Anthony and Cleopatra at The Courtyard Theatre

Michael Boyd’s production of this classic play got off to a steamy start. The two eponymous lovers enjoyed a sensual kiss in twin circles of light whilst Anthony’s soldiers looked on; the idea presumably being to show how their love isolated them from their followers. It had the dual effect however of distancing the audience. We were merely visitors sneaking a glance into an epic love story. However, once the opening scene was out the way the pace picked up and we were suddenly thrust into the heady, humid world of Cleopatra’s Egypt. A world of excess; music, wine, passion was in abundance.

Cleopatra herself (played with lithe, muscular sensuality by Kathryn Hunter) was a rock star, never seen in the same outfit twice, miniature pistol thrust reliably into her garter. Though Hunter’s portrayal was light years away from the likes of Elizabeth Taylor she imbued Cleopatra with a danger and theatricality I’d never seen before. In comparison to Cleopatra’s tiny stature, Darrell D’Silva’s Anthony was a broad, bearded warrior whose voice and physical presence dominated the play. There were perfectly matched. Ably supported by a universally strong supporting cast, this production was a triumph of ensemble acting.

My only criticism would be that Anthony and Cleopatra is a ‘wordy’ play, if you’ll forgive the obliqueness of the term and needs to be properly digested. Boyd’s production rattled along at such a pace that at times it felt rushed. Sometimes the intense verbal wordplay between Anthony and Cleopatra, or the political debate between Anthony and Octavius was lost. The Courtyard Theatre lends itself to speedy productions. The flexible space with its many entrances and exits allow actors to launch themselves on stage from all angles, deliver lines at breakneck speed before vanishing. Whilst visually this can be striking, I would prefer to see Boyd slow them down a little to allow audience members unfamiliar with the plot to keep up. But this is only a little moan. The production on the whole was exciting, dynamic and thrilling. An extremely enjoyable evening of theatre.

Othello at The Warwick Arts Centre

The RSC’s latest production of Othello marks Kathryn Hunter’s directorial debut with the company. I was interested to see whether she could create a new interpretation out of one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays.
I entered the auditorium to the dull beat of a drum. As I took my seat a guitar and a double bass joined the noise. As the house lights dimmed the drumbeat increased. The stage was black and empty, save for two large staircases on either side. The music took on a religious feel as the actors took to the stage. Othello pushed his way through the crowd of Venetian’s chanting Gregorian melodies to sing a rich African song. Here was a man constantly torn throughout the production between his African heritage and conventions of Venetian society. Though he sang an African chant he wore the same formal tuxedo as the Venetians. In Hunter’s play it was this cultural difference that helped lead Othello to his downfall.
Naiambana’s Othello dominated the performance throughout. The scars on his face and the bulging muscles under his formal suit showed the audience that this was a man far more comfortable leading an army into battle, than attending a dinner party. It was clear also that the Venetians desperately needed Othello’s strength. The Duke, old and wheelchair bound, begged Othello to protect them against the Turks.
Natalie Tena’s Desdemona ably matched Naiambana’s strength and sexuality. This was the strongest Desdemona I have ever seen on stage. In the final scene she fought back to save her life, brandishing a broken bottle as Othello whirled a whip. She towered over the diminutive Roderigo and frightened the smarmy Iago, proving herself to be the equal of Othello in status.
Marcelo Margini’s Roderigo was a physical fool. His capering and idiocy making a striking contrast to Naiambana’s resolute Othello. At one point he was unable to even fire a gun. It was obvious why Desdemona had chosen Othello over him.
Tamzin Griffin was an alcoholic, older Emilia, worn out with care over her husband whom she was clearly still sexually obsessed with. In a scene that was at once touching and horrific, Iago sneakily passed her a bottle of scotch as a reward for keeping quiet.
Hunter included some interesting scenic devices in this production. Two large staircases at the back of the stage were combined to make bridges and ships. It was the actors who created these sets. At one point during Othello’s epileptic fit, Iago conducted the chorus of actors to create waves out of the scenery. This was obviously designed to show his power over the other characters on stage, as well as the very stage itself. Sadly this degree of control was not reflected in Michael Gould’s performance as Iago. At times he was so subtle that it was difficult to detect how much he truly hated the Moor. There was a also distance between Iago and the audience, even in his soliloquies, which made it difficult to relish in his plotting. Hunter created a world of hot danger on stage. The characters existed in a tense militarised state, torn between the ‘straight jacketed’ norms of Venetian behaviour and the steamy manners of Cyprus. Race and sexuality bubbled constantly under the civilised surface. Hunter may have intended us to feel as alienated by this world as Othello does. The opening of the second half had the Clown, played ably by Miltos Yerolemou enter ‘blacked up’. The soldiers responded with cheers and laughter as the clown danced with a white doll, crudely mocking Othello and Desdemona’s relationship. The nervous titter from the audience showed how uncomfortable Hunter’s production was making them feel. In a particularly grisly and effective piece of staging, Iago grabbed the white doll and smeared ball shoe polish onto its crotch.
There were several inconsistencies in this production, which I felt let it down. It was set in the early twentieth century and yet the men and women behaved in a very modern way. Tena’s Desdemona seemed too fiery in public.
I also felt Hunter relied heavily on props, the symbolism of which was unclear to the audience. Othello kept the broken bottle, which Cassio had used in a brawl, throughout the play and it was not made clear to the audience why he did this.
Naiambana’s Othello slowed his lines down to give each one power and emphasis but whilst this worked well in the earlier scenes it slowed the pace of the production down. It was particularly bad in the final scene where Naiambana spent several minutes pacing around the stage after killing Desdemona. Naiambana’s presence did dominate the stage however, and this made it impossible for Gould’s Iago to control it. The production centred so closely on Naiambana’s performance there was little room for any other character to make an impression.
This was a disappointing production. A weak-supporting cast combined with a slow pace and some fairly ambiguous prop and scenic devices made for a sluggish and opaque production.

