Antony and Cleopatra (Series 3 Episode 6)

First Transmitted 8 May 1981

Colin Blakely and Jane Lapotaire's love shatters world peace

Cast: Jane Lapotaire (Cleopatra), Colin Blakely (Mark Antony), Ian Charleson (Octavius Caesar), Emrys James (Enobarbus), Esmond Knight (Lepidus), Donald Sumpter (Pompey), Lynn Farleigh (Octavia), Janet Key (Charmian), Darien Angadi (Alexas), Cassie McFarlane (Iras), Simon Chandler (Eros), Anthony Pedley (Agrippa), David Neal (Proculeius), Harry Waters (Thyreus), George Innes (Menas), Geoffrey Collins (Dolabella), Mohammed Shamsi (Mardian), John Paul (Canidius), Howard Goorney (Soothsayer)
Director: Jonathan Miller

The first season of Miller’s custodianship ends with an intimate, low-key production of one of Shakespeare’s grandest classics. And this production perhaps shows how far the series has come when compared to the earlier historical epics, such as Richard II, The Henries and, most obviously of all, Julius Caesar. Unlike the earlier plays, this takes paintings – specifically the work of Veronese – as its principle inspiration and leaves behind the literalism of historical accuracy.

Miller also of course develops his own interpretation of events, rooted right back into the casting. Miller saw the play as a drama about two former greats who have passed the peak of their powers, and are struggling to deal with and accept a world that has left them behind. Lapotaire and Blakely appear plainer and smaller than many actors cast as the characters – particularly Blakely who looks like a dwarfish faded sports star. Lapotaire is far less glamorous than previous incarnations of the character, and here is a woman aware that her position is now the key part of her allure.

While pulling the glamour out of the central couple, Miller also brings the scale of the play down to fit the small screen. With its vast number of scenes and grand continent-crossing sweep, the play is an epic, often played on the widest of stages. However Miller sets the majority of the action in a series of small, almost claustrophobic locations, with the camera zooming in on conversations. Miller also makes extensive use again of long takes, with the camera moving between parts of the scene and around characters and events. Performances in turn are defiantly real and grounded, with the characters made into flesh and blood human beings rather than heroes from history.

This atmosphere of faded grandeur matches up well with the visuals of the play. Taking Veronese’s The Family of Darius Before Alexander (see above) here as the main inspiration, Miller creates a romantic, renaissance-era style and design that bears no resemblance to actual Roman culture. Interiors are skilfully disguised utility locations, with black set construction decorated by painterly cloths and drapings that add an imperialistic luxury and style to the sets. Backdrops for the outside sequences are an almost blinding white that makes no attempt to present a realistic exterior. The painterly style of grandness – particularly embraced by the Egyptian characters as opposed to the plainer styles of Octavius and his followers – also shows how the characters themselves are reaching for a grander past just out of reach of memory. When Antony dresses in an elaborate army uniform or Cleopatra reclines in a cloth-strewn luxury tent, they seem like ageing film stars harking back to past glories of large budget film sets and costumes now a few sizes too small.

Miller uses a few nifty camera tricks to point up the differences between Rome and Egypt, particularly in visual cuts. The first transition uses a wipe that slowly pushes Egypt out of shot in favour of Rome. When Enobarbus speaks of Cleopatra’s beauty, the film jump-cuts to a close up of Octavia, as if stressing she cannot compare. Audio bridges are used throughout to move from scene to scene. Light (and the lack of it) is also used effectively. At the film’s start Antony and Cleopatra enter through a large white entranceway into a dark, cloth decorated court – an area they will not leave again until their disaster against Octavius. After his attempted suicide, the camera lowers to Antony’s perspective and a flood of light from the corner of the screen obscures the vision of the viewer just as Antony’s vision is obscured by approaching death. Cleopatra’s death sees her sitting facing the only point of light in the monument, with her back to the camera. The aim always is to show the reality just behind the illusion the central characters are trying to sustain.

