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Salomé by Oscar Wilde Old Fire Station |
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Wilde's popular reputation lies with his comedies, the perfect vehicle for his remarkable wit. His oeuvre extends, of course, to poetry and prose - The Ballad of Reading Gaol and De Profundis being the prime examples - but it is through his plays that Wilde lives now. However, at least ten productions of Earnest will pass through Oxford for every one Salomé. We are lucky, then, to have the chance this week to see this rather atypical Wilde play performed. Based upon the Christian myth, Salomé is the daughter of Herodias and stepdaughter of Herod. John the Baptist (Jokanaan in Wilde's version) has condemned the marriage of Herodias and Herod. The king has imprisoned John, but fears to have the well-known prophet killed. According to the myth, Herodias was not mollified by John's incarceration and uses Salomé to seduce her stepfather Herod with the dance of the seven veils, on the condition that he give her whatever she wishes. Salomé requests the head of John the Baptist on a platter. Herod acquiesces and Salomé and her mother get their man. In Wilde's play, Salomé is no longer simply the pawn of her mother, but is transmuted into a femme fatale, flexing her seductive powers in order to control the men around her. Amy Hayes performance as Salomé borders on the hysterical, but her dance of the seven veils reveals the extent of her talents. Her final monologue is also suitably unhinged as she gazes on the bloody result of her wiles. It was a shame that the budget wouldn't stretch to a life-like head of Chris Richardson (Jokanaan), who fails to fully exploit his prophetic role. Half-mad, half-camp, he tries to bring humanity to a role which is structurally moribund: as Jokanaan, he has no agency as such beyond his words and the attentions of Salomé. Will Kwong is convincingly eccentric as Herod, trapped by his own decadent desire. Emma Hill-French's Herodias is wonderfully cynical, but not quite arch enough for my taste. There aren't many laughs in Salomé; it is, after all, at heart a tragedy. It's also only one act, (although for some reason this production has introduced a 15 minute interval). In short, there's little room for error and Jon Morton's direction isn't taut enough to convincingly bring this play to life. The paucity of the set, costumes and props, and the rather sterile lighting design, leaves the cast extremely exposed. I hope that once first night nerves have subsided, this production will begin to do justice to Wilde's fascinating play. Mark
Schofield
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