“an immense lack of energy from the performers, which rendered the beautiful words they were speaking almost useless”
When facing the prospect of going to see any production of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ – arguably Shakespeare’s most universally-known play – the first question that pops into my head is how will this production be different from all the other Romeo and Juliets that have either been done or are running now? Upon entering the theatre at Waterloo East for Controlled Chaos’ crack at this timeless tale of love and heartache, my hopes were high. Disco lights, high-energy club music and the cast huddled together in centre stage draped in rainbow flags. The setting was a gay club, aptly named ‘Capulets’, during pride, and for this brief moment in between entering the theatre and the start of the play, there was a genuine excitement for a potentially fresh and unusual approach to Romeo and Juliet. This excitement, unfortunately, ended with the first words of the play. From then on, the audience were presented with yet another amateur Shakespeare production lacking originality or conviction.
There was an immense lack of energy from the performers, which rendered the beautiful words they were speaking almost useless. There were numerous occasions where lines were too quiet, or actors were facing with their back to the audience. This and other issues were clear examples of a show that was lacking clear direction. This was particularly evident in the many pivotal scenes between Romeo and Juliet (both of whom were women in this production). All of the subtleties and deftness of Shakespeare’s language in these scenes were replaced with tiresome snogging and aimless wandering on stage. Thankfully Kevin Kamara and Olivia Thompson provided some much needed moments of energy and purpose as Mercutio and Nurse respectively.
What was perhaps most disappointing was that the production promised something very different to what was actually presented. The play took place during gay pride, and yet there was only one gay couple in the whole piece. The company stated in the programme that one of their goals was ‘to give women a chance to take centre stage in the male dominated classics’. Apart from making Romeo a woman, the show remained heavily dominated by men. These two stylistic choices appear to have been thought of, but not completely carried out. This means that what could have been a unique production has simply fallen into the category of uninspiring Shakespeare shows that you will undoubtedly find in other theatres this summer. On a night where the English football team failed to beat Belgium to top their group, this was also a flat and uninspiring performance.
“the music kept the action pacey, and the audience on their toes”
Controlled Chaos Theatre’s all-female Tempest was a charming, well-shaped piece of storytelling, in which all the cast clearly believed. Arriving at the Brockley Jack Studio Theatre, the reception by staff was warm and friendly. It was wonderful to see a diverse mix of ages in the audience, which I hope the company’s interpretation continues to attract. A strong and supportive cast each had moments of sparkling stage presence, and director Dylan Lincoln clearly cares about the importance of Shakespeare’s carefully created characters. It is well-worth a watch.
Immediately from the opening scene, in which all the soon-to-be shipwrecked characters sing a brawling sailor song, the audience was immersed in the world of the play. Pretty and often clean visual direction made the piece very watchable: a highlight was the beginning, when the sailors played the unison motion of a storm-tossed boat. I couldn’t help feeling that the eerie wedding scene needed a bit more jollity, but, overall, striking signposts kept all in the auditorium engaged.
Occasionally, there were line blunders; and where some actors channelled nuance into their performances, others seemed to be reciting, more than playing with conviction. Compelling performances by Carmella Brown’s magnetic Ariel; Kate Sketchley’s powerfully tragic and masterfully oratorical Caliban; and nimbly played comic duos, Trinculo & Stephano and Sebastian & Antonio, anchored the piece. Jo Bartlett’s Prospero balanced tyranny and sympathy convincingly. Michelle Pittoni as Miranda and Hannah Jessop as Ferdinand were an irresistible pair of lovers, which delighted the audience. The especially detailed pair interactions between all cast members are where this production really came into its own.
The subtle, well-executed costume and set design communicated the island setting to the audience: fishing nets woven with shells hung on the walls; the playing space was punctuated by small logs; and the back of the stage had painted green accents to suggest foliage. The lighting design was simple, but effectively communicated tonal shifts, and aided the creation of Prospero’s dreamlike microcosm. Sound was used more-or-less throughout, with some scenes even being underscored. This is a very pleasing choice, for a script which is so musical. Live music offerings, arranged by Michael Halliday, were beautiful and often entrancingly eerie, Ariel’s flute and lilting folk songs being the deftest touch. Some of the sound design was a little derivative: here, the magical ambiguity of the world could have been trusted a bit more, and decisions could have been bolder. However, the music kept the action pacey, and the audience on their toes.
Although the cast was all-female, all the masculine pronouns in the text were not altered. Trinculo and Stephano played to male, ‘laddy’ stereotypes. The company aims ‘to try to redress the balance of British theatre, by encouraging more people from diverse backgrounds to engage with the theatre world, both on stage and off, including giving women a chance to take centre stage in the male dominated classics’. This is certainly an urgent and important ethos, but altering the pronouns of the text would have perhaps carried the choice to cast all women to the next level, thus deepening the interpretation. That said, this is a considerate and joyous staging of an entrancing and unwieldy play.
