David Oyewolo in Coriolanus. Photo: Misan Harriman
David Oyelowo has been rarely seen on stage in the last twenty years, thanks to the lure of Hollywood. I am pleased to report he does not disappoint. As for the production, this is a Tragedy of Coriolanus without the tragedy.
The problem with this particular Shakespeare play is that we never really get inside the head of the lead character. Unlike protagonists elsewhere in Shakespeare’s tragedies, he has no soliloquies. So we don’t understand and empathise with him in the way we do with, say, Hamlet or Macbeth.
He is a Roman soldier, but more than that he is a weapon, created by Rome’s military culture and specifically by his mother (the only human being he seems to care about). At the beginning, he establishes his military credentials in warfare. After that, it’s all about Rome trying to control this missile they have launched.
Actual physical fighting takes up a small but, in this production, memorable part of the play. Mostly we watch people talking about Coriolanus, trying to persuade him to be what he can’t be, which is to say someone who bites his tongue, compromises and flatters, and fatally underestimating him.
When he returns to Rome a hero, he seems an obvious candidate for a peacetime leader. The trouble is, he can’t hide his feelings of contempt for people and politics. Rome turns against him, then finds the missile pointed at them.
Coriolanus is up against the two great forces of Rome at that time, the plebeians and the patricians, and Shakespeare appears to have little time for either. The former are a rabble who are easily swayed, the latter are self-serving: ‘the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians’.
Coriolanus at the National Theatre. Photo: Misan Harriman
On the face of it, Coriolanus is a simple soldier, a man of principle who refuses to play the political game and seeks revenge when betrayed. As in any tragedy, his actions lead to his downfall but we are uncertain whether they are a symptom of arrogance, pride, humility, or simply a soldier’s rigid ideas of right and wrong? Lindsey Turner‘s production doesn’t discount or endorse any of these possibilities, leaving us with his inability to empathise and his black-and-white view of the world.
David Oyelowo provides us with a Coriolanus full of power and subtle feelings. He is undoubtedly a man of action. No-one in a Shakespeare play can be said to be a man of few words, and certainly Coriolanus bestows sone of Shakespeare’s finest metaphors in on those who let him down. Still, by the Bard’s standards, he is positively tight-lipped. Mr Oyelowo speaks the poetry clearly and fluently but it’s through his face and body that he most expresses his puzzlement and anger at what he encounters.
From the start, Mr Oyelowo conveys nobility- but he is a soldier first. As another soldier says: ‘Let me have war…it exceeds peace as far as day does night.’ He has a soldier’s bearing and bluntness. He bares his ripped body more than once, which contributes to the sense that he is very much an alpha male in a world of betas. In Rome during peacetime, he walks and sits awkwardly. He only seems comfortable when fighting. And the sword fight scenes are pretty exciting, as choreographed by Sam Lyon-Behan.
Whenever he leaves the stage, the temperature drops. None of the other characters emerge with much credit or force, although the actors do. Peter Forbes as Menenius, the wily politician trying to pour oil on troubled waters, is suitably patrician. Stephanie Street and Jordan Metcalfe as the devious populist tribunes Sicinius and Brutus are appropriately slimy. Kobna Holdbrook-Smith as Aufidius is also a successful soldier but, in contrast to his sworn enemy Coriolanus, he can play the political game. Pamela Novete as Coriolanus’s domineering mother has the right hectoring tone and, judging by the way she influences him into his fateful decisions, gives us another major clue to Coriolanus’s character. He respects, even fears her, but there’s no hint of love between them.
Lindsey Turner’s production brings out the contrast between the soldiers, who built and protect Rome, and the inhabitants who take for granted the benefits of peace that the army’s feats bring them. Her production begins with a video projection, designed by Ash J Woodward, where people are shown from high above scuttling around like ants.
Es Devlin provides an impressive set that continues this theme. It dominates the production and the people- maybe a little too much. The story may speak about war and democracy, heroes and the populace but it is told on a human scale. The huge set distracts from the humanity. On the other hand, when those massive marble blocks descend to create a feeling of the power and history of Rome, we get the sense that the current Romans, both the elite and the people, are like the ants we saw earlier.
There are many artefacts on tables which suggest a museum, perhaps indicating the past was once the present, that this story will soon be history, and that history constantly repeats itself. After all, we can see many examples today of populism and political ambition threatening democracy, and of people who would rather fight than compromise. This is underlined by the way the actors are in modern dress. There is a moment at the end that indicates fighters like Coriolanus will always be needed and always remembered.
A sense of hubris- that the character has brought his fate upon himself because of decisions he made deliberately- is essential to tragedy. In presenting Coriolanus as a soldier who has no interest in democracy or even other people, we lose any sense of him making a decision. In his mind there is no choice. At the Donmar a few tears ago, Tom Hiddleston made Coriolanus an arrogant aristocrat, which is one of many possible interpretations. The audience could see he’d brought his fate upon himself by choice. To me, that is why, despite David Oyewolo’s brilliant performance, this production is flat, a situation compounded by making the plebeians and the patriachs so pathetic that you wouldn’t blame Coriolanus even if had made a conscious decision to fight them.
With all the other characters reduced in stature in this production, the drama of conflict is diminished. No-one really tests him (except maybe his mother). It becomes very much about how Coriolanus is a misfit, and he’s a one trick pony, a single-minded soldier with no inner conflict.
It remains an interesting evening, but not I think one for the history books, despite an unforgettable performance from David Oyelowo.
Coriolanus can be seen at the National Theatre until 9 November 2024
Assassins looks and sounds great but misses its target
★★★
Danny Mac in Assassins.Photo: Johan Persson
Chichester Festival Theatre’s reputation as musicals producer is second to none but its latest revival is, for me, a rare mis-step.
Stephen Sondheim’s Assassins may not rank as one of his greatest works, but its reputation has grown since its premiere in 1990. The bleak musical comedy, with book by John Weidman, shows how the American Dream- that anyone can be a success- has become a nightmare. Its bleak view is that celebrity has become a replacement for real achievement, and that one particular short cut to fame is assassinating a President.
A string of would be assassins follows the precedent set by John Wilkes Booth, who shot Abraham Lincoln, and leads ultimately to the traumatic loss of John Kennedy at the hands of Lee Harvey Oswald. However, we gain little understanding of the individuals beyond their desire for fame for themselves or their cause (if they have one).
There is a lot to enjoy along the journey. There are songs for a start, which are mainly pastiches of various kinds of popular American music. They may not be Sondheim’s finest tunes but the use of popular music styles to talk about murder is horrifying. There’s the jaunty anthem Everybody’s Got The Right, the right to their dream that is, that bookends the show; and Gun Song, a romantic love song to a killing weapon; and Something Just Broke, a hauntingly sad reaction to the death of Kennedy.
The show originally used the device of a fairground shooting gallery in which contestants are given a gun and invited to take a shot at a President for the prize of fame if they succeed. It’s a metaphor that serves well the concept of the randomness of celebrity. As each takes his or her shot, they sink into oblivion, forming a disappointed community until together they encourage Oswald to commit a presidential assassination that shocked the world.
So where did the Chichester production go wrong?
Not with the performers, who are excellent. The characters they play do not have much depth, but are nevertheless given performances both vivid and amusing. Peter Forbes is suitably authoritative and sinister as The Proprietor or host; Danny Mac, with a strong singing voice, is the handsome and manipulative John Wilkes Booth, who you can believe would inspire the others; Harry Hepple is outstanding as the easy-going Charles Guiteau, who killed President Garfield because he believed he should have been made French ambassador; Sam Oladeinde shines as Leon Czolgosz, the shy, angry killer of President McKinley; Nick Holder as Samuel Byck wanders around the auditorium in a soiled Santa Claus outfit ranting about President Nixon (and Leonard Bernstein, for that matter) in a funny but frightening performance; Amy Booth-Steel is Sarah Jane Moore, the would be assassin of President Ford whose inability to shoot straight gains the most laughs; and Samuel Thomas is a chilling Lee Harvey Oswald, a man so feeble in his resolve as to make you squirm in your seat at the arbitrary nature of Kennedy’s death.
