Tag Archives: Pamela Nomvete

“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 in 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

“Skeleton Crew” at the Donmar Warehouse

Marking the end of Michael Longhurst’s excellent tenure as artistic director, this UK première of Dominique Morisseau’s play is classy in two senses. The production is of the highest quality – director Matthew Xia is justly confident with the terrific script as well as his talented cast. And the subject matter might be said to be class – Skeleton Crew is a specific study of blue-collar workers in Detroit that is detailed, intelligent and moving.

The factory breakroom setting, with dramatic lighting and sound design (from Ciarán Cunningham and Nicola T Chang respectively), is an efficient forum for debates about unionism and moral dilemmas. As redundancy approaches for the characters, with the factory downsizing to the titular staffing levels, this working world might remind you of plays by Arthur Miller or Lynn Nottage, but Morisseau has her own voice – with plenty to say.

It is with its characters that Skeleton Crew excels. There are four heroes here – Dez, Faye, Reggie and Shanita – complex figures who are all magnificent creations. Although they present different approaches, with plenty of argument, none feels like a mouthpiece.

Skeleton-Crew-at-the-Donmar-Warehouse-2-credit-Helen-Murray
Racheal Ofori and Branden Cook

Dez is struggling to set up his own business, his desperation leading to a brilliant plot point, while Shanita is pregnant, a literally growing cause for concern. In the roles, Branden Cook (an astonishing professional debut) and Racheal Ofori stand out, brilliantly revealing their characters’ complexities, making us care about them and adding wit. Reggie, the supervisor who knows first that the plant is closing, is a fantastic study in stress from Tobi Bamtefa, with a visceral performance full of fear, anger and confusion. The trio are figures of great dignity – proud about work, with a sense of purpose from productivity. And I haven’t yet mentioned Faye.

Long-serving union rep, friend and mentor to Reggie, Faye is the linchpin of the play. It is to the credit of all that she does not dominate the show. This could well be a career defining role for Pamela Nomvete, who gives a performance marked by clarity as well as power. Faye’s no-nonsense views and her care for others guide her colleagues – and the audience. But the character has problems, with a twist that brought tears to my eyes. Faye is not a victim – her insistence on this will give you goosebumps. But we are allowed to question whether that praiseworthy pride might also be damaging.

Morisseau can escalate tension with the best of them. But there’s also an interesting take on understatement that Xia is careful to preserve. Anti-climax is mentioned by Shanita, whose dreams (beautifully recounted by Ofori) add melancholic touches, while dramatic moments are curtailed for the sake of realism. And note that Faye doesn’t want Reggie to “write a happy ending” for her. There’s nothing twee in Skeleton Crew. Its power comes from how convincing it is. But how much I hope the future goes well for all its characters indicates how strong the piece is.

Until 24 August 2024

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Helen Murray

“The Convert” at the Young Vic

Trying to tackle colonialism and religion, along with sexism and education, could easily overwhelm a play. But this assured work from Danai Gurira, directed with inspired steps by Ola Ince, takes all these big topics in its elegant stride.

The key to success might come from specificity: the play focuses on the distinctly Catholic experience of a single woman, Jekesai, alongside the history of one uprising in the Zimbabwe of 1896. The characters are all local and their culture is explored in detail, with complex results that are rich and satisfying. It’s an in-depth look, from many angles, complemented perfectly by the decision to stage the show in the round.

Letitia Wright makes Jekesai’s conversion believable – and that she sees the opportunity for power and representation through religion is an exciting spin, as Christianity literally saves her from a marriage of convenience. Quickly becoming the protégé of Mr Clifford, who aspires to be a priest, this is a central relationship that’s as moving as it is layered. Clifford is given a superb realisation by Paapa Essiedu. Full of repression and conviction, for all his weaknesses he’s a hero of sorts. With the pair seen as collaborators of the colonists, and therefore targets, the theme of religious persecution is given a forceful twist. Two strong female characters accentuate the complexities of locating dissent. Pamela Nomvete plays a servant who pays only lip service to her master’s religion, while Luyanda Unati Lewis-Nyawo is the blue-stocking Miss Prudence ready to provide a feminist perspective.

The one exception to a generally old-fashioned feel is to include a lot of a local language, which highlights linguicism with great dramatic skill. Gurira bolsters the point, again skilfully, with the Queen’s English that the play’s westernised characters speak. There’s humour in mistakes in syntax and endearing precision, but the connection between power and language is clear and thought-provoking. The struggle with speaking is one of many carefully developed investigations of imperialism. But views never feel forced on characters (true a “signifier” slips in once) and a believably late Victorian feel indicates thorough research alongside theoretical thinking.

Among all the issues, Gurira hasn’t forgotten the basics, and The Convert is a well-crafted, traditional piece. There’s a set of strong characters that the performers get their teeth into and a powerful plot that builds tension marvellously. In short, it’s a gripping story about people you really care for.

Until 26 January 2019

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Marc Breener