Review – Love’s Labour’s Lost, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th April 2024

Posted on April 19, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

The Court of Navarre has been transplanted to a billionaire’s wellness centre on a paradise island in the Pacific in Emily Burns’ new production of Love’s Labour’s Lost, a Shakespeare comedy that stands out from the others by refusing to end with a multiple wedding celebration, but instead suspending such festivities in abeyance for a twelvemonth and a day. I confess that LLL is one of my personal favourites of Shakespeare, because of its unexpected, bitter ending, its deflation of the tradition of courtly love and how it exposes hypocrisy in general; and this production covers all those areas in a funny and arresting manner.

I’m sure you know the scenario: King Ferdinand and his three attendant lords have vowed to spend three years in solitude, committed to learning and abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh. The Princess of France appears at his Court, together with her three ladies-in-waiting, to negotiate the return of Aquitaine from Navarre. Of course, being men, the Navarrese fall head over heels with the women; and of course, being women, the French are much more interested in the politics of their visit and taking selfies*. *This might not appear in Shakespeare’s original.

The strong women trump the ludicrous men hands down; add to the mix a fantastical Spaniard, Don Adriano de Armado, a lazy spoilt clown Costard, a country wench Jaquenetta, a pompous schoolmaster Holofernes, and a sober (ish) solicitor Boyet, and what could possibly go wrong? The play is a veritable feast of outlandish and hilarious characterisations who bob around vying for prominence throughout the play. As a finale, an attempt to perform a pageant of the Nine Worthies, headed by a role-greedy Holofernes, was possibly a draft version of the luvvie Bottom and his mechanicals performing Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. However, Holofernes also discovers that his courtly audience are about as rude and ill-behaved as if they were watching The Bodyguard at the Palace Theatre Manchester.

Indeed, Ferdinand’s court turns into a boorish stag affair, completely upturning the traditions of courtly behaviour. No wonder Berowne sees fit to explore some underpant action in front of his virtuous lady – thus accidentally encouraging others to try the same tactic. But the women are having none of it; and this bunch of reprobates fully deserve their suspended sentence of a year before they’ve got a chance of sampling womanly wiles.

When you arrive in the auditorium you are greeted by Joanna Scotcher’s magnificent set; starting off as some Pacific equivalent of an Oval Office, then transferring to the court of Navarre, a gorgeous revolving set that affords maximum comic potential with places to hide, a fabulous staircase to skip down, and one of those touristy word sculptures spelling out NAVARRE as the perfect location to pose for Your Socials. It’s all fronted by a grassy lawn on which the exclusive clientele of the Navarre Spa can recline and enjoy sunny massages. It reminded me of a very up-market version of the Mamma Mia! set. Does Your Mother Know that you’re out in Polynesia?

Ms Scotcher scores a double hit with her excellent costume design: Hawaiian shirts and white trousers for the locals, classic white or beige creations for the upper crust types, and full Spanish sporting gear for Don Armado. The home-made costumes for the Nine Worthies are terrific, including a hilarious costume for Don Armado’s Hector bedecked in something made from old Cruzcampo and Madri cans. Composer Paul Englishby has created some very lilting melodies to continue the Pacific theme, plus a very formal anthem for the final coronation scene which replaces the traditional pleasures of one of Shakespeare’s most enduring songs – When Icicles Hang by the Wall, with Greasy Joan keeling the pot.

However, the Polynesian setting means we obviously have to forgo this ending. They don’t have icicles in the South Pacific. We also lose the final line: The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo, which encapsulates the play’s sudden and sorrowful ending. Instead we have an impressive, but incomprehensible, song to mark the Princess inheriting the throne. Am I alone in wondering, if she’s not the Princess of France but of some unnamed South Seas state, why is she so interested in taking Aquitaine back? It’s not as though they’re going to be contiguous! I’m not fully convinced that the change of setting works completely for the logic of the play.

Heading the cast is Luke Thompson as Berowne: I’ve never seen Mr Thompson in anything before, but I knew of his reputation – and boy is it deserved. His is an outstanding performance, capturing all the aspects of this complex but engaging character – wheedling, sarcastic, manipulative, and devastatingly honest. He has the ability to spark up an otherwise humdrum speech with vocal wit, fantastic phrasing, physical comedy, and superb inventiveness. Abiola Owokoniran is also very impressive as the naturally dignified Ferdinand, oozing power and confidence, boasting an impeccable façade but also revelling in the trappings of his wealth; which makes it even funnier when he degenerates into becoming one of the lads. Eric Stroud and Brandon Bassir give extremely funny supporting performances as Longaville and Dumain, the latter often bringing the house down with his irrepressible youthful excitement.

As the Princess, Melanie-Joyce Bermudez sets the tone for the women with her superb polite, correct but firm portrayal of someone born to greatness but isn’t quite ready for it yet. Ioanna Kimbrook’s hard-headed Rosaline is a perfect shield against Berowne’s cupid’s arrows, and Amy Griffiths and Sarita Gabony are a terrific Katherine and Maria with their rebuttals against the men’s approaches.

Jack Bardoe gives a riotous performance as the vowel-strangling Don Armado, the always reliable Jordan Metcalfe brings beautifully understated comedy to the role of Boyet, Tony Gardner is a wonderfully insufferable Holofernes, and Nathan Foad is perfect as the camp and unruly Costard. The whole ensemble work together brilliantly to hold the show together and, overall, it’s simply a joyful experience. Love’s Labour’s Lost continues at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 18^th May.

