You Are Here at Southwark Playhouse: A Pleasant Surpriseby Randi / May 27, 2021PEOPLE! Can you believe it? For the first time since March 14, 2020, when we saw Uncle Vanya in the West End and the guy behind me coughed a bunch and we realized ‘oh this is bad’ (the spectre of disease, not the play; the play was incredible) (and then I had covid – was it from him? we’ll never know (just kidding I know it was you asshole)), we were back at a LIVE FORKING SHOW in person in a theatre! Well not ‘in’ – our first show back wisely took place in an outdoor amphitheatre; we’re not crazy! Gimme that wind if I’m around other people! But wow, can you imagine how excited I am? I LOVE THE THEE UH TUHHH.
I wonder if the excitement of being back would have made me enjoy even a bad play, but we will never know because Official Return Show was quite an impressive little treat. ‘Adventures with the Painted People’, by David Greig, is a four-hander (you remember how I changed the terms to make them accurate?) that tells of a Roman officer named Lucius who gets kidnapped by Picts. It’s 2000 years ago and Romans have taken over, killed all the good Pictish men, ruined everything as invaders do for native peoples. When a group of Pictish boys find the stray Roman by the water, they knock him out and bring him to their tribe’s witch, Eithne, to be a sacrifice, naturally.
For someone being tied up in a witch’s ‘house of the dead’ which is really a cave of the dead which is much worse, Lucius never seems too angry or upset. Nicholas Karimi’s portrayal is really likeable, and you’re like aw I hope he doesn’t get sacrificed. He writes insubstantial poetry, but you can tell he feels more dreamy than the rigidity of a Roman officer’s life would normally allow. And that makes for a good pairing with Kirsty Stuart’s Eithne, the Pictish version of a manic pixie dream girl if ever there was one. (Manic pictish dream girl OH MY GOD.) She’s full of energy and conversations with spirits and flowery language, compared to the Roman’s straight lines. And yet, as she tells her captive, she wants his help to become Roman, so that she can implore the governor to work with her to implement peace instead of continued violence on her people. Maybe if he helps her, she won’t sacrifice him. Also if there’s a good pig she won’t need to.
In this early-AD Odd Couple, Eithne, witch of the salmon people who only tell stories by fire pit, learns how to read and write, learns about world history, learns about Roman life and laws. Lucius learns about the Pictish people, those that his mission has been to quash, and decides to write about this woman and her life. They both warm to each other. Over the weeks they study together in this cave, they become friends, and then they start to fall in love, obvs.
A love story between these two stark contrasts – one of straight lines, one of nature and spirits; one of the invaders vs. one of the oppressed natives – could easily have been as trite and schmaltzy (and annoying) as other attempts at heartfelt stories between colonizer and victim usually are. Although I feared that the final scene would be a bit like the U.S.-only ending of the 2005 Pride & Prejudice – which is superior, but too romantic for Brits apparently – this play managed to avoid all potential traps due to its strong writing delivering on a well-formed idea of what it wanted to accomplish. It did so with humor, great performances, and solid direction from Elizabeth Newman. I really enjoyed the set design and staging (I can’t find if Lizzie or someone else is responsible for the design), especially the circle of fire (erma erma) and the gorgeously done mosaic reveal (LOVED). The only thing I didn’t enjoy was that the little fire pit onstage blew all its smoke right in my face for a good hour as it died out, like no matter what the wind brought it right into my face, the face of the person in that audience who tolerates smoke the worst. My eyes are still burning two days later (they are like pumice, it’s not great). But that’s just me I’m weird. (See seating info below.)
Between the otherwise fresh air in Pitlochry and the lack of a stranger sitting right next to me (keep this up forever, maybe?), this returnship was about as nice as I could have hoped. Sure I got so nauseous on the winding Napoli-coastline-style drive that we had to stop so I could [redacted], but still, what a night. I highly recommend this show.
INFORMATION
The outdoor amphitheatre is up a windy hill, and although the main building and parking lot is a construction zone at present, the climb up and the amphi’s setting is beyond gorgeous. I need to talk to whoever is in charge of their gardening because um I need your help. Although the setting is lovely, the walk may be difficult for those who are less ambulatory.
