Tag Archives: Angus MacRae

“Coriolanus” at the National Theatre 

Clear, sensible ideas drive Lindsey Turner’s new production. Giving Shakespeare’s Roman history play an epic feel is natural enough and is achieved with style through impressive music (Angus MacRae) and design. Part of the latter, by Es Devlin, is a stage full of Hellenistic art, displayed as if in a museum, and through these objects the production comments on the dangers of glorifying militarism.

When it comes to the titular hero, Turner is carefully noncommittal and her leading man, David Oyelowo, keeps us guessing. We’re supposed to admire Coriolanus, yes? Plenty do, even though he is, literally, revolting. As the play moves between the military and civic spheres, Oyelowo gets as much complexity out of the role as is possible. It is a commanding performance.

Pamela-Nomvete-in-Coriolanus-at-the-National-Theatre-credit-Misan-Harriman
Pamela Nomvete

The military scenes are strongest – the fighting exciting – showing this martial culture superbly. Cominius, the general who delivers many a panegyric about his mate, becomes a major role through Sam Hazeldine’s skill. And let’s include the mum here! Pamela Nomvete, one of my favourite actors, is excellent as Volumnia. Her exaggerations about honour and glory raise a laugh nowadays, but Nomvete’s brilliant performance makes them sincere, taking us into the world of the play.

Showing us politics is less successful, although the action is swift and easy to follow. Maybe one problem is that the “many headed multitude” seems short on the ground (odd, since that isn’t the impression with battle scenes). The costumes are a bit of a puzzle, giving the plebeian Brutus and Sicinius (well performed by Jordan Metcalfe and Stephanie Street) an odd 1970s TUC air. Their political opponent also comes off badly, Peter Forbes’ Menenius is a comic-book toff whose wit tires rather than entertains. To be fair, it’s hard to get much subtlety here. The play takes its lead from Coriolanus’ own view that people are either “crows” or “eagles”. At least Turner doesn’t show favourites.

The political scenes are supposed to be uncomfortable – how the mob is manipulated is a warning. But the production is lucky it has Oyelowo to fall back on. He does a great job of balancing his character’s contempt with a dignity that comes from following his principles. We are allowed to wonder if Coriolanus is trapped in his sense of himself. Has being named after the city he conquered gone to his head? Is he one of those men said to be a victim of toxicity? That’s a tough sell, if an interesting one. But the end, Coriolanus himself is presented as one of those statues – the kind of fallen warrior who was never a Roman and who was, ironically, usually nameless.

Until 9 November 2024

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Misan Harriman

“A Streetcar Named Desire” at the Phoenix Theatre

The Almeida Theatre’s hit transfer of the Tennessee Williams classic boasts three Olivier Awards. And it could easily have earned another for director Rebecca Frecknall.

As with a previous production of a lesser-known Williams work, Summer and Smoke, Frecknall’s inventive, disciplined approach has startling results. The freshness and vigour are especially noticeable with a famous piece – this Streetcar is fast, loud, and shocking.

Speed first: the delivery here is astonishingly swift, not just the action but the lines. Blanche, played by Patsy Ferran, is especially skilled. The character’s long speeches are delivered as if they belong in a thriller. The production would feel rushed if everything weren’t so clear.

As for loud, there’s the musical accompaniment from Angus MacRae, written mostly for percussion and sure to give you a few jumps. The sound design (Peter Rice) is excellent – nothing is lost, despite a lot of cymbals. And there’s another source of volume – Paul Mescal – the actor who won one of those Olivier Awards.

Mescal’s Stanley shouts every line. It’s a tremendously physical performance with lots of running around. It is possible to feel sorry for Stanley (I’ve seen it in other productions), so you might find this portrayal less subtle than usual. Accusations about the man being an animal are emphasised and the character is very much the villain. When he hits and bullies, he enjoys it.

The violence against women in the play is Frecknall’s target. Stanley isn’t the only animal we see as he is joined by the other male performers who act like a pack. There is even the suggestion that Blanche is raped by this gang.

The trauma of Blanche’s marriage is highlighted from the start, creating immediate sympathy. But this production takes a harsh look at our heroine as well. Blanche doesn’t fool Frecknall, or Ferran, as the character’s wish to create a sense of magic is harshly exposed. You can be enchanted by, or suspicious, of Blanche, but here excuses and plans are blatant. Take the line “I want magic!” – Blanche screams it like a banshee.

To top all this, there’s an excellent Stella and Eunice (the upstairs landlord) who both enforce Frecknall’s focus on women in the play. Anjana Vasan has another well-deserved Olivier award for Stella – her passion for Stanley balanced by a concern for Blanche. And Janet Etuk makes her relatively small role of Eunice stand out. In solidarity with Blanche, the women form a trio in a way I haven’t noticed before. The insight, from an interpretation of the text that has conviction and vision, justifies that third award – for best revival.

Until 6 May 2023

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

“Summer and Smoke” at the Almeida Theatre

The youthful courtships in Tennessee Williams’ plays are usually things of the past – recounted by his formidable heroines. Here the action unfolds before us and whether the affair between minister’s daughter Alma and her next-door neighbour John will evolve is filled with an exciting tension… if you’re an optimist or haven’t seem much Williams. Sense-talking Alma is hugely sympathetic, while John is sensitive and passionate, a doctor making a mess of his youth. Presented as two extremes of spirituality and physicality, a compromise between them would be good for both. It’d be nice if it worked out.

There isn’t a party at the end, sorry, and the 1948 play’s reputation isn’t much celebrated either. But this production is so strong it takes us well into the second act to see why. After an electrifying argument as John’s father lies murdered (I didn’t say there was no melodrama), the play drags its feet, harps on about unrequited love and becomes, well, mopey. Alma was, reportedly, Williams’ favourite heroine – her fire and fierce intelligence makes this understandable – but while the performance here, from Patsy Ferran, does her justice, Alma deserves better than the end she had written for her.

Unlike the play, the production is faultless. Rebecca Frecknall has directed the piece before and her close knowledge proves invaluable. Matthew Needham delivers a fine performance as John, who is filled with sexual frustration and confusion. Despite cruelties and misogynistic remarks, the attraction is clear. Using the play’s motif of doppelgängers Frecknall doubles her cast cleverly, which feels like a defining way to stage the show. And taking multiple roles as various love rivals to Alma means Anjana Vasan really gets to shine. The staging is simple yet beautiful, taking inspiration from Williams’ experimental works. Few props and no costume changes, just seven pianos forming a semi-circle and accompanying music from Angus MacRae that adds to the atmosphere immeasurably.

As for Ferran, she’s so good she gets her own paragraph here. Ferran’s performance is career making: she inhabits Alma but makes us question the character’s self-definition as “weak and divided”. Her physical frailty is painful to watch. Depicting the degeneration of her health is astounding and Alma’s struggle against illness both moving and determined. Ferran can even inject a sly humour, with a suggestive eyebrow that’s a great asset. Cast in a show that’s as smart as she clearly is, the combination is a production that makes as forceful a case for this flawed masterpiece as Williams himself could have wished for.

Until 7 April 2018

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner