'Hamlet' at the Almeida Theatre

Last week we went to see the new 'Hamlet' on the block at the Almeida Theatre. It's Andrew Scott's turn to play our sweet prince with Juliet Stevenson as his mother, Gertrude. 'Hamlet' is a funny old play by Mr Shakespeare and one that many actors feel they have to do when they're successful and in their 30s. I've seen a few productions over the years and my first was Derek Jacobi back in 1978. I've seen bad versions (yes, you Michael Sheen, that was an awful production), versions I can't remember (the production with Jude Law in 2009 - I blogged about it so I was there but can't recall it at all) and blockbuster versions (Benedict Cumberbatch at the Barbican a couple of years ago).  And now the Almeida with Andrew Scott.

This new production is set in the here and now and has the added challenge of using technology, video screens, computers and video cameras beaming live to the big screen that raises and lowers occasionally. I don't actually have a problem with that provided it works and is done well. I don't think this is done well. For some of the critical scenes the court is sitting off stage with snippets beamed to the screen which means that we - most of the audience - can't really see them or what they're doing, especially if you're in the circle (which I was). So every now and then the main cast would vanish other than the odd flash of them. As well as being quite annoying it's also quite lazy - doesn't the director know that we can't see what's happening? Or don't they care because it's their vision and that vision must be right?

It was particularly annoying especially in the sword fencing scene when we need to see Gertrude's realisation that the wine is drugged and she will drink it herself (as this production plays it). We see snatches of this on stage as she drinks the wine but the moments before when she finally understands the position are missing. I call that shabby production.

On the plus side, I thought the cast were largely very good and spoke the verse well. Not all, but most hit the mark. I thought Juliet Stevenson was great as the happy newly married queen and later as the harassed queen trying to do the right thing. But then, of course, she would be. Peter Wight was good as Polonius, played on the verge of altzheimers but he brought life to the character. Angus Wright was the big let down playing Claudius, the murderous, ambitious, power-hungry wannabe king who played it all so diffidently I sometimes couldn't even make out what he was saying. How is that Claudius? Imagine John Le Mesurier in 'Dad's Army'.

And Andrew Scott? I thought he got it right, the right mix of madness and scheming prince, even catching glimpses of why characters like Horatio seem to believe in him and love him, something very difficult to achieve. But even he had some downer moments, like when he jumped up and down like a toddler in a temper tantrum beside Ophelia's grave (sorry, should it be a spoiler for anyone that she dies?). Hamlet has been sent to England, grown up and come to his senses by that stage of the play so the toddler impersonation made little sense.

The thing I really *hated* about this production was the final scene that someone has written when we see the dead characters hand over their watches to the gateman and enter the ongoing party in the afterlife... yes, I mean what? What on earth was that about? I couldn't believe what I was seeing or how trite it was. It spoiled the whole thing for me. And I'm starting to get angry just remembering it. Experiment with the play, bring new angles to it and keep it fresh by all means but, good grief people, at least have some taste and style and understanding.

The whole run is, I think, sold out so I'm sure it'll be a great success. Andrew Scott is clearly attracting his fan base to the show so it'll be good for him. Me? I wouldn't go again even if I could get a ticket.

The more I think about it, the more I think Rory Kinnear's 'Hamlet' at the National Theatre is possibly the best 'modern' production but, even with that, I had my doubts (bouncing on the bed with a duvet, anyone?). 'Hamlet' is a great play with some gorgeous poetry and excellent critical thinking and I hate to see it spoiled. Maybe I need a break from the play for a few years...?

Mind you, on the plus side for using the video camera and projecting it on the big screen, it meant that I saw Vanessa Redgrave in the audience. I last saw her in 'Richard II' at the Almeida last year so it's nice to see she's a patron as well.

Let's Face It, I'm Not Going To ...

I'm not sure what's happened - maybe it's the sunshine over the summer - but it doesn't look like I'm going to blog about seeing 'Richard III' at the Almeida...

... or 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' at The Globe ...

... or 'Sweeney Todd' at the Theatre Royal Stratford East...

... or 'Titanic' at Charing Cross Theatre...

... or 'The Seagull' at the National Theatre...

... or 'Macbeth' at The Globe...