Because the main building’s under construction and the shows are happening in this relatively small outdoor area at the top of a freaking hill, that means the toilets are unavailable. There is a portapotty up on the hill – one, for everyone. Luckily it never got too crowded (do Scottish people not pee??) but I was less than thrilled about having to use a porto three times (three is the bare minimum for me at the theatre, what fun I have). It was clean and whatever but I dreamt longingly of the endless immaculate newly refurbished stalls of Broadway’s Lyric Theatre, oh those were the days. Oh there are two bar setups up there as well. Nothing more UK than two spacious bar setups with like four staff members, but one toilet.
You have to wear masks everywhere except when you are seated, which seems a bit nonsensical since that’s when you are closest to other people and not walking around an incredibly spacious garden setting. That should really be rethought. Groups are sat so there’s a good few feet between them on each row, but it doesn’t stagger from row to row, meaning you have someone right behind and right in front of you. I guess that’s smarter than being surrounded on all diagonals? but because of it I wish they didn’t actively tell people they could take their masks off once seated.
The seating is open plan; an usher will seat you as you arrive. They sat us on the far aisle from where you enter, second row, so don’t sit there if you hate smoke. Although that was probably a unique occurrence from the universe just to fork with me so you’ll be fine.
‘Adventures of the Painted People’ plays at the Pitlochry Festival Theatre (in Perthshire, the most beautiful part of Scotland), until July 4, when I assume the closing performance will be marked with nonstop fireworks from your shitty neighbors. Just kidding, not in Scotland baby!
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“Othello” at Shakespeare’s Globe: Men Be Trippin
It’s Theatre Thursday! We’re talking about Othello, playing at Shakespeare’s Globe in London until October 13.
Othello is a bananas insulting play. We don’t need to hold Shakespeare to the standards of modern society in terms of equality (mainly feminism (and racism) (okay all equality kinds)) because the 400 year difference in eras makes that a fool’s errand, and pretty much all of Shakespeare’s works can be excused as ‘old-fashioned’ or ‘a product of its era’ in terms of equality and feminist ideals. But, hoo boy, Othello is a special one. It’s been a minute since I read it, so the details outside of ‘bad man convinces other man that wife is cheating and should die’ had fled my mind, but now that my memory has been refreshed, well there’s not much more I’d add to that gist. Not the most progressive stuff in this day and age, but the current production at the Globe, starring my man Mark Rylance, is faultless (other than the plot obvs), and it’s a must-see for any fans of Shakespeare, Mark, and/or theatre. What a fantastic production that will make you feel like you just got punched in the throat.
Othello is a bananas insulting play. We don’t need to hold Shakespeare to the standards of modern society in terms of equality (mainly feminism (and racism) (okay all equality kinds)) because the 400 year difference in eras makes that a fool’s errand, and pretty much all of Shakespeare’s works can be excused as ‘old-fashioned’ or ‘a product of its era’ in terms of equality and feminist ideals. But, hoo boy, Othello is a special one. It’s been a minute since I read it, so the details outside of ‘bad man convinces other man that wife is cheating and should die’ had fled my mind, but now that my memory has been refreshed, well there’s not much more I’d add to that gist. Not the most progressive stuff in this day and age, but the current production at the Globe, starring my man Mark Rylance, is faultless (other than the plot obvs), and it’s a must-see for any fans of Shakespeare, Mark, and/or theatre. What a fantastic production that will make you feel like you just got punched in the throat.
It’s so important to see this production that I was a GROUNDLING for the first time. In a nod to authenticity, the Globe in London still has the whole floor (where the stalls/orchestra seats would be in a normal theatre) reserved for the po-pos, called groundlings, who stand wherever they want and push each other around and tend to display all kinds of boorish behavior (-100 points!) for only 5 pounddollars! Three hours of standing for only $5, how lucky AM I? People love the groundling experience, and I will admit that it was very cool to see Shakespeare in the tradition of how people saw his plays back in the day, but only for like 20 minutes and then my feet hurt.
