Tom Stoppard

Catch-up Post: Plays Part 1

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And here is the post with a few words about all the plays I’ve seen over the past year. Looking back, I saw many good plays and very few poor productions.

Bakkhai (Almeida): Not quite the stunner that Oresteia was, but a very memorable afternoon. Ben Whishaw’s Dionysus was clearly influenced by the likes of Conchita Wurst and Russell Brand, but memorably his own. But it was Bertie Carvel who stole the show for me, both as a buttoned-up Pentheus (channelling Margaret Atwood as he whispered, “It’s very important that the women don’t make fun of me”) and a suitably mad Agave. Compelling, but I could have done with less of the Chorus.

The Heresy of Love (Globe): I had not previously heard of Helen Edmundson’s play, but was entranced by this exploration of love and faith in 17th century Mexico. Naomi Frederick was forthright, elegant, and ultimately very moving as Sor Juana.

The Motherfucker with the Hat (NT): Definitely not the usual National Theatre fare, this New York-set play about infidelity and a conman trying to go straight had a vivid, earthy (and profane) energy. For once, the American accents were spot-on throughout. The acting was very strong, but the play ultimately a trifle shallow.

Everyman (NT): An interesting experiment. Well-acted by a strong cast, including Chiwetel Ejiofor, written by one of my favourite poets (Carol Ann Duffy), and yet it didn’t completely grab me. The subject matter (meaning of life) was a little too well worn.

Oresteia (Almeida): An incredibly strong beginning to the Almeida’s Greeks season. It was very long, but not difficult to sit through as the intervals were well timed. And it was beyond compelling. Lia Williams was mesmerising as Klytemnestra, Angus Wright’s agony as Agamemnon seemed to come from his very bones, and the death of Iphigenia was almost unwatchable. Its West End transfer is richly deserved.

The Elephant Man (WE): I’ll admit it, I was there for Bradley Cooper. And he did not disappoint, contorting his body admirably and speaking with a suitably distorted but accurate mid-Victorian accent. The play, however, was short and so pointless that I couldn’t quite believe it was over, as so little had happened.

Constellations (WE): I had missed this play the first time around, so I was very pleased to see it return to Trafalgar Studios this summer. It was well-acted and the physics was interesting, but I didn’t find the conceit of the repetition as moving as I was clearly intended to. Science and art can be combined beautifully (as in Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia, the most sublime example) but sometimes the science can be just a gimmick.

Rules for Living (NT): An uproariously funny play about a dysfunctional family at Christmas, oddly scheduled in the NT’s spring season. It would have been much more suited to a Christmas season. The “rules” were a unique concept and the scoreboard certainly noisy, but not necessary for the family dynamics to play out. A delightful curio.

Temple (Donmar): A play about the dilemma facing the leadership of St Paul’s Cathedral during the time its courtyard was taken over by Occupy. Simon Russell Beale turned the part of the finely tuned senior cleric into an exquisitely tortured man undergoing a profound moral dilemma. Paul Higgins (always a favourite since his legendary Jamie in The Thick of It) was marvellously passionate as the Canon Chancellor.

Man and Superman (NT): This should not have worked. Over 3 hours long, with an unrelated and frankly bizarre second act, lots of Shavian repetition and a leading man (Ralph Fiennes) who was much too old for the part. It was wonderful, engaging from start to finish and with beautiful chemistry between Fiennes and Indira Varma. We don’t see enough Shaw. More like that from the NT, please.

The Beaux Stratagem (NT): I should have loved this Restoration comedy. It had elements of country-house farce, which I normally adore, it was strongly acted and had some lovely singing. And yet I was bored stiff and longing for it to be over. There just wasn’t enough zing, and I didn’t care about any of the characters. A dud.

Peter Pan (Open Air): This production made me nervous at the beginning. Linking Peter Pan’s lost boys to the lost boys of WWI was an inspired and moving idea. It was just rather difficult to explain to the child accompanying me, who was understandably asking questions about why the boys were hurt and who was the enemy. But it was a lovely production, if a bit challenging for the lower end of the recommended age bracket.

American Buffalo (WE): Plenty of star power was on offer with this David Mamet three-hander, which involved John Goodman, Damian Lewis and Tom Sturridge. It was very well acted (particularly by Sturridge, who I had never seen before) but the play itself was about stupid people and I found it a rather stupid play. Mamet and I clearly do not get on.

Farinelli and the King (Globe): A gem. Mary Rylance’s performance in this play about the effect of the castrato Farinelli on his King of Spain was a quiet miracle, his eyes alone conveying every emotion that one could wish. Stunning singing from Iestyn Davies. I will go again during the West End transfer but that first experience in the tiny Sam Wanamaker Playhouse will be a treasured memory.

Shakespeare in Love

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It is always strange to go to a play or musical based on a film, particularly one you know well. With a book, you know that the adaptation will simplify and change the material of necessity, so it will take on its own life. However, since a theatre production and a film have approximately the same running time, there is always a danger that the play or musical will lose its vitality through lack of originality. The most recent example of this that I can think of is Fatal Attraction, which was utterly dire and which is one of the very few plays I can recall where I left at the interval.

However, in the case of Shakespeare in Love, I was reckoning without two things. The first being that this is a script by Tom Stoppard, and its innate quality is such that it is virtually guaranteed to produce an enjoyable evening. And the second is that the film starred Gwyneth Paltrow, who is an actress of a certain screen presence, but not exactly a distinguished Shakespearean interpreter.

The plot is familiar; a young Shakespeare (Tom Bateman) is starting out, friends with Christopher Marlowe (David Oakes) and attempting to make a name for himself with the various theatre companies in London. Viola de Lesseps (Lucy Briggs-Owen) is a young lady who loves the theatre and wants to act. Her father (Richard Howard) is rich but has made his money in trade, and secures the engagement between Viola and posh-but-poor Wessex (Alistair Petrie). Looming over all is the presence of Queen Elizabeth I (Anna Carteret), a part in which Judi Dench memorably won an Oscar for 8 minutes of screen time.

Stoppard employs many classic Shakespearean devices, but the most prominent is that Viola disguises herself as a young man and is chosen to play the part of Romeo in Shakespeare’s play, which involves (initially at least) many protagonists, including Ethel, the Pirate’s Daughter. Shakespeare is impressed by “his” acting ability but falls in love with the undisguised Viola, when he sees her at her father’s house. The balcony scenes, in which he attempts to woo her, are among the funniest and most delightful in the play. In particular, Stoppard’s sly notion that Marlowe gave Shakespeare some of his best lines is charming.

It is well-acted throughout; Tom Bateman is an earthy, lustful Shakespeare, and we believe him when he bemoans the fact that his wife Anne Hathaway’s bed is cold. He has the ruthlessness of the man devoted to art, even as we do believe that he loves Viola. Lucy Briggs-Owen has a beautiful speaking voice and the speeches are beautiful in her hands, but her facial expressions lack variety. The role of Wessex is particularly well cast, as it was rather difficult to believe Colin Firth in the role in the film. Alistair Petrie is suitably chilly and lacking in appeal.

For me, however, the script is the star of this play. A true love letter to theatre, not without affectionate mocking, we see Stoppard’s gifts at their most whimsical. Not his most intellectual play (although of course still very clever) but a witty, charming and elegant way in which to spend an evening. Oh, and the bit with the dog is very good too.