Tag Archives: Ben Ringham

King Lear

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Wyndham’s Theatre

KING LEAR at Wyndham’s Theatre

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King Lear

“an approachable and nothing-to-fear Lear”

Kenneth Branagh acts in and directs this welcome West End Shakespearean production. Compressed into two hours and performed without an interval, this is an approachable and nothing-to-fear Lear. When on stage, Branagh leads from the front, always at the centre with an arc of supporting characters around him. The direction is sparse, a long succession of comings and goings between characters, often carrying letters to be delivered or discovered.

An extended opening scene before any dialogue is spoken places us in ancient Britain. A dramatic tribal dance (Aletta Collins Choreographer), a Pagan ceremony perhaps, with much thumping of staffs in which King Lear (Branagh) appears dressed in animal furs, his staff held high.

The set is a visual delight (Jon Bausor set and costume designer): A semi-circle of monoliths set to the rear that morph between representations of Neolithic standing stones and Dover’s white cliffs. Above the stage is a huge astral disc. Light and projection brilliantly lifts and lowers the mood (Paul Keogan Lighting Designer, Nina Dunn Projection Designer). Darkness is used to great effect, especially in the storm scene and to represent Gloucester’s blindness.

“Allowing the text to breathe, he gives every consonant its full importance”

It is a reliable-enough performance from Branagh, whilst we may question if he acts old enough or mad enough for the role. Above everything, his Shakespearean diction is exemplary. Allowing the text to breathe, he gives every consonant its full importance. This style may no longer be to everyone’s taste but it works well here and dually provides a working lesson to the supporting cast of RADA alumni around him.

There is little time to get to know the other characters. Goneril (Deborah Alli) and Regan (Melanie-Joyce Bermudez) are both cold and spiteful with little to love in either of them. Jessica Revell brings out delightfully the loving and empathic side of wronged Cordelia but appears less comfortable in her double role as the zither-strumming Fool.

The half-brothers Edmund (Corey Mylchreest) and Edgar (Doug Colling) are admirably chalk and cheese. Edmund is rugged, hirsute, greasy and grimy but played by Mylchreest a little too close to pantomime villain at times. Edgar is the clean-shaven, boy-next-door. Colling provides the scene of the night as he guides his blinded father Gloucester (the excellent Joseph Kloska) in the guise of Poor Tom.

An exhilarating concluding battle scene (Bret Yount) is a mirror of the opening tribal dance but this time with a real fear of danger as the staffs are whirled as weapons.

Kenneth Branagh makes the stage his own in his final scene, cradling the body of Cordelia in his arms. As Lear’s last words stick in his throat, we witness an horrific, silent scream. Pure, perfect theatre.


KING LEAR at Wyndham’s Theatre

Reviewed on 28th October 2023

by Phillip Money

Photography by Johan Persson

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Oklahoma! | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
Life of Pi | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2021

King Lear

King Lear

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A Dead Body in Taos

A Dead Body in Taos

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Wilton’s Music Hall

A DEAD BODY IN TAOS at the Wilton’s Music Hall

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A Dead Body in Taos

“Rachel Bagshaw’s direction moves the action backwards and forwards with an efficient pace and energy, but we do occasionally get bogged down in explanation”

 

β€œWhen they called saying your body had been found, I had one immediate thought. I remember thinking that maybe now I’d be free”. These are the first words that Sam (Gemma Lawrence) speaks to her mother Kath (Eve Ponsonby) in over three years. Sam has just arrived in the small town of Taos in the New Mexico desert to identify the body. The freedom to which Sam is referring is obviously emotional rather than physical as there seems to have been little communication between mother and daughter up to this point. Nevertheless, Sam would still be seeking some sort of closure, and conversations with the deceased are often consoling.

Not so for Sam. She’s not talking to a corpse, but a mechanical representation of her mother aged thirty-five, into which her mother’s memories, emotions and biographical data have been uploaded. But sadly, not a lot of her personality. Artificial Intelligence has been taken to its technological, moral and unsettling extreme and we are invited to question the nature of death and human consciousness. But before we have much of a chance, we are whisked back to Kath’s student days where there is much talk about the 1968 protests, Vietnam, Cambodia and changing the world. In writer David Farr’s world, it is peopled with caricatures whose urgency and fervour seem to be being lampooned. The link to the present is a touch tenuous, but on the stage the two settings are constantly rubbing shoulders with each other in the revolving doors of a confusing narrative. We are not really sure where to invest our interest.

The dichotomy suits Sam though. Gemma Lawrence is a very watchable presence, particularly when she begins to thaw and engage with her mother’s posthumous identity. Initially outraged, she warms to the idea and we, in turn, warm to the general theme of the piece. Farr explores the flip side of Artificial Intelligence. The Future Life Corporation, where Kath is recreated, focuses on the β€˜unintelligence’. The flaws that make us human. It’s not just about synthesising data, but also the false hopes, the self-delusion; the layers of deception inherent in us all. The mess and the chaos. And the unspoken love.

It is a very wordy, and at times worthy, play. Rachel Bagshaw’s direction moves the action backwards and forwards with an efficient pace and energy, but we do occasionally get bogged down in explanation. The use of surtitles is questionable and sometimes distracting and unnecessary. The performances cannot be faulted. Eve Ponsonby’s Kath seamlessly flits from her ardent past to the robotic present, and Clara Onyemere’s portrayal of Tristana Cortez – the humanely pragmatic supervisor at the Future Life Corporation – is one of the highlights of the evening.

The crux of the issues remains unanswered – as they probably always will be. β€œHow do you create a person who has no idea who they are?” asks Cortez. β€œA Dead Body in Taos”, despite containing some insightful dialogue, doesn’t quite know what it is either. Like some of the scenes there are too many voices vying to be heard. We long to have our focus tied to a stronger lead. Perhaps that is the reason behind the surtitles after all.

 

Reviewed on 27th October 2022

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Murray

 

Wilton's Music Hall thespyinthestalls

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Roots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021
The Child in the Snow | β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2021
The Ballad of Maria Marten | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | February 2022
Starcrossed | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2022
Patience | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2022

 

 

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