the play’s Viennese setting to the 1900’s, but while there has clearly been an imaginative attempt at a credible interpretation of the yarn, this production is hamstrung by too much mediocrity. 

Many of the performances, notably Lucy Phelps’ Isabella, are just too flat to bring a life to the narrative and this is only compounded by very poor sound design. Clarity of speech and diction is vital in all aspects of theatre, and with Shakespearen verse, with its dated but still richly observed perception and nuance, even more so. For the Barbican, a modern venue that should be executing cutting edge techniques in both stagecraft and acoustics, this is hard to forgive. Much of the dialogue was inaudible to the extent that the play’s ending and associated resolution was, to many in the audience, quite simply incomprehensible.  

Credit to David Ajao (Pompey) as well as Joseph Arkley (Lucio) who gave strong performances, catching the underlying humour. Likewise Anthony Byrne (Duke of Vienna) who was equally entertaining. 

Unususlly for Stephen Brimson Lewis, his set designs disappoint. While this may be a repertory touring run for the RSC, that is no reason to deliver scenery that fails to effectively shift the narrative's various locations.

Not the RSC at its best. This is most likely a production that will be best appreciated by students and Shakespeare enthusiasts. 

Runs until 16th January 2020

Photo credit: Helen Maybanks

As You Like It - Review

Barbican Theatre, London


****


Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Kimberley Sykes

Lucy Phelps

The first of three new Royal Shakespeare Company productions kicks off this week with a delightful and especially woke performance of gender-bending romantic comedy As You Like It. Director Kimberley Sykes embraces the playful text with a diverse and tuneful cast so at ease with the text that off-the-cuff moments and audience interaction are plentiful.

The story goes that Duke Senior is exiled to the Forest of Arden by his usurper brother, Duke Frederick. Senior’s daughter, Rosalind, stays behind thanks to her bond with Frederick’s daughter, Celia… that is before Frederick flips out and banishes her after all. Celia joins her, as does their fool Touchstone, but not before disguising themselves. Rosalind becomes Ganymede, the brother to Aliena, Celia’s disguise. Throw in Rosalind’s love Orlando also escaping to the forest to avoid further persecution by his brother, Oliver... farce doth ensue.

Lucy Phelps is farce-in-chief as Rosalind/Ganymede, a bundle of eccentricity and energy as she encourages Orlando to prove his love to Rosalind by wooing Ganymede, all the while struggling to maintain her guise. David Ajao is a brawny Orlando, as passionate as any lovesick youth would be, with a dash of the jovial cheek ( a common youthful trait ) . The infamous melancholy Jacques, who’s gifted many of the play’s most quoted gems, from “All the world’s a stage” to “A fool! A fool! I met a fool in the forest!” is played with the perfect amount of wise whimsy by Sophie Stanton. Antony Byrne as both Dukes is another absolute tour de force as are Emily Johnstone’s beautiful vocals as Amiens and Le Beau.

The diverse cast of eighteen reflects not only age and race but also disabilities, to say nothing of a range of accents that seems to reflect nearly all of the British Isles. It’s a gorgeous way of presenting one of the Bard’s most quoted plays, adding a depth not often achieved in productions drawn from received pronunciation. 

The wooden staging seems sparse for most of the first half, with just a patch of grass and a balcony to set the scene, but is soon becomes more of a forest setting. Scenic designer Stephen Brimson Lewis puts his biggest creative stamp on it however in a collaboration with puppetry designer Mervyn Millar producing a disconcertingly overbearing giant puppet of the Goddess Hymen for the final scene.

This is an appropriately enjoyable and charming production of one of Shakespeare’s most loved plays. Looking forward to the rest of the trilogy coming up in the next few weeks.

In repertory at the Barbican until 18 January 2020, then on tour

Reviewed by Heather Deacon

Photo credit: Topher McGrillis

The Tempest - Review

Barbican Theatre, London

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by  Gregory Doran

Simon Russell Beale and Jenny Rainsford

In just seven days it has been possible to catch the RSC doing what they do best - offering an insight into Shakespeare’s profound understanding of the breadth of the human condition. At Stratford last week Titus Andronicus evidenced man’s capacity to wreak bloody revenge. This week with The Tempest, we observe the power of forgiveness.

In a literally magical production, the London transfer of Stratford upon Avon's 2016 hit sees Simon Russell Beale as Prospero shipwrecked on an enchanted island in the Med, with only his daughter Miranda to accompany him and a library of books and spells. 

