As You Like It (Series 1 Episode 3)

As You Like It

First Transmitted 17th December 1978

 

Helen Mirren goes for a stroll in the Forest of Arden and makes us join her

Cast: Helen Mirren (Rosalind), Brian Stirner (Orlando), Richard Pasco (Jacques), Angharad Rees (Celia), James Bolam (Touchstone), Tony Church (Duke Senior), Clive Francis (Oliver), Richard Easton (Duke Frederick), Victoria Plunkett (Phebe), Maynard Williams (Silvius), Marilyn Le Conte (Audrey), David Lloyd Meredith (Corin), Arthur Hewlett (Adam)

Director: Basil Coleman

 

In many ways this production of As You Like It is what led to the existence of the whole series of Shakespeare plays. Producer Cedric Messina, scouting Glamis Castle for another production for Play of the Month, believed it was the perfect location to film the play. On the basis of this proposal Messina then put forward the idea to “film the lot”. So it’s a shame that the production that kicked it all off is such an utter and complete disaster from start to finish.

I hardly know where to begin with the things that are wrong with this dull, inert, poorly acted tedious production. How could something filmed entirely on location look so much more stilted and old fashioned than anything studio-bound? It’s easy to blame dodgy 1970’s BBC equipment for the truly appalling sound quality (large chunks of the dialogue are near inaudible) and the static and unimaginative camera work, until you think that later that year the BBC filmed the landmark Tinker, Tailor, Solider Spy. Surely someone, somewhere dropped the ball on this? Was this the cheapest equipment and crew the BBC had on hand?

 

It’s this quest for realism that destroys this production. Putting the disastrous technical work aside, As You Like It is not a play that responds well to a realistic approach. The forest of Arden is a place more akin to magic realism. In the forest characters seem to wander freely around, don’t seem to actually live anywhere, some see their personalities change completely and events of the first Act are left so far behind that most of them are dealt with in throw-away speeches in the final scene. Basically As You Like It is set in an entirely “unreal” almost dream like world. So if there is one thing you don’t want to do, that’s shoehorn it into a realist setting.

 

But that’s what happens here. By trying to make Arden a real place, with real people, it makes the events and actions of the play almost completely absurd. By trying to impose a sense of geography and setting the action in a relentless parade of clearings (it doesn’t help that this forest seems to have more clearings and fields than trees) you can’t help but start to impose a real world logic on events that on stage you would just accept. Does the Duke really just sleep on the ground as this drama suggests? Why do people just seem to walk around the forest? How big is this forest? How can some people keep walking into each other but some never met? The more realist the approach, the more you focus on the plays (admittedly feeble) plot. Where is the drive here? What are the characters doing?

 

This is hammered home by the listless, lifeless delivery of the most of the actors in the production, and the complete lack of pace and drama that the director, Basil Coleman, has invested in any of the proceedings. This is such a straight reading (and I literally mean reading) of the play, that there is no interpretation at all. What is it about? What motivates the characters? What are their goals? By giving no directorial drive or interpretative energy, the play defaults into a serious of tedious conversations, the lack of drama accentuated by the aimless walking around or lying around on the floor that the actors have been directed to do while delivering the lines. They look so unbothered by what they are saying, and so little affected by any events of the play, that the viewer is left feeling “well if they don’t give a toss why the heck should I invest anything in this?”

 

Strange directorial choices abound. At one point Celia turns directly to the camera and announces “I like this place” as if she is promoting Thomson Holidays. A bizarre ABBA-esque music video quality is given to the final appearance of the lovers, as they dance down a hill dressed in white, intercut with all the other actors staring straight into a slowly elevating camera. Celia and Rosalind play a game of tennis with what look like cricket bats. Early on Le Beau is framed at the end of an alley of trees with his head totally obscured. The actors frequently stand in lines, probably because the camera couldn’t move (there are no prolonged tracking shots at all that I can recall). A flourish of having actors heads fill half the screen in close up while another character talks behind them is abandoned after the first half an hour.

 

And it’s long. Dear god, it’s long. When a production of As You Like It leaves in the sequences where pages sing to Touchstone (heresung by two eminently smackable child actors) you know you are in trouble. But then this scene comes so late in the play, it will only be the die-hard fans and suckers like me still watching. When this play is this dull you realise how many of the scenes until around Act Four basically revolve around characters telling each other things that are happening elsewhere or have already taken place. All comedy is lost in the languid delivery – it wasn’t until A4 S1 that I felt even slightly inclined to smile. It’s a slow, stately, appallingly unfunny meandering production of what can be a very meandering play.

