SALOME
May 14, 2010
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, May 15, 2010, then touring
THINK Oscar Wilde and you’re almost certain to be in handbag territory. There’ll probably be some cucumber sandwiches about somewhere, and as likely as not a case of mistaken identity.
What you’re less likely to conjure up are images of extreme violence, borderline pornography and religious bigotry. And yet his early play Salome includes elements of all these things as Wilde experiments with theatrical form and the art of tragedy.
Telling the story of the stepdaughter of King Herod, whose notoriety stems from her demand for the head of John the Baptist as a reward for the dance of the seven veils, the play is lyrical, exotic and dark in the extreme.
Headlong Theatre – the artistic baby of renowned director Rupert Goold – gives it the full bleak treatment in this production directed by rising star Jamie Lloyd, who has also adapted the text for this 90-minute, no-interval version.
It’s set in a Mad Max-style future world, on a stage bordered by steel scaffolding and covered by a sandpit of black volcanic ash. Iokanaan – the John the Baptist character – is imprisoned underground, emerging in chains through a steel hatch to wail semi-incoherently at his captors. These include Herod himself, along with his wife Herodias and her daughter, the titular Salome.
Exploiting Herod’s drunken lasciviousness, the girl agrees to dance for him in return for his pledge of whatever she desires. Thus trapped, he is forced to give her the head of the prophet as the moon turns blood red and the world collapses in on him.
So far, so apocalyptic. Unfortunately, the concept doesn’t really hold together beneath the biblical or historical story, and it ends up being a stylised device that’s more about visual impact – impressive though this is – than illustrating any kind of message or meaning.
The normally reliable Con O’Neill is either suffering from severe laryngitis, or is wilfully delivering a bizarre performance rasped out in the upper reaches of his vocal range, resulting in a monotone rant which robs Wilde’s language of much of its efficacy.
Jaye Griffiths fares better as Herodias, part proud mother and part jealous rival, with every word crystal clear – a virtue not shared across the board in this energetic ragbag of a cast.
Crucially, Zawe Ashton as Salome is badly let down by the production, which forces her to play the teenage girl as a slutty, streetwise tart and transforms the pivotal erotic display into a crass lap-dancing striptease for her stepdad to masturbate over.
While there’s much of interest – including dramatic lighting (Jon Clark) and a stark set (Soutra Gilmour) – and Lloyd hints at drawing out something more powerful, the final result is full of sound and fury, but fails to signify anything much.
PETER PAN - A MUSICAL
December 11, 2009
Curve, Leicester, until Saturday, January 23, 2010
WHAT are the things that spring to mind when you think of Peter Pan? The Second Star to the Right, Following the Leader, that naughty little Barbie-doll fairy in a green tutu?
Yep, Disney’s rather hijacked the entire story and cornered the market in iconic imagery and definitive songs. Which makes any attempt at refreshing the century-old tale with modern sensibilities and a new score about as futile as Captain Hook’s efforts to kill Pan himself.
Unfortunately, composer-lyricist Julian Ronnie’s sub-Lloyd Webber tunes and lazy rhyming couplets, together with a limp and unimaginative script by collaborator Paul Miller and director David Taylor, do little to help reclaim JM Barrie’s original magical fantasy.
There’s much to recommend this show, and it’s plain to see where the budget’s been spent. It looks fabulous, with sumptuous sets, backdrops and scenery from designer Simon Higlett, and the choreography by Bill Deamer is always sharp and full of energy.
In the pit, too, the seven-piece band under Chris Newton work Phil Edwards’s orchestrations to their best advantage. But none of it, however hard-working the cast and crew, can make this a silk purse, and Lauren Samuels as a sweet Wendy and Spencer Charles Noll as a feisty, fisticuffing Peter are always fighting an uphill battle.
The pirates come out of it best, with Paul Baker an amusing enough Smee, but when you find yourself looking for bits of the set to admire in a production, you know there’s something wrong at the heart of things.
Director Taylor shows nowhere near enough of a firm hand in pulling things together, and it’s only when the dance numbers get going that there’s any sense of cohesion. Taylor must also share the responsibility for not enough work going into the raw material, which leaves not only the workings of this inside-out venue on display, but also the mechanics of Peter’s so-called flying.
For a show so heavily dependent on all the magic that theatre can muster, it’s in serious need of a liberal sprinkling of fairy dust.