Tag Archives: Stratford

Review – The Constant Wife, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 1st July 2025

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Are we seeing a resurgence in the influence of Somerset Maugham? After Theatre Royal Bath’s blissful revival of The Circle last year, now comes Laura Wade’s invigorating version of The Constant Wife, his 1926 sparkler about infidelity and how to handle it. Give me a revival of the 1976 musical Liza of Lambeth next and I’ll be very happy. Maugham’s original play tells the story of the relationship between John, a Harley Street doctor married to Constance, and Marie-Louise, a spoilt and vacuous pretty little thing, married to Mortimer. Both Constance’s mother and sister are fully aware of the affair and differ as to whether she should be told about it. But Constance has known about it all along and has been biding her time to work it to her best advantage.

ConstanceWhere Maugham tells the story as a simple, linear narrative, Laura Wade’s deft re-ordering puts the affair out in the open right from the start and then goes back in time so that we can see how Constance discovered the affair a year earlier. There’s nothing Laura Wade likes more than to play with time as she did very effectively in both The Watsons and Home I’m Darling – and The Constant Wife is no exception. Both HID and TCW feature a strong central female backed by a purposefully resilient mother, but where Judy in HID revels in the lifestyle of a meek 50s housewife, much to her mother’s consternation, Constance embodies feminism by knowing precisely what she wants and how to get it, while her mother is the type who feels that if a man plays away from home it’s entirely the woman’s fault. One of the best lines of the play is when Constance tells her mother why she always knew that Bernard wasn’t the man for her: “he was a trifle too much inclined to lie down on the floor and let me walk over him”. It’s a line that gives you an instant insight into her character.

John and Marie-LouiseThey say that knowledge is power; by concealing the fact that she knew about the affair, Constance starts to create a new financially independent life for herself hidden in plain sight. If this were an episode of The Traitors it would be like winning a shield and not telling anyone. However, neither Maugham’s Constance nor Wade’s updated version ever puts a foot out of character, retaining her dignity and total faithfulness to her class and her status. Indeed, the whole production’s adherence to its original 1920s setting and atmosphere is one of its greatest virtues; the occasional – and extremely funny – double entendre notwithstanding.

CastMy only quibble here is that Jamie Cullum’s jazz-oriented incidental music, whilst doubtless of the age, feels a little out of balance with the rest of the production. There’s no sense of the Jazz Age in the text or the characterisations – Marie-Louise could easily have been portrayed as a flapper but she decidedly isn’t – so the music didn’t work for me. That aside, the other creative aspects are excellent. Ryan Day’s subtle lighting suggests the world outside the Harley Street drawing room, Anna Fleischle and Cat Fuller’s costumes reflect the characterisations perfectly; even the fabrics and objets d’art that Martha sells in her shop are spot-on – that “lovely” lamp is hideous by the way, but that’s all part of the fun.

Bernard and JohnAs well as reshaping the sequences of the plotline, Laura Wade’s script takes all the best Maugham scenes and many of his brilliant killer lines and smartly updates the scenario with the removal of an unnecessary character (Barbara), enhancement of the character of Bentley, the butler, and some lovely meta moments, currently very en vogue. I particularly liked the whole notion of the play that Constance and Bernard are going to see and how sometimes you need a refresher after the interval. Tamara Harvey’s direction is clear and delightfully lacking in gimmickry, although there were a few scenes where our view from Row F of the Ground (stalls) was blocked – four actors positioned in a diagonal line across the stage so that only the nearest could be seen; I know from ecstatic laughter around me that we missed some obvious gems of physical comedy, which is a shame.

Constance and Mrs CulverThe cast are uniformly superb, each giving terrific performances. Raj Bajaj is brilliant as Bernard, perpetually uncomfortable with himself and on the brink of exploding with love for Constance. Amy Morgan brings out all the comedy of sibling exasperation as sister Martha, and Luke Norris as John gives an intelligent portrayal of a husband caught out but not prepared to take all the blame. Emma McDonald’s Marie-Louise wheedles her way out of an awkward situation beautifully, cleverly showing us how unclever her character really is.

ConstanceKate Burton is pitch-perfect as Mrs Culver, Constance’s mother, delivering her fantastic lines with knowing authority and impish fun; and there’s great support from Daniel Millar’s perplexed and easily fooled Mortimer and Mark Meadows as the super-reliable Bentley. But it is Rose Leslie who takes centre stage throughout with a thoroughly believable, smart and witty portrayal of Constance, handling all her inner circle with various degrees of manipulativeness, apart from her only truly honest relationship, with Bentley, Bentleywhere she can completely be herself.

An excellent production of a timeless play, brought smartly to life by a neat adaptation. Don’t underestimate Maugham – he’s better than you think he is.

 

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Titus Andronicus, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 29th April 2025

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One of Shakespeare’s earliest hits, Titus Andronicus holds a strange place in the Bard’s canon. Its authorship is a matter of some debate; perhaps he wrote it all, or some of it, or it was based on something written by the likes of Kyd or Marlowe. Unusually for Shakespeare, it’s a Roman tragedy but not based on historical characters – indeed Ovid’s Metamorphoses appears to have been one of the prime sources that inspired its writing. It was probably conceived as a crowd-pleaser, because revenge comedies were all the rage in 1588. But tastes change, and for the last three centuries it’s been seen as rather unworthy of Shakespeare’s pen.

TitusPerhaps it’s because we’re so used to Shakespeare subtly weaving so many threads and nuances into his plays that Titus Andronicus is looked down upon. Apart from an early exploration of a London coming to terms with racism in the character of Aaron, and the play’s substantial derogatory use of the word black, primarily it’s all about revenge, pure and simple. Revenge is key; one of the most natural reactions that man can have, and one of the most ignoble. The play’s long first scene includes the first retaliatory act – Titus’ decision to have Tamora’s eldest son Alarbus murdered, simply because his own sons were killed in the war against the Goths. And from there, vengeance follows vengeance, and it all gets a bit out of hand.

