Three Strong Women

 "A strong woman is a woman determined to do something others are determined not be done" 

- Marge Piercy

Yesterday's post ended with a reference to Catherine of Aragon and - is it planned? is it coincidence? - it was that queen, as portrayed by Bea Segura, who stole the show in 'Henry VIII' at the Globe a couple of weeks ago. In fact the Spanish actress was the only good thing about it, it being all too clear why no one ever puts on this collaboration between Shakespeare and John Fletcher. I'd certainly never seen it before and couldn't have told you anything about it beyond the fact that it was an accident with a cannon on the opening night that led to the burning down of the original Globe. This production gave a co-writing credit to Hannah Khalil who had been tasked with making it focussed more on the female characters. She did this by importing lines from other plays and poetry by Shakespeare and giving them to Catherine, Princess Mary and Ann Bullen (sic). I'm not entirely sure it worked, because hearing Mary speak lines which one knew really belonged to Lear just made me wish I was watching that play instead. Anyway, Segura was great as a woman determined not to be pushed aside for the convenience of others and it was good to be back in the Globe again after it had been forced to close by the plague.

Much better was 'The Corn Is Green' at the National Theatre, although as it cost literally a dozen times as much to watch then so it should have been. This semi-autobiographical piece by Emlyn Williams about a poor child from a Welsh-speaking mining community being mentored by an inspirational teacher and eventually winning a scholarship to Oxford, was heart-warming without being sickly sweet. Even a stage full of miners, faces blacked with coal dust and singing hymns, seemed to work in context. Nicola Walker as Miss Moffat, overcoming the class and gender prejudices ranged against her, was excellent. The evening also provided something I'd never seen before when the backstage machinery to bring the set on for the second half malfunctioned, and so the actors simply performed with a third of the stage bare. The show must go on. 

The third really good performance of a strong woman that I have seen recently was that of Bettrys Jones, as Ellen Wilkinson, in Caroline Bird's 'Red Ellen'. Wilkinson was the only female Labour MP elected in the October 1924 election, served in the wartime coalition government and was the second ever female cabinet member as Minister for Education under Attlee, before her untimely death in 1947. There's a lot to fit in, from the Jarrow March to the Spanish Civil War, and the staging if pacey, with lots of set and costume changes occurring before our eyes. A host of supporting characters are played by the small cast - including Einstein, Hemingway, Churchill and Herbert Morrison - but the focus is always on Ellen herself, who is never offstage. 

As the programme says: forever on the right side of history, forever on the wrong side of life.

Wise Children

And so to the theatre. I have been rather remiss so far this year in posting theatre reviews. Amongst those I have overlooked was what was the best thing I have seen for years. Emma Wilson, following her abrupt departure from The Globe (she directed amongst others 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' and 'Twelfth Night') set up her own company. Their first production was an adaptation of Angela Carter's last novel 'Wise Children' and she also chose that name for the company. 'Wise Children', the play, was a simply wonderful mixture of music, dance and drama, spanning several decades in the life of twin chorus girls with they and other characters being played by multiple artists (of both genders) - and indeed puppets - as they aged.

I therefore jumped at the chance to see the next production of Wise Children,the company, despite it being an otherwise unattractive sounding adaptation of 'Malory Towers', a series of Enid Blyton books for children about a girl's boarding school.

And I'm glad that I did, because it once again turned out to be an absolute treat, this time with cartoon-like animations adding an extra dimension to the singing and energetic movement of the cast. I've never read the books, so can't comment on fidelity to the original. Here it was done as a sort of fluffier version of 'Lord of the Flies', with a group of children (all the actors obviously being adults) left alone but in this case choosing kindness and harmony rather than the opposite.

It was a summer of adaptations of children's books from the mid twentieth century, because I had a couple of months ago seen 'Swallows and Amazons', also recreated by adult actors. Arthur Ransome is more to my taste as an author than Blyton and not just because he married Trotsky's secretary. In fact I have quite recently read 'Great Northern?', the last of the books in the Swallows and Amazons series, which I had unaccountably never managed to read as a child. This play was also very well done, with the representation on stage of the sailing of small dinghies across a large lake being simple but very effective. As with the novels the best part went to Nancy Blackett; one can see why Ransome named his own boat after her.

Mi deh yah, yuh know

And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' at the Globe, which got terrible reviews in the newspapers, but which I though was perfectly fine. I have also been to see 'Measure for Measure' at the RSC, which got absolutely outstanding reviews in the newspapers, but which I thought was perfectly fine.

The RSC had set 'Measure for Measure' in end-of-Empire Vienna and had rather effectively drawn on the work of artists such as Klimt and Schiele for their representation of the demi-monde activities which Angelo attempts to suppress during his period in power.