Also resident on the island are Caliban, a hulkingly ugly witch’s son and Ariel, a spirit, both of whom are under Prospero’s spell - and as the (literally fantastic) story unfolds we learn of Dukedoms usurped, resentments nurtured, smouldering love and passionate jealousies.

What makes Greg Doran’s production soar is a virtually seamless marriage of some of the finest acting to be found, alongside breathtaking 21st century technology. Stephen Brimson Lewis’ stage design is magnificent - the entire play taking place within the massive gaping ribs of a shipwreck’s hull. Onto these perished timbers, The Imaginarium Studios and Finn Ross project digital creations which through a combination of both ingenious imagery and the screens onto which their work is projected, breathe a supernatural life into the island.

Russell Beale’s Prospero is wise and measured, with the actor’s hallmark twang of wry exasperation giving a lilting cadence to some of Shakespeare's most beautiful verse. Jenny Rainsford as Miranda is a young woman brimming with desire. Her joy on first encountering the subsequently shipwrecked Ferdinand, the King’s son played by Daniel Easton is almost palpable and the love that evolves between the couple, albeit within the confines of a tale based on magical whimsy, is entirely plausible.

As the grotesquely piscatorial Caliban, replete with flapping fish, Joe Dixon’s spinally exo-skeletal costume could almost have been designed by H.R.Giger. Dixon captures Caliban’s slow-witted complexities perfectly, while as Ariel, the bodysuited, lithe Mark Quartley turns in a performance that is as acrobatic as it is stunningly empathetic. Excelling throughout, in a performance that blends bewilderingly believably into the digital domain Quartley’s understated elation as Ariel receives his liberty in the final act, is a celebration of sensitivity.

While all of the performances are spot on, there’s a niggle in the casting of Jonathan Broadbent as Antonio. He may well be Prospero’s brother, but the significant age gap between the performers makes that particular conceit hard to grasp. There must however be a mention for the outstanding soprano work from Elly Condron, Jennifer Witton and Samantha Hay as Iris, Juno and Ceres respectively, who only add a further degree of enchantment to the consecration of Miranda and Ferdinand’s union.

Paul Englishby’s music and Lucy Cullingford’s movement alongside the production’s stunning sound and lighting only add to what is yet another work of excellence from the RSC.

Runs until 18th August 2017

Photo credit: Topher McGrillis

No Man's Land - Review

Wyndhams Theatre, London


*****

Written by Harold Pinter
Directed by Sean Mathias

Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart

Every once in a while the theatrical planets align to create a pairing of such fine actors that it may well be unmatched for a generation. So it is with Harold Pinter's absurdist gem No Man's Land, a work that’s always best played by starry knights. Ralph Richardson and John Gielgud first created Pinter’s curious curmudgeons during the National Theatre's residency at the Old Vic in 1975. Today the honours fall to Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart who again re-unite to lead an evening of theatre that remains as perplexing as it is entertaining.

In their twilight years Hirst (Stewart) and Spooner (McKellen) chance upon each other in a pub on Hampstead Heath before retiring to Hirst's nearby mansion. We learn that both men have literary achievements of varying pedigree, but while the wealthy and patrician Hirst still exudes an air of the virile masculinity that that made him an accomplished ladies’ man in years past, Spooner, the shabbier by far, is a down on his luck gay poet who spends his time earning a few bob collecting glasses in another local pub and spying on clandestine homosexual liaisons on the Heath. As the alcohol flows, the bleakness of their respective no man's lands of old age gradually emerges.

It wouldn’t be Pinter without a sinister undertone, injected here by two younger men, Foster and Briggs (Damien Molony and Owen Teale respectively) who also reside with Hirst. Quite what or who they are isn’t defined, though the suggestion that they are poised to prey upon the old man's wealth is never far away.

Amidst this cocktail of comedy and conspiracy, Pinter's prose is a delight. Hirst hates the "solitary shittery" of his decline, whilst Spooner is threateningly taunted as a "minge juice bottler". The bravura of the text is as timely as Stephen Brimson Lewis' exquisite costuming, with the 1970s so perfectly defined that the play could almost be a fusion of Derek and Clive mixed with The Sweeney.