LaviniaThe big question to ask of any production of Titus Andronicus is, just how gruesome do you want it to be? And I think the consensus is to be as bloody as you dare. Max Webster’s production is a surprisingly successful combination of high on blood but low on violence, in that most of the murders are committed in a very stylised manner, with a distanced swish of a knife and a flash of dramatic lighting that nevertheless causes the blood to flow. It’s also high on sinister too; whenever the pulley system on stage starts working, and a noose or a hook comes into view, you know there’s only going to be one outcome. As the death count increases, the styling becomes more intricate but more desperate; towards the end we’re reduced to sloshing from a bucket and using a couple of hosepipes.

Aaron Chiron DemetriusThe play starts on a high, with its riveting, long, opening scene where brothers Saturninus and Bassianus are setting out the reasons to the crowd why they should become the next Roman emperor; only for the honour to be given to Titus, who then bestows it on Saturninus. So much for democracy. The atmosphere is electric with political wrangling and backstabbing; and every aspect of the story is told clearly and powerfully. However, the second scene, between Aaron, Chiron and Demetrius is much harder to follow, and I felt a lull in the energy. It wasn’t until the return of Tamora that the storytelling became clear again.

CastJoanna Scotcher’s clinical stark white stage is the perfect setting for the intrigues and revenge killings to be carried out, allowing for a powerful contrast between the bright red blood and the pristine white marble. Lee Curran has plenty of opportunities for gripping lighting effects as the death count rises; however, whilst bringing a dead body wrapped in a sheet on stage with a bright fluorescent tube next to it probably looks great from the stalls, it appears clumsy and obvious from the galleries. And, whilst we’re on the subject of looking silly, although the stylised killings are very effective, the posturing and sub-balletic scene changes where benches are whirled, and a ladder passed here there and everywhere before finally going off stage just looks like the backstage crew have been replaced by members from Cirque de Soleil.

TitusIt’s vital for there to be some comic touches, as otherwise the play’s relentless piling of wanton horror on wanton horror just becomes too much. There’s a delightful moment of anachronistic use of music (usually something that irritates me personally!) when Aaron hums Delibes’ Lakme whilst preparing a grisly fate. And Max Webster builds in some delicate and surprisingly subtle moments of gallows humour, aided of course by Simon Russell Beale’s immaculate feel for comedy and killer line delivery.

Lavinia and TamoraThere are some excellent performances, although I also thought a few were a little underpowered. Joshua James is outstanding as the belligerent, sullen Saturninus who looks on leadership as his God-given right; his interpretation of the role is spot on throughout, with more than a little of John Hurt-style Caligula and Rik Mayall thrown in. As a contrast, Ned Costello’s brother Bassianus conveys all the character’s humility and likeability that might have made him a good, if perhaps unspectacular emperor.

CastIn a fascinating change from the original, Titus’ brother Marcus is now his sister Marcia Andronicus, played with great commitment and sincerity by Emma Fielding, bringing out the character’s decency, supportiveness and common sense. Letty Thomas gives a heartbreaking performance as Lavinia, from her initial shock followed by dignity when chosen as Saturninus’ wife despite being engaged to his brother, to her total destruction by the rapists Chiron and Demetrius.

Tamora and AaronWendy Kweh gives a very strong performance as Tamora, at first desperate in defeat and willing to do anything to save the life of her son; then inspired by revenge to submit to marriage to Saturninus whilst working with her lover Aaron to encourage the rape of Lavinia and the eventual fall of the House of Andronicus. And Natey Jones is excellent as Aaron, a complex villain who, whilst aspiring to be as evil an assassin as possible, still cherishes the baby in his arms. I did admire the not-so-subtle allusion to an Elon Musk’s DOGE moment.

TitusIt will be the casting of Simon Russell Beale in the title role that will attract the most theatregoers to this production, and he is, indeed, fantastic. A tremendous stage presence, you never sense for a moment that there might be a hint of insanity in his Titus as he maintains a superb dignity throughout, even in the most tortured moments of despair. Some commentators decry the play for its prosaic violence; but you only have to hear a few lines delivered by Mr Beale to appreciate the glorious poetry that lurks just beneath its surface. And his performance is a constant source of surprise; when death and devastation is all around him, all he can do is stop and laugh at the ridiculousness and hopelessness of the situation. His laughter is shocking and bizarre, but it’s totally right.

ChefThe famous “banquet” scene, where Chef Titus serves Tamora and Saturninus a pie containing her dead sons, is performed with a lovely balance of horror and comedy, and ends up with the bloodiest final tableau. It’s no surprise that the ticket holders nearest the stage are given protective blankets to shield themselves from spraying blood – gore blimey, indeed. The production treads a delicate balance between the horror and the hilarious and largely gets it right. The audiences of 1588 would be delighted to know that Titus Andronicus is still in safe hands – unless they get cut off.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

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

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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 – Edward II, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 5th March 2025

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It’s not often you’re invited to be part of the procession around a royal coffin to pay your respects to the dear departed monarch (in this case, Edward I, fine old chap that he was). But it’s an unusual, inclusive and rather exciting way of getting the audience focussed on the power of the crown at the beginning of Daniel Raggett’s clear, pacy and gripping new production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II at the Swan Theatre.

Daniel EvansThe one thing that every tittering adolescent knows about Edward II is the way he met his final come-uppance with a red hot poker. Whether that’s the genuine historical truth, or just a myth invented centuries ago to deter men from the sin of Sodom, is probably a question for debate. But Raggett’s production makes it extremely clear that the king and his favourite, Gaveston, are more than just bosom buddies. The opening scene, which Marlowe sets as “a street in London”, shows Gaveston, Spenser, Baldock and others in a sweaty gentlemen’s sauna, perfectly transporting us from 1307 to the present day; and our first sight of Edward and Gaveston together shows them in full embrace, smothering each other with hungry kisses and desperate sexual attraction, much to the disgust of their fellow courtiers, who clearly consider themselves real men in comparison. To them, Edward is every inch a pipsqueak. It’s a fascinating, powerful juxtaposition of sexualities; homophobia is clearly rife in the court of King Edward, and the audience can only admire the honesty of the two main characters living their lives as they see fit.