The Miser at The Belgrade Theatre

This production of Moliere’s classic play is a new version by translator David Johnston. Having recently watched a production of his translation of ’Barnarda Alba’ and having acted in his translations of ‘The Dog in the Manger’ and ‘Play Without A Title’ I was keen to see his latest work. The result is a fast-paced, bawdy piece of theatre focusing on the machinations of a miserly Scot living in 17th Century Warwickshire.
The actors enter through the audience before disappearing into the wings, setting up an immediate informality with the audience. Indeed, this is a show which does not shy away from confronting its public. It seemed that every other line was directed at the audience, either to get a laugh or to hammer home a moralistic fact of life. Whilst initially this was irreverently charming, it eventually became tiresome as the action on stage was interrupted yet again. Whilst Johnston’s translation was at times very funny, I felt that the actors pushed every line for a laugh which sacrificed much of the play’s seriousness. At times the production even felt like a series of increasingly racy masturbation jokes. Moliere’s play is a tragic-comedy and yet much of the tragedy was lost in this production. Instead of getting a rumination on the nature of greed and its alienating effect, we got several hours of (albeit very funny) pantomime.
I also took exception to the presence of a musician who covered most of the scene changes by walking on stage and playing a clarinet. By entering the space and playing on stage she was set up as a character, yet she was only acknowledged once. There was no indication as to who she was. What was she doing in the Miser’s house? Surely he would not have hired her? It would have been much easier for her to have played offstage, therefore removing any misunderstanding. As it was, it seemed like a fairly contrived theatrical technique which served little purpose.
Of course this all makes it seem that I did not enjoy this production; in fact quite the opposite. I laughed heartily throughout most of it, and for every fault it had many admirable qualities. Firstly the stage design was excellent. A decaying, crumbling shell of a building shrouded in inch-thick dust; light filtering through cracks in the mildew-stained, wooden paneling. The stage was virtually bare, save for two broken chairs and a gnarled, wooden staircase that twisted, spine-like up to two barren balconies. Whilst accurately conjuring an air of miserly desolation and hardship, I felt there was little on the stage for the actors to interact with, which meant they spent most of their time pacing up and down the lip of the stage.
The acting was also, on the whole, very good. Andy Gray propelled the action forward with an exuberant performance as the Scottish Miser. Every line was milked for its comic potential and then fired at the audience at high speed. Part moral philosopher, part disgruntled Rab. C Nesbit, Gray was undoubtedly the star of the show. He was ably supported by Will Tacey and Lin Blakley who excelled in their funny (if somewhat small) roles. Keith Faulkner gave a charismatic performance as the Miser’s foppish son, but sadly Lily Bevan failed to make much of an impression as his erstwhile daughter.
In all, a lively, energetic piece of theatre, which had no pretension of being anything other than a knockabout comedy. Some strong acting, and high production values makes it worth the two hour viewing. However, don’t go expecting mediation on the threat of capitalism or the financial crisis.

Arabian Nights at The Courtyard Theatre.