Acclaimed on Broadway (though one wonders how American audiences have ever managed a text so steeped in London's geography and vernacular) Sean Mathias extracts power as much as pathos and frailty from his leading men. There's a hint of Shakespeare in the play's nosings too. Consider in act two how a vulnerable Lear or Gloucester could be being channelled - with the younger men's brutality (think here of Regan’s Cornwall) merely being hinted at. 

For lovers of theatre, drama does not get better than this, especially with both McKellen and Stewart having evolved into latter day screen giants. Freed from the close-up confines of film and TV work the pair are unmissable, with an electrifying chemistry in their interaction

No Man's Land may ultimately remain as unfathomable as Pinter intended, but no matter. Much like a generous measure of one of Hirst's malts (and a 40 year one at that), this production offers performance and dialog and oh, those glorious pauses that merit being swirled around in a heavy glass, savoured and carefully contemplated.

Runs until 17th December

Photo credit: Johan Persson

King and Country. Shakespeare's Great Cycle of Kings - Review

A complete cycle of Richard II, Henry IV Parts I & II and Henry V

Barbican Centre, London

*****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Greg Doran

The RSC’s opening to Shakespeare's 400th anniversary year could neither have been more extraordinary nor ambitious: the full cycle of the Henriad performed as an entire historical epic. 

The four shows which in their original productions were already examples of English theatre at its finest, achieve new depth and strength when witnessed as a single event. Being able to follow the development of the characters from the very beginning and through each play is an enlightening and immersive experience for the audience and no doubt for the actors too. 

Looking at Richard II, Henry IV and Henry V in temporal continuity, one after the other gives a new perspective to their deeds and emotions: they appear more human, less kings, no longer absolute protagonists of their own single play but parts of a greater scenario. 

The set, ingeniously designed by Stephen Brimson Lewis and thanks to impressive projections on curtains of small metallic chains, becomes the unchanging historical frame. The throne, the crown, the arches of Westminster are always there, unchanging throughout the years, real grandiose witnesses of the fate of King after King who inhabits them.

From that fresh perspective Richard II, Henry IV and Henry V are merely men: weak, brave, vicious, self-questioning, strong, doubtful, destined to pass, to die – their deaths to be regretted later, even by those who killed or betrayed them. To see the complete tetralogy helps us to read this clearly: the history of the country and the stories of those men. 

For the successful delivery of such a unique venture the director Greg Doran can count on the truly astonishing abilities of a stellar cast led by David Tennant as Richard II, Jasper Britton as Bolingbroke/Henry IV, Alex Hassell as Prince Hal/Henry V and Antony Sher as Sir John Falstaff.

Tennant’s Richard II conveys brilliantly the complex inner struggle of the last medieval king. Successor to Edward III, Richard II and ascending the throne when he was just 10 years old, he firmly believed he was entitled to the power by God. Shakespeare shrewdly sets the action during the last period of his reign when he was more a corrupted and self-obsessed tyrant than a king. The audience knows this, but nonetheless his astonishment and suffering at being deposed by mere mortal men are so engagingly portrayed by Tennant that it proves almost impossible not to sympathise. 

Where Tennant’s Richard is pure nerves and aristocratic snobbery, Jasper Britton’s Bolingbroke (later Henry IV) is a neat and solid presence from his first entrance. If, as I have already said, no-one can avoid feeling Richard’s sorrow, it is at the same time equally impossible to perceive Bolingbroke as a wicked usurper. Seen via the three works, his becoming Henry IV appears just a step on the path of history towards newer, more modern times.

Henry IV's and Henry V’s development through the cycle is reason enough in itself to participate in the whole event. Jasper Britton’s performance is magnificent and flawless: from fighting soldier to strong king to ill monarch he is at every moment utterly convincing. 

But it is with Alex Hassell’s Prince Hal/Henry V that we have the real crescendo. Hassell’s ability to transform from a daredevil Prince of Wales to a warrior King to a clumsy lover is mesmerising, especially as he achieves such results with a more naturalistic, lower-key delivery. We are not in the presence of a self-conscious King, what we have here is a great human monarch who is trying to learn how to build himself and his country.

Obviously the transformation from being Prince Hal to becoming King Henry V would not be so credible without the hulking presence of Antony Sher’s Falstaff. The jovially immoral friend of binges is played with a mix of practical common sense and jolly enthusiasm by Sher. The scene of their last meeting has the power to sound like the end of an era. The childish Prince is dead, long live the King.