Eloka IvoBut it’s not as simple as that. Gaveston is a ruffian and a scoundrel, who knows full well that by dancing attendance on the king he will receive favour in the form of riches and status. And within a few seconds of them being together, Edward has bestowed on him the titles of Lord High Chamberlain and Earl of Cornwall, and has encouraged him to knock the Bishop of Coventry’s mitre off his head and “rend his stole”, in a startlingly anarchical scene of insubordination that reduces a figure of religious influence and significance into a shocked victim of assault; and one only has to look at politics in the US today to see the similarities between Edward and Gaveston and Trump and Musk. Never has this play felt more relevant. One might almost expect Gaveston to come on stage wielding a chainsaw.

Death of GavestonEdward’s insistence on his own eccentric bestowal of power can only ever end in one way. Gaveston’s inevitable murder takes place at the beginning of Act Three (of Five), after which the king looks to find new favourites in Spenser and Baldock whilst Mortimer plots alongside the Queen to overthrow him. Eventually, what no one foresees is that the future King Edward III views the line of succession as giving him complete control of the country, outwitting Mortimer who had expected to become Lord Protector; a case of this crown ain’t big enough for both of us. The play ends with the usual optimism of a new order bringing in calm and stability after the chaos that has ensued.

James HayesDaniel Raggett has condensed this weighty and poetic play into 100 minutes without an interval, literally zipping through the text, reducing the number of characters by two-thirds whilst maintaining the integrity of the original and letting Marlowe’s words do the work. Normally my heart sinks when I discover a production has abandoned the interval in favour of getting the audience home early, but this is one of those rare occasions where it is completely the right decision.

Edward and LightbornA few props and tables are all that are required to suggest the different scenes, whilst beneath the surface, the stage rolls back to reveal the murky pond and prison where Edward will end his days. Tim Lutkin’s superb lighting design focuses our attention on all the significant elements of the production, and helps make the scene changes slick and quick, while Tommy Reilly’s atmospheric music helps build the suspense and tension of the inevitable outcome. The climactic death scenes of Gaveston and Edward are staged with realistic and riveting horror; afterwards their frail corpses reveal a stark contrast with the powerful people they were in life.

Gaveston at the saunaMuch of the impact of the first half of the play stems from the performance by Eloka Ivo as Gaveston, a wannabe nobleman, unsurprisingly tending towards the arrogant, with a voice as robust as his physical appearance. It’s a fantastic performance. As an aside, the production makes good use of his size in comparison with the king’s (Daniel Evans) relatively slight stature; when reunited for the second time, the king jumps into Gaveston’s arms like a five year old delighted to be swung around by his daddy.

CastRuta Gedmintas is excellent as Queen Isabella; haughty and aloof, seeing no need to hide her disdain of her wayward husband, and clinical in her continued quest for power. In Edward’s court, the best performances come from Geoffrey Lumb’s savage Warwick, a kill first and ask questions later kind of courtier, and Emilio Doorgasingh as the complex and troubled Pembroke. Jacob James Beswick gives us a knowingly sly Lightborn, the murderer with a special trick up his sleeve for the king, and there’s good support from Stavros Demetraki and Kwaku Mills as Gaveston’s allies and the king’s new favourites, Spenser and Baldock. For press night, Prince Edward – eventually to become King Edward III – was played by Freddie Beck, conveying the leap from jimjams to military command with excellent, clear, youthful authority.

Spenser and BaldockBut of course it is Daniel Evans, the RSC’s very own Artistic Director, lured back into acting fourteen years after we saw him in Company at Sheffield, who grabs hold of the role of Edward II and runs with it for all its worth. Adopting a shrill, petulant tone that can both badger and wheedle its way around his opponents, casting his queen aside with derogatory cruelty, yet also appearing totally vulnerable when all the veneer of power is gone, it’s a stunning and brave performance that compels your attention throughout.

With an extraordinary Hamlet in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and this gripping production of Edward II in the Swan, the RSC are having a cracking start to 2025, Long may it continue!

Production photos by Helen Murray

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Hamlet, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th February 2025

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Ahoy there me hearties as it’s all aboard the SS Elsinore as it crashes through the waves somewhere off the coast of Denmark. Yes, Rupert Goold’s new production risks headlines like This Hamlet is All At Sea with a nautical take on Shakespeare’s longest play, condensed at a tremendous pace into just short of three hours including an interval. There are some bold directorial decisions at play here, and most of them work extremely well, creating a memorable, vibrant, powerful, atmospheric production that has the audience gripped from the start.

Es Devlin has turned the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre into a ship; a floating court if you will, its deck rising and falling in line with the choppiness or tranquillity of the sea, a permanent backdrop thanks to Akhila Krishnan’s very realistic video design. The cast must have Velcro on their shoes to stay upright through some of those stormy scenes, and you really get to understand the meaning of the phrase, those in peril on the sea. Access to the deck is gained via stairs from below at both the front and the back of the stage, as well as from various hatches on the surface of the deck. Colours, in both the set and in Evie Gurney’s costumes, are kept to the minimum, lending a harsh monochrome air to the experience.

On boardIt’s not altogether obvious why a ship setting should work for a production of Hamlet. True, an element of the story includes the prince being shipped to England with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to get executed, but his negotiations with pirates get in the way of that sordid plan and, consequently, he gets shipped back again. Otherwise, traditionally, the play is rooted in the terra firma of Elsinore; but we know that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, so to make Elsinore less firma and more instabilis makes sense. The programme notes suggest that the setting might represent the fate of the Titanic – indeed, the costumes are set in or around 1912 – in which case the final outcome is doomed from the start. Shakespeare, of course, gives us Fortinbras to arrive in the last scene and herald a new age for Denmark. But in Goold’s production, Fortinbras is one of the casualties of cuts (along with Osric and Reynaldo), so the future for Denmark is deliberately left uncertain at the end of the play.

