Drama
A stark gaol cell, two prisoners: these are the simple elements that make up Kiss of the Spider Woman, but they are enough to hold the audience entirely captive for every second of this thoughtful and accomplished production.
The play presents the passionate and complicated relationship that develops between two political prisoners. Valentin (Harry Lloyd), a terse communist revolutionary and Molina (Tai Shan Ling), a gay window dresser are brought together by loneliness. As Molina attempts to escape reality by recounting the story of his favourite film, his storytelling draws the two men closer and establishes a bond between them. We soon learn, however, that Molina has struck a deal with the prison warden: in return for information about Valentin's political activities he will be granted early parole, and as the men grow closer emotionally, and ultimately sexually, Molina's motives remain ambiguous.
It would have been easy to spoil Manuel Puig's script on stage by yielding to overacting but Harry Lloyd and Tai Shan Ling play the two prisoners with breath-taking sensitivity; their relationship is utterly convincing and deeply moving. Ben White has instilled his production with an understated dignity and, a result, it wields great emotional power.
The impact of this emotional power is particularly strong in the scene in which Molina continues to tell the story of the film in an effort to take Valentin's mind off his excrutiating stomach pains. The audience is drawn into the cell and enacts this process with the characters on stage. Repeatedly as the mind starts to follow the story and the inward eye transports it to an imaginary reality outside the cell, Valentin's raw and urgent cries of physical agony break the spell and return the attention to his contorted body. The scene builds up to the moment when Valentin, overcome by his illness, defecates in his uniform. Perhaps surprisingly the scene is enhanced, rather than marred by the sight of the prisoner's soiled underpants. He is distraught and ashamed but Molina helps him clean himself up kindly and practically, and the two are brought closer emotionally by sharing this intensely private and distressing physical incident.
Although this is a play about politics and an exploration of sexuality, it is at root an intimate portrayal of two highly complex and different individuals drawing closer and coming to understand each other. This is the aspect that Ben White has chosen to emphasize and it makes an intense and riveting evening's viewing. If I wanted to be corny I'd say Kiss of the Spider Woman is a real smackerooni, but I think I'll settle for the promise that it is a web worth being drawn into.
Gilbert and Sullivan is a bit like marmite: you either spread it all over your toast with gusto (failing that, with a knife) and devour greedily, or it results in the kind of consternation generated by unshakably happy people who chatter enthusiastically at breakfast about how much they really love Ronan Keating, Graham Norton and their new boy/girlfriend. It's extremely delightful/nauseating blend of love, inane witticisms and outrageously/excessively camp male performances (delete above as appropriate) make it something of a select taste. Crowd pleasers are scarcely as reliable or predictable as these kind of shows.
Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta Patience is about fashions and vagaries of love, set in the time of the Pre-Raphaelites. All the women, except for Patience, love Bunthorne, a poet. He of course loves Patience (but only because she doesn't want him - no-one loves Bunthorne as much as he does himself).
This heavily watered-down production from the brazen elite of the University Gilbert and Sullivan society gives them a great chance to wax lyrical about love, poetry, the joys of singing, dancing and effeminising your cast. Whilst this play has the potential to be exciting, uplifting, even (dare say it) sexy, it suffers from a stilted, clichéd directorial style and a cramped, unoriginal presentation of dated subject matter. A pity, then as there are clearly some very talented performers on the stage with much gravitas and presence, especially from Reginald (Chris Outen) and Bunthorne.
The cast clearly have strong vocal talents, but in many areas this piece appears tragically under-rehearsed. Delivery of many of the tunes sounded gutsy, not dissimilar to a bunch of slightly drunken monkeys rendering 'You'll Never Walk Alone' in oddly shifting keys. The choreography is sloppy and uninventive, and although moments of promising originality elevate it from prosodic to merely exasperating viewing, much of the action is dull and relies too heavily on the notes on the page rather than the performances of the actors.
Eventually the women realise that Bunthorne is set on Patience and are about to rediscover their old loves when a new poet, Grosvenor, arrives on the scene. The women fall in love with him to dismay of the others. The good end happily and, typically of G&S, the bad end happily as well. Now spread that on your toast and munch it.
13th Nov 2003