Review – Much Ado About Nothing, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 24th April 2025

Attending a Royal Shakespeare Company production of a well-known and much-loved Shakespeare classic (I guess they’re all classics!) is an adventure into the imagination. Which setting will the fevered brain of a gifted director (in this case Michael Longhurst) have chosen to take us away from its traditional location? In this production, the house of Leonato, the Governor of Messina, and a visit from the Prince of Aragon, Don Pedro, still takes place in Messina – but at the final of the European Cup, where Messina FC have smashed those upstarts from Madrid FC, and tasted footie glory. Leonato owns the club, Don Pedro is the manager, Benedick is their captain and Claudio their new star player. The re-allocation of roles doesn’t end there; Beatrice is a sports reporter, Margaret works in PR for Leonato’s company and even Dogberry is head of security at the stadium.

FootballersWhen you enter the auditorium, it’s like you’ve mistakenly gone to see Dear England instead – all LED banners with football scores, team lists, formation diagrams, etc. We’re just inside the tunnel and can see through the gap into the huge, excited crowd and the green grass of the pitch. Interview cameras and screens are all set up. And, whilst, on the face of it, this has nothing to do with Much Ado About Nothing, visually, it’s a feast and really makes you excited for what’s about to happen next.

More FootballersUnfortunately, what happens next is a very confusing, messy, noisy scene where the victorious players take to the stage, managers, staff and players all congratulate and tease each other, and players jump in the bath. You also realise that the words you are hearing – those that you can make out at least, because the speech is very garbled in this opening scene – are not that faithful to those of the beloved Bard. I don’t recall, for example, chants of He’s gone in the bath, he’s gone in the bath in the original. It quickly becomes clear that these early scenes are merely a serving suggestion of the Much Ado we know and love and that some huge liberties have been taken with the text. It’s at moments like this that one discovers one’s own purist level – and mine was certainly crossed.

LeonatoHowever, as the production progresses, it becomes clear that the football analogy doesn’t really work, and the links between the plot and the Beautiful Game become fewer and slighter, so that, by the end, it feels like a relatively straightforward modern day interpretation of the play, with some very effective use of social media and modern tech. Don John’s deception of Claudio into believing that Hero has been unfaithful before their marriage is shown like a cross between deepfake and a revenge porn attack, with Hero’s face being digitally manipulated onto Margaret’s body whilst she’s filmed in flagrante delicto on Hero’s bed. The simplicity of the deception is surprisingly disturbing; and of course the social media comments depict Twitter/X at its most vicious.

Benedick hidingElsewhere, the famous scenes where Benedick and Beatrice separately overhear others talking about how much they are mutually desired work well. Benedick, who has been having a sports massage, hides himself in and around the portable massage bed. Beatrice hides herself behind a desk which had previously been used as a DJ mixing deck, with the result that she accidentally knocks a button which turns the disco lights on to the sound of I’m horny, horny, horny, horny. Ah yes; I hadn’t mentioned the use of music yet. There’s a lot of it. And it’s a mixture of pop classics and techno thump – and to be fair, it’s very entertaining and fits well. Who knew that the drunken Leonato would end the masked ball crooning Frank Sinatra’s My Way.

InterviewJon Bausor’s set is nothing if not arresting; the pool in the middle of the stage acts as the bath in the footballers’ changing room, as well as the centrepiece of Leonato’s garden – although a laborious entry by two backstage technicians adding a fountain to it during a scene is clumsy and distracting and adds very little to the effect. Upstairs opens to reveal Hero’s bedroom, although the angle from the stalls doesn’t always  make it clear what’s happening up there. However, the football and social media imagery work extremely well thanks to Tal Rosner’s excellent video design.