One thing the two productions had in common was for one of the actors in each to play their part in a broad West Indian accent. In both cases this had the paradoxical effect of enhancing the rhythm of the lines while simultaneously making them quite a lot harder to understand.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves

"The bad end unhappily, the good unluckily. That is what tragedy means." - Tom Stoppard

It's time to leave behind British politics - with its stories of powerful though flawed individuals brought low by hubris and vanity; characters stopping at nothing and abandoning all principle as their ambition and selfishness causes careers and lives to end in undignified catastrophe; narratives that inevitably end with everyone involved, both the innocent and the guilty, lying prostrate as a result of revenge and ill will; all interspersed with cruel humour as the common people gather to mock those who presume to rule over them - and turn to the kinder, gentler world of Elizabethan and Jacobean drama.

I have been to see 'Romeo and Juliet' - again. Even I now accept that this has shifted from the harmless cultural pseudery that has been a lifelong diversion and instead become a disturbing monomania. However, fate has punished me in the manner of, well, of one of Shakespeare's tragedies, and this was by some way the worst of the four (count 'em, Jim, four!) productions that I have seen this year so far. This was especially disappointing as it was at the Globe, a theatre where I have never before seen a production that I didn't like. It was a raucous mess, played in whiteface for no discernible reason, and with the poetry overwhelmed by shrieking delivery and inappropriate banging music. Tybalt was the best thing about it, played as a cross between malchick and butcher and, in fairness, Juliet had a good crack at a few teenage tantrums despite being rather long in the tooth for the role. The various methods of death - rapiers, poison etc - were all replaced by handguns. That might have worked, but instead of firing blanks the actors all shouted "bang"; it was risible. As was the climax in which Romeo appeared to kill both his own parents and Juliet's in a mass US style shooting rampage before he visited Juliet's tomb. It was all truly terrible.

Much better was their production of 'Twelfth Night'. Reviews were mixed (which they certainly weren't for Romeo & Juliet), but I loved it. It appeared to be set on a remote Hebridean island, although apart from kilts and some generic Scottish dancing the location didn't intrude too much. The text was heavily chopped up and new bits added, but there was much to enjoy. Malvolio was played by a woman (I should have mentioned above that so was Mercutio), but it was somewhat more complicated. Katy Owen played the part as a man - a Welshman inexplicably living in Illyria/Brigadoon - but also had clearly based her performance on Ruth Madoc's Gladys Pugh. Anyway, whatever the gender bending ramifications it worked a treat, as did the appearance of Le Gateau Chocolat (as seen in the National Theatre's 'Threepenny opera') as Feste. However, the show was stolen for me by Carly Bawden's sexy, sassy and funny Maria. As one reviewer pointed out, it may not be great art, but it's undoubtedly great fun.

Genesis Chapter 35 Verse 17

My trip to London was obviously overshadowed by events while I was there. As it happened I went to Borough Market for lunch on Saturday (Koshari in case you wondered) and I shall return on the next occasion that I go to a matinee at the Globe. Sure it's pretentious and expensive, but hey, it's central London. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that despite the ill-informed reporting in the US press, let alone the mad, unpleasantly racist ramblings of the disgusting halfwit that they have seen fit to make their head of state, we shall simply carry on doing in the future what we have done in the past. The important thing is to keep a sense of historical perspective. When I was a young man fatalities in this country due to terrorism were hundreds per year, a level far in excess of the current position; we didn't change our behaviour then and we shan't now. It's worth noting of course that the majority of those deaths were funded by the American public, as smugly self-righteous in their ignorance of the rest of the world then as they are now.

The rest of the trip was good. I met up with old friends in Isleworth and then went on to St Albans where I attended my sister's 30th wedding celebrations. I was at school with my brother-in-law so there was an added school reunion element to the whole thing. Inevitably some of the news exchanged after the passing of several decades wasn't good; as someone said over the weekend, there are increasing reminders of our mortality. All of which makes it more important to savour moments such as these.

Fortunately I can finish with something life-affirming in the true sense of the word. I don't think I have ever mentioned it, but the elder Miss Epictetus is a student midwife. Over the weekend she delivered her first baby; one hopes there will be many, many more to come. I am immeasurably proud of her. I know you will all join with me in hoping that the child grows up to live in a world more peaceful than that into which it has been born.

Verona brags of him

And so to the theatre. After one play that ends badly the best thing is to quickly move on to another. I have been to the second production of Romeo and Juliet that I have seen since making a visit to Verona last year. It was, as seems to be the case with everything at the moment, set in the present day, with the actors engaging with social media on stage while their various tweets and status updates were projected behind them. I came prepared to be annoyed, but actually it worked very well. Also not particularly unusual at the moment there was some switching of genders; I saw a male Helena in the Dream at the Globe last year and am looking forwards to Tamsin Greig's Malvolio. Here we were treated to a female Friar, Gregory, Benvolio and Balthasar, the last two spending much of their time snogging for no discernible reason. Less effective was the idea of the clash between the two houses  - both alike in dignity you will recall - being something to do with a 'venture capital takeover battle', a fairly similar meaning phrase I think.