Colin Blakely’s Antony is a key part of this. A short, stocky actor with a working class hardness just beneath the surface, he is a wonderfully off the wall choice to play one half of the greatest lovers of all time. He is, it seems, constantly out of his depth – from his entrance he is enraptured by Cleopatra and constantly, even in the aftermath of fits of rage, finds himself deferring to her and her moods. He is, above all, a rather unsophisticated soldier, at his most comfortable with his men before battle or when drinking on Pompey’s boat. At times he comes across like a whining child – complaining to Octavia or bitterly sulking in A3 S11 when Cleopatra loses him the battle, almost in tears at her lack of faith in him. When asking Eros to take his life, he even bitterly complains “you promised” when Eros demurs. Low and high camera angles at crucial points constantly stress his lack of stature, making him seem even more impotent and weak. At points, he takes control of himself and seems the man of legends, but he is a man on a downward slope, unable to check – or even fully recognise – the pace of his descent. It’s a lack of awareness that makes him sympathetic – as well as frustrating.

Lack of awareness cannot be levelled against Jane Lapotaire’s Cleopatra. She is a woman constantly performing, aware of the effect that every one of her actions has on those around her. She controls and manipulates Antony’s tempestuous moods with ease, and her influence over him is demonstrated well in A3 S7 as she prowls behind him in the back of the shot while he rejects the advice of those around him. A1 S3 shows she is willing to appear girlish and innocent, fondly playing cat’s cradle with Charmian while waiting for Antony – similar to the light playful attitude she is happy to show in A2 S5 while awaiting news from the messenger and in A1 S5 where she allows an illusion of equality with her servant (an attitude she is quick to drop when they say the wrong thing).

Lapotaire also brings a continual sense of vulnerability to her performance. Her reaction to news of Antony’s departure is part staged, but there is real fear and desperation in her at the thought of losing him. It’s moments like this that show the real love she holds for Antony, beneath her appreciation of the benefits of having him around. News of his marriage reduces her to an emotional breakdown and floods of genuine tears. Bu there is still a sense of realpolitik behind her actions, that makes her such an intriguing character.When all seems lost in A3 S13 she is open to hear Caesar’s version of her relationship – letting out an understanding “oh” when told she has been bewitched. Mortified, horrified and pained beyond words by Antony’s death, she still mixes this with a willingness to hear Caesar out and plan for her own possible future.

The constant beats and changes in the relationship between these two characters are skilfully played by both actors and well directed. The underlying sense of need that lies between the two characters is constantly seen, and their physical ease and naturalness stresses the intimacy between them. Though there are flashes of anger, these are short intense bursts from each of them – and the tenderness and relief of moments of reconciliation – such as in A3 S12 – are moving and above all feel real. The loyalty between them is demonstrated time and time again – and the despair when the one fears the other lost is raw and all consuming. As a depiction of a grand passion it is a like a wildfire that has consumed all the materials feeding it.

For the other parts, in another fine example of Miller’s invention, Enobarbus – often played as a plain and honest soldier – is here seen as a sleazy freeloader, constantly taking advantage of the perks of his ill-deserved position. At every instance, he eats and drinks to excess, bellows and makes loud and inappropriate comments. His presence as Antony’s chief advisor casts as much a reflection over Antony’s lack of judgement as it does over his own unsuitability. What James’ Enbarbus does well is to make his many personality flaws appear to others as disguised virtues. The real man emerges when getting drunk on Pompey’s yacht or deciding to flee Antony. The contempt with which he is met after his defection demonstrates his true standing amongst his contemporaries. Moments of genuine feeling emerge – taking advantage of Antony as he is, he clearly cares for him deeply – and when talking of Cleopatra’s beauty he finds himself drawn into reverie despite himself. But it is still a striking re-examination of the character as mildly unpleasant chancer.