Dominic Cooke’s new theatrical adaptation of the series of classic stories is certainly a feast for the eyes. Boasting a lively eighteen strong company and an innovative stage design this two hour long production succeeded admirably in transporting the audience to the Middle East. The plot focuses on the young, beautiful Shahrazad telling stories to her husband, the king in order to prolong her own life. Ayesha Dharker gives a vibrant, charismatic performance as Shahrazad, whilst Silas Carson is suitably intimidating as Shahrayar the heart-broken, vengeful king. To placate him Shahrazad tells him six stories, including the well-known Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. At first the king is content to sit back and watch but as Shahrazad’s stories revive him he starts to join in the telling. The stories are enacted by the energetic cast, notable among who was Simon Trinder, whose energetic gambolling was a highlight of the show.
Merely running through a series of ancient stories may have become tiresome but this was saved by the slick performances and even slicker scene changes. Actors bounded onto the stage transforming into a dozen characters before leaping away.
This is a show clearly aimed at children and Cooke has cleverly filled the production with magic. Potions are magically transported though the air, a globe rolls around the stage on its own, coins appear magically from an open hand; each new illusion drew squeal of delight from the appreciative audience.
The stage was bare apart from a sand filled circle. As the actors moved around the stage they kicked up the sand until the air was filled with sand and spice, accurately capturing the scent of the Arabian Desert. This sandy stage also proved to be extremely flexible; gold could be buried in it, crystal balls effortlessly pulled out through it.
The highlight of the production for me was the excellent use of puppetry. The story of Es-sindibad (the sailor) was told exclusively with puppets beautifully manipulated by the cast. Handkerchiefs became the wings of eagles, snakes were created with arms and at times the small golden puppet representing Es-sindibad seemed genuinely alive. My only regret was that the puppets were not used throughout.
All in all a magical, enjoyable evening; a perfect Christmas treat for the whole family.

Jiggery Pokery at The Warwick Arts Centre.

Jiggery Pokery is based on the tragic life story of the tortured comic actor Charles Hawtrey. It follows Hawtrey’s life from his youth as a child star in Peter Pan, through his days with Will Hay, his forties where he found wide-spread fame in the Carry-on films, his ignominious, lonely later years, where a drunk Hawtrey felt increasingly isolated and finally his death from a gangrene infection after a drunken fall in his house.
The interesting aspect of this production is that all the characters (over eighty) are played by the same actor- Amanda Lawrence, who does the seemingly impossible task of playing all ninety without getting confused. In fact Lawrence’s characters (which include Hawtrey’s Mother, Lawrence Olivier, Sid James and Barbara Windsor) are all so distinct that you forget you are watching the same actress. It is truly a stunning performance from Lawrence, whose energy never falters over the hour running time.
The set, mapped out with white tape, is an open-plan house with rooms depicting various important places in Hawtrey’s life: the office of his dance teacher, his mother’s kitchen, the pub where he drank himself to death. The stage is filled with a variety of props each inventively used to create the various characters.
Lawrence also mimes over recordings of Hawtrey’s performances. These serve to remind the audience of Hawtrey’s trademark style as well as allow Lawrence to show just how good her impression is. Jiggery Pokery is an exceptional piece of theatre, beautifully and sensitively performed by a talented actress. It allows a brief insight into the world of sad and bitter man who was tragically unable to beat his addiction.

The Beauty Queen of Leenane at The Belgrade Theatre.

Martin McDonagh has become something of a doyen among modern British writers. Ever since the first performance of this, his first published play, in 1996 at the Royal Court Theatre, his star has been in ascendance. Needless to say I was extremely excited at the prospect of seeing this production, having never seen the play performed before and thankfully the production did not fail to deliver.
The setting was a dusty, rustic cottage. The walls exposed to allow the audience to minutely examine the inhabitants of the house. This was clearly a house stuck in the past. The furniture old and dusty, the walls cracked and chipped, their plaster peeling. Dominating the action, centre-stage was an antique wood stove that flickered and spluttered throughout. This was a world under scrutiny, a world where everyone knew his or her neighbours business. A tangled, unkempt garden was just visible behind the back wall of the cottage giving the impression that the outside world was slowly starting to invade the cottage. It was clear to the audience that we were looking at a remote, inhospitable prison where the inmates had no choice but to interact with each other. The stage was lit with a pallid, yellow hue whilst the world outside the cottage was pitch black. This sickly contrast nicely evoked the feel of the house; beige Complan, grey porridge, yellow urine poured down the sink.
Two women are trapped in this space, Mag and her daughter Maureen. This is the archetypal parasitic relationship with Mag tormenting her already brittle daughter until the inevitable happens. The strength of this production was its acting. Both Carole Dance as Mag and Alice Selwyn as Maureen excelled in their roles; skilfully making the audience continually change sympathies. One moment you loathe Mag for her selfishness, the next you pity her for her daughters cruel treatment. Both actresses were ably supported by Alan DeVally as Ray Dooley and Paul Boyle as his brother Pato. Both these characters represented the possibility of change, the promised escape and it is the great tragedy of the play that this promise goes unfulfilled. Alan DeVally had a nervous energy, which contrasted nicely with the sullen stillness of Dance's Mag.
Being a McDonagh play you inevitably get a mix of black humour and extreme violence and in this play they are combined cleverly to make you laugh one moment at the foolishness of something Mag has said and then gasp in horror at Maureen’s reaction to it.
During all of the scene changes traditional Celidh music was played, which served to locate the play very much in rural Ireland.
I have one issue with the production however. Being a naturalistic play the director obviously had to maintain the ‘literal’ nature of the house, and did this by having characters only enter and leave the stage through the two doors, both of which were located stage right. Whilst this did make the house seem real, it also meant that several scene changes looked messy, as several characters had to cross the stage while other action was happening. The production would have felt slicker if characters could have exited stage left also.
All in all an excellent, well-acted production, which accurately conveyed the claustrophobia and despair that is so bound up in McDonagh’s text. Black humour and brutal characters combine to create a frighteningly enjoyable evening of entertainment.

