Review – The Winter’s Tale, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 22nd July 2025

Posted on July 23, 2025 by therealchrisparkle

A moon – or is it a planet? – stares down at us; huge, nebulous, ominous, as we enter the auditorium for Yaël Farber’s production of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. It reminds us that we are tiny people minimised by this great celestial influence; and wherever we go or whatever we do, we can’t escape it. It’s as old as Time – one of the play’s main themes – and it sets the tone for a certain otherworldliness for this production, which seems to put most of its theatrically inventive eggs in one basket – Act Four – leaving the rest of the play to fend for itself.

I always worry when an RSC production announces that Time will be one of its central themes – yes, I’m looking at you Macbeth – because it can overwhelm all the other aspects of the play. However, here, the emphasis on Time is neatly and appropriately placed, wrapping the Chorus and the character of Autolycus into one character. The Winter’s Tale features one of Shakespeare’s most curious structures for a play. Three Acts of tragedy, then a sixteen-year pause followed by two Acts of comedy; four Acts in the Sicilian court, one Act playing pastoral in Bohemia. This production makes a point of highlighting these contrasts, which not only makes for a visual spectacle, but deliberately unsettles the audience trying to bring both parts of the play into balance.

It’s among Shakespeare’s least cosy comedies, with destructive jealousy, a wife turned into a statue, an amiable son killed, and the frequent appearance of Time, reminding us to enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think. Indeed, the production does take a few liberties which might annoy the purist. Not only that aforementioned popular song from the 1940s, but they’ve inserted a little Brecht, and there’s an exchange between Autolycus and the Clown that includes the insults bellend and wanker. It’s mildly amusing; fortunately, the play is big and strong enough to survive the occasional meddling.

But the production is at its most effective when it leaves the work to Shakespeare. The chilling story of Leontes’ idiotic suspicions that his wife Hermione has been unfaithful with his brother Polixenes and that his brother is the father of Hermione’s unborn child is told with quiet, dignified clarity. After the interval we leave Sicilia for the ritualistic fire and dance fiesta that is Perdita hosting the sheep-shearing solstice festival; the programme notes tell us that the production explores Perdita’s connection to the myth of Persephone/Proserpina. Hold that thought. When we return to Sicilia for the final resolution, all is sedate again.

It’s very clever dramaturgy, and there’s no doubting the visual and indeed musical impact of the solstice scene; but it’s such a contrast to what went before that, more than standing out like a sore thumb, it actually feels unintegrated with the rest of the play. After the lean, business-like atmosphere of the first act, this just feels like so much padding. Whilst watching it I could only question how this portrayal of the union of Perdita and Florizel, and the subsequent disapproval by Polixenes, in any way helps our understanding of the plot. I don’t think it does. Fortunately, the final “statue” scene is presented and acted immaculately, and that’s what you remember when you go home.

There is little in the way of set – and that works to the production’s advantage. All the changes of mood and setting are suggested by Tim Lutkin’s lighting design and Reuben Cohen and Oli Quintrell’s video projections. The incidental music composed by Max Perryment is hugely evocative and contributes enormously to the atmosphere and storytelling; there’s suspense in every chord.

A strong cast brings class and gravitas to the main roles. Bertie Carvel is excellent as Leontes – seemingly affable, flipping into viciously jealous in an instant. With his reputation at stake, this Leontes shuts himself off from all reason, delivering indiscriminate cruelty in all directions. Like a divine version of BBC Verify, when the words of the Oracle deliver their verdict on the innocence of Hermione and Polixenes, and the tyranny of Leontes, his fragile world simply falls apart. In these times of fake news and AI deception, it would be very useful to have a reliable Oracle like that come in every so often to make us see the truth.

Madeline Appiah is superb as Hermione; gracious, kindly, the perfect hostess, who gathers magnificent internal resolve in the face of her husband’s stupidity and vindictiveness. And she makes a fantastic statue; every eye in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre concentrates on her to see if she makes a tiny move and there isn’t an iota of a blink. There’s a very touching scene at the end when Hermione and Perdita are reunited, Ms Appiah’s joy at seeing her long lost daughter almost brought a tear to the eye – as did the excellent Amelda Brown as her “foster” shepherdess parent, knowing she must give back the daughter who was always only ever “on loan”.

