Pentecost, St Leonard’s Church Shoreditch

Posted on by Catherine Love-Smith

Never has art history been more compelling than in David Edgar’s post-Cold War drama, in which a fresco on the wall of a church in Eastern Europe becomes the battleground for clashes between different languages, cultures, religions and ideologies – much like the unnamed post-Communist state of the play has been the scene of invasion upon invasion throughout its troubled history.

After a huge effort of near-compulsive searching, museum curator Gabriela Pecs has unearthed a mural that she believes could completely change the face of art history, proving that the style of painting that set the groundwork for the Renaissance was in fact born not in the West as believed, but in the East. To assist her in her discovery, she enlists English art scholar Oliver Davenport, but their efforts are soon interrupted by the competing objections of the Orthodox and Catholic priests who both lay claim to the church and by the outrage of American art historian Leo Katz, who believes that ancient art should be left alone rather than cosmetically restored to its former glory.

In the fierce debates between Gabriela, Oliver and Leo, Edgar questions both the value and meaning of art. The high art versus low art debate is invoked by the beliefs of Oliver, who argues that we should not distinguish between art and artefact and that we might talk of the Mona Lisa in the same breath as Star Trek. It is an intriguing suggestion, but one that equally renders their restoration efforts almost entirely pointless, a paradox that reveals just how self-serving Oliver’s motivations really are. What Edgar gradually reveals is how this one piece of art of questionable origin is made to mean different things to different individuals, each of whom would impose their own ideology and motives onto this painting.

As well as representing a personal and political battlefield, Edgar questions the easy assumption that art is redemptive and civilising. After all, as one of his characters points out, the guards at Auschwitz listened to Mozart. Any link between art and morality, Edgar illustrates with piercing clarity, is pure wishful fallacy – yet neither is art reduced to a worthless status. The fresco almost becomes a character in its own right, an object whose fate we ultimately care about, achieved mainly through the steely passion of Pinar Ogun’s Gabriela. In order for this piece to truly captivate an audience, Gabriela must infect us with her all-consuming, fevered enthusiasm for her discovery and what it might mean for her nation, a feat that is compellingly accomplished by Ogun, who manages to retain our sympathy even after objecting to her country becoming a dumping ground for the ‘dregs of Europe’, as she disdainfully dubs desperately fleeing asylum seekers.

As integral as art is to the play, however, this is about more than arguments on aesthetics. When, as we move into the second half, the church is invaded by a band of refugees and a thus far intellectual drama escalates into a hostage situation, Edgar is given the opportunity to draw out themes of national identity and the old East versus West divide, a barrier that was not broken down along with the Berlin Wall; the Iron Curtain may have lifted, but a scarcely penetrable veil remains. This is eloquently expressed in confrontations between the simmering melting pot of nationalities brought together in the church and particularly by vitriolic refugee leader Yasmin, who explodes our smug Western stance of superiority.

These expansive ideas and many more are given room to breathe in the large, suitably atmospheric space of St Leonard’s Church, all cold exposed stone and peeling paintwork. The script risks being smothered, however, by a busy, frenetic production from Charm Offensive. The decision to stage this play in this environment is one that makes utter sense, but unfortunately the acoustics are against them, with reverberation draining the sense from many lines – a considerable predicament in a play that is mostly talk. Add to this the sheer amount that is often going on at once, particularly once the refugees arrive on the scene, and Edgar’s beautifully expressed themes are occasionally in danger of floundering.

Director Gavin McAlinden has assembled a rich cast of mixed nationalities, a cultural blend that adds authenticity to a piece in which language, nationality and culture are so vital, though the performances emerging from this mix are uneven. The production remains held together, however, by strong central characterisations from Jonathan Sidgwick as Oliver and from Ogun in the role of Gabriela. As her passion seeps uncontrollably through each stone of the building, it is hard to sweep questions of art and cultural and national identity aside.

Image: Maddy Gasson

The Taming of the Shrew, Richmond Theatre

Posted on by Catherine Love-Smith

Ah, that old problem of the Shrew. This most irksome of Shakespeare’s plays is itself resistant to being tamed, often refusing to bend to directorial interpretations that try to smooth its rough, arguably misogynist edges. It is not a play that I can profess to having much personal fondness for and one that I doubt I will ever come to love, but the Royal Shakespeare Company’s latest attempt certainly has a spirited if slightly over-enthusiastic stab at it.

