Review – Kyoto, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 25th June 2024

Posted on June 26, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

It couldn’t have been more appropriate on a blisteringly hot Stratford-upon-Avon summer’s evening than to turn our attention to climate change. We still frequently hear talk of the famous Kyoto meeting – COP 3 to give it its official title – where 150 countries, each with the power of veto, somehow were able to reach agreement on a subject that has always been extremely contentious, particularly in certain quarters. It was the first time that such international consensus had been agreed on climate change; and although there’s no doubt that the progress hoped for over the subsequent years has been faltering (at best), without it we would surely all be in hotter soup than we currently are.

If there’s one thing that Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson’s new play Kyoto – co-produced by the Royal Shakespeare Company and Good Chance – achieves brilliantly, it’s exposing the extraordinary attention to detail that’s necessary to create a constructive and useful document to which all parties can agree. As I know from personal experience, it can be a most bizarre experience, arguing the toss over a semi-colon here and a conjunction there; one can only imagine the level of pernicketiness needed during a summit like COP 3, to change words, brackets, commas and so on. But the chaos somehow leads to order, and the play demonstrates that superbly.

Kyoto‘s structure takes us through the early stages of meetings between climate scientists, lawyers and international governmental observers, from 1989 through to COP 3 in 1997. At its heart is Don Pearlman, the narrator, stepping in and out of the action to play his part and to keep us, the Swan Theatre audience, up to speed with how things are going. As an oil industry lobbyist, Don is undoubtedly more anti-hero than hero, as he works with the Saudi representative and others to put a spanner in the works wherever possible. He even creates his own NGO – The Climate Council – partly out of mischief, but mainly to ensure that he can be as close to the decision makers as possible. By the time we reach Act Two, the scene changes to Kyoto, with all the conference’s planning, subterfuge, arguments and eventual, unexpected, success, largely due to the determined and distinctly quirky style of its Chaiman, Raul Estrada-Oyuela.

A very important and relevant subject – and there are gripping stories to be told about how it happened and indeed the effect it had on its participants. However, Messrs Murphy and Robertson don’t seem to know which story they are giving us here. Is it the story of how the Kyoto agreement came about, or is it the story of Don Pearlman and the tolls it took on his family and health? Clearly, it’s both, and I found this play over-ambitious, muddled and confusing. So many facts and opinions are bombarded at us that it’s very hard to take it all in and there were a few times where I was frankly lost. And although it’s a lively and highly creative production to watch, with Akhila Krishnan’s video design a work of art on its own merit, many aspects of the production detracted from our understanding of what’s going on.

Miriam Buether’s set presents us with a huge round table, with delegate chairs all around; some of which are taken by members of the audience, who I presume, would feel at the very heart of the debates that take place. The opening scene reveals Don Pearlman being approached by a number of darkly dressed, shady characters, luring him into doing their dirty work for them. Round table? Shady characters? It very much feels like we’ve been plunged into an episode of The Traitors.

My main bone of contention with Kyoto is that there is a disconnect between what the play tells us and what the production shows us. The relationship between the play and its audience is – deliberately I’m sure – blurred from the start. Pearlman addresses us in the here and now and takes us back to the 90s. The audience members sitting around the table merge into the action, for example standing up when addressed by their Japanese host. All audience members are wearing COP 3 lanyards, a cute idea that might make us feel more involved, that, however, neither achieves anything or goes anywhere. In a private conversation with the Chair, Ferdy Roberts’ John Prescott offers cherries to an audience member, thereby breaking the illusion that a) it’s a private chat and b) it’s a deadly serious subject.

This blurring continues: there’s a scene that ends with the chandelier in the Pearlmans’ hotel suite shattering, due to some suspected vandalism/threat. It’s not a particularly impressive visual effect to be honest as there’s no chandelier and just a few crunchy bits of shard tumble down on to the stage with all the lethal sharpness of sycamore leaves. Then Jorge Bosch playing Raul comes on stage and has to step through the shards underfoot to continue with his next scene, even though it doesn’t take place in the hotel but in the conference room. Our sense of location is blurred; it’s messy and it’s muddled.