As for the plot aside from my barebones recounting of it above, I was a little confused at the beginning because, as a groundling, I was trying to get used to said boorish behavior of those around me. STOP TALKING IN THE THEATRE, EVERYONE! But I caught on. So there’s this skinny blond rich twink named Roderigo who is sad because he’s in love with a lady named Desdemona (sure you are) and she just secretly married a black man named Othello, and Roderigo is like how dare a woman marry who she loves. Roddy’s doing all his manly complaining to his friend Iago (dun dun DUNNNN) who is an officer, and Iago is like ‘okay I can get on board with hating this couple because Othello, the general of the army, just promoted this dude Cassio instead of me, even though I’m clearly a respectable soldier who isn’t proving Othello’s decision right or anything with my scheming, no way.’ Othello is a moor from Venice which means he is dark-skinned and everyone back then (lol not now no sir) was hella racist so that plays into the men’s distrust and dislike of him as well. They start plotting against Othello, although Roddy doesn’t really seem into the deathly parts but maybe I missed that because I was distracted by his appearance like he was waiting for the clubs to open in Barthelona. Iago is played by the great Mark Rylance in a real departure from his usual characters, since he is SO LOVABLE and Iago is NOT. His Iago contains some of Mark’s trademark awkwardness and is a little doofy so his evil is really not obvious. Sometimes his portrayal didn’t really jive for me because I was concerned that he was like confused from a head injury. It’s a very different take but it makes sense that no one would suspect this sometimes-bumbling fool to be plotting super bad things.
As for the plot aside from my barebones recounting of it above, I was a little confused at the beginning because, as a groundling, I was trying to get used to said boorish behavior of those around me. STOP TALKING IN THE THEATRE, EVERYONE! But I caught on. So there’s this skinny blond rich twink named Roderigo who is sad because he’s in love with a lady named Desdemona (sure you are) and she just secretly married a black man named Othello, and Roderigo is like how dare a woman marry who she loves. Roddy’s doing all his manly complaining to his friend Iago (dun dun DUNNNN) who is an officer, and Iago is like ‘okay I can get on board with hating this couple because Othello, the general of the army, just promoted this dude Cassio instead of me, even though I’m clearly a respectable soldier who isn’t proving Othello’s decision right or anything with my scheming, no way.’ Othello is a moor from Venice which means he is dark-skinned and everyone back then (lol not now no sir) was hella racist so that plays into the men’s distrust and dislike of him as well. They start plotting against Othello, although Roddy doesn’t really seem into the deathly parts but maybe I missed that because I was distracted by his appearance like he was waiting for the clubs to open in Barthelona. Iago is played by the great Mark Rylance in a real departure from his usual characters, since he is SO LOVABLE and Iago is NOT. His Iago contains some of Mark’s trademark awkwardness and is a little doofy so his evil is really not obvious. Sometimes his portrayal didn’t really jive for me because I was concerned that he was like confused from a head injury. It’s a very different take but it makes sense that no one would suspect this sometimes-bumbling fool to be plotting super bad things.
WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE A LOBBY BOY?
But plotting bad things he is! He does all kinds of dastardly little things like leaving handkerchiefs in telling places and whispering sweet nothings into Othello’s ear to make him doubt his wife. He of course has to bring Cassio into this, the man who got the promotion instead of him, and take him down too by having it look like Desdemona and Cassio are having an affair. I think we’re supposed to maybe feel sorry for Othello that he is so easily tricked by Iago but like, dude, how about talk to your wife first instead of killing her? But like also even if she was cheating, she doesn’t deserve to die, man, just get a forking divorce. MEN ARE SCARY. More on that later.
