The Comedy of Errors (Series 6 Episode 3)

First transmitted 24th December 1983

Double trouble for Roger Daltrey and Michael Kitchen

Cast: Michael Kitchen (Antipholus of Ephesus/Antipholus of Syracuse), Roger Daltrey (Dromio of Ephesus/Dromio of Syracuse), Suzanne Bertish (Adriana), Joanne Pearce (Luciana), Cyril Cusack (Egeon), Charles Gray (Duke of Ephesus), Wendy Hiller (Emilia), Ingrid Pitt (Courtesan), Nicholas Chagrin (Master of Mime), Sam Dastor (Angelo), David Kelly (Balthazar), Frank Williams (Officer), Marsha Fitzalan (Luce), Geoffrey Rose (Dr. Pinch)

Director: James Cellan Jones

I think the track record of the Shakespearean comedies in this series has been pretty well established: what works well in front of a live audience doesn’t always translate well to the screen devoid of that crucial audience interaction and the buzz of the actors feeding off the audience and vice versa. Which is to say that this is, despite a few flashes and odd bits of business, not the funniest production you are ever going to see. There are two main reasons for this.

Firstly, despite being easily the shortest play in the series, it still seems longer than it should, because it lacks energy and momentum. Too many scenes go on a fraction too long, not enough attempt is made to marry up the importance to the series of clarity and delivery of dialogue with the essential pace farce relies on. In particular, too much time is spent labouriously spelling out the various errors made by the characters, overegging the gags. As the momentum slips in the production, so the tightness of the comedy is affected, reducing the sense of audience immersion that farce needs. 

The second main reason is that, by and large, it is rather indifferently acted. To put it bluntly, while some actors try too hard to deliver comedic “turns” and mug to the camera in flashes of tedious “business” (often campy), others honestly seem to be slightly out of their depth. Even the performers who don’t fall into these two camps are underwhelming, as if they couldn’t quite click with the production, or couldn’t find the right tone. It’s unclear exactly why this is, but some elements don’t quite make sense. For example, Ephesus is clearly a laid back kinda place (mime groups and courtesans clearly have a lot of influence, and its citizens are warm and friendly). Since it’s clearly an easy going town, why is its Antipholos so up-tight and angry all the time?

It’s a sign that things haven’t been quite thought through into a coherent whole. Some of this blame probably needs to lie with James Cellan Jones who, despite some interesting touches, doesn’t have a consistent idea for the tone of the play. Which is not to say that some of the ideas are not rather effective, and it’s clear he wants to put on a production of the play that is a little bit more than just a straight comedic farce. From the start, Jones never lets the audience forget that the play is framed around an old man being sentenced to death for a trite crime, and the decision to have Egeon continually wondering around the set between scenes, forlornly searching for relief works very well to keep bringing us back to the serious issues under the surface.

But other ideas don’t quite work. Although I can see that some people would really hate it, I actually rather enjoyed the mime group at the start miming out Egeon’s story as he narrates it. It adds some visual interest to what is otherwise a massive slab of text, even though the mime group set about their work with the shallow smugness of overpraised young children. The introduction of the Master of Mime as a character suggests that the group are going to “see through” all this business from the start and they will be real presences throughout the production. But then they completely disappear (aside from a few beats between scenes) from the action, have no influence on events (other than making some disturbance in the final scene to allow the Syracuse versions to escape) and offer no commentary or chorus function. It’s always, I think, rather damning of flourishes like this if they only work once in a production – if you can’t integrate it all the way through, you are better going without it.

Then we come into the main comedy scenes themselves. Stanley Wells makes a rather interesting point about the play in performance, that it serves the production better to have actors who are not identical as it should be immediately clear to the audience at all times which of the twins they are watching at any one time. This is categorically not the case here. This is less to do with the fact that Kitchen and Daltrey play both versions of the characters, and more to do with the fact that they are wearing identical costumes (in itself this makes little real sense) and that the personalities of the two twins are too close to each other. You do see some clear variations in the final sequences in characterisation when they appear together (and the split screen work to have them appear side-by-side actually works rather well considering) but it’s not enough to really make it clear. I was pretty confused at points, especially with the Dromios – and when the audience is as unclear about what is going on as the characters, then a farce doesn’t work.

Of the two main performances in this, Roger Daltrey does an amiable job and makes a decent fist of playing the role. I read another review which describes his performance as “amiably amateur” which is pretty much on the money. It’s not bad, but he fails to differentiate at all between the two Dromios and he delivers all the lines with too much of a “comedy” acting style, as little more than thick yokels, gurning through a series of events. This noticeably fails to make the “find out countries in her” exchange anywhere near as funny as it should be, with a lack of comic timing and skill in delivery. He’s clearly pleased to be there, impossible to dislike and does not embarrass himself but is not really good enough for the part.