Famously, Hamlet sets out to make Claudius reveal himself as the murderer of Old Hamlet by causing him to react to the play within the play, where a murderer pours poison into his brother’s ear.  One of the better judged cuts is to do away with a lot of the wordy narrative by the Players – as well as Hamlet and Ophelia’s audience reactions – and replace it with obscure but effective singing; basically, here The Mousetrap – as Hamlet humorously names the piece – has been turned into a musical. Another necessary change results in an odd use of language though; as there are no arrases for Polonius to hide behind to witness Hamlet’s conversation with Gertrude, he takes the downstage stairs instead. When Hamlet hears there is someone hiding down there, he can’t use his sword to dash the villain to death because it’s not long enough, so he shoots him instead. However, Gertrude still tells Claudius that Hamlet whips out his rapier when he killed Polonius.  Err.. no, he didn’t. He shot him.

SwordfightHowever, the production is incredibly successful in making the story clear and easy to understand, in an exciting setting and with excellent stagecraft. I’m a big fan of stage combat done well – primarily because if it isn’t done well, it looks ridiculous. Gertrude gives Hamlet a tremendous slap across the face in the first Act; but, topping that, I’ve rarely seen anything quite so believable and thrilling to watch as the swordfight between Hamlet and Laertes in the final scene. Not only coping with the rise and fall of the deck surface, as the ship tilts alarmingly, to my untutored eye it was Olympic standard fencing. Most impressive.

It was with a heavy heart that I realised this production had plugged in the RSC Binatone LED bedroom alarm clock circa 1981 at the sides of the stage, recalling how fatally the time theme wounded the 2018 production of Macbeth. Here it counts down from some time after 9pm to some time after 2 am, with To Be Or Not To Be delivered on the stroke of midnight. You couldn’t make it up. It was Mrs Chrisparkle who suggested that it might represent the time it took for the Titanic to sink. A shapely theory; but it’s impossible for the events of Hamlet to be crammed into four hours, no matter how speedily it’s delivered. Hamlet travels to England and back, and Laertes to France and back during the course of the play. Not even Ryanair can operate that quickly. The best thing about the clock is that it’s completely ignorable.

SalvationThe production builds to an astonishing crescendo with a final scene that makes you tingle. As the storm gets rougher and the waves toss the ship more dangerously, it starts to tilt into an unavoidable sinking position. Characters are variously poisoned or wounded by swords, and, as they die, gravity slides them down the deck towards a watery grave. It’s a remarkable visual effect and provides a telling juxtaposition with the dignity and formality of Old Hamlet’s funeral at sea with which the play starts. At the end, with no Fortinbras to rescue what’s left of the court of Elsinore, Hamlet stands up, arms outstretched, looking like the salvation of the world, and you expect him to tumble to his death; but he doesn’t. Blackout; end. It’s up to the audience to decide his fate. Does everyone die except Horatio? Or does Hamlet somehow survive and begin the renewal of Denmark?

Rupert Goold has assembled a fantastic cast who nail some superb characterisations throughout. Jared Harris gives a beautifully understated Claudius who attempts to retain his dignity whilst always coming across as guilty as sin. Too quick to lay a kind hand here, or to offer support there, you feel that when the time comes for him to confess his crime, he’s truly relieved to get it off his chest. Nancy Carroll is an excellent Gertrude, reaching for that pacifying cigarette with a ruthlessness that shows there are times when a nicotine patch just won’t do. She is more motherly than Gertrude is normally portrayed, going in for a big maternal kiss and cuddle with Hamlet as she does what she can to make him feel better after killing Polonius, which feels extremely believable; it’s the only way she can try to make good her immoral actions.

ClaudiusElliot Levey is also brilliant as Polonius; not a doddery old fusspot, but an affectionate father who likes to play infantile games with his daughter. Of course, he’s keen to stick his nose into everything from arranging the royal household affairs to critiquing the players, but Mr Levey plays him as a likeable old chap rather than an irritating old git. The always reliable Anton Lesser brings great credibility to the role of the Player King, who’s basically a jobbing actor who has done well, rather than a bighead who knows it all; he also doubles up as the Ghost of Old Hamlet – a very “real” ghost in this production and also turns in a nice cameo as the first Gravedigger. Ah yes, they don’t have gravediggers on ships, but this is a useful exception, someone has to be in charge of dispatching all those dead bodies.

Lewis Shepherd gives us a suitably hot-headed Laertes who puts revenge first and then asks questions after, and Nia Towle’s Ophelia is as strong and independent a young woman as the times would allow; her “mad scene” is as full of power and physicality as I’ve ever seen, enveloping herself around the King without the inhibitions of etiquette. And there’s an entertaining portrayal of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern by Chase Brown and Tadeo Martinez, who would easily pass for extras in The Book of Mormon. It’s always entertaining when Claudius mixes the two friends up and is corrected by Gertrude, in a scene straight out of Tom Stoppard.

HamletA production of Hamlet is always going to succeed or fail on the strength of its central performance, and here Mr Goold’s production is in the safest of hands. Luke Thallon is phenomenal. Young enough to have dreams to be shattered, and old enough to be cynical through experience, he gives a lively, physical, emotionally draining performance, delivering each line as though he’s working out what to say next; Hamlet starts sentences that he often has no idea how they will end, revealing an eloquent vulnerability that conveys his character perfectly.

Also HamletIt’s always a matter of opinion in any production as to what extent Hamlet is mad or feigns madness. Is Mr Thallon’s Hamlet mad? I sense not very. At times channelling the brash comedic smugness of the late Rik Mayall, at others deadly serious and threatening, it’s a performance of limitless possibilities and interpretations and he has the audience spellbound, waiting on his every word. And he heads up a production that’s exciting, powerful and innovative; exploring new ways of telling an old tale and telling it superbly well. On the downside: I miss Osric and Fortinbras; and there’s the clock. But on the upside: Luke Thallon, and that tremendous final scene. An absolute cracker of a production.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Twelfth Night, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 17th December 2024

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What could be more festive than a Christmas production of Shakespeare’s perennial favourite, Twelfth Night, with its separated twins, foppish companion, cross-garter’d steward and – naturally – a girl dressed as a boy. It simply wouldn’t be Christmas without it. This is one of Shakespeare’s most robust comedies, able to survive the slings and arrows of outrageous directorial decisions, always bouncing back again in rude health for another production.