Ian Charleson adds another excellent performance as a patrician and moralistic Octavius, saddened by Antony’s descent, rather than consumed by ambition. He seems determined to do what is required of him as a leader and looks scornfully at the perceived lack of worth of the other contenders for leadership – he is notably uncomfortable and eager to depart at Pompey’s party. His mixed emotions over Antony are clearly expressed when he weeps at the news of Antony’s death – he may be angered at the man for the ill-treatment of his sister (with whom he is clearly close) but there is a clear regard still for who he was (an attitude that is also clear when he bemoans Antony’s fall in A1 S4). This sense of duty and stern moralism also explains his clear lack of interest in Cleopatra’s charms.

Donald Sumpter brings  a lot of swagger to Pompey; Janet Key is a loyal and touching Charmian; Esmond Knight’s Lepidus is a well meaning man out of his depth; and David Neal is a stand out amongst Octavius’ coterie of advisors. Many regular players from the BBC series crop up in key parts and give their expected quality performances. But unlike other Miller productions, the focus is overwhelmingly on the central characters to the detriment of the supporting parts – this is one of the few productions where a minor character fails to emerge as a particular point of interest.

Miller’s main issue with the play is to resolve some of the central issues of its construction, created by Shakespeare himself. These are not completely successful. It is still an overlong production and Act 4, as always, with its yo-yoing of fortune between Octavius and Antony in battle, overextends and overplays some of the same points a few too many times. There are some key cuts – and the battle of Antioch is replaced altogether with an onscreen picture and some text from Plutarch. The downside of the smaller-scale approach is that the importance of the events of Act 4 to the future of the world is lost slightly in the crush. Some characters also fail to come really into focus – Octavius’ advisors seem to have interchangeable personalities and some characters, such as Menas, shift and change attitudes according to the demands of the plot.

By stressing a low-key, less glamourous approach to its lead characters, this production perhaps challenges expectations more than any other production so far with the exception of Miller’s own Taming of the Shrew. It finds constant new lights to shine on characters throughout. It won’t perhaps please viewers who want the epic feeling of Shakespeare’s history, but this is a striking reimagining of Shakespeare’s play.

Conclusion

With some excellent performances, a consistent visual imagery throughout and strong, imaginative direction, this is a very well done version of Shakespeare’s play. It doesn’t resolve all the issues of Shakespeare’s original – the vast number of scenes and occasional lapses of pace in the action – and in working so heavily on the interpretation of the principal characters, the supporting roles get a little lost. However there are plenty of fascinating ideas and interpretative energy here as always, and the lead performances hold the play together extremely well.

Next time: OK the controversial one. Anthony Hopkins blacks up as the Moor and Bob Hoskins plays his dark angel in Othello.

Julius Caesar (Series 1 Episode 4)

Julius Caesar

First transmitted 11th February 1979

 

Richard Pasco, Keith Michell and Charles Gray take us to Ancient Rome for paranoia and murder

 

Cast: Richard Pasco (Brutus), Keith Michell (Mark Antony), Charles Gray (Julius Caesar), David Collings (Cassius), Virginia McKenna (Portia), Elizabeth Spriggs (Calphurnia), Garrick Hagon (Octavius Caesar), William Simons (Trebonius), Sam Dastor (Casca), Alexander Davion (Decius Brutus), Brian Coburn (Messala), Darien Angadi (Cinna), Andrew Hilton (Lucilius)

Director: Herbert Wise

 

I have always had a soft spot for Julius Caesar. I have also always loved the classic BBC Roman drama series I, Claudius. So I should say that from the start I was pre-disposed to like an ancient Roman set Shakespeare drama, directed by the man who made I, Claudius. But, even despite this, I’ve got to say this is an intelligent, well acted adaptation of the play, inventively directed and full of a host of good ideas.