Aïcha Kossoko brings power and a no-nonsense grimness to the role of Paulina, stepping in to protect her friend Hermione’s reputation and whatever future might be ahead. Great performances too from John Light as the wronged Polixenes and Raphael Sowole’s delicately spoken and faithful Camillo. Trevor Fox brings out all the mischief and cheerful lawlessness of his chain-smoking Autolycus, and there’s nice support from Leah Haile’s Perdita and Matthew Flynn’s Antigonus.

It’s a moody, atmospheric production that tells its story clearly, apart from a total flight of fantasy in Act Four which just left me wondering why. But if you ever wanted a clear account of the characters of Leontes and Hermione so that you fully understand their story, this is the production for you.

P. S. Not so much exit pursued by a bear, more exit, listlessly observed by an indolent bear. But it’s very hard to act out that stage direction credibly.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

Three-sy Does It!

Review – The Tragedy of Macbeth, Northampton Filmhouse, 8th January 2022

Posted on January 13, 2022 by therealchrisparkle

Amongst the many amazing reasons why Shakespeare is still as big as it gets, is that he’s eminently adaptable. You can set Richard III in the 1930s or you can place Much Ado About Nothing in an English country house. You can make King John and Timon of Athens a woman and you can make the shrew Katherina a man. Or – and perhaps currently slightly out of favour – you can go back to the original and, as Joel Coen has done with The Tragedy of Macbeth, set it as Shakespeare wrote it.

Here we are in 11^th century Scotland, with the film shot in black and white to give it an extra sense of history and mystery. And here’s the movie’s absolutely winning element. It’s in the visual/sensory department that this film really works. Coen moves us from scene to scene with such seamless cinematographic tricks that 105 minutes flies by. Trudging through virgin snow, fading whites into greys into blacks, with flapping tent fabric that sounds like the ominous birds who metamorphose into the witches; a solitary witch standing against water who creates a reflection of more than one body;light flashing through windows and archways to form a line of pure white against the black of buildings, giving varying suggestions of confinement or expanse; a far off dagger I see before me that becomes the door handle to Duncan’s bedchamber; the unstoppable Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane as almost floating foliage, followed by Macbeth opening a window and the leaves flooding uncontrollably in. I could go on, but that would create far too long a sentence. The stark, featureless castle offers no comfort chez Macbeth, and the whole appearance of the film frequently put me in mind of Eisenstein’s Alexander Nevsky, if that isn’t too Pseuds Corner.

The script is credited to Joel Coen rather than Shakespeare, and it’s true that he plays around with the original a little bit, developing the role of Ross (Alex Hassell excellent in both loyal and turncoat guises, wearing an appropriately flappy bird-like gown) by making him not only the third murderer but also Fleance’s protector. The performances and characterisations (on the whole) are very strong and memorable. Neither pantomime villains nor unbelievably virtuous people here. Nobility and ignobility shine through; Bertie Carvel’s Banquo and especially Corey Hawkins’ Macduff bestride the screen like Colossuses, serving Brendan Gleeson’s dignified and super-trusting Duncan.Macbeth’s killer incision into Duncan’s throat, and Macduff’s all my pretty chickens speech are amongst the film’s most memorable moments – as indeed is the method of dispatching young Macduff minor, thrown into a horrible deathly abyss.

Harry Melling’s Malcolm is a sturdily decent young chap in whom Scotland can have some hope of a better future. Kathryn Hunter, the aforementioned female Timon, is outstanding as the Witches, constantly moving in and out of human form into something more abstract, her physicality lending a truly bird-like presence; and Stephen Root is effective as the Porter, a role that can make or break the tension of the story, his potentially tedious speech quickly handled to bridge the gap between the horrible deed and its discovery.

Which brings me to the Macbeths. Denzel Washington’s Macbeth is a naturally quiet, unassuming kind of guy who may talk of vaulting ambition, but you never quite believe it. It’s an underplayed reading of the role, as though he’s already burned out before his spirit has caught fire, and I’m not sure to what extent he would inspire the likes of Banquo to follow him. Frances McDormand is a grim-faced Lady Macbeth who finds it hard to play the smiling hostess, and her descent into madness feels like an inevitable part of her character that was decreed right from the start. However,s McD revels in Shakespeare’s language and delivers her lines with verve and punch, whereas Mr W suppresses Macbeth’s emotions to the extent that some of the emphasis is lost.

Despite the occasional quibble I enjoyed this adaptation enormously, especially the ultra-noir atmosphere and visuals that never let up from the very start. A fine addition to the Shakespearean film collection.