In director Lucy Bailey’s vivid vision of this troublesome play, the battle of the sexes boils down, ultimately, to sex. Bed is not just the setting for consummation of marriage, but the location for Petruchio and Kate’s entire twisted courtship, with Ruth Sutcliffe’s triumphant, sheet-draped set denoting both subtext and end point. The sparring couple’s struggles are, in this context, simply a bizarre and extended form of foreplay. The bed is also the seat of dreams, making it an appropriate stage for the fantasy drunkenly dreamed by Christopher Sly, another man with sex on the mind who is kept present amongst the action throughout in the humorous form of a gamely slurring, staggering and burping Nick Holder.

But this interpretation is not all about crude gestures, winks and nudges and a tumble between the voluminous sheets. Sex is intriguingly associated with money and, by extension, power. When Baptista, after marrying wild Kate off to Petruchio, offers younger daughter Bianca’s hand in marriage to the man who can make the highest offer, her suitors illustrate their wealth and ‘hangings’ with sexually suggestive actions indicative of their generous endowments – financial or otherwise. Meanwhile, the very crudeness of making the bed a public arena stresses the crudeness and cruelty of the marriage market, in which women and sex become commodities. By breaking away from these rigid, narrow-minded practices, Petruchio and Kate finally reach, by comparison, a more natural union.

The central relationship between ‘shrew’ and ‘tamer’ is of course the focus, carrying the burden of the piece. The sparky, wild dynamic between Lisa Dillon and David Caves bears this burden with attitude, as the pair constantly dance around once another, grapple and come to blows. Bailey has cultivated a particularly physical pairing, presenting us with two misfits who can barely stay still; Caves’ Petruchio paces, struts, fidgets and at one point even drops into press-ups, while Dillon’s hands yo-yo from hips to dishevelled hair in conveying Kate’s anger and agitation. Thus, when rare moments of forgetful stillness do arise, a strange sort of understanding seems to leap the gap between them, eventually bringing them together.

For all its bold and sexy swagger, however, Bailey’s production does not quite surmount the hurdle of this play’s undeniably tricky gender politics. Although Dillon delivers Kate’s final submissive speech in mockingly sarcastic tones, she cannot overcome the meaning behind the words, which are not sufficiently explained away by the relationship that Bailey has crafted. To negotiate the plot’s inherent difficulties we are sold a messed up love story, but despite the sexual chemistry it is a romance that struggles to be credible. Both Kate and Petruchio are certainly screwed up outsiders, but their behaviour in this production is often so outrageous that it becomes difficult to care too deeply for them.

This is sexy, brash, vigorous and often very funny fare, but it fails to fully redeem a play that still feels more than a little unpleasant. In the end, Bailey’s striking if not all that subtle bed concept says it all, in a production that gives us a lot of lust without very much love. As Petruchio and Kate finally, ecstatically jump beneath the sheets, we are left in little doubt that the sex will be great, but the morning after looks to be on rockier ground.

The Taming of the Shrew runs at Richmond Theatre until 24 March then continues on tour.

Revolution Square: Work in Progress

Posted on by Catherine Love-Smith

“I hope that they start to see connections”. These were the words of Revolution Square‘s writer and director Jonathan Holmes, spoken during our conversation last week when I asked him what he hoped audiences would take away from the piece, and they serve as a fitting place to begin reflecting on this work in progress. Because if this 45 minute scratch performance in a small attic space of the Bush Theatre achieves one thing in exemplary fashion, it is a sense of interconnectedness. To draw on another phrase from Holmes, “there’s a sense of joining the dots”.

The immediate context is the political situation in Russia and the recent protests against the country’s allegedly rigged parliamentary elections, but there is much more going on even within the play’s current short form. At the moment it feels economically crammed full of ideas, with barely a word wasted, leaving early audiences to do the unpacking – a process that is enthusiastically embarked upon in the overrunning post-show discussion. There is, as Holmes confessed to me when we spoke briefly before the performance, simply too much to fit in at this stage. It may be overflowing at the moment, but that’s part of what this process is all about.