 

Returning to the studio set from the total failure of location shooting is a massive boon here. Tony Abbot’s complex Roman forum set feels suitably lived in. Yes if you want you can pick fault with an (obviously) fake blue sky that is artfully concealed in the background of several shots (and a matte painting hill), but remember the constraints of the time. And I would take imaginative direction and good acting over an expensive location shoot ham-fistedly managed any day.

 

Herbert Wise effectively creates a sense of scale here with a series of effective crane shots. Right from the start, the camera looms down and into an empty street, while we hear the chants of “Caesar, Caesar” off screen from the Roman crowds. It straight away creates an atmosphere, before the screen is populated with a vibrant crowd scene. These shots are repeated at key moments throughout, always acting to stress the grandeur of events, most notably in the meeting of the generals before the final battle.

 

In fact the camera work throughout is actually rather sophisticated. Long takes never appear static as a roving camera is used throughout, moving in and around the characters, prowling behind the actors, making the viewing experience the most immersive I’ve seen so far in this series. Wise’s camera makes the viewer as much a conspirator as the senators, joining them in close conversations and twitchily moving with them, as if under a paranoid scrutiny. Crowd scenes are shot throughout with an intelligence and dynamism that suggest a far larger company – Antony’s speech uses the crowd particularly well. A neat trick is carried out by having the crowds rush to get their revenge for Caesar’s reveal leaving behind (in a reveal to the audience) the soothsayer staring at Caesar’s corpse (take a look at the image below to see what I mean). Put your prejudices aside – this is seriously well-made stuff (for the time). Imagine what could have been done with the budget of The Hollow Crown here. And god almighty it is such a relief to find something so well made after the disaster of As You Like It.

 

Where Wise really scores in is that his directorial invention is not just restricted to the technical. Genuine thought about interpretation and the text seems to have gone into this, in ways which haven’t really been as apparent in any of the other productions I’ve seen so far. To Wise this is a paranoid, claustrophobic, political thriller with a real psychological edge and every directorial flourish is built around creating this interpretation of the play. This is most apparent in the decision to have the monologues delivered primarily as voiceovers, with a roving camera studying the actors intently thinking their way through the line and thought processes. However, at crucial points the characters blurt out loud key lines and phrases, as if the thoughts were too strong for them to keep inside. For instance in A1 S4, Brutus’ speech is all voiceover, other than the key phase “then lest he may prevent”. In A3 S1 Antony’s self accusation over Caesar’s body is all voiceover bar “Butchers!” and from “Cry havoc” onwards. It sounds corny when written down, but it not only shows the intelligence of the characters, it also gives a key psychological impact to them – it’s the best expression yet I’ve seen of thinking in this series, and the only real attempt so far to show soliloquies in a cinematic manner.

 

The characterisation of the conspirators also stresses their ‘public schoolboy’ nature. I really noticed the number of times Brutus refers to his school here – at least four characters are old school chums. Brutus himself is a patrician Eton head-boy, totally at ease with his status and expecting respect and deference from those around him, with Cassius almost like an over-eager Eton-fag, yearning for approval. Everything about the manner of the conspirators seems to suggest the simple assurance of men trained to positions, treating the plebians as people who don’t know what’s best for them. It’s clear from the start they never think through any of the things they must do to conduct a successful conspiracy, expecting all to fall into place. These people just don’t understand in any way ’politics’ in the way that Caesar and Antony do.

 

Richard Pasco’s performance really seizes this interpretation of the conspirators with a vengeance. His Brutus is a hard man to like, impassive, arrogant and imposing but crucially not charismatic. He is a man devoid of any doubt once he has made a decision, he seizes the position of authority in any group as a divine right – the slightest questioning of him in A4 S2 by Cassius sees him first treat him like a dismissive older brother and then flip a table over in fury. There is a strange, unsettling calm about him and a sense of a man unable to truly understand the situation he is in. He sees himself as a master of events but is constantly buffeted by them. His appeal to the people is like a top scholar’s detailed homework and betrays his lack of appeal to those beyond his immediate contact. It’s a really interesting insight into a man who doesn’t seem to appreciate and understand anything – an arrogant man reduced in the end to literally crawling through the dirt asking someone to kill him. He is exactly the sort of man these posh schoolboys would think should appeal to the people. Richard Pasco is a little forgotten today, but you can see why he was such a leading classical actor at the height of his career.