Why improve the perfect musical?
For me, the problem with the production was the way director Polly Findlay updated the concept to cover the modern cult of celebrity, starting with a reference to the recent celebrity President, Donald Trump. So, the on-stage band wear red baseball caps, and, as the audience enter, there are actors in animal mascot costumes encouraging Mexican waves.
The host looks very like Mr Trump. But why is the President handing out the guns? Trump may have encouraged the storming of the Capitol building, but this updating means you straightaway lose the distinction between people who achieve their dream of celebrity through assassinating a President and the Presidents themselves, who achieved their fame through a political and fairly democratic process.
Assassins at Chichester Festival Theatre. Photo: Johan Persson
In support of this change of emphasis, Lizzie Clachan’s wonderful set places the Oval Office rather than a fairground in the centre. Giant video screens on either side show the choice of targets, turning the original shooting gallery concept into a game show, suggesting the way TV turns nonentities into household names. Three TV news reporters replace the single Balladeer to provide the commentary. They hold their mics like guns, perhaps indicating the media’s contribution to the cult of celebrity killers. It’s certainly a long way from the fairground. This is all the more surprising since Stephen Sondheim once said he couldn’t think how to improve Assassins.
This is a musical that takes a superficial meander through various would-be Presidential assassins. It’s loosely held together by a concept that they are a corruption of the American Dream. Its fabric is too delicate to accommodate the tacking on of references to modern day celebrity. The Watermill Theatre production of 2019 didn’t stray from the fairground concept until the death of Kennedy, and was, in my opinion, the better for that single focus.
That quibble aside, Assassins is a musical worth reviving and Chichester Festival Theatre has come up with a fabulous looking production with superb performances.
Assassins can be seen at Chichester Festival Theatre until 24 June 2023.
Paul received a complimentary review ticket from the theatre.
Kelvin Fletcher & Caroline Quentin in Jack Absolute Flies Again. Photo: Brinkhoff Moegenburg
Richard Bean and Oliver Chris took the characters and plot of Goldoni’s The Servant Of Two Masters and turned them into the modern classic One Man Two Guv’nors. Now they’ve tried the same approach with another 18th-century comedy, Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s The Rivals.
There are a lot of laughs, thanks in no small part to Caroline Quentin’s Mrs Malaprop: ‘I’m overcome with emulsion’ she says; and ‘ flatulence will get you everywhere’. There are also some well-executed elements of farce. But in the end, Jack Absolute Flies Again doesn’t quite take off. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
There’s not the wow factor of the plot of One Man Two Guv’nors nor that play’s sudden and hilarious lurches in unexpected directions. It’s funny, certainly, but the action and some of the jokes are predictable in a way that Sheridan’s sure-footed, razor-sharp original never is.
Still, Emily Burns’ production offers a great deal of rollicking good fun. Actually, mostly rollicking: there is an underlying serious point about young people going off to war.
Fails to take off
The Rivals was written at the time of the American War of Independence. This version is also set during a war, World War Two, and in particular The Battle of Britain, which celebrated its 80th anniversary in 2020. Both were times when young men, perceived by an older generation as silly and unfit to fight, needed to shape up. And so they do, although there’s a great deal more silliness than shaping up. They are aided to maturity by the women in the play. Ultimately the play is a tribute to those ‘few’ young Spitfire pilots who took on the might of German air power.
The main plot (plot may be too strong a word) concerns ace pilot Jack Absolute. He’s infatuated with Lydia Languish but upper class Lydia has a romantic notion that her future lies with a member of the working class poor. She fixates on an engineer from the north: Dudley Scunthorpe. Kelvin Fletcher of Emmerdale and Strictly Come Dancing fame is well cast as a man of big guns and few words. Jack decides to disguise himself as Dudley in order to seduce her, thus becoming his own rival. Others fancy Lydia but are never serious rivals.