BenedickAs you would expect, there are some very good performances, although I was never convinced that Nick Blood’s otherwise very relatable Benedick was ever truly against marriage; with his successful football career taking up all his time, he just hadn’t needed it yet. But he brings out the humour from the text beautifully, both the original and the new elements; and participates in a very funny act of physical comedy when his massage towel is swiped away and plunges himself in the pool to protect his modesty – excellent ball control there. Freema Agyeman takes the cut-throat life of Beatrice the TV reporter into the character’s private life with her brutal, professional dismissiveness of Benedick, and delights in thwarting him with as little fuss as possible; her surprise instruction Kill Claudio is delivered as though it were next on her to do list, and his instant refusal just blanks him out of her life (temporarily, of course).

BeatriceDaniel Adeosun is very good as Claudio, highly believable as the sporting hero and easily duped fiancé; Eleanor Worthington-Cox’s Hero is more of a fun-lover than she is normally portrayed, Olivier Huband is a charismatic Don Pedro, and Jay Taylor is excellent as the wretched Borachio, doing Don John’s dirty work. There’s a gasp-inducing moment of stage combat when, infuriated by what Borachio has done, Mr Huband just head butts Mr Taylor, and it’s extremely effective! The portrayal of Dogberry and his team can often come across as dated and laborious in this play – a bit like the Porter in Macbeth it can either be astounding or cringeworthy – and I’m afraid the characterisations in this production didn’t really work for me. But there’s also excellent support from Nojan Khazai as the devious Don John, Gina Bramhill as Margaret and Tanya Franks as Antonia, Leonato’s wife.

Hero and ClaudioOnce the whole football theme starts to fade away, then the excellence of Shakespeare’s play starts to take shape; so despite the quality of the production and performances, for me this is only a partly successful show. But there is a lot to enjoy – just take a chill pill if you’re a purist!

 

Production photos by Marc Brenner

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Alone in Berlin, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 13th February 2020

Here’s yet another play, that’s an adaptation of a book and a film, that neither Mrs Chrisparkle nor I had heard of, read or seen. The original book, Jeder stirbt für sich allein, (Every Man Dies Alone) was published in 1947, written by Hans Fallada, based on the true Resistance story of Otto and Elise Hampel. Surprisingly, it wasn’t translated into English until 2009. That’s a long time for such a significant work to remain virtually unknown to the English-Speaking public. Alistair Beaton has translated and adapted the original book, and the result is this play, Alone in Berlin, which received its world premiere in Northampton, before embarking on a short tour.

It’s a simple story. Otto and Anna Quangel live a humdrum but respectable life in Berlin. He, a carpenter, quietly goes along with the powerful Nazi regime in order to put food on the table; she, quietly but privately, opposes the regime. They have to break the news to their son Markus’s fiancée Trudi that he has been killed in action. Her coping strategy is to join a Resistance movement at work. This inspires Anna to want to do something practical to oppose the Nazis, but what? Her keenness for action brings Otto out of his rut, and he decides to start writing postcards with anti-Nazi messages and leave them in blocks of flats all around the city.

This simple act of resistance carries on for some time. Local Gestapo officer Escherich must trace the perpetrator, and in turn he is under pressure for results from his boss, the SS Officer Prall. It’s inevitable that Otto and Anna will be found, and punished – but how did the Gestapo track them down, what will be the punishment, and what of the human collateral that suffers as a result? I’m not going to tell you that – or else there’s no point you’re going to see it.

Let’s concentrate on the good stuff. Firstly, at the blunt end, it reveals the unease of day-to-day living, with the enforced Heil Hitler greeting, and the threat of being reported if you don’t use it. There’s the casual hatred of Jews, and the fact that their lives and property are easy meat for abuse. If you want to just break into a Jewish person’s apartment and steal their goods, no one’s going to blame you for it. Whilst at the sharp end, it shows the brutality and mental instability of the Nazi officers who enforce the regime, with a shockingly unpleasant torture scene, masterminded by an SS Officer gleefully snapping fingers off his victim and giggling whilst he does it. These are people whose Mr Hyde aspect has been given full permission to run riot. We used to say, it couldn’t happen again, but don’t you be too sure.