 

It’s fair to say that the other performances don’t quite come up to his level. Keith Michell feels a little too old for Antony, and slightly overplays his wilder emotions, particularly in A3 S2. But he handles the big speech very well, subtly demonstrating Antony’s feel for politics. Small moments show him measuring the reaction of the audience and steeling himself to make the correct intervention at the crucial moment. David Collings’ Cassius veers a little too close to camp at key moments, particularly in the play’s opening. What he does do well is demonstrate how unequal the friendship with Brutus is, that Brutus is far more important to Cassius than vice versa. But although he delivers a good sense of Cassius’ willing submission to Brutus he doesn’t manage to make the part as moving as the interpretation suggests it could be.

 

A great success in Richard II, Charles Gray here is too weak a figure as Caesar. His features and manner suggest a stressed Baron von Greenback, and there are too many moments of weakness thrown in by Gray and Wise – this Caesar has a suggestion of an epileptic fit on his first appearance, trips down the stairs in the background at one point and has a constant sheen of sweat on his face. With Calphurnia he appears more as a petulant schoolboy – it all serves to undermine the character a little too much. Strangely, his strongest moment is his ghostly appearance late in the play. For the other performances, Elizabeth Spriggs goes well against type as a matronly, feminine Calphurnia and outshines Virginia McKenna’s high profile but less interesting Portia. Amongst a host of alumni from I, Claudius, Sam Dastor makes an urbane Casca.

 

Whatever small flaws there are in performances here though, each actor really handles the close-ups very well. The pressure-cooker events are nicely conveyed by the sweat that seems to be permanently placed on each forehead, as the camera drills in – at one point right into Cassius’ eyes. Acting without speaking is also spot-on here – unlike some other moments in these productions, the actors are clearly measuring and weighing everything being said to them. It’s striking in A1 S2 how little Brutus speaks, but yet how Pasco is always the focus of the scene and that the viewer learns more about him than Cassius. In A4 S1 the tension of the triumvirate is elegantly shown through a series of tight close ups on frowning, tense faces. Before the final battle, the camera roams around Brutus’ camp, lingering on the faces of the soldiers and observing a desolate Cassius who can hardly look at Brutus as he says farewell. The focus is on character not action – even the death of Caesar happens in the back of the shot, with Brutus’ guilty face as the audiences’ primary focus.

 

It’s probably clear by now that I enjoyed this production a fair bit. I feel there is more that I could mention and as I scan through the five pages of notes I made on this production (the most so far!) I feel sure I missed some things out. Now I will agree that not everything here is perfect – if you are not immersed in the budgeted production standards of the time you will see the obvious sets and dated costumes you expect to see. And yes, the final frenzied stabbing of Caesar partly happens off camera as the actors (clearly!) are not actually driving their swords into his body. But, honestly, look past some of the cheapness and there is some really compelling stuff here. It’s TV with intelligence but not flashy self-consciousness, and there should always be a place for that and I think reflects something we’ve lost in this Golden Age of high production values, brilliantly smart television – that love of something put together on the cheap but with real imagination, creativity and love. So god love you Herbert Wise, Richard Pasco and company – you should be proud of this.

 

 

Conclusion

Some truly intelligent direction delivers, for the first time, an actual interpretation rather than a straight telling of the play. A terrific performance by Richard Pasco anchors a production where everyone has their moment to shine. Stuffed with ideas and creativity, and also with a coherent visual sense and an ability to offer more than the ‘expected’ shots, this is the best film in the series so far.

 

NEXT TIME: Tim Piggot-Smith blackmails Kate Nelligan to surrender her virginity in Measure for Measure.