In its current incarnation, Revolution Square is essentially a conversation between three women caught up, willingly or unwillingly, in last December’s protests: a British priest, a Russian socialite and a dissatisfied young girl from the country (played by Helen Masters, Dolya Gavanski and Sian Rees). Each has a different perspective on the riots and on Russian politics; a division of opinion that is intensified by the introduction of a Western outsider, a move that immediately joins the dots by connecting the situation in Russia to what is going on elsewhere. Moscow does not exist in a vacuum, and Holmes even posits the unsettling thought that what we are looking at in Russia now is a preview of Europe in a decade’s time. It is not a particularly sunny forecast.

Returning to this idea of connections, one of the characters remarks to the British woman that perhaps she should look in her own ‘back yard’ before taking it upon herself to comment on the situation in Russia, a pertinent point considering our own current state of crisis. If not quite as pronounced as in Russia and seemingly a million miles away from the Arab Spring demonstrations that this piece also makes reference to – joining those dots again – we certainly have our own problems. This all feeds into a wider, unsettling sense of mass discontent that has been compounded by last summer’s riots and the Occupy movement and that seems to be increasingly reflected in our theatre. This discontent on a wider scale, its roots and its possible destination is an area that I personally would like to see explored further.

The other question that is raised of whether we have the right to pass judgement on Russian politics is an interesting and troubling one, especially as that is exactly what we are participating in when we come to see this piece of theatre. As the Brit in the play points out, surely this is better than ignoring what is going on, but we must also be aware that as a culture we have a patronising tendency to assume superiority over others and preach democracy, a tendency that Revolution Square is implicitly challenging while simultaneously participating in that culture. This piece does not shy away, however, from openly admitting that the protest movement in Russia does not have an alternative ideology that it is proposing; as one other audience member puts it in the post-show discussion, they know what they are moving away from but not what they are moving towards.

In terms of structure, the piece is primarily character driven, as Holmes intended it to be. Much of the dialogue is necessarily political and intellectual debate, but this is achieved without completely sacrificing theatricality and is an approach that I hope and expect will continue into the finished piece. Debates can be argued in any manner of ways, but what makes theatre so effective as a medium is its ability to engage us on a more immediate level than, for example, journalism. To keep audiences interested in these debates, they must also be kept interested in the characters, which Holmes seems to recognise. Towards the end, however, the piece breaks out of its naturalistic bonds and takes a decidedly Brechtian turn, a detour that currently causes a distracting rupture but that could be more smoothly integrated into the piece. It seems important when dealing with this subject matter to give the audience the odd jolt and keep them engaged on an intellectual level as well as an emotional one, but this still requires further development.

There is much more in this piece that could be discussed: comparisons between the political structure in Russia and the Medici dynasty in Florence, further thoughts on ideology and its necessity or otherwise for a protest movement, the role played by religion, the recurring motif of falling, the link between Russia and the current state of Greece, which was ironically the birth place of democracy, the question of what democracy itself really means – I could go on and on. There is also, both because it is a play with exclusively female characters and because of some of the conversations within it, a sub-strand of gender politics that is particularly fascinating. For a piece of theatre that is, on the surface, about a very specific situation, Revolution Square opens up pathways to many other debates.

Unsurprisingly and perhaps inevitably, this has a slightly messy, incomplete feel; an isolated jigsaw piece with jagged edges. As we engage in discussion following the performance, however, other pieces already begin to present themselves, even if they do not quite fit together at this stage. It’s a fascinating process to be a part of, like watching a roughly-hewn sculpture being delicately teased into shape. What Holmes and his performers have produced to date is a sort of suggestion or provocation, a conversation starter that brings thought upon thought tumbling out.

I’m intrigued to see how these discussions are eventually weaved together into a finished piece, but I am compelled to end on a note of uncertainty. Because, one might ask, is a piece of theatre ever really finished? And I don’t refer to the little daily tweaks and changes that are an inherent part of live performance. When we are speaking about politically engaged, provocative, thoughtful, responsive theatre – theatre that begs a conversation – does that theatre then extend into the discussions which it acts as a catalyst for? Where does theatre end and discussion begin, or are the two inextricably tangled?

Revolution Square runs at the Bush Theatre until 17 March.

Revolution Square: Thoughts on a Process

Posted on by Catherine Love-Smith

“Russia is a very unexplored political situation”. Until I hear these words from Jericho House‘s artistic director Jonathan Holmes, it is not an omission that I’ve particularly noticed, but the moment the statement is spoken I realise that it’s true. There remains an enduring fascination with Cold War era politics and the Soviet Union, but post-1990s Russian politics has taken a back seat in our concerns. This is something that Jericho House’s new project, Revolution Square, hopes to begin to change.