 

I’d love to excuse the actors, but many of them are equally to blame. Helen Mirren is a great actress and does her best, but really her performance is nothing to write home about – you’d certainly not realise watching this that Rosalind is one of the greatest female roles in English literature. Fighting against the elements her delivery is often one note and rather shrill. There are small touches of comedy that might work on stage but are just lost in the outdoors. There isn’t really a sense of the character’s wit or brains until late in the production – for the first two acts she’s almost sullen. Anghared Rees is plain annoying as Celia. Brian Stirner is an uninspiring and dull Orlando – it’s never clear what anyone would see in him. James Bolam seems so keen on people taking him seriously as a Shakespearean actor that he neglects to bring any variance or interest in his delivery, going for a sing-song rendition that makes Touchstone irritating rather than engaging but disreputable.

 

On the positive side, Richard Pasco gives an intelligence and Bergmanesque quality to Jacques. Clive Francis as Oliver is the only actor who delivers his lines as if he is in some sort of drama and is easily the most engaging thing in the production. Dave Prowse (Darth Vader himself!) gives a sweet west-country cameo as Charles the wrestler.

 

But that’s about it as far as positives go. This is as a lame, old-fashioned, dramatically empty, imagination free version of the play. It embodies the very negative reputation this series has. It’s the sort of thing that, if shown to a teenage English class, would have them smacking the next balding man from Stratford they meet. It’s completeness alone that got me to the end. If you want an idea: for the previous two productions I filled four pages of my notebook with observations and comments about the play. With this I did just over two pages. And most of those were simply to state how dull it was. From the awful beginning to the cringe worthy ending, this is possibly the worst film of Shakespeare I have ever seen. I’ve seen it now. You don’t have to.

 

Conclusion

Quite simply the pits of the world. So awful it will make you never want to see the play again, never mind this production. The only good note is nothing, literally nothing, in this whole box set could ever be as bad of this.

 

NEXT TIME: Returning actors Richard Pasco and Charles Gray find themselves in Ancient Rome for Julius Caesar.



Richard II (Series 1 Episode 2)

Richard II

First transmitted 10th December 1978





Jon Finch and Derek Jacobi lay the foundations for civil war in the poetic opening to Shakespeare's history cycle

Cast: Derek Jacobi (Richard II), Jon Finch (Henry Bolingbroke), John Gielgud (John of Gaunt), Charles Gray (York), Wendy Hiller (Duchess of York), Mary Morris (Duchess of Gloucester), David Swift (Northumberland), Clifford Rose (Bishop of Carlisle), Charles Keating (Aumerle), Richard Owens (Mowbray), Janet Maw (Queen), Jeffrey Holland (Surrey), Jeremy Bulloch (Henry Percy), Robin Sachs (Bushy), Damien Thomas (Bagot), Alan Dalton (Green), Jonathan Adams (Gardener)

Director: David Giles

 

The second production in the series is a starrily-cast Richard II.  And what we get here is a very skilled, professional attempt at capturing this play on screen. As a play, Richard II demands a sense of scale, colour and pageantry – and perhaps, therefore, it’s one of the hardest to convey from a 4 by 3 box in the corner of a room.

 

The faithful adaptation style from R and J is continued here, with the setting exactly in period and adhering very faithfully to mainstream critical interpretations of the play. Forced by budget and house style, this is a chamber piece, a well acted conversation placed in a series of rooms or meetings at camps and tents in dead of night. When the film does move into a daytime ‘exterior’ sector, for the trial by combat in A1 S3, this is easily the least successful scene of the production, with some concessions made to the spectacle of the moment but the camera unable to move from close-ups (for fear of exposing the unrealistic set) to help create a sense of scope and tension. But what this film does know is what it can do with in its limits, and it does them very well. As a costume drama this is a very well made example of 1970s British television.

 

Giles’ direction is faithful and unimposing, using careful camera moves and framing to communicate the story simply and clearly. His focus is very much on character and performance. The direction aims at creating a claustrophobic world in which the psychology of the drama and the characters is established as keenly as possible. This more intense, focused drama plays to Giles’ strengths and it’s telling that he is far more comfortable when dealing with the more intimate scenes, which are constantly more visually interesting and dynamic than the crowd scenes. It’s rather odd – and has a big impact on the success of the opening scenes, which largely consist of large group scenes. Compare the flatness of A1 S1 with the far more dynamic and engaging two-hander in A1 S2. It’s a very telling contrast to the more ‘large scale’ R and J with its large cast of extras – here extras, when they appear, are almost shoved to the edges of the frame, as if to avoid distracting the eye as much as possible. Giles is a highly experienced studio director, and his experience working with a few actors on a close set is really clear here.