Jack Absolute is the flawed hero and played with the right blend of dash and deviousness by Laurie Davidson. His friend Roy is a classic silly ass, straight out of PG Wodehouse. Jordan Metcalfe imbues his character with a splendid mix of puppy love and jealousy.
Modern touches to story of war heroes
To show that the war effort was the work of more than upper class English ‘Brylcreem Boys’, the play also brings in an Australian pilot played by James Corrigan, a Sikh played by Akshay Sharan, and two women. The presence of a Sikh pilot is historically incorrect but is just one of a number of modern touches that stop the play being offensive in ways that these characters would undoubtedly have been at the time. This not only applies to race but to the many sexual references. One sensitive man speaks of the importance of consent. The women talk to each other frankly about sex- and, affectionately, about one of the men’s willies.
Natalie Simpson & Laurie Davidson in Jack Absolute Flies Again. Photo: Brinkhoff Moegenburg
Let’s look at those women. They are not only liberated by the war but they are the most self aware characters. Lydia, played by Natalie Simpson (you may have seen her in the series Outlander), is a transport pilot; Julia, played by Helena Wilson, is an army driver. There is also the maid, Lucy, who is, as she says to the audience, ‘a dramatic device’. She’s the one who deliberately delivers love letters to the wrong people and causes mayhem. She regularly breaks the fourth wall to bring our attention to various theatrical devices and the mechanics of farce. Kerry Howard couldn’t be better in that familiar figure: the ironic, likeable servant, who is cleverer than her mistress and masters, and draws us into what we might otherwise think if as a ludicrous plot.
Caroline Quentin delivers comedy gold
But the glue that holds this otherwise flimsy kite together is Caroline Quentin’s Mrs Malaprop. She’s the first person we meet, when she too addresses the audience, and is pretty much the last. Maybe the malapropisms are overdone and a little too crude, but I enjoyed them. And they’re clever because, like Sheridan’s originals, the wrong word is often right one, as when she talks of ‘mutton dressed up as Spam’ (Spam being a cheap wartime tinned meat), or, referring to her birthday, ‘I passed a significant millstone’, or (I could go on for the whole review) when, in a moment of sexual excitement, she says she is ‘filled to the quim’. And Caroline Quentin delivers them with a delicious smile and perfect enunciation. There is also a moment when she does the splits, which is comedy gold.
Lovers of Strictly will not be surprised at her elasticity. And how lovely to see two alumni of that show dancing together. The dance is one of the highlights of the show, as all the cast join in on a Lindy Hop. In fact, it made me think this could one day be a great musical. Thank you, choreographer Lizzi Gee for that.
Mrs Malaprop and Sir Anthony Absolute (Jack’s father), represent the older generation, at first sceptical about these irresponsible young people, but slowly coming to see their qualities. Sir Anthony’s character may be overshadowed in this production by Mrs Malaprop, but Peter Forbes is outstanding as the reactionary, prejudiced, blustering army general (‘be quiet when I’m shouting’ he says), whose heart is gradually revealed.
Overall, it’s an excellent cast, but the young ones all seem nearer or over 30, rather than the 20 they should be. They don’t quite convey the gaucheness, the brash naivety of youth, that Richard Bean and Oliver Chris put across so well in the script.
The stage thrusts into the audience (well, bulges slightly). The set by Mark Thompson is a delight. It says: ‘this is the nostalgic England of pre-War.’ At the back is an English country house and countryside, complete with blue sky and fluffy clouds. But, on the lawn in front of the house, is a basic Nissan Hut- the RAF headquarters- which contrasts starkly with the house, and says there’s a war going on to defend those English values. Interior scenes roll on and off smoothly.
There’s an effective use of projections, designed by Jeff Sugg, of airplanes in deadly dog fights in the sky. The reality of planes hitting and being hit. Jack Absolute Flies Again itself is not quite a hit, but far from a miss.
Jack Absolute Flies Again can be seen at the National Theatre until 3 September 2022. Click here for tickets
