(A very quick one to be followed by two more very quick ones.)
“Nice cast, shame about the play.”
There isn’t much more to be said about either of the Donmar’s current productions: both of which boast the standard celebrity and established actors one would come to expect from the venue, both feature some amusing design (the red pool in Dimetos and the huge mother of pearl sitting room and gigantic frocks in Madame) but both are excruciatingly dull texts with the former boasting a nonsensical second act - even the director didn’t know what it was about - and the latter making the man who gave us some of the most infamous S&M pornography ever made tame and quite matter of fact.
I guess go if you want to see some people from the telly doing high-brow theatre (the snooty French accent doesn't come through online on that), but otherwise wait for the season to progress...
Showing posts with label Boring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boring. Show all posts
Monday, 11 May 2009
Thursday, 29 May 2008
REVIEW: "Troilus and Cressida"
For centuries, Shakespeare’s take on the Trojan war has been written off as unstageable, and with good reason - the play is an absolute disaster, with plot threads strewn about like blobs on a Jackson Pollock. It is in the face of such adversity that Cheek by Jowl have returned to the Barbican, premiering their best attempts at dramaturgy first in France (way to honour their ACE funding...) before landing at the Barbican to deliver 195 minutes of sheer and utter boredom to London audiences.
Unfortunately, despite what the RZ’s tutor described as massive edits and streamlining, Troilus and Cressida is still an indeterminate mess as well as a paragon to false advertising. The titular lovers have little stage time, their romance being a mere subplot which could easily have been discarded (except then the play would need to be retitled), rather the focus is on the challenge between Hector and Achilles and the interference run by Ajax. Being unfamiliar with the original edition of the text (nobody stages it and it’s not on most American syllabi), the RZ can’t comment on the extent of the edits, but a girl was loudly complaining on her way out about how the company hacked up the play. Given that plays in Shakespeare's day would have been edited to run for two hours, the RZ feels that it was under-cut.
Visually, the acclaimed Nick Ormerod (half of the CxJ über-duo) goes for the glory but falls short, placing the show in a traverse that resembles something between a nomadic camp and a cheap circus. Again failing to live up to advertising, there is an utter lack of creepy clown masks (first image) on stage, but we do see gas masked Greeks as well as Ormerod’s clear love of first person shooters, as the warriors don a full set of steel helmets and cricket pads to look like squishy rejects from Halo (second and third images). It’s the same deal for both sides, except the Grecians have their kit painted black while the Trojans wear lots and lots of white, reducing the Iliad to a beginner’s game of chess. As the cast go knocking over stools and wrinkling the long strip rugs we’re treated so some bland lighting (with one good effect at the end) and a lack of purpose from the setup.
Declan Donnellan (the other CxJ wunderkind) has plenty to answer for as well, not least of which the pitiful battle scene which looked like it was inspired by God of War. One of the RZ’s classmates questioned why the production was staged in traverse at the interval, but nobody had an answer by the end. Usually such a staging allows for a feeling of claustrophobia or intimacy, but neither was to be found here. Donnellan’s direction has also provided one of the most annoying characters in recent history to pervade the London stage in the form of Ryan Kiggell’s obnoxiously stilted Ulysses. With a pair of skinheads as Achilles (Paul Brennan) and shouting Scotsman Ajax (Laurence Spellman, whom the RZ suspects escaped from the tour of Black Watch) and a boy band filling out the ranks of the young Trojans. Given the quantity of homoerotic subtext present in the text now magnified by the staging, the RZ wondered if Cheek by Jowl should have thrown out most of the script and produced a Shakespearean porno instead, especially with the presence of Richard Cant as tranny maid Thersites.
There’s no doubt, however, that Shakespeare fans will discuss this production for years to come, as Troilus and Cressida is so rarely staged. Indeed, the RZ’s class was evenly split between “found it OK” and “didn’t like it,” and he is admittedly not a fan of Shakespeare, so take this review with a large block of salt. In the RZ’s opinion, however, the best seats are in another venue and suggests taking in some Brecht at the Young Vic instead.
Where: Barbican Main Theatre
When: Until 14 June, M-Sa @ 19:15, Sa @ 14:30
How Much: £25
Concessions: Cheek by Jowl reconfigure the venue so seating is more limited than usual, so no concessions.
-------------------------------
RZ Unofficial “Worth Paying”: £0. While the fight was laughably bad and the drag cabaret provided a moment of amusement in the second half, they don’t make up for the fact that this is a messy, dull play that no amount of Bardolatry can justify.
RZ Other Notes: Yes, I panned Shakespeare. Let the flaming begin.