 

This production makes motions towards a more complex interpretation than the first film in the series. Before the first line of the play, Richard pauses outside the court and seems to draw breath and compose himself, preparing himself to publically take on the role of King or readying himself for a difficult confrontation. It’s strongly implied in Act 1 that Richard is behind the death of Gloucester that sparks the events of the play, a small point but one which informs a lot of Jacobi’s performance (and his cool, dismissive reactions to Mowbray) and Owens’ anger and disillusionment as Mowbray. The nature of ruling is also explored, with Richard shown as more interested in lounging around getting massages than involving himself in the business of running the country. This is a sharp contrast with Bolingbroke who is rarely seen not sitting surrounded with papers, with a hands-on style of ruling. Points like these illustrate a desire to develop an interpretation of the play, although these are kept very low key and subtle and not allowed to intrude too heavily on the actors’ performances.

 

Which is in no way a weakness, because this production has some hugely successful performances. Derek Jacobi is one of the most intelligent classical actors alive, and he brings all the focus of that intelligence to this production. Reflecting the nature of the play, his performance splits Richard into two distinct phases with the flip coming during Act Three. At first Richard is a smiling tyrant, an uncaring man convinced of his own divine certainty and seemingly incapable of understanding other people. Throughout, he treats Bolingbroke, Gaunt and especially Mowbray with a lightness and imperious cheerfulness, and a cruel streak is shown throughout with his openly giddy and joyful reaction to Gaunt’s death and his appointment of York as his deputy, which Jacobi plays almost like a private joke. He’s the sort of man who airily knocks four years off Bolingbroke’s banishment on a whim and breezily talks about his “uneasiness” before smilingly banishing Mowbray for life.  It’s clear why so many lords feel so little regard for him.

 

This then flips expertly from Act 3, as Richard’s world comes crashing down, with Jacobi delivering a rollercoaster of challenging line readings and widely oscillating emotions. In A3 S2 alone he goes from imperious confidence through, in-turn, mad-eyed certainty, despair, rage, impotent fury, heartfelt anguish, tears, desolation, resignation, self-realisation and finally a kindling of humility and humanity – all within about ten minutes of screen time and never feeling forced or misplaced. Jacobi’s Richard is being re-born during this sequence and realising he is not a god but a man who “needs bread as you do”. This sequence continues in Act 4, a tour-de-force deposition scene, with Richard torn between bitterness and the fixed neutrality of a man compelled to do an unpleasant duty. This tension only explodes once offered a list of his ‘crimes’ by Northumberland, bringing out a burst of pain and defiance at the turn-coats that surround him, but without losing his developing sense of humanity. It’s quite something to take a character so unsympathetic in the opening hour and make him someone the audience really roots for. It is performances like this that justify the BBC’s decision to chase down the big name actors.

 

Jon Finch is a great match for him as a controlled and faintly sinister Bolingbroke, giving his performance a physicality that makes him an imposing threat from the start. If Richard is a tyrant in the sense that he doesn’t really care about the country or the people in it, Bolingbroke wants to control everything and everyone – and doesn’t have a problem with judicial murders (poor Bushy and Green) or quietly (with plausible deniability) ordering royal assassinations.  There’s a touch of masculine cruelty about him – he’s probably the first Bolingbroke I’ve seen to turn “rain on the earth my waters” into a piss joke.

 

The best supporting performance here surprisingly comes from Charles Gray’s York, a well meaning, morally upright but ineffectual old buffer, almost drifted in from Wodehouse, out of his depth when dealing with strong wills like Bolingbroke and Northumberland and constantly a few moments away from tears. He may be disgusted by Bolingbroke’s actions in A2 S3 but still feels compelled to offer him a shelter for the night and raises token objections in A3 S2 but still sit on a tribunal to condemn two innocent men. By A5 S2 he needs to get drunk to tell his wife about Bolingbroke’s coronation and Richard’s imprisonment. It’s a lovely pen portrait of a weak man in a position of responsibility and influence, blown from pillar to post by those around him.