Michael Kitchen does a serviceable job as the Antipholi, with Syracuse as a laid back fun loving kinda guy, who can’t believe his luck to have women throwing himself at him and has a playful relationship with his Dromio. His frequent direct addresses to the camera are playful and engagingly light in tone, making Syracuse an enjoyable companion for the audience. His Ephesus interestingly comes across as an uptight bastard, a bad husband and a man openly enjoying a series of affairs (as well as, it is hinted, a quiet awareness of his sister-in-law’s possible attraction to him) who takes a sub-Fawlty delight in slapping Dromio around. Two decent performances, but nothing really special.

The ladies in their lives are equally a mixed bag. Suzanne Bertish is probably a little too shrewish as Adriana, which then makes her coquettish hinting at sex being an after dinner treat for Syracuse slightly out of whack with the rest of her characterisation. She does however handle the longer speeches well, and there is a good sense of her pain and frustration at Ephesus’ obvious lack of faith and that her own anger stems from genuine feelings she has for him. She also gets some good moments of comic business, particularly when angrily preventing a Dromio from tidying away the contents of a table. Joanne Pearce though is flat out bad as Adriana, delivering her lines with a sing-song observance of the pentameter and failing to add any depth to the character – I suspect her simpering delivery is not meant to suggest she is having an affair with Antipholos of Ephesus, as I at first read it. Ingrid Pitts is embarrassingly oversexualised as the courtesan, Marsh Fitzalan makes no impression as Luce.

The older actors emerge slightly better. Charles Gray can of course now deliver this sort of thing standing on his head, and his Duke is a reasonable authority figure and humanitarian with the expected lecherous tone (very much Gray’s calling card now). Wendy Hiller adds an authority as Emilia (although the decision to accompany all her entrances with a Hallelujah chorus is as clunky as it sounds) as well as a touching sweetness. The acting honours of the production goes to Cyril Cusack as Egeon who not only brings a real depth of feeling and fatherly longing to his opening speech, but provides a large degree of emotion to the final scene – Egeon is probably the only character in the play that consistently works throughout and makes coherent sense.

The characters and acting are a mixed bag, but there are some nice touches here. As mentioned, several of the actors address the camera at key moments, which certainly makes some of the events more engaging, even if it doesn’t really help us understand them any better. Some of the small comedic performances and “near misses” work very well – in particular a moment at the end of A3 S2 when Antipholus of Ephesus witness his brother leaving his house and confusedly stares at the wine in his hand with a shake of the head – work very well, far better in fact than the overly played physical comedy (I’ve already mentioned the sub-Fawlty bashing of Dromio – never good to remind the viewers of far superior comedies than this).

The set itself is actually quite an impressive thing, playfully making no real attempt to present a “real world” instead reducing Ephesus to a carefully constructed single square, its floor made up of a wonderfully presented map of Greece, and bright primary colours dominating the surroundings and the buildings, giving the impression of an almost fairy tale background. How this ties in with the decisions around Egeon and the harking back to his sad state I’m less clear about – but it certainly makes the drama visually interesting. The split screen work to bring both sets of twins on screen at the same time is actually rather impressive considering the technical limitations of the time.

But the problem remains that I’m just not clear in the end exactly what sort of story is actually being told here. When it tries to be a comedy, it often goes for it far too much to actually be funny. When it focuses on the framing story, it never builds the mood enough to be actually moving. It’s a noble attempt at doing a farce with serious undertones on screen – but it just never clicks into place. Perhaps the core problem is that, deep down, this is too reverent to the text, willing to sacrifice the pace of the comedy to make sure that all the dialogue is delivered crystal clearly for the sponsors, as if the team were worried that to do anything less would be to insult the playwright.

The main problem is that all the stuff that works best is “televisual” and all the stuff that brings the film down is the “Shakespeare” stuff – and I think that is rooted in the fact that James Cellan Jones seems to lack real knowledge or experience with Shakespeare, making him uncertain how to play the dialogue or the plot. The camera flourishes work very well, and the idea he has about Egeon is good – but he basically seems to feel the actual dialogue is not going to be the source of any humour so never manages to bring any of it out of the performers. He then makes this worse, by instructing the actors to deliver it with clarity and respect rather than any comedic energy – a fatal flaw that holes the production beneath the waterline.

Conclusion

Some decent directorial flourishes and a few effective scenes and jokes basically get lost in what is overall probably a rather mediocre production – never outright bad, but often just slightly off beat, off tone or just missing being truly funny. With a lack of pace, too many scenes that outstay their welcome and a mixed bag of performances, where every good performer is matched by a sub-par one, this is a production that isn’t quite brave enough to cut loose from the text and really embrace making this comedy effective for film.

NEXT TIME: Tyler Butterworth and John Hudson are Two Gentlemen of Verona on the road for fun and romance.

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.