Unfortunately, despite what the RZ’s tutor described as massive edits and streamlining, Troilus and Cressida is still an indeterminate mess as well as a paragon to false advertising. The titular lovers have little stage time, their romance being a mere subplot which could easily have been discarded (except then the play would need to be retitled), rather the focus is on the challenge between Hector and Achilles and the interference run by Ajax. Being unfamiliar with the original edition of the text (nobody stages it and it’s not on most American syllabi), the RZ can’t comment on the extent of the edits, but a girl was loudly complaining on her way out about how the company hacked up the play. Given that plays in Shakespeare's day would have been edited to run for two hours, the RZ feels that it was under-cut.
Visually, the acclaimed Nick Ormerod (half of the CxJ über-duo) goes for the glory but falls short, placing the show in a traverse that resembles something between a nomadic camp and a cheap circus. Again failing to live up to advertising, there is an utter lack of creepy clown masks (first image) on stage, but we do see gas masked Greeks as well as Ormerod’s clear love of first person shooters, as the warriors don a full set of steel helmets and cricket pads to look like squishy rejects from Halo (second and third images). It’s the same deal for both sides, except the Grecians have their kit painted black while the Trojans wear lots and lots of white, reducing the Iliad to a beginner’s game of chess. As the cast go knocking over stools and wrinkling the long strip rugs we’re treated so some bland lighting (with one good effect at the end) and a lack of purpose from the setup.
Declan Donnellan (the other CxJ wunderkind) has plenty to answer for as well, not least of which the pitiful battle scene which looked like it was inspired by God of War. One of the RZ’s classmates questioned why the production was staged in traverse at the interval, but nobody had an answer by the end. Usually such a staging allows for a feeling of claustrophobia or intimacy, but neither was to be found here. Donnellan’s direction has also provided one of the most annoying characters in recent history to pervade the London stage in the form of Ryan Kiggell’s obnoxiously stilted Ulysses. With a pair of skinheads as Achilles (Paul Brennan) and shouting Scotsman Ajax (Laurence Spellman, whom the RZ suspects escaped from the tour of Black Watch) and a boy band filling out the ranks of the young Trojans. Given the quantity of homoerotic subtext present in the text now magnified by the staging, the RZ wondered if Cheek by Jowl should have thrown out most of the script and produced a Shakespearean porno instead, especially with the presence of Richard Cant as tranny maid Thersites.
There’s no doubt, however, that Shakespeare fans will discuss this production for years to come, as Troilus and Cressida is so rarely staged. Indeed, the RZ’s class was evenly split between “found it OK” and “didn’t like it,” and he is admittedly not a fan of Shakespeare, so take this review with a large block of salt. In the RZ’s opinion, however, the best seats are in another venue and suggests taking in some Brecht at the Young Vic instead.
Where: Barbican Main Theatre
When: Until 14 June, M-Sa @ 19:15, Sa @ 14:30
How Much: £25
Concessions: Cheek by Jowl reconfigure the venue so seating is more limited than usual, so no concessions.
-------------------------------
RZ Unofficial “Worth Paying”: £0. While the fight was laughably bad and the drag cabaret provided a moment of amusement in the second half, they don’t make up for the fact that this is a messy, dull play that no amount of Bardolatry can justify.
RZ Other Notes: Yes, I panned Shakespeare. Let the flaming begin.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
REVIEW: "I Saw Myself"
(A delayed review, but one clocking in at under 350 words.)
The Wrestling School (Not really a school but a collective of RSC/Royal Court/RADA grads surrounding playwright Howard Barker) bring their mentor’s newest work to their alma matter in the form of a 2.5 hours on war, infidelity, and needlepoint.
Yes. Needlepoint.
Sleev, a well to do Mrs. Robinson figure loses the husband she has never been faithful to in the war. As is traditional in her time and place, she and her maids (a crone and two silly young things) must complete a tapestry full of the story of the deceased and his life. Breaking tradition, Sleev dictates the main story should be a reflection of her infidelity and lies. For 2.5 hours the women talk, abuse Sleev’s daughter, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, lose their eyesight, talk about the past, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, talk Genesis (the biblical book, not the band), fear the approaching war, and talk tapestry. One could say it’s a big bible banging stitch ‘n’ bitch.
There’s also cock. A lot of cock. Y’see, Sleev’s hiding a rather attractive naked man in her wardrobe whom she worships while fucking her daughter’s husband on the side. In order to express her own desire to be the dominated one, Sleev sends her husband to find an unattractive man to control her. When her adonis is called up for service (he later returns in the lower half of a late 19th century uniform looking as attractive, if not more, than ever), her condition deteriorates. Unfortunately, when the handsome one returns, we find that the character is far more interesting when silent - he has a never-ending speech where one wishes he’d just shut up and start killing people.