ViolaAny outrageous decisions made by director Prasanna Puwananarajah fully emphasise his vision to set it in an indistinct but modern era and give it a yuletide boot up the backside with some superbly inventive comedy to set against the darker aspects of the plot, whilst still staying pretty much faithful to the original. And one of the ways in which this production stands out is the ease with which it flips from hilarity to darkness with a truly deft sense of balance.

Orsino and CesarioIt can be very tempting to overlook the cruelty and sadness that lurks beneath the surface of this play. The twins individually mourn the supposed loss of their sibling. Disloyalty and pretence abound; if you’re not part of the in-crowd, you’re definitely out. Sir Toby and Maria may head up their own clique when it comes to fooling Aguecheek or bullying Malvolio, but when it comes to the crunch, they don’t have any real power and get swatted down by Olivia like flies to wanton boys (wrong play, but you get my gist.)

AntonioNowhere is this clearer than with the pure decency of the character of Antonio, who gives up everything simply to serve Sebastian; bewildered by his master’s apparent denials, he is left with the bitter realisation that his generosity has been cruelly abused. And even Malvolio has feelings; he may be a puritanical killjoy, but the revenge that’s meted out on him by Olivia’s household crosses the boundary from playful teasing to outright cruelty. It’s the moment when Shakespeare becomes such a great comic writer that he bears comparison with Ayckbourn. (see end)

OliviaAnother stand-out aspect of the production is its sheer honesty and credibility. There’s not one caricature nor over-the-top characterisation; every member of the cast delivers a truly believable performance, and every situation the production presents us is recognisable and makes complete sense, despite often appearing side-by-side with something theatrically magical. Some small examples: the priest is definitely the kind of person who would drink from an I Heart Jesus mug. This particular Olivia, when trying to impress Cesario on their first meeting, would definitely castigate themselves afterwards for their idiotic use of language – What is your parentage? What was I thinking!!  Orsino’s court appears to be 100% staffed by gay men who dance together – it isn’t questioned, nor does it have to be. It just is. And it helps make sense of his initial attraction to Cesario.

FesteAnd it is genuinely thrilling to see the character of Feste, so often an awkward character to get right, brought to the fore as arguably the most central character of the entire play. He blends perfectly with all the technical aspects of the production, outlandishly dressed in one of James Cotterill’s more ridiculous costumes, magically appearing from the sky, and either manipulating or being manipulated by Zoe Spurr’s fantastic lighting design and George Dennis’ sound design. He sings Matt Maltese’s musical settings of those difficult Shakespearean songs with such genuine emotion that you want to listen to them carefully rather than – as with most Shakespearean songs – just looking forward to the moment they stop and the play can carry on.

Organ PipesAnd I haven’t mentioned the set; dominated, for the most part, by an enormous organ, with pipes so big you can hide behind, magically controlled by Feste seemingly bringing it forward and back with the power of his own summoning arms. It also provides the perfect joke when Orsino and his men arrive at Olivia’s house bearing the gift of an organ; their shock at the size of the one already installed requires their measly offering to be shunted unceremoniously offstage in embarrassment. You’ve never seen Organ Envy like it.

MalvolioGwyneth Keyworth gives us a very earnest and no-nonsense Viola, holding her own with the likes of the Duke and Olivia, convincingly portraying both a girlish boy and a boyish girl that neither can resist. Freema Ageyman has a tremendous stage presence and her Olivia is a dream of a performance, conveying all the anger and frustration of her initial state of mourning, but quickly becoming foolishly besotted in love, whilst retaining her absolute authority over her wayward household.

Sir TobyBally Gill adds another superb portrayal to his growing list of Shakespearean successes, with a very human Duke Orsino, his measured superiority tempered by a hint of fallibility and foolishness. Joplin Sibtain’s Sir Toby is the very credible drunk uncle we all recognise from family weddings; not simply a fat fool but a mischief maker who doesn’t know when to stop until it’s too late. Demetri Goritsas portrays his companion Sir Andrew not as a vacuous fop but as an easily fooled wannabe hero who lacks any of the required depth or courage to achieve his ambitions.

CastDanielle Henry is a splendidly meddlesome Maria, delighting in taking charge of the below-stairs subterfuge; Norman Bowman plays Antonio as an altruistic soul who needs someone to follow, and Rhys Rusbatch’s Sebastian is the perfect recipient for his affection – a plain-talking, fearless type who’s more than capable of looking after himself in a fight and can’t believe his luck when Olivia mistakes him for Cesario.

FesteMichael Grady-Hall brings all his amazing clowning skills to a fantastic physically comic performance as Feste, with split-second precise timing, a wonderful rapport with the audience, and a broodingly haunting singing voice. By contrast, Samuel West invests Malvolio with a fittingly wheedling, whiny voice; a quietly judgmental nuisance who casts a shadow over any good mood until he falls for Maria and Sir Toby’s deception, which allows his true self to burst forth with a mixture of lasciviousness and misplaced self-confidence. Like all the best Malvolios, when he is humiliated and destroyed at the end, you truly feel sorry for him and have nothing but contempt for his tricksters. It’s a magnificent and memorable performance.

MalvolioThe show lasts a few minutes short of three hours but it’s so enjoyable and entrancing that it barely feels like two. One of those longed-for productions where every single aspect dovetails perfectly, creating a hugely rewarding experience. One of the best RSC productions in years, make sure you see it at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre before it closes on 18th January 2025.

P. S. Only one aspect of the production befuddled me – what was all that stuff about painting the sides of the set? First Fabian, then Feste? Answers on a postcard please, to Outrageous Directorial Decisions, PO Box 99, Illyria.

P. P. S. I love the work of Alan Ayckbourn, but you do realise that was tongue-in-cheek, don’t you?

Production photos by Helen Murray

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Red Shoes, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 14th November 2024

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The 1948 film of The Red Shoes received mixed reviews at first, but over the years has acquired something of a cult status and a 2017 poll for Time Out magazine ranked it the fifth best British film ever. It is said to have inspired a generation of girls to become dancers, no doubt in part due to its extensive ballet sequences. However, am I alone in not realising that originally it was an 1845 cautionary fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen? And that it’s chock-full of those gruesome elements you associate with Andersen or the Brothers Grimm?