Othello was played by Andre Holland, the actor from ‘The Knick’ but really ‘Moonlight’ because I never watched ‘The Knick’. I’ve never seen or heard of him doing Shakespeare or anything of the sort before, and he was wonderful. He seemed so comfortable on this very challenging stage, and when you can hold your own against Mark Rylance, who kind of is the Globe theatre, you’re prettayyy awesome. Most of their supporting cast was great too. Jessica Warbeck’s Desdemona was solid, and given that I think Desdemona kind of sucks to play (she doesn’t do anything except be nice (and kind of bland) and then she dies and like isn’t mad) she seemed to be dedicated to her role. Aaron Pierre’s Cassio was one of my favorites, probably because he is the only decent man onstage. And let’s talk about Sheila Atim as Emilia, Iago’s wife. Not that I’d in a million years buy her married to Mark Rylance, but she is so magnetic and watchable in anything, even when she’s not singing. But they shoeshorned a few musical moments into this play literally just to make her sing (she did just win an Olivier for a musical), which I fully appreciated even if it was a little too shoehorny. But my god, she is so good. You kind of want to scream at Emilia for helping her husband with the whole planting the handkerchief scheme, and sure she doesn’t know that he is so wickedly scheming and she’s just having fun with her husband but like come on don’t be so daft. But you can’t be mad at Sheila Atim.
Also Sheila looked absolute FIRE in her space-age golden jumpsuit with shoulder pads straight out of the closet of a Star Trek Admiral’s closet. I almost yelled ‘fire’ too which is bad/illegal in a crowded theatre and extra bad considering this one’s burned down before but DAYUM. The costumer clearly loved Sheila and hated Jessica, though, because Desdemona’s Act II black velvet-looking gown was notttt flattering, mostly because it had my most-hated fashion don’t – cut outs in weird places. This dress fell victim to the worst culprit of all – the chest cutout, so somewhere between the neck and the cleavage there was an oval of missing fabric. THIS IS NOT A GUD FASHUN, EVERYONE. It’s actually really important to get the costumes right because in this instance it was so unattractive and misguided that for a second I was like ‘ugh kill it’ and then like, he did.
So let’s circle back now to the whole ‘Othello killed his wife because he thought she was cheating, but she wasn’t, so it’s sooo sad’ thing. Say this out loud with me: Even if she was cheating, she doesn’t deserve to die! It still would have been sad if Iago was right and they were having an affair because it would be a man taking justice into his own hands and really doing all he can to one-up his wife’s wrongdoing by doing a MURDER. It is not sad because an innocent woman died; it is sad because a woman died. I feel like Othello’s remorse at the end when he realizes Desdie wasn’t cheating mirrors John McCain’s famed town hall answer to that racist blonde woman’s question. In case you didn’t see the video that was widely used after his death to show that McCain was ‘one of the good Republicans’, a horrible woman said she didn’t trust Obama because she read that he was an Arab. McCain answered, “No ma’am, he’s a decent family man.’ And PEOPLE ARE USING THIS TO PROVE WHAT A SAINT HE WAS. The good answer in this situation, in case you too are a racist monster, is ‘He’s not an Arab but ARABS CAN BE GOOD PEOPLE TOO’, not ‘he’s not an Arab AND SO he’s a good person.’ MAN ALIVE (Or in this case, not (too soon?!)). Anyway, so I see a connection between this bonkers but ‘light-level’ racism being used to shore up McCain’s persona, and Othello’s ‘oh my god I shouldn’t have killed my wife, she was faithful to me after all’ realization. BOTH ARE THE WRONG TAKES, MEN.
And so this play leaves me infuriated, because the message seems to be that jealousy is bad, and you should trust your wife, and you should communicate better, when it should also include a bit about not killing anyone regardless of their wrongdoing. In the same summer I saw Carousel on Broadway – unaltered in its portrayal of a serial abuser, and so wrongheaded in this day and age – I can’t help but just sigh loudly and groan that men are trash. I am, however, very pleased with this production and this cast and the Globe’s return to faithful interpretations of classics, and I definitely recommend you see this if you can, but like, ughhh.