The RZ is making light of this work, which does deserve some serious thought. There’s a lot of dense and worthy ideas packed in here, but the delivery is in a dull and unengaging way which comes off as a Victorian or Edwardian piece with some sharp one-liners piercing the drama rather than today’s fast moving methodology.
Where: RADA/Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre
When: Until 19 Apr. M-Sa @ 19:30, 19 Apr @ 15:00
How Much: £18 General Admission
Concessions: £10 for usuals, £8 for RADA students
----------------------
RZ Unofficial Worth Paying: £10. Add a few if you’re really in the mood for a brain buster evening or for a cheaper evening than a seedy club in Soho.
RZ Other Notes: The nudity ends at the interval. In seriousness, this is a play that takes time to digest. It’s not an easy work, in part because it drags (especially at the end), but also because there is so much discussion of symbolism and allegory to warfare, sexual fidelity, identity, feminism, etc. This is not a “fun night out play”, but an “I go to the theatre to think” play.
Also, permitting the spoiler, when the attractive man in uniform returns, Sleev begs him to fuck her. When he refuses, she offers her blind person’s cane (the RZ is awful for not knowing the proper title) and grovels for him to beat her instead. All the RZ could think of during said sequence was Forbidden Broadway’s parody of the similar scene in Spring Awakening.
Wendla: “My supporting castmate tells me her father beats her with a broomstick every night. And since I’ve never been beaten I don’t know what it feels like. So would you beat me with a great big stick?”
Melchior: “I couldn’t!”
Wendla: “Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeee?”
Melchior: “OK! Like this? (feeble smack)”
Wendla: “Put your back into it, you sissy...”
The Wrestling School (Not really a school but a collective of RSC/Royal Court/RADA grads surrounding playwright Howard Barker) bring their mentor’s newest work to their alma matter in the form of a 2.5 hours on war, infidelity, and needlepoint.
Yes. Needlepoint.
Sleev, a well to do Mrs. Robinson figure loses the husband she has never been faithful to in the war. As is traditional in her time and place, she and her maids (a crone and two silly young things) must complete a tapestry full of the story of the deceased and his life. Breaking tradition, Sleev dictates the main story should be a reflection of her infidelity and lies. For 2.5 hours the women talk, abuse Sleev’s daughter, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, lose their eyesight, talk about the past, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, talk Genesis (the biblical book, not the band), fear the approaching war, and talk tapestry. One could say it’s a big bible banging stitch ‘n’ bitch.
There’s also cock. A lot of cock. Y’see, Sleev’s hiding a rather attractive naked man in her wardrobe whom she worships while fucking her daughter’s husband on the side. In order to express her own desire to be the dominated one, Sleev sends her husband to find an unattractive man to control her. When her adonis is called up for service (he later returns in the lower half of a late 19th century uniform looking as attractive, if not more, than ever), her condition deteriorates. Unfortunately, when the handsome one returns, we find that the character is far more interesting when silent - he has a never-ending speech where one wishes he’d just shut up and start killing people.
The RZ is making light of this work, which does deserve some serious thought. There’s a lot of dense and worthy ideas packed in here, but the delivery is in a dull and unengaging way which comes off as a Victorian or Edwardian piece with some sharp one-liners piercing the drama rather than today’s fast moving methodology.
Where: RADA/Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre
When: Until 19 Apr. M-Sa @ 19:30, 19 Apr @ 15:00
How Much: £18 General Admission
Concessions: £10 for usuals, £8 for RADA students
----------------------
RZ Unofficial Worth Paying: £10. Add a few if you’re really in the mood for a brain buster evening or for a cheaper evening than a seedy club in Soho.
RZ Other Notes: The nudity ends at the interval. In seriousness, this is a play that takes time to digest. It’s not an easy work, in part because it drags (especially at the end), but also because there is so much discussion of symbolism and allegory to warfare, sexual fidelity, identity, feminism, etc. This is not a “fun night out play”, but an “I go to the theatre to think” play.
Also, permitting the spoiler, when the attractive man in uniform returns, Sleev begs him to fuck her. When he refuses, she offers her blind person’s cane (the RZ is awful for not knowing the proper title) and grovels for him to beat her instead. All the RZ could think of during said sequence was Forbidden Broadway’s parody of the similar scene in Spring Awakening.
Wendla: “My supporting castmate tells me her father beats her with a broomstick every night. And since I’ve never been beaten I don’t know what it feels like. So would you beat me with a great big stick?”
Melchior: “I couldn’t!”
Wendla: “Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeee?”
Melchior: “OK! Like this? (feeble smack)”
Wendla: “Put your back into it, you sissy...”
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