Archive for December, 2010

David Farr has found a nice balance between comedy, drama and pathos here, in this, one of Shakespeare’s oddest plays. Dead children, courtiers being eaten by bears, the insane jealousy of the king and a dead queen may not be the most obvious subjects for a comedy, but the happy ending ensures that this stays the right side of happy-ever-after, despite the unpleasant happenings of the first half. As the paranoid Leontes, Greg Hicks is tremendous: a small man, bent by jealous delusions and his over-active imagination, he is nonetheless tyrannical and immoveable in his passions. He is, however, never a match for Noma Dumezweni’s statuesque and calm Paulina. It is clear who wears the trousers at court, even though she is outnumbered 10-1 by men. Kelly Hunter’s queen Hermione avoids hysteria in the face of extreme provocation, and her quiet dignity gives the character an air of martyrdom that she wears lightly.

The court itself is well-constructed, with Jon Bausor’s brilliant, book-lined set managing to be both claustrophobic and too spacious. Outside the court, in the wilds of Bohemia, the set works less well: the book motif is continued for reasons I cannot fathom, to the point of leafing the wobbly trees with pages. Samantha Young is a charming Perdita, charting the progress from shepherdess to princess with admirable aplomb. Her prince, Florizel (Tunji Kasim), grows from a cocky young man into an heir that any king would be proud to have.

This production relies a little too heavily on the contrasts between the yokels and the courtiers for its comedy, concentrating more on the young shepherd’s (Gruffudd Glyn) accent than the delicate relationships between father and son, father and adopted daughter, and the class divides that prevent James Gales’s old shepherd being heard by the court. I was at a loss to explain to my French companion why “the English” find giant phalluses so funny – and why the country-folk felt the need to dance around in masks waving them about. That aside, the production had plenty of poignant moments, too, notably the final scene where family is reconciled and Hermione is reunited with her penitant husband. The fairy-tale happy ending is coloured by the death of the young prince early in the play, but remains redemptive enough to leave the audience feeling buoyant.

As ever, though, the bear was the star of the show.

Thieving gangs of child pirates fighting for equality. Lawyers who turn into wolves and steal your kidneys. Sinister ice-cream vans with green headlights. An abandoned asylum full of drugged children.

Welcome to the Bayou, the twisted-yet-worryingly-familiar estate at the heart of 1927′s fabulous ‘The Animals and Children took to the Streets’. Populated by the misanthropic, the untrustworthy and the down-on-their-luck, the Bayou has just one rule, repeatedly sung in Lillian Henley’s melancholic music: if you’re born in the Bayou, you die in the Bayou, too.

Trying to break out are Zelda and her gang of eye-patch-wearing pirates, who want the riches they glimpse in the genteel lives of the population of Parklands. At the same time, naively kind Agnes Eaves is trying to break in. Bringing her daughter Evie, her PVA glue and her pasta bows, Agnes wants to tame the wild children of the Bayou with kindness and collage. However, Agnes is not the only person who has decided that something must be done, but the off-stage Mr Mayor has rather more sinister ideas about how to control the Bayou’s miniature malcontents.

The cast of three, interacting with brilliant animations projected behind them, are fabulously expressive despite an inch of white facepaint each. Switching between roles and costumes with breath-taking efficiency, the three sing, mime, speak and pose with admirable dexterity. The script, by Suzanne Andrade, is poetic and macabre, juicily gory and achingly poignant, massively aided by the whimsical music provided by voices and piano. The set is entirely composed of blank flats for Paul Barritt’s fantastic projections – they are witty and used to huge effect. Cartoonish and deliberately unrealistic, the interactions between actors and film is sublime.

The piece is by turns funny, chilling, melancholic, wry, knowing and sweet. Ultimately, it is beautiful.