On this unmissable occasion the leading men have the support not only of a superb cast but also of virtuoso live musicians in delivering the most sublime theatrical and Shakespearian experience seen in a long while. Twelve hours over three days may not seem right for everyone, but it truly is a unique event and a commitment you won't regret.

Runs until January 24th.

Guest Reviewer Simona Negretto

Henry V - Review

Barbican Theatre, London


As The RSC open their Henry V at London's Barbican Theatre, here is my 4* review of that production from its opening at Stratford upon Avon in September 2015.

And this link is to my interview with the company's rising star, Alex Hassell.

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Greg Doran

Alex Hassell

In a time of celebrity cast Shakespeare productions, it is a pleasure to observe Greg Doran’s take on Henry V and see not so much a band of brothers, but rather a company of craftsmen offering one of the most intelligent interpretations of this complex play in recent years.

Famously seized upon by directors as a platform for political comment, Henry V has often been rolled out as a platform (sorry, make that a bandwagon) to voice opinion upon contemporary conflict. On screen Olivier’s Harry sought to rally the nation as the 1944 Normandy landings loomed, whilst in 2003 as war raged in Iraq, Adrian Lester’s dusty jeep sped onto the Olivier stage, drawing Nick Hytner’s line in the sand as he acceded to the National’s directorship. 

But in this show, today’s politics are sidelined in place of comment on the universal compromises that war imposes upon humanity. Doran eschews all sense of contemporary tub-thumping in place of well honed drama and lets the Bard’s verse speak to its own strengths. Broadly staged in period garb, apart from Oliver Ford Davies’ marvellous Chorus, clad in modern dress, setting out Stratford’s cockpit whilst the House lights stay on, this is an un-pretentious Henry V.

Marking a natural progression from his Prince Hal in both parts of Doran’s Henry IV, Alex Hassell accedes to the throne and his performance is a thing of beauty. Having observed his development in the preceding plays, his Henry matures before our eyes as the responsibilities of inspirational monarchy weigh upon him. Hassell brings a heroic handsome humility to the role that sheaths a steely spine. His Henry’s pragmatic ruthlessness is as credible in dealing with the traitors at Southampton, as it is in the famously troubling (and often excised) command that his troops should kill their French prisoners. 

Hassell’s handling of the St Crispin’s Day speech is majestic yet free of pomposity and condescension, whilst his  entreaties to his troops to treat the defeated French with decency ring with an envious integrity.

Robert Gilbert’s Dauphin needs work – it’s a complex role to carry off and he’s not quite there yet in suspending our disbelief. Elsewhere there is a fine company work to support Hassell’s Harry. Joshua Richards’ Bardolph/Fluellen offers impressive soldiers’ perspectives both on conflict and upon dutiful service. In a minor role, Sam Marks’ (who only recently played Happy opposite Hassell's Biff in the RSC's Death Of A Salesman) French Constable shone out as a beacon of credibility, whilst Jane Lapotaire’s Queen Isobel, in the briefest of speeches, defines with dignity France’s pain in defeat and her nation’s hopes for the future.

As ever, the RSC's stagecraft is world class with Stephen Brimson Lewis’ use of projections and eerily effective understage lighting in his set designs proving particularly effective.

Shortly to move to London’s Barbican Theatre, one suspects that like a fine wine, this already impressive production play will only improve with time. 

Setting politics aside, this Henry V offers up a perspective on war that speaks to us all.


Runs until 30 November 2015

Then runs during January 2016 as part of The RSC's Great Cycle of Kings

Henry V - Review

Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Greg Doran

Alex Hassell

In a time of celebrity cast Shakespeare productions, it is a pleasure to observe Greg Doran’s take on Henry V and see not so much a band of brothers, but rather a company of craftsmen offering one of the most intelligent interpretations of this complex play in recent years.

Famously seized upon by directors as a platform for political comment, Henry V has often been rolled out as a platform (bandwagon) to voice an opinion upon contemporary conflict. On screen Olivier’s Harry sought to rally the nation as the 1944 Normandy landings loomed, whilst in 2003 as war raged in Iraq, Adrian Lester’s dusty jeep sped onto the Olivier stage to draw Nick Hytner’s line in the sand as he became the National’s director. 

