Tag Archives: Lucy Osborne

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at the Barbican Theatre

Director Eleanor Rhode’s production of Shakespeare’s comedy won rave reviews earlier this year at Stratford-upon-Avon. The show certainly looks great. Designer Lucy Osborne populates a bare stage with enormous bead curtains and huge paper lanterns that form a canvas for Will Duke’s excellent video design and Matt Daw’s accomplished lighting. But, regrettably, while it’s a treat for the eyes, the rest of the play offers little pleasure. I’m confused about all those starry reviews.

Rhode does have great new ideas. There are moments of tension between warring couples (Oberon and Titania, Demetrius and Helena) that show the depth of their relationships. Having Titania’s attendants appear as lights is nice and, like several illusions masterminded by John Bulleid, well executed. There’s also an excellent end to Act 3, Scene 2 when Puck leads the lovers “up and down”. Instead of seeing actors pretending not to notice one another, they appear fleetingly one by one, giving the scene extra energy.

These highlights are exceptions, though, within a production that feels flat. Act 1 doesn’t seem to interest Rhode very much. It’s horribly rushed, with nearly every line coming at breakneck speed, so it is difficult to work out what’s going on. The speed causes lots of problems later, especially for the quartet of Athenian lovers (energetically performed by Nicholas Armfield, Ryan Hutton, Boadicea Ricketts and Dawn Sievewright), who are hard to distinguish from one another or care very much about. 

A-Midsummer-Night-s-Dream-hero-credit-Pamela-Raith

Oddly, delivery becomes slower as the action speeds up. Here, the comedy suffers and the cast struggles (a few actors are breathless). Only Matthew Baynton’s Bottom seems comfortable working at the pace, giving a confident, if broad, performance that is credible enough. A lot of laughs come from the performers’ gestures rather than their lines, which are predictable and not as well delivered as they should be. We’ve all seen ruder and funnier chinks in walls.

Just as big a problem is how one-dimensionally all the characters are depicted. Might we feel a little sorry for Bottom, or even repulsed by him? Baynton’s version is strictly for laughs. His fellow hempen homespuns fade into the background (although there are nice nods to horror films in their play within the play). Even Adrian Richards makes more of a mark as Philostrate (he’s the Master of the Revels). 

Worst of all are the fairies, who should provide fascination, typified by Katherine Pearce’s Puck. Pearce presents an amiable character (and she has a lovely singing voice), but there’s no mischief and certainly no sense of danger about the role. Of course, there doesn’t have to be. Not every reading of the play needs to take literary theory into account. But losing any thrill or mystery is a mistake. For all the characters, there’s too much nuance lost. This dream is not a nightmare, but it’s forgettable.

Until 18 January 2025

www.barbican.org.uk

Photos by Pamela Raith

“Love, Love, Love” at the Royal Court

Playwright Mike Bartlett is very much the man of the moment: notable productions at the National Theatre have established his success as a writer keen to tackle current issues. Love, Love, Love sees his return to the Royal Court, where he was previously Pearson writer in residence, with a play that looks at recent history.

The story of a couple, presented in three acts, showing them as students, middle-aged parents and in retirement, has created characters that must be a joy for the performers. Victoria Hamilton and Ben Mills are both superb. Charting their impetuous elopement when young, their marital breakdown and their reconciliation, the pace of both writing and delivery are perfectly handled by director James Grieve. The laborious scene changes involved in Lucy Osborne’s design slows things down, but Bartlett’s control and the acting are so strong that the play remains compelling.

Love, Love, Love aims to be more than a family drama and here it does slightly less well. With an eye on the news, Bartlett is looking at the baby-boomer generation: where they come from, what they did and what their legacy will be. It’s entertaining stuff; of course it’s easy to mock the hippies, especially when they become yuppies. Any line bemoaning the fact that you live in Reading is going to go down well in Sloane Square.

Bartlett’s observations might be too tentative for some, too conservative for others, but his satire gets the laughs and the delivery from Hamilton in particular is show stopping. But doubts are raised. Surely a couple that grew up in the 60s wouldn’t think the occasional cigarette in later life the height of debauchery and the effect their parenting has on both their children is overstated.

Commendably, Bartlett’s story takes into account not just the predicament of the now middle-aged children of the baby boomers but their own perspective in older age – they feel they have worked hard and don’t understand their children’s reactions to their success. This is a story we hear less often and it’s a twist that should make you think, whatever your age.

Until 9 June 2012

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 5 May 2012 for The London Magazine