There’s a very poignant moment between John Prescott, who played a significant role as the UK and European Union’s delegate and worked extremely hard to bring sides together, and German Chancellor-to-be Angela Merkel where she marks the commitment both countries have put in to reach this achievement; a solid moment where EU membership truly helped unite old enemies, that I’m sure is meant to suggest a knowing sigh over Brexit.

There’s an article in the programme written by Prescott where he describes those final moments of discussion: “We just kept going, 48 hours without sleep, finding compromise and wearing down opposition. But we got there in the end. You could call it “diplomacy by exhaustion”.” A great phrase. But the scene where Raul is ending the debate and knocking down his gavel time after time to signify assent to each remaining article doesn’t reflect diplomacy by exhaustion – it’s more like diplomacy by pantomime. There’s neither a sense of exhaustion nor gravitas, just a ludicrous comedy scene played for laughs; totally the wrong tone for the moment.

The final scene is given over to a long eulogy by Shirley Pearlman about Don, who has – sorry, spoilers and all that – died. It was because of all those cigarettes he smoked. Really? We’ve been watching him for the last two and a half hours and he only got his lighter out once, and that was just to set fire to a magazine. The poor man was apparently riddled with cancer. Again, really? He complained of backache once. If the play is meant to give us an insight into Don’s personal situation, it does a pretty poor job. The scene goes on for way, way too long and minimises the impact of presenting the Kyoto agreement. My mind went to the final scene of Death of a Salesman and how succinctly and eloquently Willy Loman’s neighbour Charley notes his passing: “Nobody dast blame this man”. If only Kyoto could have had an ending like that.

As you’d expect, the performances go a long way to redeeming the shortcomings of the play. Stephen Kunken gives a superb performance as Pearlman, in a demanding role that requires him to be in the thick of the story and the nonstop conduit with the audience. The ever reliable Dale Rapley is excellent in all his roles including a bullying suave Al Gore and a meddlesome photographer. Nancy Crane is outstanding as the US delegate, trying to play the upper hand because of the importance of her nation but finding herself frequently outwitted. In fact, all the actors playing the national delegates give brilliant performances, including Andrea Gatchalian’s desperate Kiribati, Jude Akuwudike’s dogmatic Tanzania and Togo Igawa’s poetic Japan, whose “welcome to Kyoto” speech that opened the second act was one of the play’s most charming moments.

A highly significant achievement in our recent history, the story of the Kyoto agreement should be kept alive for future generations. And whilst this play powerfully conveys the chaos and market-trading of the conference experience, I wish it had told the story in a clearer, less messy way.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

Three-sy Does It!

Review – Hamnet, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 17th May 2023

Posted on May 18, 2023 by therealchrisparkle

Re-opening the Swan Theatre after its pandemic closure is Lolita Chakrabarti’s adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel Hamnet, a fictionalised account of the Shakespeare family, based on their son who died aged 11. Like nearly all influential novels of the 21^st century, I haven’t read it, but I daresay you have, gentle reader. And so have many other thousands, otherwise the production wouldn’t have more or less sold out at the Swan even before its opening, gaining at West End transfer at the Garrick at the end of September.

But first things first; let’s have a quick word about the refurbished Swan Theatre. Plunged into darkness by Covid, it’s sprung back refreshed three years later and looks a proper treat. Super-comfortable fold out chairs make it easier to get to your seat and give you a great view of the stage. The upper floors create the impression of luxury teak bannisters and give the whole venue a classy feel. This isn’t the Royal Shakespeare Theatre’s little brother anymore, it’s a fully-fledged grown-up theatre all of its own. Fantastic job!

Maggie O’Farrell’s book transfers smartly to the stage, with a first act that depicts the early days of Will and Agnes’ courtship, her pregnancy with Susanna, their marriage (in that order), the later arrival of the twins Hamnet and Judith, and Will’s ascent in the playwrighting business, requiring him to move to London, keeping the family at home. The second act shows his rise to fame set against the backdrop of family activities and health problems back in Warwickshire. Judith is a sickly kid but Hamnet is a robust, precocious young cove with bags of energy and even more cheek.

SPOILER ALERT! When the Plague hits the village, it makes straight for Judith much to the devoted Hamnet’s horror. Agnes relies on her herbaceous remedies as usual, but the word goes out to Will that he must come home. Terrified that Judith will die, Will rushes home, only to be relieved to find a healthy Judith; but the Plague has taken Hamnet. The subsequent grief and ways in which the family members cope with it form the rest of the play. It’s a strong story, strongly told. Perhaps the first act is a little slow in part, but the second act races through with a growing sense of urgency as we reach the inevitable conclusion.

What’s in a name? asks Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet and it’s a question that gets a lot of attention in this play. Everyone knows who William Shakespeare is, but who’s this Agnes? Wasn’t he married to Anne Hathaway? Maggie O’Farrell discovered that in her father Richard’s will he names her as “my daughter Agnes”. So maybe Anne was just a shortened form or a pet-name for her; and it’s clearly the goal of both writer and adaptor to put her at the heart of the play, so she’s reinstated in her full Agnes glory. Neither the book nor the play mentions either the names Shakespeare or Hathaway in an attempt to leave their reputations behind and just portray them as an ordinary rural couple; thus they’re both only ever Agnes and Will.

And as for Hamnet; apparently it was a local variant on the name Hamlet, so when Will’s renowned tragedy of the same name appeared a few years after his son’s death, it was quickly assumed that the choice of name was clearly influenced by the lad. And it may well have been simply that obvious; or, it may be that Shakespeare took the name from the Scandinavian legend of Amleth, whose fortunes and adventures are clearly the source for Will’s eponymous tragic hero. Taking his son’s name in vain, without clearing it with Agnes first? Honouring the memory of his son in what would probably be thought of as his finest piece of writing? Or pure coincidence? Audience: you decide.

There is a little imbalance between the two acts; they almost feel like they’re telling two different stories. To help connect the two, Hamnet and Judith appear in spirit form in the first act, which adds to a sense of dramatic irony; we know the boy’s going to die soon and they don’t even know he’s going to be born yet. I thoroughly enjoyed the overlay of Will’s London theatricals on top of the crises happening back home; rehearsing the death of Tybalt whilst the Plague has hit the family, unable to control his temper during the final scenes of Comedy of Errors – and I thought it was a very nice trick to have the same actor play both Hamnet and Thomas, the boy actor who is struggling with the girls’ roles, emphasising how the two halves of Will’s life interweave.

It’s extremely well-acted throughout, but particularly by the main two actors, Madeleine Mantock as Agnes, and Tom Varey as Will. Ms Mantock plays Agnes full of spark as a girl and a young woman, which turns into strong, courageous resilience as the horrors of losing a child completely shape the rest of her life. Tom Varey’s Will also has a cheeky spark as a young man, that develops into a kind of maturity as he gets older, although of course he’s not averse to going out drinking with his theatrical buddies.

Peter Wight is excellent as John, Will’s gruff and impatient father, disapproving of everything his wayward son gets up to – and by association, with the rest of his family. He also entertains as the larger-than-life actor Will Kempe, all wind and ad-lib; very nice. There’s great support from Elizabeth Rider as Will’s hardworking mother Mary, Harmony Rose-Bremner as the grumpy Susanna, and Sarah Belcher’s vindictive Joan, Agnes’s stepmother.

I really enjoyed Alex Jarrett’s performance as Judith; her brief speech about what do you call a twin whose other twin has died was possibly the most poignant moment of the whole production. What’s in a name? again. And it’s a very believable and winning performance from Ajani Cabey as Hamnet/Thomas, both sprightly and spritely, running rings around his mother and sisters, and hopelessly devoted to Judith.

A very enjoyable sideways glance at a family you think you know a little bit about but who in fact are largely anonymous to us today. Plenty of relevance to the present time, and an ultimately very rewarding evening at the theatre. Catch it at the Garrick from September 30^th to January 6^th if you’re too late to see it in Stratford!