But in this show, today’s politics are sidelined in place of comment on the universal compromises that war imposes upon humanity. Doran eschews all sense of contemporary tub-thumping in place of well honed drama and lets the Bard’s verse speak to its own strengths. Broadly staged in period garb, apart from Oliver Ford Davies’ marvellous Chorus, clad in modern dress, setting out Stratford’s cockpit whilst the House lights stay on, this is an un-pretentious Henry V.

Marking a natural progression from his Prince Hal in both parts of Doran’s Henry IV, Alex Hassell accedes to the throne and his performance is a thing of beauty. Having observed his development in the preceding plays, his Henry matures before our eyes as the responsibilities of inspirational monarchy weigh upon him. Hassell brings a heroic handsome humility to the role that sheaths a steely spine. His Henry’s pragmatic ruthlessness is as credible in dealing with the traitors at Southampton, as it is in the famously troubling (and often excised) command that his troops should kill their French prisoners. 

Hassell’s handling of the St Crispin’s Day speech is majestic yet free of pomposity and condescension, whilst his  entreaties to his troops to treat the defeated French with decency ring with an envious integrity.

Robert Gilbert’s Dauphin needs work – it’s a complex role to carry off and he’s not quite there yet in suspending our disbelief. Elsewhere there is a fine company work to support Hassell’s Harry. Joshua Richards’ Bardolph/Fluellen offers impressive soldiers’ perspectives both on conflict and upon dutiful service. In a minor role, Sam Marks’ (who only recently played Happy opposite Hassell's Biff in the RSC's Death Of A Salesman) French Constable shone out as a beacon of credibility, whilst Jane Lapotaire’s Queen Isobel, in the briefest of speeches, defines with dignity France’s pain in defeat and her nation’s hopes for the future.

As ever, the RSC's stagecraft is world class with Stephen Brimson Lewis’ use of projections and eerily effective understage lighting in his set designs proving particularly effective.

Shortly to move to London’s Barbican Theatre, one suspects that like a fine wine, this already impressive production play will only improve with time. 

Setting politics aside, this Henry V offers up a perspective on war that speaks to us all.


Runs until 20th October

Volpone - Review

Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon


****


Written by Ben Jonson
Directed by Trevor Nunn

Annette McLaughlin and Henry Goodman

Trevor Nunn’s production of Volpone at the RSC's Swan sagely contends that the sins of greed and avarice are timeless. With Ben Jonson’s 17th century comedy set squarely in a modern Venice, if some of Ranjit Bolt’s occasional script revisions are schoolboy clumsy (silly references to Greece and the Euro pop up), they can be forgiven in a plot in which incredible complexities may not have weathered the test of time as much as the brilliant observation of the flawed human condition that makes this play so entertaining.

At the play’s core is Henry Goodman’s titular oleaginous oligarch. Prosperously tanned and every inch a convincingly very rich man, Goodman channels his Auric Goldfinger, Albert Steptoe (there's even a hint of a betrayed Max Bialystock at the end of act one) into a masterful performance. Goodman's first appearance in Stratford since his 2003 Richard III, he works well under Nunn’s direction – and his devious deception of the circling townsfolk who crave his as yet un-bequeathed wealth is a fine performance of classical comedy. Aside from his commanding presence, Goodman’s rapid costume changes, grotesque make-up and sublime voice work – his/Volpone’s Scoto the Mountebank alone justifies the ticket price – make for a display of stunning stagecraft.

Matthew Kelly’s Corvino, married to the beautiful Celia who Volpone desires, offers up a delicious caricature of monstrous misogyny as he views his trophy wife as little more than a consumable artefact in his pursuit of Volpone’s wealth. Rhiannon Handy’s Celia is a pleasing turn, but it is Annette McLaughlin’s Lady Politic Would-Be who steals scenes. McLaughlin’s character is also on the trail of Volpone’s wealth and her WAG-inspired performance, all glamour and selfies, is as gloriously clichéd in its conception as her applause-winning delivery is outstanding.

Orion Lee’s Mosca, Volpone’s assistant (reminding me initially of a slimmed down Goldfinger’s Oddjob) puts in a hard-working shift, but with a performance that jars slightly. No doubt this will settle down into the run.

There are some neat touches. Stephen Brimson Lewis’ minimalist set includes a stock exchange crawler that allows Volpone to track his own corporation’s share price, (code “VLP” natch), whilst Jon Key, Ankur Bahl and Julian Hoult as Volpone’s dwarf, hermaphrodite and eunuch respectively, make high camp fun of their scene-setting parts, amidst some witty rap routines.