Also, and, thankfully, more subtly, it reveals what happens when an essentially good person remains good whilst evil thrives all around him, and what happens when another essentially good person chooses to go along with the evil – which one fares better under those same circumstances? Otto, admittedly laboriously and ineffectually at first, starts composing his postcards because it’s the only thing an insignificant man can do. Inspector Escherich, however, a police officer of longstanding experience and presumably reasonably high repute, makes the decision to toe the Nazi line and satisfy his new masters’ cruelty. During his investigation he weaselly offers two suspects the chance of suicide as a means of his “solving the case” whilst not directly involving himself in the dirty details. Comparing the personal journeys of Otto and Escherich, essentially the brave versus the coward, was, for me, the most interesting aspect of the evening.

However, it does take a long time and a lot of effort to get there. Sadly, this fascinating story is told in an over-stylised and slow manner. The decision to narrate/interrupt the story by an angel statue that comes to life and sings, Cabaret-style, repetitive (very repetitive) lyrics that reflect the downfall of the age, is a curious one to say the least. By the time the war was in full swing, the decadence of the Weimar years was a thing of the past anyway, so this feels anachronistic. Should the angel statue represent a nostalgia for a better time? She waits on the sidelines and observes all the action so perhaps she is meant to suggest that what happens to Otto and Anna is fate. Maybe? Not sure. What she unfortunately does achieve is to minimise what should be growing tension. Tension grows out of a sense of real threat, but her presence is ethereal, invisible, mystic even, which, I would suggest, works against what the play sets out to achieve. Whenever the statue interrupts the flow of the play, down comes the suspense. Worse, it actually feels pretentious – and it doesn’t even have the benefit of being tuneful. I’m afraid I didn’t like that element to the production one bit.

To be fair, it wasn’t technically a great performance either. In a very unfortunate error early on, Charlotte Emmerson, as Anna, broke the news to Abiola Ogunbiyi’s Trudi, that Otto had died. Pause to take that in… isn’t Otto (Denis Conway) sitting next to her? Oh, she meant Markus…. and that left three actors with nowhere to go apart from carry on regardless, but the atmosphere had gone. As a result, I was never certain whether Ms Emmerson’s occasional dithering over the lines was a deliberate characterisation point about Anna, or whether she was simply under-rehearsed. There were similar incidents of ragged prop-handling, with Trudi searching for ages to find the photo in her bag, Escherich having difficulty getting the gun out of his coat pocket, and the statue fumbling with a postcard on the floor. Added to which, as the curtain fell at the end of Act One, a stagehand walked on stage left before the curtain had fully dropped. Have to say, I wasn’t that impressed.

That aside, there are some very good performances to admire. Jay Taylor’s tetchy, and gradually increasingly unhinged SS Officer Prall, is a superb portrayal of growing evil. He’s like a sadistic, spoilt child, who’s grown too big for his boots and in a decent society would have been taken down a peg or two – but in wartime Nazi Germany, with status and power, he’s uncontrolled, off the radar, wicked. Horrific, but excellent. Denis Conway is also very good as Otto, particularly in the last quarter of the play when he starts to face the consequences of his actions. Those were genuine tears welling up his eyes. Abiola Ogunbiyi gives a clear and precise performance as Trudi, the only other character who develops during the play – from radical to housewife. And I really enjoyed the performance of Joseph Marcell as Escherich, increasingly faced with his own cowardice, trying to wheedle his way out of trouble – totally convincing.

It’s a great story of quiet heroism, but sometimes it struggles to get its voice heard over the stylised production and lack of tension. I was expecting more, sadly. Thank heavens for some good performances. Alone in Berlin plays at the Royal until 29th February, then continues to York and Oxford.

P. S. Mrs C didn’t like the harsh bright lights at the beginning and end of the show that blind the audience from the back of the stage. What was the point of them? She asked. Not a clue, I’m afraid. Is it fair on the audience to blind them like that? Ermm, no, I don’t think so.

3-stars Three-sy does it!