Although he has nurtured an interest in Russian politics and culture for several years, Holmes did not find a way into discussions about the situation – at least not discussions on the stage – until last December’s mass protests on the streets of Moscow against alleged fraud in the country’s parliamentary elections. “Suddenly, because of what else was happening in the world, I thought, ‘we need to do a show’,” Holmes tells me. “Then we knew we had two months to put something together because of the elections in March – in theatrical terms, that’s no time at all.”

The result, thanks to a collaboration with the Bush Theatre, has been a hectic week-long rehearsal process, to be followed by a week of scratch performances at the theatre. As we sit in the cosy cafe of the Bush’s new residence on the final day of rehearsals, Holmes explains that there was no other choice than to pull something together in this hasty fashion; even the script was not finished until a matter of days ago. “We couldn’t really put it together until we knew what the situation around the election was – not necessarily the result, because we could predict that Putin would get in, but it was just knowing what else was going to happen and leaving room to factor that in. It really has all come together over a period of ten days.”

During rehearsals over the past week, Holmes has worked closely and collaboratively with the three actors appearing in the piece, two of whom know Russia very well, a knowledge that has fed into the piece that will now be performed. Rather than existing as a fully-formed script before rehearsals began, Revolution Square has taken shape over the course of rehearsals, moulded into form by various layers of meaning, character and narrative from Holmes and his team. It seems to me an organic, flexible way of working.

“What’s interesting is that notions of character and narrative come very much more to the forefront,” Holmes reflects on the process. He was keen that, rather than the performers “acting as mouthpieces for different perspectives”, the play should be character driven, but this has proved to be a challenge with so little time at their disposal to discover these characters. It has entailed, however, a re-learning of the dramatic craft for all involved. “You start to evaluate these strategies for writing and you learn what’s useful and what’s not, what’s there for traditional reasons and what’s genuinely helpful,” says Holmes. “You’re reinventing the wheel, but in a very healthy way.”

This sort of quick-fire response and breathless rehearsal process raises questions about the way in which theatre responds to current events. Urgent topicality is a trend that has been on the rise in British theatre, from the Tricycle’s verbatim plays to Theatre503’s response to the hacking scandal. “It’s become quite a feature of British theatrical life,” Holmes agrees, “and that in itself raises challenges about what form that takes. Is it possible to create a play that’s quite nuanced and subtle and has all the things you want from a good play, but is also responding quickly? That’s something that I think British theatre is struggling with at the minute, and it’s nice to be part of that debate.”

What stands out about Jericho House’s response is that it is a debate, a true conversation. This is not a closed, blinkered process with a clear end goal or one specific political statement that it is setting out to make. Over the next few days, Holmes and his team are inviting audiences to be as vocal as they like, hosting post-show discussions, handing out feedback forms like candy and welcoming emails with suggestions. Holmes hopes that they will go away with lots of material to eventually make into a longer, finished show that has been informed by multiple perspectives.

“What’s important for all plays, but particularly for plays that are striving to be topical, is that you get a very clear set of responses – as many as possible from as many audiences as possible – so that you can factor those in,” says Holmes. “If you’re writing a play that wants to have a conversation with people, have the conversation as even-handedly as possible. I’ve resisted drawing too many conclusions, because it’s a work in progress and I want to see what people say.”

It strikes me that this is perhaps one of the best ways to approach current events and issues that sweep along in their wake a whole storm of different opinions and perspectives; a piece of theatre can let itself be carried on those gusts rather than obstinately trying to fight a route through them. By the time Revolution Square is finished, it will have been influenced by the immediate witnesses Holmes spoke to in his initial journalistic hunt for information, by the actors involved (and in the case of two of these actors, by their own experiences of Russia) and by numerous audience members, whose reactions will no doubt be coloured by Western culture and attitudes, giving the piece a rich and varied flavour that is hopefully far more representative of actual experience and reactions than one authorial voice could ever be.

Holmes also hopes that this piece will have resonance beyond the current situation in Russia. “The conversations about developments in capitalism, about financial crisis, about the role of religion, about individuals versus the state, about idealism and cynicism, about apathy – all of those things are relevant to us,” he explains. “It’s about producing something that I think is relevant to the audience here, but that is very specific to the situation in Moscow also. It’s about being timely and universal at the same time.”

