So, shouty acting is alive and well and being presented on stage in Stratford. Thirty years after being deafened by Alan Howard as Coriolanus I was similarly assaulted by William Houston attempting the role today.
This was a flawed production which seemed to be overawed by the social, political and historical possibilities that the play presented. Elements of ideas were tantalizingly offered and then not developed.
The explosive start of the production with a sudden lighting effect with a loud musical chord and citizens running through the audience to the stage was not sustained. There were some interesting moments but no satisfying dramatic sequence. One visual construction was provided by soldiers hoisting Coriolanus to the height of their shoulders with two large spears on either side. Coriolanus was framed by these two spears and made an athletic leap to the floor – drama and incident; but there were too few moments to remember.
The costumes were a take on Shakespearean classical and were colour coded to differentiate the plebs, the pats and the conspirators. Rather autumnal colours.
The set was the most positive element in the production. Six blocks on either side of the stage with a large painted marble flat with corniced doorways, behind this flat a second level of doorways: this gave a sort of Renaissance false perspective effect to the back of the stage. The scenery was mobile with large sections doubling for doors and the outer walls of a city. It was used effectively and was visually compelling.
Timothy West was, unusually in my experience, unsure of his lines and entrances and made many fluffs; indeed so many were his mistakes that each time he ventured on a speech he provoked tension as you waited for him to get safely through.
Some of the smaller parts were played with all the panache of an amateur dramatic society and they detracted from the central performances.
In short the central character failed to elicit sympathy because of his amazingly mannered vocal delivery: he sounded as though he had taken a few master classes with Ian Mckellen, but had only managed to assimilate the more outrĂ© aspects of Mckellen’s delivery. His performance is best exemplified by his solo bow at the end of the play: a convulsion which almost knocked his head against his knees – form without content (like much of his performance.)
If I have to wait another thirty years to see another production, I only hope that my eighty six year old eyes and ears will be treated to something more satisfying that this Stratford production.
The most unexpected aspect of the trip to Stratford was the finding of a Singaporean restaurant a few hundred yards from the theatre. This was the Georgetown which boasted Colonial Malaysian Cuisine and, for £7-50 we had a more than acceptable two course meal, tasty and satisfying – which was more than could be said for the production we saw!
Toni was volubly confident about the quality of his house showing abilities after taking potential buyers around the house while I was chatting my way down the M50 in a bus filled with Year 11 and 12 Drama students from Llanishen High School.
It was an oddly disconcerting experience going back to the school though as one of my erstwhile colleagues said, “Just back to gloat are you?”
Let’s face it; I was!
This was a flawed production which seemed to be overawed by the social, political and historical possibilities that the play presented. Elements of ideas were tantalizingly offered and then not developed.
The explosive start of the production with a sudden lighting effect with a loud musical chord and citizens running through the audience to the stage was not sustained. There were some interesting moments but no satisfying dramatic sequence. One visual construction was provided by soldiers hoisting Coriolanus to the height of their shoulders with two large spears on either side. Coriolanus was framed by these two spears and made an athletic leap to the floor – drama and incident; but there were too few moments to remember.
The costumes were a take on Shakespearean classical and were colour coded to differentiate the plebs, the pats and the conspirators. Rather autumnal colours.
The set was the most positive element in the production. Six blocks on either side of the stage with a large painted marble flat with corniced doorways, behind this flat a second level of doorways: this gave a sort of Renaissance false perspective effect to the back of the stage. The scenery was mobile with large sections doubling for doors and the outer walls of a city. It was used effectively and was visually compelling.
Timothy West was, unusually in my experience, unsure of his lines and entrances and made many fluffs; indeed so many were his mistakes that each time he ventured on a speech he provoked tension as you waited for him to get safely through.
Some of the smaller parts were played with all the panache of an amateur dramatic society and they detracted from the central performances.
In short the central character failed to elicit sympathy because of his amazingly mannered vocal delivery: he sounded as though he had taken a few master classes with Ian Mckellen, but had only managed to assimilate the more outrĂ© aspects of Mckellen’s delivery. His performance is best exemplified by his solo bow at the end of the play: a convulsion which almost knocked his head against his knees – form without content (like much of his performance.)
If I have to wait another thirty years to see another production, I only hope that my eighty six year old eyes and ears will be treated to something more satisfying that this Stratford production.
The most unexpected aspect of the trip to Stratford was the finding of a Singaporean restaurant a few hundred yards from the theatre. This was the Georgetown which boasted Colonial Malaysian Cuisine and, for £7-50 we had a more than acceptable two course meal, tasty and satisfying – which was more than could be said for the production we saw!
Toni was volubly confident about the quality of his house showing abilities after taking potential buyers around the house while I was chatting my way down the M50 in a bus filled with Year 11 and 12 Drama students from Llanishen High School.
It was an oddly disconcerting experience going back to the school though as one of my erstwhile colleagues said, “Just back to gloat are you?”
Let’s face it; I was!