Dinner partyNancy Harris’ reimagined Red Shoes transforms Andersen’s originally vain Karen into almost the opposite. So mortified is she by the loss of her mother, that she is mute with shock when first brought into the repugnant, wealthy Nugent household, dominated by the callous and self-serving Mariella. Kindlier, but distinctly under the thumb, is her husband Bob; their out-of-control son Clive, who is possessed with a desire to kill living animals and chop off body parts, spends most of his time harassing the poor girl. Only Mags, the housekeeper, expresses concern for Karen’s welfare.

KarenKaren’s weakness is that she is easily tempted. First, by the shoemaker Sylvestor, who offers her a pair of irresistible red shoes that cause her to dance with neither inhibition nor control. And when a dinner party turns into disaster because Karen’s shoes run rampage through the china and cutlery, Mariella condemns her to a life as a kitchen maid and providing care to poor Mags who has suffered a heart attack as a result of the shock of what Craig Revel Horwood might call a Dance Disaster. Today we’d see it as very bad parenting.

Mariella and MagsKaren is tempted again to go to a ball whilst she should be looking after the ailing Mags, where she meets Prince who encourages her to stay out late dancing. Result: the old lady dies and it’s all Karen’s fault. The cautionary aspects of the original tale are clearly pushed to the forefront, with Karen feeling the full force of retribution for her selfishness. However, for me, the deliberate weaving of Karen’s story with the Cinderella tale – kitchen maid, ball, Prince, missing shoe – means that neither side is fully explored.

KarenOverall, the whole vision for the play feels a little messy. For example, we seem to be partly in a Victorian era, when you could take in an orphan to your household without any paperwork, and there is an orphans’ committee that the snobbish Mariella wants to impress; and yet Bob Nugent is making business deals on his mobile. The play is accompanied by a full score performed by Tom Slade’s superb team of seven musicians, but it’s not a musical as such, and sometimes the music almost overwhelms what’s happening on stage. Given the shoes are magical, there are a few “magic” moments in the show – although I would have hoped for a little more; however, I can report that Ryan Day’s lighting design is excellent, with the auditorium being bathed in red light at the beginning and providing some impressive eerie effects, and Colin Richmond’s set features a grand mirror of positive affirmation and a splendidly sanctimonious family portrait. And there is some delightfully outrageous footwear.

SylvestorNikki Cheung uses her skills to give us a Karen who is most at ease when giving in to the compulsion to dance, one of the highlights of the production. Dianne Pilkington’s monstrous Mariella is a marvellous comedy hypocrite, moaning about how slapping an orphan isn’t a great look in front of the chair of the Orphans’ committee, and accounting for the antisocial (not to mention illegal) behaviour of her dreadful son by virtue of his being artistic. Sebastien Torkia portrays Sylvestor as eerie and sinister, a Master Magician strangely controlling Karen’s destiny; and there’s a delightful burst of sanity from Sakuntala Ramanee as Mags, the only truly decent person in the story.

Dance Disaster DarlingI found this a strangely cold and unmoving production. I felt no connection with any of the characters – not even Karen; in fact some of them repelled me so much that I couldn’t even see their “funny side”. There are a few great lines, and a couple of lively scenes – but even so, although the chaotic dinner party in Act One is superbly choreographed as a piece of slapstick entertainment, the execution of it wasn’t as crisp as it required. The show doesn’t feel very “Christmassy”, and there’s scarcely a resemblance to the famous film. It’s quite successful as a modern re-telling of a cautionary tale with all its mental and physical cruelty, but as family entertainment there’s a lot of content that I found disturbing, let alone how a young child might react. Despite its obvious qualities and the calibre of its cast, I’m afraid this one didn’t quite do it for me.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The New Real, RSC at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 28th October 2024

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Late to the party for the second time in two days – we’re now in the final week of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of David Edgar’s new play The New Real at The Other Place. I remember almost fifty years ago being excited at reading (sadly not seeing) Mr Edgar’s Destiny, a gritty political exposé of the clutch that the Hard Right were beginning to take on Britain; and here we are again on the verge of the most vital election in the USA which could affect the way the world swings for Heaven knows how long. Not that much has changed, sadly.

Larry and RachelDavid Edgar’s fascination by all things political hasn’t weakened over the decades. The New Real looks at the machinations behind elections, the researchers and strategists who find endless ways to make their chosen candidates stand out ahead of the pack; advising on everything from how to stand at a lectern to using the Eurovision Song Contest to promote their message. Starting with the fall of the Berlin Wall, this ambitious and far-ranging play takes us through some vital moments in recent history, seen through the electoral opportunities on offer in an unnamed but only partially fictional ex-Soviet state, where its annual song festival is considered more essential to the country’s wellbeing than any strategic advisor.

LutsevicRachel Moss and Larry Yeates, battling within a perilous working partnership on the brink of collapse, are electoral and political strategists for hire, he in particular happy to take on work that financially rewards him more than interests him. Caro Wheeler, a pollster with minute attention to detail, advises them with all the essential facts and figures from her endless focus groups. First supporting the presidential candidate Lutsevic, they switch to Bezborodko when research reveals her profile is more palatable to the electorate. But can their operation continue when Rachel works for one candidate and Larry drifts towards another? And furthermore, what happens when one candidate starts hammering home their old off-script, pro-Soviet beliefs?

CompanyHolly Race Roughan always brings her own stamp to whatever play she directs, and The New Real is no exception. It’s staged in traverse, always a bold choice which offers an audience a different way of looking at a play. Dividing an audience into two parts, they see the same performance but from two opposing sides, much as an election divides the people who have judged party manifestos from two different angles. There may be a suggestion that it provides a show-off catwalk for the parties to strut and flaunt their views and policies in front of us. It also accentuates a suggestion of invasiveness, such as the opening scene where Larry is interrupted using the Gents toilet to be harangued by others, or indeed where his shower is disturbed by an unexpected visitor. There is no hiding place in traverse.