Othello was played by Andre Holland, the actor from ‘The Knick’ but really ‘Moonlight’ because I never watched ‘The Knick’. I’ve never seen or heard of him doing Shakespeare or anything of the sort before, and he was wonderful. He seemed so comfortable on this very challenging stage, and when you can hold your own against Mark Rylance, who kind of is the Globe theatre, you’re prettayyy awesome. Most of their supporting cast was great too. Jessica Warbeck’s Desdemona was solid, and given that I think Desdemona kind of sucks to play (she doesn’t do anything except be nice (and kind of bland) and then she dies and like isn’t mad) she seemed to be dedicated to her role. Aaron Pierre’s Cassio was one of my favorites, probably because he is the only decent man onstage. And let’s talk about Sheila Atim as Emilia, Iago’s wife. Not that I’d in a million years buy her married to Mark Rylance, but she is so magnetic and watchable in anything, even when she’s not singing. But they shoeshorned a few musical moments into this play literally just to make her sing (she did just win an Olivier for a musical), which I fully appreciated even if it was a little too shoehorny. But my god, she is so good. You kind of want to scream at Emilia for helping her husband with the whole planting the handkerchief scheme, and sure she doesn’t know that he is so wickedly scheming and she’s just having fun with her husband but like come on don’t be so daft. But you can’t be mad at Sheila Atim.
Also Sheila looked absolute FIRE in her space-age golden jumpsuit with shoulder pads straight out of the closet of a Star Trek Admiral’s closet. I almost yelled ‘fire’ too which is bad/illegal in a crowded theatre and extra bad considering this one’s burned down before but DAYUM. The costumer clearly loved Sheila and hated Jessica, though, because Desdemona’s Act II black velvet-looking gown was notttt flattering, mostly because it had my most-hated fashion don’t – cut outs in weird places. This dress fell victim to the worst culprit of all – the chest cutout, so somewhere between the neck and the cleavage there was an oval of missing fabric. THIS IS NOT A GUD FASHUN, EVERYONE. It’s actually really important to get the costumes right because in this instance it was so unattractive and misguided that for a second I was like ‘ugh kill it’ and then like, he did.
So let’s circle back now to the whole ‘Othello killed his wife because he thought she was cheating, but she wasn’t, so it’s sooo sad’ thing. Say this out loud with me: Even if she was cheating, she doesn’t deserve to die! It still would have been sad if Iago was right and they were having an affair because it would be a man taking justice into his own hands and really doing all he can to one-up his wife’s wrongdoing by doing a MURDER. It is not sad because an innocent woman died; it is sad because a woman died. I feel like Othello’s remorse at the end when he realizes Desdie wasn’t cheating mirrors John McCain’s famed town hall answer to that racist blonde woman’s question. In case you didn’t see the video that was widely used after his death to show that McCain was ‘one of the good Republicans’, a horrible woman said she didn’t trust Obama because she read that he was an Arab. McCain answered, “No ma’am, he’s a decent family man.’ And PEOPLE ARE USING THIS TO PROVE WHAT A SAINT HE WAS. The good answer in this situation, in case you too are a racist monster, is ‘He’s not an Arab but ARABS CAN BE GOOD PEOPLE TOO’, not ‘he’s not an Arab AND SO he’s a good person.’ MAN ALIVE (Or in this case, not (too soon?!)). Anyway, so I see a connection between this bonkers but ‘light-level’ racism being used to shore up McCain’s persona, and Othello’s ‘oh my god I shouldn’t have killed my wife, she was faithful to me after all’ realization. BOTH ARE THE WRONG TAKES, MEN.
And so this play leaves me infuriated, because the message seems to be that jealousy is bad, and you should trust your wife, and you should communicate better, when it should also include a bit about not killing anyone regardless of their wrongdoing. In the same summer I saw Carousel on Broadway – unaltered in its portrayal of a serial abuser, and so wrongheaded in this day and age – I can’t help but just sigh loudly and groan that men are trash. I am, however, very pleased with this production and this cast and the Globe’s return to faithful interpretations of classics, and I definitely recommend you see this if you can, but like, ughhh.
Tom Stoppard’s New Epic Leopoldstadt is Just What this Town Needs
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Leopoldstadt, playing at London’s Wyndham’s Theatre in an open-ended run.
