Tag Archives: Michael Sheen

“Under Milk Wood” at the National Theatre

Poetry on stage is never easy. And when Dylan Thomas’s text comes with the legacy of a famous reading (Richard Burton, no less) a new production becomes even trickier. Lyndsey Turner’s brave attempt benefits from a star draw and strong performances from a large cast, but struggles to deliver anything new or to please old fans.

The big idea is to start the play within a care home. Additional material is provided by Siân Owen. Our narrator (Michael Sheen) jogs the memory of his dementia-suffering father (Karl Johnson). Thomas’s themes of memory and mortality are clear. But this preface (how could it be considered anything else?) makes the show longer than needed. And an hour and three quarters without an interval and wearing a mask feels very long indeed.

Maybe you have the patience. But while the show feels lengthy, the delivery – undoubtedly impressive – is too often rushed. And this is not an easy text to follow. Turner, with the help of movement director Imogen Knight, has taken the challenge of bringing a ‘play for voices’ to the stage vigorously. The lives of those living in Milk Wood come and go with alarming speed.

It’s easy to enjoy the cast, who take on the roles of villagers as “one spring day” goes by. I’d single out Alan David as making me laugh the most, while Siân Phillips manages to convey different ages of characters quite magically. There are nice touches with minimal props and excellent costume changes (bravo, set and costume designer Merle Hensel). Emotional moments between father and son are highlighted by the issue of alcoholism, and the “always open” Sailors Arms pub is a vivid presence within the play.

Thomas was not nostalgic. You can imagine the temptation… all those simple lives in an easier past. There is charm and humour here but, admirably, Turner avoids rose tints. A call to observe the balance between seeing the best and worst sides of people has weight as a result.

Sheen can command a stage. And he sounds fantastic. But with a show this dark – literally – and often pin-drop-quiet, it’s all too easy to slip from the level of concentration he brings to the role. The “noise of the hush” is an exquisite phrase to describe the life of this community… the trouble is that I heard a snore above it more than once. This production is an achievement on the part of its cast. Unfortunately, it requires a feat of endurance for an audience.

Until 24 July 2021

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

“Hamlet” at the Young Vic

There have been lots of Hamlets: it seems that the character is infinite in variety as well as faculty, and it’s easy to imagine the pressure to come up with something different. Director Ian Rickson’s angle at the Young Vic Theatre is to stage the play in a lunatic asylum, an insane idea that not only adds nothing to the play, but actually severely detracts from it.

Of all the different productions of Hamlet one can think of, one constant remains intact – the equivocation concerning Hamlet’s sanity that is so central to the text. Not only is this dramatic, it goes to the heart of Shakespeare’s search for Hamlet’s humanity. Rickson simply abandons this question: his Hamlet is an inmate. Clearly schizophrenic (he adopts the persona of his father), he is reduced from an everyman to a madman

Straitjacketing the text into the concept produces inconsistencies too numerous to mention, from the trivial (it’s an odd asylum that lets its inmates play with swords) to the essential – if Hamlet is merely delusional, why is a supernatural presence suggested anyway? If you can remain calm in the face of all this you might enjoy the production’s attempts to get around these problems, albeit problems of its own making. Jeremy Herbert’s design is impressive – it even includes a pre-show ‘tour’ where the audience walks backstage to acquaint itself with the institution. It’s big – but it isn’t clever. Indeed, by the end of the show it is quite literally dumb with Fortinbras reduced to hand signals to reveal Rickson’s final ‘twist’.

Some benefit from all this stupidity: Michael Gould is convincing as a more prominent than usual Polonius, and Vinette Robinson is moving as a Ophelia who seems at home in this madhouse. But the majority of characters suffer: the move from King to councillor is too much of a demotion for the role of Claudius, and James Clyde is wasted in the part, while Gertrude is reduced to a spaced-out victim – it isn’t clear if she is an inmate or not.

The greatest loss though is Michael Sheen in the title role. A talented actor, always magnetic on stage, it is clear from his powerful soliloquies what a great Hamlet he could have been. Trapped inside Ian Rickson’s concept, he is denied the chance. This is the real tragedy of the evening.

Until 21 January 2011

www.youngvic.org

Written 11 November 2011 for The London Magazine