 

Other performances are less successful. I was less persuaded by Gielgud’s Gaunt, who (similar to his Chorus in R and J) speaks the lines perfectly but with a strange absence of feeling (his farewell to Bolingbroke is notably unmoving). He delivers the famous speech of the play expertly with a teary emotion but I felt he was slightly miscast, that Gaunt needed a bit more of the earthy, domineering quality that Finch’s Bolingbroke has. Most of the rest of the cast only have small moments to shine, but Richard Owens is a fine Mowbray, Clifford Rose makes a lot of a few small moments as a militant Carlisle and, after a shaky start, David Swift is a bull-like, unsubtle Northumberland. For Star Wars fans there is a chance to see Boba Fett actor Jeremy Bulloch without helmet as an energised Henry Percy. I was less keen on Charles Keating’s underplayed Aumerle, and cuts to the Queen’s already small part mean Janet Maw arrives almost too late to make any real impression.

 

There are some unusual cuts in this play. Most of A2 S2 is removed, making the arrival of Bolingbroke in the country actually a little unclear. Cutting the opening of Act 4 leaves the fate of Bagot a plot-hole. A combination of trims and underplaying in A3 S3 undermines the impact of the gardener’s scene. If they wanted to make cuts, some trims to A1 S1 and S3 – both static talking shops in this production – would have been a far better choice. There are also several moments in the play that, to be honest, don’t really work. I’ve already mentioned the pacing errors in the opening scenes, but Giles doesn’t really solve the strange ‘comedy’ sequence of Act Five involving the York family pleading against each other over the fate of Aumerle. An attempt is made at playing the comedy of the moment, but it feels even more out of place with the rest of the play (and pity Wendy Hiller that this is her only appearance in the project). Bolingbroke’s exasperated final reaction shot here also doesn’t work at all.

 

But plenty of things work well. Giles does a lot with creative framing and character movement. Throughout the film, Richard constantly ascends and descends raised platforms, moving from solitary positions then bringing himself down to the same level as his subjects (some examples can be seen in the images above). There is also some lovely use of York, placing him fairly consistently at the front of the frame, almost as a chorus for scenes, suggesting not only his isolation from Bolingbroke and his followers but also his status in this production as the most sympathetic and humane of the characters and the viewers’ window into the action.

 

The finest directorial decision is the delivery of Richard’s final monologue in A5 S5. The speech is split into five chunks, with each chunk prefaced by a cut of Richard in a new position in his prison cell, using a visual shorthand to show both the passage of time and the completion of Richard’s long journey into self realisation. In each the camera drifts slowly but tellingly in towards Richard, stressing his own introspection and his claustrophobic isolation. It’s a very clever way of using a small set and a truly cinematic way of interpreting the speech and something that could not be done on stage, and it works very effectively, creating one of the production’s highlights. But these are unobtrusive flourishes in some very unfussy visual direction.

 A montage of the different positions and placements used for Richard's final speech

I found this blog more challenging to write than the last, possibly because I expected this – particularly after the poorly paced opening scenes – to be a dry shadow of the later Rupert Goold-directed Hollow Crown version. But this manages to hold its own. It’s not completely perfect, but in terms of acting and drama it’s a major step-up from Romeo and Juliet and, in its decision to focus on exteriors and night times, it uses the restrictions of studio filming far more to its advantage. Also, while Giles might have less flair as a director, he has far more ideas about the play and about how to work with actors and direct smaller scenes, which on the whole is more important than Alvin Rakoff’s flair. I have to say I really enjoyed this production and would definitely watch it again.

Conclusion
Some very impressive acting (particularly a stunning lead performance from Derek Jacobi) and unobtrusive direction make up for some poorly paced scenes to create a pretty impressive stab at producing a small-scale spectacle of a play. Not everything completely works, but there is enough here that succeeds to make this entertaining and moving viewing. Well done BBC!

Next up: Helen Mirren and James Bolam go frolicking in the forest of Arden in As You Like It.

Romeo and Juliet (Series 1 Episode 1)

Romeo and Juliet

First Transmitted 3rd December 1978

Rebecca Saire and Patrick Ryecart star in Shakespeare's romantic tragedy

Cast: Patrick Ryecart (Romeo), Rebecca Saire (Juliet), Celia Johnson (Nurse), Michael Hordern (Capulet), Joseph O’Conor (Friar Lawrence), Anthony Andrews (Mercutio), John Gielgud (Chorus), Laurence Naismith (Prince), Jacqueline Hill (Lady Capulet), Alan Rickman (Tybalt), Christopher Strauli (Benvolio), Christopher Northey (Paris), Paul Henry (Peter), John Paul (Montague), Esmond Knight (Old Capulet), Vernon Dobtcheff (Apothecary), John Savident (Friar John)

Director: Alvin Rakoff



The inaugural production selected by the BBC, it’s very easy to see Romeo and Juliet as a mission statement for the whole series, both in style, tone and interpretation. Which in this case is to present an incredibly faithful and traditional production of the play, on an intricate set with a studied focus on verse speaking and occasional moments of directorial and interpretative flair.