... or 'Allegro' at Southwark Playhouse

... or 'Ivanov' at the National Theatre

... or 'The Plough and The Stars' at the National Theatre...

... or maybe I will when inspiration strikes. They were all good and well worth seeing.

'The Bakkhai' at The Almeida Theatre

Two weeks ago we went to see 'The Bakkhai' by Euripedes at the Almeida Theatre as part of its Greeks Season. I'm not entirely sure why it has a Greek season at the moment but it's a good opportunity to see one of the earliest plays that gave us theatre as we know it today. It's a play written to be performed at the ancient festival of Dionysius to demonstrate the superiority of the god and his worshippers, with minimal characters but big chorus.

A stranger appears and says he is going to Athens to teach the lord Pentheus a lesson for denying Dionyius is the son of Zeus. The women vanish into the hills to practice strange rites as the stranger appears before Pentheus to debate the rights and wongs of the women having lives of their own. He persuades Pentheus to don women's clothing to spy on the women in the hills which is a trick by the god to humiliate Pantheus. He is killed by the women - by his own mother who dosn't recognise him - and his body taken back to Athen in bits to celebrate the superiority of women. But then the god appears to dispense justice and no-one comes out of it smelling of roses - except the god.

It's a powerful play and one of the earliest Greek plays to survive the passage of time. It's deeply allegorical but still holds messages for us today. It stars Ben Whishaw as the stranger/god and Bertie Carvell as Pentheus and his mother who kills him. It was part mesmerising and part annoying, particularly the long pauses given to the chorus to chant and sing, but the overall power of the piece was never lost. In some sense, it's just as valid today.

Why is dressing in women's clothing meant to be demeaning? Iggy Pop posted a photo of him in a dress a few years ago to say he didn't think it was shameful to wear women's clothes since it wasn't shameful to be a woman and that's still relevant. Dionysius appears wearing a dress for most of the play and persuades Pentheus to dress as a woman to shame and ridicule him but, in the final scene, Dionysius appears wearing horns as an angry and revengeful god. You can probably read a lot into that.

'Ghosts' at the Trafalgar Studios

On Friday we went to see Henrik Ibsen's 'Ghosts'. It was originally produced at the Almeida but transferred to the Trafalgar Studios to keep it going for a few months. It was a good job it did so I could see it.

I'm not the greatest fan of Ibsen and, in a way, this play confirmed my fears. It was another Scandinavian public v private morality tale with a few twists in the tail. Another tale of outwardly good citizens with dark secrets and a life hidden from society. Of hypocrisy, of private danger, of sin and retribution. Of children suffering for the sins of the father.

It's a relatively short play of only 1:40 hours so it packs a lot into a short space of time. Even so, it's nice to see some fully rounded characters in the cast despite the short time they have to establish themselves. The weakest was, I thought, the pastor, who was a bit one dimensional and very stereotypical, even when found out setting light to a newly build orphanage and instantly getting off by lies and deceit. The other characters were, I felt more strongly drawn even those with far fewer lines, or, at least, they came alive to me.

It's one of those plays when I have no difficulty splitting off the play from the performances. There are five characters and all emerged neatly from the page to live and breathe in front of us, the two most compelling were the mother and son in whose house the play takes place, the son returning as a prodigal from the flesh pits of libertine Paris to small town, protestant, Scandinavia on the eve of an orphanage opening in the name of his dead father. The father never appears but is thoroughly painted as a bad 'un, out drinking and whoring until the cows come home, or, in his case, syphilis. The mother kept the public facade going despite reading radical feminist treatises and political pamphlets. When push comes to shove, she has to tell her son that the maid he wants to run away with is his step-sister. At that point she re-invents the past in that she might have been the one to push her husband to drink and debauchery. Who knows?

It's a production of peaks and troughs, of moments of tension growing and growing and then being smoothed out, releasing the tension for a time before it builds again. Up and down we go as one moment of catastrophe is averted to be followed by another. And then it is, in the finale, that sees Lesley Manville throw all caution to the wind and dive head-first into a role that requires her to help her beloved son to die. Can she do it as the orphanage is in embers in the distance? The son she tried to save by sending away as a boy and the sins of the father returning to wreak revenge. It's a magnificent, spell-binding performance.

Phew!