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Telegraph
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
The Winter's Tale: A refreshing take on one of Shakespeare's trickiest plays
Written in the twilight of Shakespeare's life, The Winter's Tale is regarded as a problem play with good reason. A complex study of the nature of dualism, power, transgression and forgiveness, it begins as a psychological drama but the tone shifts abruptly between acts three and four, and it becomes a pastoral romantic comedy. There's a jarring switch of locations, too: it starts in the austere Sicilian court of King Leontes before moving to Bohemia, the kingdom of his childhood friend Polixenes. The story is driven by Leontes's unplumbed absurd, baseless jealousy, which tears his family apart – before a Pygmalion-style miracle provides healing many years later. So the conundrum for any production is how to satisfyingly yoke together its inconsistencies of tone. Director Yaël Farber's take on it for the RSC – starring a brilliant Bertie Carvel as Leontes – is a valiant, nuanced and gripping tussle with that conundrum and, for the most part, succeeds in remaking the play afresh. A lot of that is achieved by suppressing the more farcical elements of the text but Souta Gilmour's sparse but striking set design is also key to Farber's vision. A huge and imposing moon-like orb hovers over the cast for most of the action and is the backdrop for the majority of Tim Lutkin's lighting design. It's an inspired combination of lighting and set because the orb is a visual metaphor for so many elements of the play – a potent symbol of the cyclical nature of the seasons and the passage of time, it also illustrates the violent passions driving Leontes's lunatic destruction of his family. It emphasises the blue-grey austerity of Leontes's court and contrasts that with a blood-moon hue in the wilder, more pagan Bohemia. It adds to otherworldliness created by composer's Max Perryment's ambient soundscape. Not all of Farber's directorial choices land their mark. Although Trevor Fox delivers the key character of Autolycus beautifully as a world-weary troubadour, the decision to render some of his commentary on the action in rhyming couplets falls a bit flat and doesn't ring as rich and true as Shakespeare's own language. Likewise, Madeline Appiah's Hermione, Leontes's much-abused wife, and Leah Haile's Perdita, his long-lost daughter, have an unfortunate habit of eliding their words, which makes them difficult to understand. The abridgement of Shakespeare's text for the Bohemia set scenes is also a tad severe but I can appreciate that it was necessary in order to smooth the transition of tone shift between Sicily and Bohemia. It's still a thoughtful and striking production that pays attention to details. And as for that famous stage direction 'exit, pursued by a bear' – this fresh, sparky take on it will take you by surprise. The happy ending of this play doesn't feel as pat as that of Shakespeare's other comedies. The strong cast ensures that its conclusion thrums with all that is left unsaid in the tentative reconciliation between Hermione and Leontes: a vision of love that is world-worn but still full of hope.
The Guardian
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Winter's Tale review – Bertie Carvel is chilling as the RSC ramps up the thrills
Male sexual jealousy drives Shakespeare's problem play before it is smoothed over by its 11th-hour happy ending. Yaël Farber's production animates the psychological terror that King Leontes (Bertie Carvel) wreaks on his pregnant wife Hermione (Madeline Appiah), out of his unfounded suspicion that she has been unfaithful with his old friend, Polixenes (John Light). Carvel makes a convincingly deluded barefoot king, regarding himself as the vulnerable cuckold. His suspicion turns to solid belief to unleash punishment on Hermione. In its first three sombre acts, the drama plays out as a thriller, with expressionist movement and lighting. A gigantic orb of a full moon hangs over the stage (Soutra Gilmour's design is spare and striking as a whole), turning cool white or roiling red to reflect the action. Farber recently staged two Shakespeare tragedies at the Almeida: a Macbeth four years ago which was full of slow and meditative dread, and an arresting King Lear last year. This feels like a third tragedy in some ways, lugubrious in mood and with a monochrome aesthetic in the first, darker half. But there is a fuzziness to the storytelling. This modern-dress production is all smoke and shadows, unmoored from a specific time or place, so it is harder to contextualise its themes. More specifically, some scenes are vague, such as Antigonus's pursuit by a bear which is dealt with symbolically – a static figure takes off the mask to reveal herself as Hermione. It is beautiful but unclear. Tim Lutkin's lighting design turns warm in the second half, with lovely live music (lone musicians waver around the set). The usually awkward change of mood, from dark to light, works smoothly here: the play glides into a second half with Autolycus (Trevor Fox) its light-fingered highlight. But Farber seems at pains to add her own mythical layers: the figure of Time (also Fox) speak a choral ode from Brecht's The Antigone of Sophocles instead of the Oracle of Apollo, and this is opaque in its meaning. The feast in Bohemia is inspired by the ancient Greek ritual of the Eleusinian Mysteries, so the programme explains, adding that, for Farber, Hermione and Perdita 'wear the mask of Demeter and Persephone'. An interesting idea on the page, it is gnomic on stage. There is more clarity around female strength and resistance, to counter Leontes' tyranny. Aïcha Kossoko, playing noblewoman Paulina, is a powerful presence while Appiah, as Hermione, exudes pained dignity and courage alongside her bewilderment. When she testifies in court, she is a bereft mother with lactating patches on her dress after her newborn baby has been taken from her. It is an abject scene. The production never stops looking beautiful, and bustles with a wealth of original concepts, but sometimes resembles a puzzling procession. It remains an unsolved problem play, the first half – shaped so artfully as a tragedy of explosive and irrational male rage – still not quite wedded to its second. At the Royal Shakespeare theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until 30 August