It’s surely not by accident that the first voice (and the first face) seen on screen in the entire project is Sir John Gielgud as the Chorus. The greatest verse speaker of the last century and hailed one of the best classical actors in the world, it was clearly a coup for the BBC to borrow his prestige. But this opening scene also sums up some of the issues with the project, as the director Alvin Rakoff seems completely unsure about how to handle the Chorus' appearance, with Gielgud appearing in period costume as the camera tracks down and into the great actor’s face while he performs a poetry recital without a trace of character. This staging manages to make both the nature of the Chorus (Is he part of the action? Is he a ‘voice of god’ or voice of Shakespeare?) vague and the dramatic thrust of the play rather deadened from the start, as Gielgud’s recital lacks emotion (beautifully spoken as it is) and the camera basically sits there and laps it up. These issues are symptomatic with wider problems with the direction of the play that I’ll come to later.

This is a version of Romeo and Juliet that appears to be about very little other than telling the story. There is no hint that any major interpretative work or even analysis of the text has taken place. Instead the play is presented exactly “as is” with boy meeting girl leading to tragedy. Any hints that Shakespeare might be looking at other themes – say the destructive nature of passionate love, or the shadow of death lingering over hot headed young people – are completely avoided in favour of a clear and concise reading of the text.

This lack of depth is not helped by the decision to cast Ryecart and Saire. Both were cast in this film as “stars of tomorrow” but the production shows up their limitations throughout. Firstly Ryecart is hideously miscast as Romeo, totally unable to bring out any sense of romantic passion or (later) despair. From the start his discussion of Rosalind and “love’s transgression” is poetic but empty, never persuading me that he felt anything. His performance remains low energy and contained, without any real fun to him – he already seems well on the way to middle age. This hollowness at the centre of his performance continues when he meets Juliet. He only seems to come to life during Mercutio’s death and his reaction to it (though he gives a curiously peevish reading of “I thought all for the best”). Fast delivery carries him through and gives him an impression of anger which he is able to maintain in A3 S2. But by the end of the play I have no idea, as a viewer, why this Romeo does what he does or why he feels there is nothing for him in life with the loss of Juliet. It’s a misfire at the centre of the play that the production can’t really recover from.

Rebecca Saire makes better job of Juliet. Famously selected for the part aged only 14, she makes a strong fist of dialogue and interpreting the lines but, quite frankly, spends large parts of the production looking uncomfortable and out of depth. The age difference (Ryecart is 12 years older and looks it) perhaps also explains the physical discomfort between the two leads – a repeated series of chaste kisses and lack of contact is the hallmark of their relationship while in A3 S5 in bed together they seem to be going out of the way to avoid kissing too intimately. What she does manage very well are the speeches and monologues where it is clear that she has put an immense amount of thought and feeling into the dialogue. Her major speech in A4 S2 is well done, choosing to stress the sharp changes in mood and feeling throughout the script. But with the all important relationship with Romeo not convincing at all, it isn’t enough. The central casting of the two inexperienced leads fatally holes the entire enterprise under the waterline.

More success is had with some of the supporting parts. Celia Johnson is best in show here, with her Nurse coming across as a wonderfully human portrayal of this old retainer, handling the dialogue with a confident naturalism and crafting a warm-hearted well meaning servant who seems to be as closely drawn from a Hardy novel as Shakespeare. Similarly Michael Hordern gives an interesting interpretation of Capulet as a tiresome old man almost touching the edge of senility, taking on menial tasks himself due to a lack of natural authority and whose own servants roll their eyes at his feeble gags once his back is turned. Joseph O’Conor brings a solid fatherly tone to the Friar (his relationship with Juliet is especially well drawn) and Jacqueline Hill gives a touch of steeliness to Lady Capulet.