Rachel and CaroThe set is dominated by six huge screens on either side of the stage, showing various political video footage from the Second World War to the present day; at first, you wonder how they’re going to perform around them because they seem fixed solid. But as the show starts the lower three screens glide up behind the upper screens, which continue operating throughout the play, setting context and location. One might feel that maybe the screens dominate the proceedings just a little too much, but then again that just emphasises the importance of what appears on our screens at election time.

Oleg and NataliaThe first Act is extremely intense and packed with content – an overloaded whirlwind of information that at times it’s hard to keep up with what’s going on. But you certainly go into the interval with your head buzzing with the ruthlessness of the democratic procedure. The second Act, however, is blissfully riveting drama throughout, driven by a clear, powerful narrative that makes us desperate to discover who wins the election – not that it’s as simple as that, as we discover. As an aside, it’s also an excellent portrayal of how Americans (for the most part) don’t understand the concept and power of Eurovision; and I really admire Mr Edgar for getting so many facts about the contest right!

Martina LairdMartina Laird is outstanding as Rachel Moss, a wily, ruthless, opinionated but also very engaging personality, ducking and diving her way through intrigues, knowing when to back off and offer the sincere apology; she’s a brilliant creation and Ms Laird nails it. Lloyd Owen is also very powerful as the belligerent but gifted strategist Larry, Machiavellian, determined, fearless and tetchy – a very believable characterisation. Jodie McNee is excellent as the ever resourceful Caro, Roderick Hill is also terrific as Petr Lutsevic, the candidate who goes too far, and Patrycja Kujawska is great as Liudmilla Bezborodko, progressing from a down-at-heel campaign manager mistaken for a cleaner, to the elegant, no-nonsense, power-dressing president whom you wouldn’t dare cross. And indeed the entire company puts in a superb, committed performance.

Lloyd OwenIt’s not a perfect play. There are elements of the first Act which drag and come across as stodgy; and there’s an important scene where the motivation behind Caro’s actions are not made sufficiently clear and it left us, and I suspect others, bewildered. However, that doesn’t detract from the play’s impact, relevance and its wholescale depressingly realistic take on modern democracy. As a voter, you are a mere bit-part in a larger strategy to attain power and wealth for others. Trust no one and nothing.

Production photos by Ikin Yum

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Othello, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Company, Stratford-upon-Avon, 22nd October 2024

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Poetry versus prose; a balance seen throughout Shakespeare’s tragedies. The elegant, effervescent, emotional language of the tragic hero set against the inward-looking, low-level gutter tactics of the scoundrel who’s out to get him. Lear has his Edmund to contend with, but perhaps more than in any other Shakespeare tragedy, the epitome of the great man brought down by a lowlife is embodied in Othello and Iago. And there’s no doubt that Tim Carroll’s new production for the RSC conveys those opposites effectively. However, despite several excellent technical aspects, and good story-telling skills, there are also many ways in which this production disappoints.

Shimmering BoxOn entering the auditorium you are met with a shimmering curtain made of what looks like gauze strips plunging down from the roof in a box shape. As the performance begins, the box is seen to contain fifteen or so cast members singing with rousing operatic skills one of composer James Oxley’s specially written pieces for the production. It sets a formal, alien, but very stylish tone. The music returns occasionally throughout the show; always immaculately delivered and a treat for the ear, but as a refreshing musical sorbet rather than integral to the piece.

A handkerchiefThe shimmering curtain also appears at the back of the stage, swooshing in and out to provide a place for the characters to hide offstage but still be part of the scene; it’s visually intriguing and stimulating. Apart from the occasional presence of the shimmering box the stage is bare – giving plenty of opportunities for our imaginations to fill in the scenes. The lighting, too, casts many an atmosphere over the proceedings, and Judith Bowden’s costume design has gone down the traditional route, with a goodly amount of doublet and hose and a plethora of bustles.

IagoUnfortunately, it’s when we come to the content of the performance that things start to fall apart. At the heart of the problem is Will Keen’s performance as Iago. Iago hides in plain sight, usually as a likeable confident, able to hold his swagger with the best of them, so that it’s a true shock to everyone when his real character is revealed. However, this Iago is a sneaky, whiny, snidey, muttering dogsbody who tends to inwardly converse rather than share his thoughts with the audience. You sense he concocts his wicked plans in real time, rather than their being well planned, and he amuses himself with his own duplicity. Although this portrayal of Iago is totally believable in itself, I find it hard to believe this would be the kind of person that Othello would have considered to be worthy of becoming his most trusted ancient.

Othello and DesdemonaIt also sets the tone for the rest of the production – an Othello devoid of emotion, distant, detached, bloodless, and surprisingly high in cynical humour. In fact I’ve never seen a production of Othello that is so played for laughs. Regrettably, this works against the play’s essential tragedy so that the moments of high drama are lost. It really should not be the case that Iago’s murder of his wife Emilia is a cause for laughter; let’s face it, domestic violence is not funny. The ultimate act of horror in the play, when Othello kills Desdemona, is unexpectedly performed in total darkness, as if to deny it’s really happening. All we can hear is some uncomfortable scuffling, like the sound of a fishmonger trying to restrain a feisty flounder flapping around on a slab. I’m afraid it was quite ludicrous.

Roderigo, Iago, CassioThere is a sense of the production being stylised for stylisation’s sake. I could not understand, for example, why characters would walk towards the stage along the aprons and then hover in stagey dramatic mode before entering it. It looks pompous. As the end-of-play deaths increase, Emilia and Othello calmly join Desdemona within the shimmering box of doom, like a trio of isolated computer viruses destined to cause no harm. And the scene where Iago wounds Cassio and murders Roderigo takes place without them being anywhere near each other, each in their own spotlight; it had all the dramatic intensity of Tess Daly revealing that Cassio would be up against Roderigo in the dance-off.

OthelloWhereas Will Keen is very at ease putting his own spin on Iago’s prose, John Douglas Thompson seems less at ease with Othello’s poetic speeches, especially in the first act where it often feels more like a recital than a lived experience. He warms up considerably after the interval where, gripped by the green eyed monster, he literally buckles under the weight of torment and gives a powerful portrayal of a great man totally broken.

