March 9, 2011
Cheek by Jowl have returned to Oxford Playhouse in the form of their sister company, Moscow's Chekhov International Festival, to give Shakespeare’s The Tempest a bold Russian makeover. Cheek by Jowl received rave reviews for previous visits to The Playhouse – notably for their recent sell-out production of Andromaque - and their Russian troupe looks set to be equally as popular.
Declan Donnellan’s ensemble perform in Russian, accompanied by English subtitles. The translations, however, are superfluous, as the acting and emotions are so luminous that you will understand every word. The acting is handled with real conviction; every line, every interaction in this bold new production is packed with passion.
What’s more, Director Declan Donnellan’s innovative decisions demonstrate that there can be fresh insight into old plays. Avoiding popular post-colonial associations, Donnellan locates the play at the collision between communism and capitalism. Prospero is a stubborn patriarch in shirt sleeves and braces, who prefers to controls his family with vigorous slaps, rather than by using magic. Similarly, Alexander Feklistov's Caliban is more of a worker than a monster, a slow and burly man in overalls who grumbles as he slaves.
The tempest and the shipwreck are never far from the audiences’ minds, thanks to the liberal and creative use of water onstage. Torrents pour down on the bedraggled survivors of the shipwreck, buckets of water are thrown in numerous slapstick comedy moments and both Miranda and Ferdinand are subject to a vigorous scrubbing down by Prospero. Indeed, the production is very visceral. The characters draw each other and the audience into their physicality by scratching, licking and carnal grappling.
In Anya Khalilulina’s hands, the untamed Miranda is near-feral, scrabbling across the stage on all-fours, chewing her toe nails, and biting and snapping at her father. Miranda’s innocence – borne of her isolation from men - is conceived in this production as a total lack of reserve. When she meets Ferdinand, she sniffs and nuzzles him, and shrieks in delight as, in a moment of colonial arrogance, he prepares to rape her.
Andrey Kuzichev’s black suited Ariel is calm and emotionless. He handles his powers without ostentation, and accepts his freedom graciously. There is an enchanting humour in many of Ariel’s interventions. One of the play’s most joyful moments sees a ramrod straight Ariel playing the logs that Ferdinand must move across the stage. The most laughs, however, are won by the brilliant comedy trio formed by the burly Stephano (Sergey Koleshnaya), camp Trinculo (Ilya Iliin) and pitiful Caliban (Alexander Feklistov).
The magic that is at the heart of this play is conjured beautifully. Ariel is often followed on stage by four doppelgangers, whose gentle percussion renderings echo his lines.
Donnellan’s innovative interpretation of the play’s structure often juxtaposes the end of one scene with the beginning of the next. This has the effect of highlighting the connections between characters. For instance, when the drunken and newly liberated Caliban is allowed to dance around Ferdinand as the prince carries his burden on his back, we see in Ferdinand what has previously happened to Caliban.
Donnellan also creates a number of oddly incongruous scenes – look out for a sunglasses boutique and mobile phone calls to the King of Naples – but these work surprisingly well and only add to the charm of the production.
Moscow’s Chekov International Festival are to be congratulated for breathing new life one of the Bard’s most well-loved plays. This production is passionate, imaginative and well deserving of the scattered standing ovation it received at The Playhouse; theatre like this is truly “the stuff that dreams are made on.”
Declan Donnellan’s ensemble perform in Russian, accompanied by English subtitles. The translations, however, are superfluous, as the acting and emotions are so luminous that you will understand every word. The acting is handled with real conviction; every line, every interaction in this bold new production is packed with passion.
What’s more, Director Declan Donnellan’s innovative decisions demonstrate that there can be fresh insight into old plays. Avoiding popular post-colonial associations, Donnellan locates the play at the collision between communism and capitalism. Prospero is a stubborn patriarch in shirt sleeves and braces, who prefers to controls his family with vigorous slaps, rather than by using magic. Similarly, Alexander Feklistov's Caliban is more of a worker than a monster, a slow and burly man in overalls who grumbles as he slaves.
The tempest and the shipwreck are never far from the audiences’ minds, thanks to the liberal and creative use of water onstage. Torrents pour down on the bedraggled survivors of the shipwreck, buckets of water are thrown in numerous slapstick comedy moments and both Miranda and Ferdinand are subject to a vigorous scrubbing down by Prospero. Indeed, the production is very visceral. The characters draw each other and the audience into their physicality by scratching, licking and carnal grappling.
In Anya Khalilulina’s hands, the untamed Miranda is near-feral, scrabbling across the stage on all-fours, chewing her toe nails, and biting and snapping at her father. Miranda’s innocence – borne of her isolation from men - is conceived in this production as a total lack of reserve. When she meets Ferdinand, she sniffs and nuzzles him, and shrieks in delight as, in a moment of colonial arrogance, he prepares to rape her.
Andrey Kuzichev’s black suited Ariel is calm and emotionless. He handles his powers without ostentation, and accepts his freedom graciously. There is an enchanting humour in many of Ariel’s interventions. One of the play’s most joyful moments sees a ramrod straight Ariel playing the logs that Ferdinand must move across the stage. The most laughs, however, are won by the brilliant comedy trio formed by the burly Stephano (Sergey Koleshnaya), camp Trinculo (Ilya Iliin) and pitiful Caliban (Alexander Feklistov).
The magic that is at the heart of this play is conjured beautifully. Ariel is often followed on stage by four doppelgangers, whose gentle percussion renderings echo his lines.
Donnellan’s innovative interpretation of the play’s structure often juxtaposes the end of one scene with the beginning of the next. This has the effect of highlighting the connections between characters. For instance, when the drunken and newly liberated Caliban is allowed to dance around Ferdinand as the prince carries his burden on his back, we see in Ferdinand what has previously happened to Caliban.
Donnellan also creates a number of oddly incongruous scenes – look out for a sunglasses boutique and mobile phone calls to the King of Naples – but these work surprisingly well and only add to the charm of the production.
Moscow’s Chekov International Festival are to be congratulated for breathing new life one of the Bard’s most well-loved plays. This production is passionate, imaginative and well deserving of the scattered standing ovation it received at The Playhouse; theatre like this is truly “the stuff that dreams are made on.”