“At points it sounds more like he is reading a menu than philosophising on love and religion”
From the Indian Ocean, to Hong Kong, to China, ‘Break of Noon’ follows the interweaving lives of four people, underscored by the murmurings of rebellion and decolonisation. Ysé is unhappily married to an entrepreneurial chancer who chases money across the globe. On one of their voyages she meets Amalric, an ex lover of years before, who pushes her towards the arms of Meza, who must choose between his faith in God and this strange new love for Ysé. Autobiographical to some extent, Paul Claudel wrote the play in 1905 but its resurrection is unfortunately a resounding failure.
Every element of the play is weak. The design is weak, getting progressively more lacklustre as the acts go on, and the costumes lack any attention to detail. The direction has the cast standing predominantly still, proclaiming monologue after monologue to each other, crowded statically in corners of the stage, unnatural and uncomfortable to watch.
Whilst some of the language of love is truly beautiful, every speech is so long, so dragged on that it takes an incredible effort to stay engaged with what is being said. The speeches drag on and one metaphor clouds another until the beauty of the words is lost in their mass. It is unclear why the decision to resurrect this play has been made, and it feels overblown, declamatory and clunky, and climatic moments become laughable.
Matt Lim struggles desperately in the central role of Meza. He improves marginally in the final act, but is otherwise bland and uncharacterised. At points it sounds more like he is reading a menu than philosophising on love and religion. There is no connection or chemistry between Meza and Ysé, and this irresistible, all consuming love is something we hear about a lot but do not see onstage. He is inappropriately cast, certainly considerably younger than the role requires, making him incredibly difficult to believe. The other three are stronger, and do their best with a combination of rigid script and direction. Whilst his part is the smallest, David Durham as De Ciz is strong, committed and convincing, and Connor Williams as Amalric is equally persuasive. Elizabeth Boag’s Ysé is fluent, warm and playful, a woman struggling to survive in a world where her free will is not guaranteed, and she must be disarmingly reliant on the men around her for her safety.
The energy and commitment of these three is commendable, and all that drives the play onwards, in an otherwise unsuccessful resurrection of Claudel’s ‘Break of Noon’.
“The music is beautifully chosen and forms a beguiling and well-crafted backdrop”
Molière’s daring script, based on a story by Tirso de Molina, was published in 1665, with a milder version written by Corneille in 1677 at the request of Molière’s widow. Director, Anastasia Revi, makes bold, enriching changes to the play, emphasising a less considered aspect of Don Juan as a man who is victim of his own desires. The initial scene setting is brilliantly clever, playing with the audience’s preconceptions, and the added ‘Illusion of Love’ character creates a visual dimension to Don Juan’s vulnerability. In addition, placing the action at the Venice carnival rather than Sicily allows for a more playful atmosphere. In the play, newly-wed Don Juan is pursued by vengeful relatives while embarking on further amorous adventures. After fleeing, unrepentant, he experiences a series of supernatural encounters before finally confronting his failings, and fate.
Peter Rae is superb as the free-thinking, amoral Don Juan, consumed by his weakness for women and without a care for the distresses he leaves behind. He puts across a self-assured nonchalance as he engages in entertaining, philosophical discussions with the devout yet ambitious Sganarelle, wonderfully portrayed by David Furlong. Furlong perfectly balances the servant’s need to challenge his master’s views while being careful not to risk his job. There are a couple of instances where we enjoy the valet’s own take on Don Juan, but it is the chemistry of their relationship that defines this interpretation and drives the narrative.
The discarded yet defiant Elvira is played by Emmanuela Lia in a strong performance as she scorns her husband’s deceit until recalled by her faith to the convent. There is a wealth of distinctive characters in the talented hands of Benoît Gouttenoire and Samuel Lawrence who, behind Venetian masks, appear as men, women, young and old. In particular, Lawrence’s Pierrot and Don Luis stand out. Signe Preston as the Illusion of Love gracefully weaves round the theatre enticing Don Juan’s susceptibility.
Anastasia Revi’s inspired direction assimilates the whole theatre space, involving the audience in the action and giving energy to the production. The music is beautifully chosen and forms a beguiling and well-crafted backdrop, at times providing its own comedy. The resourceful set design by Valentina Sanna uses a handful of props to conjure up a privileged lifestyle and she makes good use of height on the small stage. Chuma Emembolu’s lighting articulates the contrasting moments with precision and sensitivity, and the costumes (Valentina Sanna) and wigs (Umberto Fiorilla) add a touch of disguise to the carnival spirit. As minor comments, the sound is slightly too loud during certain sections of dialogue and the masks occasionally muffle the speech.
Theatre Lab’s ‘Don Juan’ transforms the cliché of seductiveness into an almost endearing cynicism, a weakness of indulgence rather than the acme of male prowess, and in doing so, the female element becomes more dominant and the passages of philosophising make more sense. With an excellent cast and lively staging this is somehow both rollicking entertainment, and food for thought.