DukeThere is one highpoint of absolute dramatic tension, when Othello grips Iago by the throat in his fury; it stands out as being a genuine “letting-go” moment, but even so its power is reduced by Iago’s post-clutch semi-comic reaction. Jethro Skinner’s well-pitched Roderigo is only very lightly foppish, although Colin Hurley’s Brabantio is more of a pantomime buffoon, and John Paul Connolly makes the most of his appearance as the Duke of Venice.

EmiliaJuliet Rylance gives us a very clear, demure and uncomplicated Desdemona, but it is only Anastasia Hille who truly gets under the skin of her character Emilia with some devastatingly eviscerating speeches that seal her fate at the hands of her villainous husband.

Iago and the ladsEven then, because of the frigid nature of the entire production, there’s no emotional reaction to Emilia’s fate, nor indeed, anyone’s. The essentially cerebral, delicate and remote stylisation tells the story clearly but also becomes monotonous, which must be a cardinal sin in a production of this most vibrant and eloquent of Shakespeare’s plays.

Production photos by Johan Persson

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – Romeo and Juliet, Northern Ballet at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 19th September 2024

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Ballet at the RSC? Surely not Dame Judi and Sir Ian gracing us with their pas de deux? Although I understand Sir Derek Jacobi’s entrechats are to die for. No! I’m kidding. Northern Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet, a mainstay of their programming over the last thirty years, has been rescued from the disaster that occurred in 2015 when the costumes and sets were ruined by flood damage. Painstaking work by gifted people has restored and renewed them so that once again Massimo Moricone and the late Christopher Gable’s work can be enjoyed by fresh generations.

R&J at the RSCTheir first port of call on their autumn tour is at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and it’s an inspired choice of venue. Unlike most theatres likely to host ballet companies, the RST has a thrust stage, so it basically has less width but more depth; and for ballet that gives the opportunity for the dancers to perform deeper into the auditorium and share their grace and skill more closely with the audience. The result is that, although the Royal Shakespeare is a large, grand theatre, the performance can take on a surprisingly intimate form; and that’s perfect for a project such as Northern Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet with its stunning choreography and its timeless, tragic love story.

Juliet and ParisLez Brotherston’s sets look good as new, with their suggestion of the Romanesque grandeur of Verona; a central piazza with overlooking balconies and historic ruins yielding a usefully large bare area to fill with dancers. Those restored costumes are literally a sight to behold; the Capulets in black but still brash with colour, the villagers in their drab greys and browns, and the masked partygoers inspired by commedia dell’arte. In contrast, the pale, light simplicity of Romeo and Juliet’s costumes stand out, reflecting their innocence and youth.

TybaltMoricone’s choreography blends perfectly with Prokofiev’s score. It pulls no punches with the brutality of the Capulet regime but also allows the tenderness of the star-cross’d pair, whose love was doomed to fail, to come through; both in their ecstatic love dance that concludes Act I and their morning bedroom scene that opens Act III. It also gives Mercutio many opportunities to show off and play the joker, it has a star comedic moment for Juliet’s nurse in the letter-delivery scene, and a sadly funny portrayal of Juliet rejecting the marriage proposal of Paris. Twice. It also tells the story with absolute clarity, and you can’t always say that about ballet. The simple reconciliation at the end between the Lords Montague and Capulet confirms the pointlessness and devastation caused by their stupid family enmities.

Romeo and JulietThere is an elephant in the room; or rather, it’s not in the room, it’s absent. For the first time Northern Ballet are using recorded music rather than a live orchestra. There’s no doubt it’s an excellent recording; but nothing beats the real thing. A live orchestra has one big practical advantage over a recording – it gives flexibility to the stage performance, allowing the conductor to pause for the audience’s reaction to a scene’s climax before continuing. This is especially important with classical ballet as you never know if a star turn is going to produce an unexpected thunderous round of applause. The last thing you want is for the dancers to be forced to continue before the audience is ready. With Prokofiev’s outstanding, sumptuous themes – not just the famous Montagues and Capulets march but his fragile motifs for Juliet, his Gavotte borrowed from his Classical Symphony, and so much more – a live performance of the music would have been the icing on the cake. However, I don’t need to tell you how underfunded the Arts are. Touring with an orchestra is not an inexpensive option; but music and ballet are inextricably linked. It takes a wiser person than me to balance this financial/artistic dilemma.

JulietThe dancers change roles regularly throughout the run, so you may see a different cast. However, at our performance the main role of Juliet was danced by leading soloist Saeka Shirai and she is exquisite. Her expressions, her enthusiasm, her grace, and her amazing pointe work are all just a joy to watch. She’s one of those performers who, when she’s on stage, in the words of Emily Dickinson, saturates sight; you forget to look at everyone else. Her Romeo was Harris Beattie who performs with effortless physical strength and superb technique.

MercutioJun Ishii was Mercutio and Filippo Di Vilio was Benvolio, and the three of them performed some terrific trios, embodying a surprisingly convincing laddish bromance. Mr Ishii threw himself wholeheartedly into Mercutio’s cheeky insolence with a superbly crowd pleasing performance; surely he’s ready for promotion to junior soloist after this run. George Liang was a marvellously surly and acrobatic Tybalt, and Helen Bogatch stood out as a remarkably dour-faced Lady Capulet; there’s one matriarch you wouldn’t want to cross. And Dominique Larose gave us a wonderfully fussy and bustling Nurse, sweetly waddling around the stage and endearing herself to everyone.

Lady CapuletGreat to see this production again – I last saw it in High Wycombe in 1998! It continues at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 28th September, before it travels on to Southampton, Canterbury and Newcastle. Northern Ballet’s other current productions, A Christmas Carol, Jane Eyre and Hansel and Gretel, begin touring in November. Will there be any more collaborations between Northern Ballet and the Royal Shakespeare Theatre? Let’s hope so – it’s the perfect staging for grand, yet intimate dance.

Production photos by Emily Nuttall

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!