June 21, 2009
I can sort of see the rationale for this production. Imagine it as a movie pitch: Shakespeare meets P.G. Wodehouse – it’s about four callow young men falling in love with the idea of learning, and it takes the mickey out of academics in ivory towers – what could be more perfect than setting it in Oxford? I know, let’s do it right here in the garden!
Well, here’s the thing. Love’s Labours Lost is a play not often produced nowadays and there’s a reason for that – it’s one of Shakespeare’s most tedious comedies, having many (many) scenes of that kind of rapid-fire word-play that may have delighted Elizabethan audiences but is likely to send us straight to sleep. I was hoping for some judicious cutting that would prevent me from having to listen to two and a half hours of Latin puns, but no.
The multi-talented Krishna Omkar not only directed and starred (as Berowne) but was also responsible for the costumes and design. Interestingly the costumes and design, and indeed his performance, were indistinguishable from the pleasant but undemanding Importance of Being Earnest he gave us last summer – he was a delightfully upper-crust, slightly sardonic, languidly camp Algy, and here he was again in his tennis whites, draping himself picturesquely over the backs of sofas and identically poised between drawling witty remarks and being discomfited himself.
The battle-of-the-sexes scenes between King Ferdinand and his merry men and Princess Isabelle and her feisty maidens were as fresh as if they had come from a seventies sit-com, and did indeed provide a few genuine laughs, but the in-between bits with Don Armado, the Don and the Curate, were absolutely dire – the audience sat through them poker-faced.
Oscar Wilde’s repartee is strong enough to withstand poor production values and weak actors in minor roles – Shakespeare’s, at least in this play, isn’t. The production had a Look, but no soul; no insight, no interpretation that would liven up the leaden dialogue and obvious jokes. It might have been better to offer these talented actors an easier play – Love's Labour's Lost does not repay the effort. Honourable mention for Daniel McLean as Longueville and Martha May as the Princess – bright spots in a rather dull evening.
Well, here’s the thing. Love’s Labours Lost is a play not often produced nowadays and there’s a reason for that – it’s one of Shakespeare’s most tedious comedies, having many (many) scenes of that kind of rapid-fire word-play that may have delighted Elizabethan audiences but is likely to send us straight to sleep. I was hoping for some judicious cutting that would prevent me from having to listen to two and a half hours of Latin puns, but no.
The multi-talented Krishna Omkar not only directed and starred (as Berowne) but was also responsible for the costumes and design. Interestingly the costumes and design, and indeed his performance, were indistinguishable from the pleasant but undemanding Importance of Being Earnest he gave us last summer – he was a delightfully upper-crust, slightly sardonic, languidly camp Algy, and here he was again in his tennis whites, draping himself picturesquely over the backs of sofas and identically poised between drawling witty remarks and being discomfited himself.
The battle-of-the-sexes scenes between King Ferdinand and his merry men and Princess Isabelle and her feisty maidens were as fresh as if they had come from a seventies sit-com, and did indeed provide a few genuine laughs, but the in-between bits with Don Armado, the Don and the Curate, were absolutely dire – the audience sat through them poker-faced.
Oscar Wilde’s repartee is strong enough to withstand poor production values and weak actors in minor roles – Shakespeare’s, at least in this play, isn’t. The production had a Look, but no soul; no insight, no interpretation that would liven up the leaden dialogue and obvious jokes. It might have been better to offer these talented actors an easier play – Love's Labour's Lost does not repay the effort. Honourable mention for Daniel McLean as Longueville and Martha May as the Princess – bright spots in a rather dull evening.