 

The mostly young cast gave a good account of themselves with the dancing in the Capulet feast scene and the physicality of the fight scenes both being noteworthy. Romeo was out acted by both Mercutio and Tybalt as often seems to happen and while Juliet was very easy on the eye her blank verse was nothing to write home about.  One surprise for me was a man last seen in this blog asking me a pub quiz question about Dangermouse - which my inability to answer resulted in me not winning a couple of hundred quid - turning up as the prince.

So, overall I enjoyed it and thought the director did a good job, although there is one area where I must dissent. In her programme notes she asserts that "this is a tragedy about the dangers of being a working parent...". It isn't.

Pot58pouri

There's still no painting action chez Epictetus. The new movement trays etc got finished and put away and then so did all the modelling stuff. Perhaps my interest will pick up again when the weather isn't so good. That's a little joke for the benefit of our British readers, although it does give me an excuse to include this clip as a little tribute:

Anyway, hobby stuff has basically been the Seven Years War campaign and a bit of boardgaming. In the former, I am concerned that the Austrians may already have peaked with their rather lucky victory in the Battle of Aussig being followed by all commanders moving when asked. It has to be all downhill from here. Boardgaming for the last two weeks has taken place against a background of constant and unprecedented discussion about politics. Our Monday night group is attended on and off by Americans from the nearby 'secret' military base and it is interesting, if disheartening, to hear their views on it all. I'm not sure which is worse, their lack of understanding of the world outside the US, or their lack of awareness of the way the rest of the world regards the US. And these are people who have not only travelled abroad, but spend all day every day listening to our phone calls. Frightening.

In other news a low level of cultural intake continues. I went to see Bob Fox, folk singer and original Songman in the National Theatre production of War Horse, an evening which also featured short sets from Yan Tan Tether and Jon Palmer, the latter of whom I also saw with his band in the Junction Inn, a pub referenced in his song 'Another Friday Night in a Northern Town'.

In the cinema I saw last season's version of the 'Merchant of Venice' from the Globe plus 'Love & Friendship', the not very widely released film based on Jane Austen's epistolary novella 'Lady Susan'. They were both very funny in parts, with Tom Bennett (now there's a proper Jane Austen name) stealing the second as the clueless Sir James Martin.

We cannot fight for love, as men may do

And so to the theatre. It was Shakespeare's Globe for my second Midsummer Night's Dream in a few weeks. This production featured many of the tropes familiar to anyone who has been to Bankside: music, dancing, humour, the noise helicopters flying along the river, and freezing cold weather whatever the time of year. The production has been controversial, but I thought it was perfectly OK.

One of the changes introduced was that Helena became Helenus and a gay/bi subtext introduced. However, other than a joke when Snug warns the ladies "and you gays" not to be frightened because he (or in this case she) is not a real lion, the characters' gender was no more relevant than their ethnicity. More relevant was the decision to make Puck female, as the character often seems to be these days, because her performance was accompanied by a series of pelvic thrusts that would have been somewhat less acceptable if made by a man.

The mechanicals were portrayed as the staff of the Globe - which made for some amusing interaction with the audience before the play proper started - and I rather liked Starveling appearing in the final act as a fully suited astronaut, being, as she pointed out, the man on the moon rather than the man in the moon. I wasn't so bothered about the breakdancing of Pyramus; from my perch in the upper gallery it didn't look terribly proficient.

Anyway, all in all I had a good time, and I continue to very much enjoy the Globe despite the low temperatures that seem to be booked in for my visits.

The course of true love never did run smooth

And so to the opera. In fact I've been two nights in a row, which is excessive even for me, although not unprecedented. First up was 'Cosi fan tutte' by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a young composer who shows much promise. The work wasn't performed much for many years because it was considered immoral; to modern eyes the failing of its story is more due to misogyny than lack of morals. The title means roughly 'women are all the same', an irritatingly immature attitude for a major work of art to profess. The music is sublime though and, as usual, was done full justice by the orchestra of Opera North and the singers. The production was a revival from a decade or so ago, with all the action taking place in a giant camera obscura. This isn't as odd as it sounds and works rather well, but I can vividly remember the tutting from behind me years ago when it was first staged. As an aside there is also a moment to please all those of you - those many, many of you - who appear to have a thing for women dressed in male military attire.