Production photos by Johan Persson

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Bitter Wheat, Garrick Theatre, 18th July 2019

Posted on July 19, 2019 by therealchrisparkle

Mrs Chrisparkle isn’t the greatest fan of David Mamet but the Squire of Sidcup and I really enjoyed Glenglarry Glen Ross a while back so we decided to book to see Bitter Wheat on the strength of its writer and because neither of us had seen John Malkovich in the flesh before. Then came the reviews: one star, two stars, one star, one star…. offensive play, bad acting, underwritten characters, lazy direction… it doesn’t give you much confidence in what you’re going to see.

The concept of the offensive play is a fascinating one. The first audiences of Edward Bond’s Saved were offended by the play because of its infamous baby-stoning scene. Mary Whitehouse was offended by The Romans in Britain (even though she’d never seen it) because Roman soldiers rape native Celts in a rather heavy-handed metaphor for invasion. I don’t believe either of those plays particularly set out to offend; they just contained scenes which, for whatever reason, shocked some members of the audience into recognising unpleasant truths. On the other hand, a light-hearted entertainment like Oh Calcutta, which had no serious axe to grind, was probably more likely have been assembled with the intention of offending some people; and Peter Handke’s Offending the Audience, with its cast directly criticising, ridiculing and abusing the audience, does exactly what it says on the tin. Is Bitter Wheat to be added to the list of offensive plays?

Mamet’s new and very black comedy satirises the Harvey Weinsteins of this world. His character Barney Fein is a belligerent and manipulative movie mogul who schedules, into his daily routine, ways of taking advantage of young actresses, cheating writers out of their fees, blackmailing his staff and acquaintances, and ignoring the needs of his only relative, his mother. Not a nice man. When the young starlet of new film Dark Water, exhausted and starving after a 27 hour flight from Seoul to Hollywood, arrives for a business meeting, he has no intention of giving her film the backing she and it needs unless she performs some kind of sexual favour first. Shocked, scared and disgusted, her natural reaction is to somehow get out of harm’s way; however, her career depends on this deal, so she’s resigned to, as the old phrase might go, Shut Your Eyes and Think of Korea. How far can he push her? Will she give in? And will there be consequences? I must keep some of the plot back so that you have to come to see the play to find out!

Let’s be frank here; there’s been a casting couch for as long as there’s been casting. It wasn’t that long ago that the tongue-in-cheek joke used to go something like: “Who do I have to sleep with to get a job here?” with its subsequent variant, “who do I have to sleep with not to get a job here?” Revolting and despicable though they may be, there’s nothing new about a Weinstein or a Fein. What is new, is the Internet, and its free flow of information and opinion, and individuals’ first-hand accounts, closely allow us to be involved with – almost complicit in – the activities of such monsters.

And I think it is the complicity that is the most powerful undercurrent in this play. Splendid actors like Doon Mackichan as Fein’s PA Sondra, or Teddy Kempner as his Viagra-providing doctor, actors whom audiences automatically love and identify with, play characters who know full well what Fein gets up to inter alia, and figuratively hold their noses whilst they enable him to – literally – rape and pillage. As witnesses, we the audience are also asked to dip our hands in the blood and be complicit in his actions. Sondra, the doc, and assistant Roberto allow themselves to be offended and allow others to be abused in order to keep their good jobs, high status and nice incomes. As far as I’m concerned, that’s not offensive (in dramatic terms), that’s challenging, which is what I seek from theatre.

I must add: I’m not in any way casting any doubt on the legitimacy of #metoo accounts, or downplaying the sheer horror of their consequences. What men like Fein do is simply unacceptable and criminal. But to find this play offensive just because it portrays Fein’s modus operandi through the medium of black comedy rather than through serious drama is to miss the point. Even a wretch like Fein can make himself likeable when it comes to the crunch; indeed, he has to, to get away with it. When society doesn’t act to block his ruthless and selfish pursuit of women, we, as a society, are partly culpable for his actions too.

The play is dominated by Fein, so, unsurprisingly, the production is dominated by John Malkovich. Never off stage, he cuts the most grotesque figure. Cantankerous, belittling, and totally self-obsessed, he never listens to what people say to him because his own voice is his only music. Mr Malkovich inhabits Fein’s body with repugnant accuracy; small details, like his need to rock back and forwards a couple of times in order to get the physical impetus to stand up, work perfectly. When the world closes in on him, his self-pity comes to the fore, choosing to blame all his problems on being fat, instantly taking to the window ledge in a hollow, but ostentatious nod towards a suicide attempt – and you can tell from Ms Mackichan’s unimpressed reaction that he’s done that several times before. Mr Malkovich spits out Fein’s sarcasms and foul-mouthed tirades with dismissive disdain, only revelling in the words when he’s using them to either a) get the girl or b) blackmail the opponent. It’s a brilliant performance, playing with the grotesque from all angles, making us laugh at his repulsiveness.

Doon Mackichan is excellent as Sondra, a role that’s not underwritten as some critics have said, rather the character understands that she must choose her words very carefully to avoid falling into all the traps that her vile boss lays with every sentence. She tries her best to do a proper PA job and knows she has to go along with his devious plans in order to remain employed; Ms Mackichan very shrewdly portrays that fine line between disgust at him and disgust at herself. There’s also a very strong West End debut from Ioanna Kimbook as Yung Kim Li, the respectable and vulnerable young woman who slowly realises how she is being trapped and manipulated, conveying beautifully not only her horror and disgust at Fein’s intentions but also her disappointment at the realisation that someone she regarded as a hero is in fact a zero.

If you decided to skip this show on the strength of the reviews, think again. Sure, it presents us with a pretty seedy side of life, but you’re a mug if you think stuff like this doesn’t happen. Unchecked, men like Fein carry on; Mamet shows how he can even find a way of extricating himself from the narrowest of squeaks at the end of the play. Recommended!