The Globe
13th August, 2017 (matinee)
Emma Rice has had a short and, some
would say, tempestuous tenure at the helm of Shakespeare’s Globe. Her decision
to allow non-natural lighting to be used in productions sparked headlines and
equal amounts of criticism and praise for her new approach to the Bard. Her
premature resignation suggests an underlying aversion to change on behalf of
audiences, critics and supporters and focalises debates regarding the purpose
of the Globe theatre. Is it primarily an archive? A museum ‘experience’ akin to
York’s Jorvik centre or the battle re-enactments staged at Warwick castle? Or
is it justifiably a theatre dedicated to producing new and challenging interpretations
of (overly) familiar classics? As much as I understand the fascination with
history, and admit to having a particular interest in Renaissance theatre (one
of the reasons I wanted to visit the Globe is to see the theatre’s
configuration and architecture), I would hate to have a theatrical experience
bogged down by historical accuracy and the inertia that a refusal to embrace
evolution would bring (why not extend this ban on electric lighting to include
other contextual actualities such as all male casts, and the substitution of
fake blood with pig’s blood?). This, in turn, raises questions concerning the
purpose of theatre in general – to educate? To entertain? With all this in
mind, for what was my first visit to the Globe, Rice’s ethos, and director
Matthew Dunster’s refreshing revisioning of Much
Ado About Nothing, set during the early 20th Century Mexican
Revolution, proved satisfying on every level.
As Rice refused to be dictated by
tradition, Dunster (no stranger to subversion, following his reimagining of Cymbeline, Imogen last year – I’ve always though Imogen would be a much more apt name for that play!) proves that
Shakespeare isn’t sacrosanct. To attract new audiences, various alterations
must, naturally, be made. The original sentiments still stand, but in lovingly
adapting certain scenes they become more contextually appropriate, and often,
much more funny. Case point: Benedick’s love song now sees his pitiful attempt
to rhyme ‘Senorita’ with ‘healthy eater’. Likewise, constable Dogberry has been
transformed into Dog Berry (played with fantastic pomposity and ignorance by
Ewan Wardrop), an American film maker documenting Don Pedro’s (Steven John
Shepherd) experiences of the revolution (mirroring the real life revolutionary
figure, Pancho Villa). Here, the famous malapropisms result from a clash of
cultures and language barriers, with the long-suffering Verges acting as
interpreter. Yes, the humour is crass (who doesn’t love a good erection joke?) and
the set up a little reminiscent of Allo’
Allo’, but Dunster creates a quirky spin which still tonally befits the
‘Shakespearean Fool’ character.
Similarly, the incorporation of
vibrant Mexican culture into the play, most notably in composer James Maloney’s
seamless blending of Shakespeare’s lyrics with songs inspired by traditional
Mexican music, really emphasises the festive atmosphere of the wedding scenes.
Aside from such aesthetics, this Much Ado
resonates because of it’s an
unfamiliar setting. It dislocates us, transposing both characters and audience
from the cosy comfort zone of Shakespearean Sicily into unexplored territory.
It makes you sit up and listen, which consequently helps to locate the drama in
a specific reality, representing real class and gender issues, while also
encouraging an interest in a period of history, and a culture that I was
previously ignorant of. By looking towards the less obvious options, Dunster’s
brave move has payed dividends both in analytical and entertainment terms.
My first impression of Dunster’s other
break from tradition, recasting Don John as Juana (Jo Dockery), was one of
bemusement. I’m usually all for gender bending in theatre, but my initial
thought was that Don John as a character is too underdeveloped to be wasted on
such a move. The trope of ‘disinherited bastard set on familial revenge’ is
better drawn in King Lear’s Edmund as
he is much more fleshed out, whereas Don John’s disappearance at the end of Much Ado is swiftly (and ambiguously)
brushed aside. Yet, in revolutionary Mexico, where the women are as
sharpshooting with their pistols as the men, and bullet belts are common garb
for all, it seems much more appropriate that Juana feels put out by her
disinheritance by a patriarchal society which favours her brother, and his
young upstart, Claudio, over her own role in the political battle.
So far, so interesting.
The flaw in the plan arises when
considering her role in besmirching Hero. If Juana is fighting against the
patriarchy, why does she do so by jeopardising a fellow woman’s position? A
possible solution is that in dishonouring Claudio by making him a cuckold,
Juana is threatening the role of masculinity in conflict. If the opening scene
portrays a post-battle reconnoitre of assets, then does Hero not partially
become a living, breathing ‘spoils of war’? And in sullying Claudio’s ‘spoils’,
Juana destabilises the patriarchal hierarchy that often governs conflict,
revolution, and the reinstating of peacetime on masculine terms (here
represented by the holy union of marriage). Consequently, this contextual
gender conflict plays well into the Benedick/Beatrice relationship, the pair
are matched in wits, even if not equal in status, which is what makes their
coupling both refreshing and so deliciously fractious.
If I have so far been overly
preachy, I apologise!
Anna Fleischle’s design is
unimposing yet atmospheric. The majority of the stage houses a freight train
from which the characters emerge, weary from battle. Sliding doors and
multilevel hatches create simple and effective gulling scenes and the use of
stilts and puppets to mimic horses is inventively droll. Dunster’s production
is bolstered further by a cast which oozes chemistry and enthusiasm. Matthew
Needham’s Benedick and Beatriz Romilly’s Beatrice are in equal measure
endearingly oblivious and razor sharp in their repartee. The success of a Much Ado production often rests on this
central relationship, and here it clicks instantly and I was rooting for them
from the off. Because of this, it’s easy for Claudio and Hero to pale in
comparison, yet Marcello Cruz and Anya Chalotra are so full of youthful
exuberance that I cared just as much for them. Cruz displays a charming mixture
of confidence and earnestness while Chalrota’s Hero is no push over, her body
language making up for the character’s silence, and she remains passionate even
in her naivety.
In short, I couldn’t have asked
for a better first visit to the Globe. Shakespeare reimagined means there is so
much more to ponder (and I just love thinking myself into knots over his plays)
and enjoy. Dunster’s production is colourful, energetic, and joyous while also
contributing to the levels of substance and subtext within the play. If Emma
Rice’s departure means the decline of programming such as this, it will be a
sad day for the Globe, Shakespeare’s legacy, and fans of theatre worldwide.
Much Ado
About Nothing plays at the Globe Theatre until 15th
October.
 |
| The Company in performance. Photo credit: Tristram Kenton. |
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