This big surprise here however is the failure of Anthony Andrews’ Mercutio. For some unfathomable reason Andrews delivers his dialogue in a halting machine-gun way that not only gives no real insight into the character but becomes increasingly more and more tiresome – dialogue is fired out like follows: “who dreams. Of courses. Straight.” And “Some time. She gallops across men’s noses. As they lie. Asleep”. Again it’s never clear why Andrews chose to do it like this or what we are supposed to surmise about Mercutio’s character from it. He improves in time for his death scene but a sense of bond between him and Romeo is never developed and Andrews, for such a charismatic performer, fails to bring any charisma to the part.

The casting that attracts the most interest now is that of Alan Rickman as Tybalt, here making his television debut. It’s surprisingly hard to review Rickman’s performance objectively, with the fore knowledge that he would become such a successful actor, but nevertheless he shows great promise here with Tybalt, investing the young hot head with both a sense of caution and reserve often missing from many interpretations. Rakoff also gives him a small moment with Juliet in the ballroom scene that allows them to establish a warmth between these two characters. And yes the famous Rickman voice is already fully intact.

The small moment Rakoff gives Tybalt with Juliet, is an example of the moment of interpretative interest Rakoff brings to the play. In the opening scene he has the townspeople of Verona turn on the Capulets and Montagues – a flourish that is so rarely done that I was surprised to find there was any textual justification for it. A scene of Capulet buying oranges at a market has the air of a downmarket Brando in the Godfather. Abraham carries a noticeable black eye for the whole play, suggesting very neatly a world of constant violence from the start. A neat shift of location allows the Friar’s long speech at the end to be cut without any awkwardness. Above all it is in the crowd and fight scenes that Rakoff succeeds. The fight direction is by William Hobbs (he later went on to do sword choreography for, among others, Dangerous Liaisons, The Man in the Iron Mask, The Count of Monte Cristo and most recently Game of Thrones) and the sword fights are fantastic – intense, detailed but also ragged and exhausting. Rakoff allows the camera to roam through the fight scenes, using a combination of tracking shots and low angles to get a sense of the melee. The fights also have a raw sense of brutality to them which makes them feel genuinely dangerous.



The fight scenes use editing and camera angles to accentuate the frantic action

Rakoff also uses a lovely motif throughout of framing his characters through arches and other parts of the set, as if to suggest the world (and death) closing in on his characters. The images opposite give an idea of this. In the first, we see Tybalt cornered and trapped by an enraged Romeo. Shortly after we get Juliet similarly framed in the garden, which now seems claustrophobic (in contrast to its first appearance where Juliet is framed in a wide open space) – with the sets after this point increasingly closing in on her, narrowing her world as options slowly retreat from her (see the third image as she lies in bed deciding on whether to take the poison). Even at the end, with Romeo outside the tomb, the building seems to be pulling him in towards it, reducing his freedom to move – an effect heightened here (so to speak) by the low angle camera used to make Paris seem both imposing and almost spectre like. Similar effects are used elsewhere for Mercutio and to a degree Paris. It's flourishes like this where we get a sense of Rakoff’s visual eye and experience as a director.

The problem is that Rakoff fails as an interpreter of Shakespeare. It’s no surprise that the more experienced actors by and large come out of this best. In terms of questioning the text and putting a new spin on the play, Rakoff hasn’t got much to offer. In thrall to Gielgud’s speaking, he encourages similar from the rest of the cast, giving us poetry but not drama. For the dialogue scenes he directs them flatly – cutting from speaker to speaker, using establishment shots and not a lot else – and by and large leaves the actors to get on with it, to mixed success. This is when the pristine street sets of Verona – I was reminded somewhat of Doctor Who’s Logopolis – and the painfully unconvincing forest set really start to jar. When it’s left with just the text, neither the director nor the lead actors seem really sure exactly what they should be doing.

It’s a well meaning attempt at doing the play, but the problem is that this rather lifeless and passionless production aesthetically follows exactly the same playbook as Zefferelli’s 1968 film version and doesn’t really have anything to bring to the table on its own account. As a faithful, clear and straight reading of the play it’s serviceable if weakly acted by the leads. But if you want to watch a film version of the play, there really is no reason at all to watch this – check out Zefferilli for a more traditional production, Luhrmann for a re-interpretation of this play.

Conclusion

Poor leading performances and a lack on interpretative insight or originality are too dominant in this fumbled production. Despite some interesting directorial decision and some very well done fights, this is a lifeless production that totally fails to get across the passion the two leads have for each other. Having said that it’s better than expected, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.

NEXT UP: I’ll be seeing Sir John again alongside Derek Jacobi as Richard II.