All that the performance of Donizetti's 'L'elisir d'amore' has in common is that it is also a revival, it made me think of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' (1) and it seems to set out to demonstrate that women are fickle and shallow. So quite a lot in common then. Notwithstanding Mozart's genius, my own taste runs much more to bel canto and so I actually preferred this. Plus it's funnier and has a hot air balloon. Again this is a fine interpretation, with everyone on top form, although I'm going to pick out the female chorus for particular praise.

Returning to Mozart, he and/or Da Ponte might have had somewhat dodgy views on sexual equality, but they did at least give us a character, Despina, who overtly challenges the idea that the rich and idle are entitled to hot chocolate while the workers have to make do with the aroma. Right on, sister.


(1) I have read that the plot of 'Cosi fan tutte' more closely resembles 'Cymbeline', but despite a quote from that play appearing on this very blog less than a fortnight ago I've never actually seen it. There is a production on a the Globe this summer, so perhaps I'll have a chance then.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall

                                      "They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
                                        And, for the most, become much more the better
                                        For being a little bad."

And so to the theatre. I have been to London yet again and it goes without saying that my journey was made significantly worse than it needed to be by the incompetence of Virgin East Coast, which resulted in me being so late that I missed a big chunk of why I went in the first place. However, I suspect that you're even more bored than I am with all that so I shall swiftly move on.

It was to the Globe that I went to forget my disdain for beardy Branson and to watch a very enjoyable production of Measure for Measure. This is obviously one of Shakespeare's dodgier plays (I believe that to be the term commonly used in literary criticism) and is perhaps difficult for modern audiences. It's very hard to understand the motivation of anyone among the leading characters (Mariana in particular needs her head examining), or to navigate the path the playwright is weaving through the hypocritical sexual morals of the time. As expected, the Globe - which I enjoy more and more each time that I visit it - takes full advantage of the comic potential with Elbow, Barnadine and Lucio all outstanding (and I do realise that the first two are played by the same actor). The performance was being filmed and I'd urge everyone to catch when it's released; you'll just have to hope they somehow edit out the noise of the helicopter circling during the big scene between Angelo and Isabella.

Bob Dylan wrote a song addressing the same dilemma as that which forms the heart of the plot of Measure for Measure. One of this blog's few readers is a Tom Russell fan - as well as being the world's champion thrower of ones at the wargames table - so here's a cover version by the man from God knows where:

Oh, it all makes work for the working man to do.

I have been asked why my review of Klute in yesterday's post was so peremptory. Why, people say (possibly rhetorically, who knows?), didn't I bang on about how Bree Daniel's seeming journey of self-discovery only actually reinforces the patriarchy that was doing her down in the first place? Well the simple answer is that, just as I was getting into my critical flow, the plumber unexpectedly arrived. Sadly Flanders and Swann don't mention plumbers, but that's no reason not to listen to this classic.

I have been to see last season's Globe production of 'Comedy of Errors' on the big screen; actually not that big a screen because Otley Courthouse was designed by the Victorians for dispensing justice rather than setting up makeshift cinemas. I have always found this a very funny play, which is not something which one can say about all of Shakespeare's comedies. It's farce pure and simple and doesn't rely on the sort of clever wordplay which would have had the Elizabethans rolling around, but leaves us scrabbling for the footnotes to the script. I have mentioned here before my theory that a good farce requires the appearance of sardines. I may have to extend that to seafood in general, because the director in this case decided that an octopus was the way to go.

In any event it was very good and quite up to the standard of Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra which I saw in situ this time last year.

He doth bestride the narrow world

And so to the theatre. I had not yet had my fill or murder and suicide and so it was back to the Globe for Julius Caesar. Where Antony and Cleopatra is about losing power for the sake of love, Julius Caesar is about abandoning friendship to achieve political objectives. As luck would have it both scenarios seem to involve killing anyone who stands in your way and then killing oneself when it all goes wrong.

The noblest Roman of them all

It is reputed that after watching a performance of Antony and Cleopatra one elderly Victorian lady turned to her companion and remarked 'How very unlike the home life of our own dear queen'. It's a shame that these Shakespearean versions of Roman politics are not more unlike the attitudes of politicians in the world today. Sadly the willingness that others should die for their convenience remains the default position of those in power.

Better than figs

And so to the theatre. Shakespeare's Globe on a warm evening is a very pleasant place to be. I have previously stood as a groundling and now, though glad to have had the experience, I don't. Last night it was Antony and Cleopatra, and rather fine it was too. Eve Best took the role of the strumpet and Clive Wood that of the triple pillar of the world become a fool. I hadn't read anything about the production before and was surprised to find Phil Daniels turn up as Enobarbus. I was very taken with his death scene (this being Jacobean tragedy there is of course a lot of competition). In addition to being well acted it was less ambiguous than some he has been involved in over the years.

"Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more."