As Holmes puts it, Revolution Square is ultimately about “seeing the bigger picture”. This widening of the lens applies both to the resonance of Russian politics for the rest of the world and to the myriad of responses that Holmes is inviting to richen and enhance his creation. I personally look forward to adding my perspective to that picture when I get to see the first snapshot later this week.

Revolution Square is being performed every evening this week (12 – 17 March) at the Bush Theatre, followed by post-show discussions. Check back for more thoughts on the process on Thursday after I have seen the show.


The King’s Speech, Richmond Theatre

Posted on by Catherine Love-Smith

The burden of expectation does not come much heavier than when laden down with four Oscars. Adrian Noble’s stage production of the David Seidler script that became a surprising jewel in the crown of British cinema has a lot to live up to, but it approaches this now familiar subject matter with a stylish and almost dogged assuredness, seeming not to suffer from the same tongue-tied difficulties as its protagonist.

Set in the years surrounding the Edward VIII abdication crisis, the play, like the film, follows the relationship between George IV – known as Bertie – and his unconventional Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue, as the pair attempt to overcome Bertie’s inconvenient stammer. While superficially about the less than thrilling subject of speech therapy and less superficially about one man’s personal struggle, this is more meaningfully about responsibility, personal conflict and the nature of the relationship between monarch and subject.

In Bertie’s eyes – at least the Bertie of Seidler’s imagination – a king is there to serve his people just as much as, if not more than, they are there to serve him, an interesting notion of mutual obligation. Such ideas of duty are less important to Daniel Betts’ selfish, sneering David, who is almost more unpleasantly selfish in this depiction than in the film. Following the death of his father King George V and the concern surrounding his mistress Wallis Simpson, he is shown to care for nothing but ‘that woman’ and to expect the country to bend to his whims, a situation of crisis that makes it ever more important for Bertie to find his voice.

Personal motivation versus public duty is also a particularly fascinating battle in light of the story’s political context, which is foregrounded more than in the film but could still be explored further. In a precariously positioned Europe which is, as we are reminded, divided between the two extremes of communism and fascism, where does a monarch fit into the political picture? This is a question which is not really broached by Seidler’s play; the rumbling approach of war serves more as a backdrop for Bertie’s trials and as an agent of urgency than as a topic of historical investigation in itself. When Bertie finally gives his triumphant speech, accompanied by stirring strains of Elgar, historically ill-informed audience members could be forgiven for thinking that this was a deciding factor in our eventual victory.

There is room, however, for some compelling performances. The excellent Charles Edwards is a frustrated, engaging and very human Bertie; his whole coiled body seems also to stammer when he struggles to get his words out, while in another, unguarded moment he displays charming, almost childlike fascination with a model plane. Similarly rich is Jonathan Hyde’s warmly humorous performance as a wonderfully rebellious Logue, caring not a bit for royal etiquette, and there is strong support too from Emma Fielding as a feisty Queen Elizabeth. Anthony Ward’s clever revolving picture frame set, meanwhile, is a star in its own right, by turns framing moments of history and acting as a physical barrier between two men from very different worlds.

There is no doubt that Noble has created eminently watchable, entertaining theatre. It could be argued that entertainment is enough, but when examining such an intriguing chapter of history it is a shame that more of its nuances have not been investigated, a depth of exploration that could have set this stage production apart from its big screen sibling. It is even worth pausing, nit-picking as it may be, to ask whether this stage version is wholly necessary. With the film still fresh in the nation’s collective memory, what purpose is this production serving? Seidler’s script may have started life as a play, but it hardly needs to return to the stage for legitimisation. Likewise, Noble’s incarnation is slickly enjoyable, but it is not quite powerful enough in its own right to vanquish the lingering ghosts of Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush.

I suspect that it might have more to do with the Royal Family suddenly being back in vogue. Royal Wedding fever had us in its thrall last year, we’ve been assaulted with portrayals of Wallis Simpson left, right and centre, this year sees the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and interest in the royals as individuals has rarely been greater. Noble’s first striking image, of a naked king facing the mirror and seeing his royally attired reflection staring back at him, says it all. It is this contrast between the public, trussed up image and the exposed human being beneath, so perfectly realised in Edwards’ Bertie, that sustains the nation’s interest in the Royal Family and ensures that this story continues to capture the imagination.