I mean, man alive. If you want to feel like you’ve been punched in the gut but are really grateful for it, then you are ready for Tom Stoppard’s new, and possibly his last, play Leopoldstadt. Following an extended Jewish family from 1899 in Vienna until, well, later, the play is a heavy exploration of how this family’s fortunes changed from one generation to the next and how their country treated them over time. The giant cast and the constantly changing ages of the characters prevent real attachment to any individual – or real grasping of who’s who – but the details are less important than the serious emotional pull created in this powerful work.
And that emotional heft is considerable. Despite not fully understanding how each relative was connected (there’s a family tree in the programme, but good luck keeping it all straight (you won’t!)), those particulars weren’t necessary to understand who these people were and to care in general about what was going to happen as we get further into the 20th century. The play achieves an almost immediate sense of intimacy with this family, helped by little glimpses of how all the members interact, throwing us right into their gatherings and conversations without wasting time explaining. The visuals help as well, with the lush Christmas celebration at the start and the same room slowly changing, and dwindling, scene by scene.
The family quickly feels familiar, even though with each scene change and time jump you have new faces to put to somewhat-old names as well as new names and faces to try to connect to those old names you sort of remember. (Don’t think about it too hard, too too hard.) When the names do stick, the payoff is remarkable (especially when you think e.g. ‘oh that little tot Heini is supes adorbs’ and then at the last part of the show you squeaky cry remembering who he is). We follow the family through a changing Vienna and a changing Leopoldstadt, the Jewish quarter, as they go from well-to-do members of the business community, to people forbidden from working, owning property, being citizens of their own land. You know what’s coming, but it never feels predictable, only powerful.
I’m fascinated by how a master playwright can take aspects of a show that would otherwise be somewhat trying and make it wonderful. The broken cup coming on the night of broken glass felt poetic and not at all transparent. There’s a lot of speechifying in this show, the sort where I’d often be like ‘ALRIGHT WRAP IT UP CUBA’ and think about how much more effective and efficient it would have been to express those ideas shared through dialogue or action. But the long monologues, especially between the two brothers in the first scene on what it means to be Jewish and never be able to stop being it, I found riveting. Despite several long speeches, breadth of characters instead of depth, and the overall feeling of impending doom, I never felt antsy (nor did I consider how I would fix this show, which as you know is one of my main hobbies).
As usual with plays of this subject matter, the relevance for society today is pretty overwhelming. It’s an important, powerful play that’s aware of its importance without being obvious about it. There’s so much for audiences to learn from it, especially London audiences (including one lesson from Fritz, an asshole for sure, as I wish more anti-Semites would take their lead from him and refuse to fight Jews. I mean that would help a lot of American rallies for one thing.)
All my belly-aching about how Jews and Jewishness are treated (spoiler: badly) in London theatre, and Stoppard comes along with a play doing everything right. Patrick Marber’s direction is great (jew!), Tom’s son Ed is acting in it (jew!), and not to assume things but at least some of the many Jewish-sounding names in the cast have to pan out (jews!). Aside from sobbing at the end so hard that I had literally yoga breathe to not make squeaky noises in the silent theatre, I left feeling pleased with what this powerful show does to improve London’s track record in this regard.
INFORMATION
The show is 2 ½ hours. Act I ended at 20:30 on the dot, so it’s a rare occurrence of a second act being longer but the play still being good.
We sat for the first time at Wyndham’s in the stalls boxes – it’s a private box but instead of up the sides of the theatre, it’s behind the last row of the stalls at ground level. None of the ushers seemed to know how to get to it (it has its own door from outside!) but luckily the house manager who took care of us was amazing. Weird, but we kind of loved it! There’s no one whispering behind you! No one around you bothering the everloving fork out of you! No one in front who you can see trying and failing to sneakily use their phones on their laps (although the people in front of us were full on Seinfeld-at-Schindler’s-Listing, which is forking nonsense. you’re at a HOLOCAUST SHOW. have some g-d DECENCY). Anyway would sit again.