Days of Significance at The Belgrade Theatre.

Roy Williams' play deals primarily with the friction between youthful freedom and adult responsibility set against the backdrop of the war in Afghanistan. The play is essentially split into three acts; the first a standard weekend night out where two young men reveal their desire to go to fight in Iraq, the second a scene from the front line of the war in Iraq where the young men have to face up to the realities of the war, and finally the wedding to which only one of the young men comes back to.
Interestingly the first section of the play is an updated version of the ‘plot of Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing’; Hannah (the Hero character) is insulted by Jamie based on Claudio, and in response her best friend Trish (short for Beatrice) gets her boy friend Ben (the Benedick character) and also Jamie’s best friend to ‘beat him up’. Inevitably, as in ‘Much Ado’ the characters are reconciled and they spend a night together wondering about their future. This is where ‘Days of Significance’ takes over from ‘Much Ado’ and continues the story. ‘Much Ado’ deals with soldiers coming back from war and falling in love, whilst the characters in ‘Days of Significance’ fall in love before going off to war. In ‘Days of Significance’ we are denied the happy ending of ‘Much Ado’.The first thing you notice when entering the auditorium is the sense of decay. A large-cola sign dominates the sign, torn across the middle, giving the impression of urban grime. It is clear we are witnessing a standard Saturday evening; neon signs flicker and buzz filling the space with their tinny growl; a kebab stand, proudly displaying its special offers, quietly steams in the corner, the smell of kebabs and lager permeating the stage. Into this space burst two young men, grappling and cursing, flinging each other about the stage until their mates intervene. It is clear to the audience that we are not going to be spared any of the ‘gory details’ of a typical Saturday night. Before we are even fifteen minutes into the play people have vomited over themselves, urinated against walls and sprayed mayonnaise onto each other’s clothes. This general horseplay and youthful abandon creates an atmosphere of complete youthful freedom. This is a world without consequence; even the police seem powerless to keep the lads under control.The second section of the play is a far sombre affair. A previously darkened section of the stage, directly beneath the coca-cola sign, is lit to reveal a war-torn building in Afghanistan. The ‘heroes’ of the first section Ben and Jamie suddenly burst violently into the space under heavy gunfire but unlike the first section this time the violence is real. The contrast between the bright, colourful, neon world of the first act and the stark white washed walls of the second act provide a nice distinction between the two. This time it is blood not vomit that is flooding the stage and staining their clothes. The banter of the lads vanishes. The bravado they displayed when mocking the consistently downbeat police officers disappears when they are faced with a real threat.The third act deals with the aftermath of the Afghanistan conflict. Only one of the two young men comes back and their friends at home are left to deal with fallout of the war. The third act takes the form of a particularly bawdy wedding, the excesses of which again provides a nice juxtaposition to the previous section.Whilst the scenes of working-class Britain life are clearly designed to provide a stark contrast with the soldiers’ lives in Afghanistan I felt they sometimes seemed a little patronising. All the modern 'chav' clichés and stereotypes were present: badly sung Karaoke, cheap booze and 'slutty' bridesmaids. The bride even had a packet of cigarettes stuffed down the cleavage of her wedding dress. It was these little touches probably intended to show a gritty, uncompromising view of working class Britain that I felt let the production down. They added a ‘pantomimic’ aspect to acts one and three that jarred with the strong naturalistic performances in act two.However, the play did boast several very powerful performances. Worth a mention is Toby Wharton as Ben the young man desperately trying to work out what he future he has and Sarah Ridgeway as Trish, a character fearless in the defence of her friends. I was particularly impressed by David Kennedy’s performance as Lenny, the father of Hannah, as a man desperately trying to hold his daughter’s fragile life together.All in all this was an interesting piece of theatre that questions how much young people actually know about the war they are enlisting for. As one character puts it they are only going to war because ‘Saddam’s a cunt.’ It made me realise the desperation some young people feel when they find themselves leaving school without any direction in life. Several strong performances and some interesting staging as well as innovative use of video projection make this a show worth seeing.