THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION at the Cambridge Arts Theatre
★★★
“a stage production of such a well-known and iconic film is a brave thing to undertake”
To present such an opening impression of the Shawshank Maximum Security Penitentiary is an impressive undertaking for a touring production (Designer Gary McCann). The walls are built high on two levels with a gantry across the top upon which a uniformed guard paces, rifle in hand. Painted an institutional two-tone green, it is grubby and depressing. Extra set is flown in to move the action into Andy’s cell, the library, or the Governor’s office but otherwise the central open space acts for all other areas within the prison. Stark lighting (Designer Chris Davey) provides a foreboding mood but particularly in the early scenes actors are too often caught out of position and are lost into shadow. The echoing effects of metallic doors clanging far away increases the sallow mood (Designer Andy Graham).
Short snappy scenes are efficiently set – pulling on a cell bed, dragging away tables – with noise and commotion provided by the ensemble of prisoners who freeze to allow our attention to focus on the main action. Despite the inclusion of three understudies in this performance, the movement of the ensemble is slick (Director David Esbjornson).
Just as the character Red provides a voice-over in the film, so here he (Ben Onwukwe) narrates the story direct to the audience. Onwukwe has a magnetic presence and his empathy is engaging as he guides us through his friendship with the convicted double-murderer Andy Dufresne (Joe Absolom) and their life-long prison journeys. The two actors work comfortably with each other and their tender feeling contrasts with the general coldness and detachment of the rest of prison life. Absolom’s tenor voice and staccato delivery stands him apart from the rest. He broods around the edges of the stage, gazing downwards, and whilst his dialogue of never more than a few words at a time emphasises his character’s reticence it doesn’t help us to understand the man behind the silence either.
Despite the importance of the two central characters, the most successful scenes concern the full ensemble of prisoners. Dressed in identical prison uniform of brown boots and denim jeans they resemble a motley chorus line. Leigh Jones as Rooster gives a magnificent performance despite some inconsistency in his character’s violent demeanour, with his affected maniacal laughter and aggressive posture genuinely threatening. Kenneth Jay as old-timer librarian Brooksie provides a most moving performance in his reluctance to accept his parole. Coulter Dittman is given little opportunity to develop car-thief Tommy Williams but grasps excellently with what he has. And on the other side of the bars, the gravelled bass of Mark Heenehan as corrupt Governor Warden Stammas is consistently strong, exuding the authority of his position and his abuse of it.
Ultimately though, a stage production of such a well-known and iconic film is a brave thing to undertake, although we are clearly informed that the starting point is Stephen King’s original novella, not the film. The adaptation (by Owen O’Neill and Dave Johns) forgoes much of the detail – we don’t see just how clever Andy is being nor just how corrupt the Governor is – and with the limitations of a stage we don’t see the full grimness of prison life nor either the beauty or the pain of an escape from it. Despite the best of intentions and this most worthy ensemble cast, the play can only serve as a reminder of how good the film is.
“The sheer magic of this production is the beguiling mix of melancholy and madness; of manners and mannerisms”
The original intention of Chekhov was for “The Cherry Orchard” to be a comedy; yet when it was first staged in 1904 at the Moscow Art Theatre, the writer/director Constantin Stanislavski turned it into a tragedy. If not distressed, Chekhov was very irritated by the misrepresentation of his work. Enough to put him in a mild state of depression. Ever since, there has been much discussion on the multi-layered nature of the play’s message.
Sean Mathias’ production at Theatre Royal, Windsor knows which side of the fence it lies and undoubtedly remains true to Chekhov’s intentions. With the help of a stellar cast the humour of the piece shines through and is maintained throughout the overly long two and a half hours running time. This is no mean feat, given that the characters themselves are generally not the comic type. Yet the wonderful ensemble cast bring out the flaws and the foolishness; the childishness in a seemingly mature group of people. It’s a kind of coming-of-age story for those who have already long come of age.
Fresh from the demands of his trail-blazing and age-defying Hamlet, Sir Ian McKellen is taking a step back, trying to blend into the background as the elderly servant Firs. There is a danger of his cameo becoming the lead but his generosity and sheer attention to the detail of how his character fits into the narrative lead to what is both a show-stealing performance, yet allowing his fellow actors to plunder as much as they can. Robert Daws is an absolute delight as the cash strapped moocher, overflowing with optimism and drunken charm and bouncing off Martin Shaw’s more successful but less confident Lopakhin. Shaw skilfully managed to mix a self-conscious awareness of Lopakhin’s peasant background with a cocksure sense of his own right to cut the privileged down to size (and ultimately cut down their beloved cherry orchard).
Francesca Annis, as Ranyevskaya the owner of the estate, swoops onto the stage majestically. No stranger to personal tragedy, she still seems clothed in waves of happiness. Yet Annis has the skill to show us the many tears and gashes that are covered up. The childlike way she greets her furniture as affectionately as her family is simultaneously ridiculous and tender. Her mix of tragedy and comedy is most (there’s only one way to put it) Chekhovian. But the minor characters also manage to have a major effect. Missy Malek and Kezrena James as the two sisters; and Alis Wyn Davies as the maid, Dunyasha, are names to look out for. Alison Halstead gives a fireball of a performance as the circus performer, trickster come governess, Charlotte. The only one who doesn’t quite seem to grasp the sense of fun that can be had with these characters is Jenny Seagrove, who plays the brother Gaev with a touch too much seriousness and lack of colour.
This is a piece that focuses on the characters and their interactions more than the story. After all, not an awful lot happens. In Act One, the cherry orchard is in danger of being sold, in Act Two it is on the verge of being sold, in Act Three it is sold, and in Act Four it has been sold. The sheer magic of this production is the beguiling mix of melancholy and madness; of manners and mannerisms and rambling lives that are just about keeping afloat. Much to relate to. There is tragedy everywhere, but we don’t always want to focus on that. This show, led by the inimitable McKellen et al, encompasses Chekhov’s spirit and lets us laugh at the seriousness of it all. Even if only for a couple of hours, but it is worth every minute.
