Drama
Imagine the bastard son of Shakespeare's "The Tempest" and a classic Star Trek episode, complete with ray-guns and cheesy love-interest. Now add a dancing chorus line of beautiful women and get everyone to sing "Great Balls of Fire" and the Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations". Loudly. Slap one of the characters on roller-skates and you've got Michael Bloomfield's version of Bob Carlton's musical, based on the 1956 film of similar name.
Told largely in pseudo-Shakespearian dialogue ("Hark! What light from yonder airlock breaks?!") and feel-good, backing-vocal saturated anthems, the classic story of unrequited love is set against a background of dark Freudian demons. In this way the piece incorporates material from the 17th, 20th and 22nd centuries.
Forced to crash-land on a mysterious planet after surviving a freak meteor shower, the crew of the Starship Albatross meet the enigmatic Dr Prospero, his android slave Ariel and his innocent daughter Miranda. Miranda falls in love with the Captain and the dark secrets of Prospero's work begin to emerge, plunging the crew into danger from a mysterious source.
This is one of the most technically ambitious productions in recent OUDS history: The production team promise every magic trick in the bag.
Choreography is varied and exciting. The use of the space available in The Oxford Playhouse has been maximised to give them enough room to jump around, jiggle and boogie. However, the musical numbers threaten to undermine the poignancy of the dialogue, especially in later scenes as the play approaches its dramatic climax.
The acting is less spectacular than other aspects of the production. Although the principals have impressive vocal talents, their emotional ranges and physicality could be more fully developed, as several characters occasionally slip into musical-sci-fi cliché, which threatens to alienate the audience from the actual performers, leaving the script and music to do all the work. That said, they can't be accused of lacking enthusiasm or energy. Captain Tempest, played by Gabriel Vick, is strong,; commanding the stage with all the presence of a seasoned star-veteran, and geeks of all ages will drool over the fantastically sexy Amy Hayes, who plays Gloria with cool reservation and authority. Both of these actors are hoping to turn pro in the coming years. Miranda, played by Becky Lowton, is feisty and flirtatious enough to be crowned romantic lead, working well with other actors on stage and showing off her considerable vocal skills.
This show should be a winner - uplifting evening entertainment of unusually spectacular proportions, with well-thought-out production values and careful attention to detail (the costumes echo early rock and roll era vs. sci-fi). If nothing else, you'll be clapping along to the beat. Do you dare go?
It's not light comedy. But sometimes we all need a little release, and for that I can only recommend Ghosts or chicken soup.
The purgation begins in the drawing room of wealthy widow Mrs Alving (Lorna Beckett). The rain pours outside. Jakob Engstrand (Guy Woodward), sinister and manipulative, entreats with an arachnid lurch his daughter Regine (Jeany Spark), Mrs Alving's maid, to return to live with him. It transpires that his motives are less than wholesome, and Regine ejects him summarily.
But Engstrand at least knows he's reprehensible; other characters lack his natural talents in this respect. Pastor Manders's (Chip Horne) orthodox rhetoric has only ever glossed over life's brutality, not ameliorated it. Oswald (Tom Eyre-Maunsell), son of Mrs Alving, has tasted the sweetness of freedom in bohemian Paris; but even his creative energy cannot escape the tendrils of the past. All the characters in one way or another are fugitive from their histories. Around the memory of the deceased Captain Alving revolves a sense of human nature damned not by the Pastor's received morality but by its own hypocrisy.
Leveson, the director, has transposed Lars von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg's Dogme 95 manifesto onto stage with little compromise and considerable success. Character is central: the set and costumes are simple and colourless. Much has been made of this being the world premiere of Frank McGuinness's new translation. The language is violent and beautiful: picking up a phrase and making it ring then adroitly replacing it in time for the next exchange. The characters choke on truth like boluses - only Engstrand, comfortable with his cynicism, moves with ease in conversation from one form of emotional blackmail to another.
But the epithet of 'world premiere' is superfluous. This production has enough pulling power without it. The actors have a tenacious hold on their characters, which clearly owes much to incisive direction. Eyre-Maunsell in particular imbues Oswald with a breathless passion that makes his deterioration all the more tragic. Beckett's austere, polished glide, Horne's stilted tones and rigid stance, represent so well their characters' social façades - to see them eroded as the past resurges is a lesson in physical acting. Jeany Spark was at times a little stagey in her actions, warming to her character as the play progressed; Guy Woodward, however, simply stole his scenes with an impeccable range of vocal nuance and naturalism. If you're in the mood for some bleak Norwegian fare as the rain pours outside, this play will satisfy and more.
A widow has a love affair and spawns three bastard children, her jealous brother has incestuous desires towards her and wastes no opportunity to show them, and in the end everyone dies. Welcome to the 15th century as Webster saw it - dark, lusty and disturbing.
The director of The Duchess of Malfi describes it as "one of the best plays ever written" which is debatable to start with. The play is a traditional Renaissance revenge tragedy, however it lacks the eloquence of writers such as Marlowe and Shakespeare, containing some truly awful writing. However, it does redeem itself and has some powerful moments.
This production in question is billed as being "fresh and innovative"; though I found it rather unadventurous. That's not necessarily a bad thing though, All Webster's key themes are clearly presented, but what they lack is subtlety. True, Webster is not especially subtle, but surely the job of the performers is to save the play from the writer.
Although performed in a studio theatre, the players never quite manage to break the audience/actor barrier. Vocally the characters are great, but somehow they don't quite convince, the movement and expression seems a little forced and unnatural. Perhaps the play would work better as a radio play. Jamie Lee does bring Bosola very definitely to life though; the rather malicious servant becomes something of an Iago-like figure.
It may not be brilliant but neither is it bad; the production is faithful to Webster's intentions and gives a solid reading of Malfi. This may not be the most enthralling show of the term but I have also seen far worse plays, both student and professional.
Don't expect it to change your life, but it makes a good alternative for those of you looking for something more cultured than the rip-roaring spectacle of its Playhouse rival for the week, Return to the Forbidden Planet.
30th Oct 2003