Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

Making my way to the Playhouse theatre on the river bank, I prepared myself for a troubling and emotional afternoon. My judgement was based purely on: a) the title (see above), b) the fact the production is  modelled on Spanish director Pedro Almodovar's film Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios known for its black comedy, and c) the minimal number of Spanish films I have seen, which are brilliant, but hardly uplifting. Retrospectively, perhaps I should have based it on comic actress Tamsin Grieg's role as protagonist, Pepa, the colourful and stylish poster plastered in every tube station, and the fact that it was my sister who recommended we get tickets (she's not one for serious, sit-in-the-dark-and-shut-up theatre).

We had seats in the circle, but were instantly upgraded to stalls, the fourth row from the stage! Still unsure as to the reasons for this thanks to the mystique of theatre (a box office assistant telling us it was down to unsold seats and his manager promptly scolding him for over-sharing), we eagerly took our VIP seats and admired the stage, modern and full of pops of colour. And the performance followed suit. The opening scene was a chaotic dream sequence of characters running on and off stage to a backdrop of Spanish guitar and singing from the highly talented Ricardo Afonso who played the taxi driver - a guardian angel with a comical (and musical) twist. This fast-paced and fluidly blocked scene set the tone for the rest of the performance - characters whizzed across the stage, twirled and fluttered from entrance to exit, bursting into song at every opportunity, whilst the scenery seamlessly transformed behind them.

I'm not usually one to notice costuming in a modern-era play, but the gorgeous styling of this production was hard to miss, and reflected the bright and upbeat nature of the story, even in its lowest moments. It also helped to drive home the point: these were fashionable, powerful women, all seamlessly coiffured and made up on the outside, but falling apart on the inside. 

In a two hour production, it can be hard to create lasting and believable relationships, but Grieg's affectionate and gentle way of performing gave her relationship with best friend Candela (Anna Skellern) a truly touching and genuine portrayal. Pepa, and indeed all the characters, are loveable because they're real. They have unlikeable and annoying traits, and they make mistakes, they're not all independent women who can cope without men all of the time, but at least they're trying. And hey, the men definitely can't cope without them either. This realism is of course due in part to the original film plot, but the acting really allowed it to shine through - the combination of slick physical movement and natural  speech created an atmosphere in which we could enjoy an entertaining and exciting piece of theatre whilst genuinely relating to and believing the characters.

Grieg was visibly emotional by the end of the performance. I'm not sure whether this happens to her at every show, whether it was exhaustion, or pride. But for me, the emotional aspect was the lasting message that, no matter what catastrophic thing may happen (and in this play all the catastrophic things happened), the sisterhood of women and female friendship is strong enough to get through just about anything. Totally empowering, and the perfect play to see with the three best ladies in my life.

See it now! Get tickets here

The Changeling at The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

The Changeling is....I find myself struggling to finish this sentence. Anyone who's ever read or seen the play will be feeling my pain. It's humorous yet darkly intricate at best and random and fragmented at worst. Those of us who find ourselves reading more and more obscure Jacobean plays as the weeks go by (no? Just me?) will be well aware of the questionable sub-plots that crop up from time to time. The Changeling, however, takes this to another level. As what can only be assumed is a comical relief from Beatrice-Joanna and DeFlores' spree of murder, manipulation, and rape is a random spattering of scenes in a psychiatric hospital, concerning various patients, the Dr, and his wife. 

Sounds pretty far-fetched, right? And potentially very tricky for a modern day theatre to produce. The recently born Sam Wanamaker Playhouse took on the challenge, and who better? The only theatre in the country which has attempted to mimic the seventeenth century Blackfriars indoor playhouse - complete with candles, claustrophobia, and uncomfortable seating. It is an unbeatably fascinating experience, never have I been so close to the actors, so utterly focussed on the action onstage, so aware of my fellow audience members.

In terms of the performance, if I had been in any other theatre I probably would have zoned out on more than one occasion. I was lucky enough to nab a seat in the Musicians' Gallery, behind/above the stage. I say lucky in terms of being so near the live, authentically dressed musicians, the site of a psychiatric patient invasion in the second half, and being able to see both sides of the stage pretty equally. It was perhaps unlucky in particular for this performance, as manyof the hospital scenes were based upstage, in particular actually within the walls and doors connecting to backstage. As such, no matter how much we clambered over the bannister and craned our necks downwards, we couldn't see any of the comical elements of these scenes, rendering this subplot pretty much redundant. However, I'm willing to relent that this was only a problem for the eight of us in these seats. By all accounts - and by this I mean all the whooping and guffawing going on from the rest of the audience - these scenes were real comic highlights of the whole production.