Women may be marginalised in this celebration of bumbling buffoonery, but Volpone’s cynical observation that “conscience is a beggar’s virtue” can ring as true today as in Jonson’s era. With high camp farce and a classy lampooning both of the rich and those who fawn upon them, Volpone is well worth a summer’s visit to Stratford.

Runs until 12th September 2015

Death Of A Salesman - Review

Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

*****

Written by Arthur Miller

Directed by Greg Doran

Harriet Walter and Antony Sher

To read my interview with Harriet Walter and her analysis of the role of Linda, click here

Death Of A Salesman not only marks the centenary of Arthur Miller’s birth, but in Greg Doran’s production being staged over Shakespeare’s April birthday, is also the RSC’s jewel in its 2015 crown.

Widely acclaimed as the greatest American play, we witness a meticulous dissection of the last 24 hours of Willy Loman’s life. His sales are flagging, buyers won’t see him anymore and he has been reduced to “commission only” by his young and ruthless boss Howard, a man who (in one of many moments of Miller’s cruel perception) Willy has watched grow up from boyhood to inherit his family's business. The mounting finance bills on car (and hellishly, even the refrigerator) remind us of the domestic pressures that Antony Sher's Willy can never escape.

As guilt and failure take their toll on Loman, we see early on how wise his wife (Harriet Walter's Linda) is to his confusion. “Your mind is overactive, and the mind is what counts, dear.” But she is being kind. As act one unfolds, Harriet Walter delivers one of the most devastating female performances, telling sons Biff and Happy that not only is she fully aware of Willy’s suicidal depression, but that she cannot let him know that she knows, for such a revelation would destroy him. Linda’s strength as a wife and mother, desperate to glue her family together is a recognisable pain and as Walter spoke, the sobbing around the auditorium was profound.

Miller is merciless as he twists the knife into Loman’s last desperate hours. As Biff again disappoints him, the true depths of Willy’s guilt and shame are revealed, whilst Happy (Sam Marks convincing as the shallow even if ultimately loving son, too easily led by his trousers) is happy to desert his desolate father in a restaurant, as he heads off in pursuit of women.

Loman’s descent will be recognised by all and quite possibly be familiar to many and yet along the way he encounters everyday kindnesses too. Linda’s love for her husband breaks our hearts, whilst Charley (a beautifully weighted performance from the lugubrious Joshua Richards) provides one of the most touching definitions of friendship ever penned. In the play’s Requiem, Charley’s eulogy echoes Horatio's "now cracks a noble heart" speech from Hamlet, as the old New Yorker says of Willy: 

”He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back — that’s an earthquake. And then you get yourself a couple of spots on your hat, and you’re finished.”

Nowhere else in the canon has the so-called “American dream” been so concisely revealed as the nightmare that it can so easily become.

Besides the faultless text, it is Doran’s company that mark this production as one of the greats. Sat at his kitchen table, the shoe-shining Sher defines Miller’s anti-hero for a new generation and as his mind unravels, Sher’s Loman is as brilliantly desperate as he is pitiful.

In a pairing that has seen Alex Hassell play Hal to Sher’s Falstaff, so is the younger man now Biff. Magnificent throughout, it is late into act two when Hassell, with minimal dialogue and outstanding acting, portrays a young man watching the rock that he had previously believed his father to be, crumble before his eyes. Watching the equal despair of the humiliated father and his devastated son, both now destroyed, is almost unbearable. 

Stephen Brimson Lewis’ powerfully overbearing set depicts a tenemented Brooklyn, the Lomans’ home, where nothing grows anymore – and as Miller has the play’s action flash between the years, so too does the staging mirror Loman’s muddled mind. Credit also to Tim Mitchell’s lighting and Paul Englishby’s music, both perfectly enhancing time and place.

In 1979 Miller described Warren Mitchell in Mitchel Rudman’s National Theatre production, as “definitive”. I saw the NT show more than once and Greg Doran’s version shares that pantheon. 

A tragedy that is timeless and epic and yet also everyman, Death Of A Salesman plays at Stratford, before an immediate transfer to London. The production is unmissable. Drama does not come better than this.

Plays at Stratford until 2nd May 2015. Then plays at the Noel Coward Theatre from 9th May until 18th July 2015