To the main plot: I found Beatrice-Joanna too breathy and monotonous, and DeFlores too comical. This may sound harsh, but by the end I actually thought, maybe this is the best way to portray the characters. Maybe I've always taken the play too seriously, and maybe that's the problem. After all, Beatrice-Joanna is changeable, unlikeable and unsympathetic. DeFlores is creepy, disloyal, and only seems to open up to the audience. No matter how much I wanted to take these characters seriously, the way they were portrayed merely emphasised the ridiculous nature of the play and the fickle motivations of all the characters. What I initially felt was negative has apparently transmuted into a positive since my initial trip to the theatre.

Prior to the performance, I was lucky enough to attend Middleton expert Gary Taylor's lecture on the interior nature of the play. I realised, The Changeling is the perfect play for the enclosed and dark atmosphere of the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse. I'm not sure I would ever have raving reviews of a production of The Changeling, but thanks to the unexpected portrayal of characters and oppressive environment, it was one of the most exciting and authentic theatre experiences I've ever had.

SWP still have some great productions coming up before the end of the season, have a browse and buy tickets here. Whatever you do, make sure you pay attention to the candles, the productions use them in innovative and unique ways and scenes often revolve around them, something you're really not going to experience anywhere else.

Merchant of Venice at the Almeida

In the past six months I've being reading more and watching more plays than ever before, and yet the blog has all but died. Ironic? I honestly couldn't tell you - the concept of irony baffles me. But I do know it's not great blogger form, and now I have a humongous backlog of great books and performances that I'm dying to write about. Besides, the fact that I have three essays looming over me in the next month is a great motivation to get back to the blog. 

First up, The Merchant of Venice at the Almeida theatre. Artistic director Rupert Goold has set Shakespeare's dark comedy of prejudice and property in the glistering, superficial world of Las Vegas, complete with Antonio the melancholic gambler (Scott Handy), Launcelot the Elvis impersonator (Jamie Beamish), and Portia (Susannah Fielding) the Southern blonde bombshell princess. Now, I am well aware of the fervently anti-modern-Shakespeare-adaptation faction out there, even more so since beginning my MA and feeling like the least serious, phoniest Shakespeare scholar out there. What can I say? I love a good change of scenery in a Shakespeare play, it keeps it fresh for people less academically minded and often offers a new perspective on an over-exhausted debate. That being said, adaptations always need to be done well -  I've found they work best when they don't need too much complex explanation and emphasise the fun element of pitching a seventeenth century script in a totally alien element. Programmes are great ways of engaging the audience and allowing the director to explain their thought processes, but at about £4 or more a pop not everyone is going to invest - an adaptation needs to be self-explanatory, but leave room for the audience to think once the show is over.

For me, Merchant at the Almeida did exactly this. There have been hugely mixed reviews of it, a lot negative, and I faced quite a negative reaction when admitting my positive thoughts about it to fellow students. The general consensus is that the bright lights and exaggerated Americanisation clouded the all-important plot. Fair enough, at times I was mesmerised more by Portia's bouncing golden ringlets than her lamentations over her imprisonment in Belmont, and Elvis' hip thrusting warbling might not have been exactly what Shakespeare was going for. But the production did have some stand out points that really made me think. Firstly, the portrayal of foreignness and prejudice in such a modern setting was troubling and unavoidable. I spoke with my mum for a long time after this about the way  the play outlined stereotyped racism - even though we may no longer racially mock the Spanish, or the Moroccans, racial and religious stereotyping is certainly not dead, and the audience was starkly reminded of this throughout the performance.

The final scene was another triumph for this production. Bearing in mind I saw this way back in January, this scene is still vivid in my mind, which is always a true testament to any performance. What has always struck me about Merchant is the apparent unhappiness of all the couples at the end, no one seems very invested in each other - everyone's got what/who they want but suddenly it's totally unfulfilling. At the Almeida this translated into a closing sequence of Portia teetering on a high heel, performing something between a ballet sequence and a slow motion breakdown. Making it all the more haunting, the characters she circled - Bassanio and Antonio, Lorenzo and Jessica, Gratiano and Nerissa - alternated between staring blankly outside the stage space and awkwardly at one another. Following a comedic and extravagant two hours and a half, I was left with an empty and uncomfortable taste in my mouth. This is exactly how I feel every time I re-read the playtext, after the triumphant celebration of the trial scene, the spats between the couples over Portia and Nerissa's rings leaves a gaping awkwardness that the play apparently runs out of time to fill or resolve. This production ended on the perfect note of questionable happiness and uncertain love matches and friendships.

These aren't my highlights as such, they were really the two things that struck me about the performance. The one thing that did jar for me was the transformation of the casket plot into a game show - I understand the sentiment but ultimately it confused the plot and made it more complicated than it needed to be. Aside from what I've mentioned, and the individual performances - none of which I can majorly fault - the performance was more or less a bit of fun. But there's nothing wrong with that, and going for fun rather than super serious in terms of updating an early modern play is often the most successful way of doing it. Even those of us who are seriously the seriouest of the serious Shakespeare scholars need a bit of fun once in a while.