There's Nowt So Queer as Coriolanus

Staging a production of one of Shakespeare’s more difficult plays?  Unsure of how to make it more accessible to a modern audience?  Handsome men rolling around the stage together – it’s the answer to everything.

Of course, we were lucky to make it to the Donmar’s production of Coriolanus at all, considering we got lost on our way to the theatre.  We got there eventually, after calling into a nearby hotel to ask for directions – although even the receptionist had to Google the place for us.

After sitting down in our vaguely uncomfortable seats, our eyes were immediately drawn to the bare stage, with just a ladder and some plastic chairs making up the set decoration.  Well, I say ‘immediately’....I was also keeping my eyes peeled for Hiddleston fangirls on the prowl.  After reports of performances being disturbed, Hiddleston being chased down the street on his way home and post-show signings actually being cancelled, I was curious to see if any of the scarier elements of his fanbase had turned up.

The play itself is a fantastic production and does a great job of portraying one of the least tragic of Shakespeare’s tragic heroes.  We see him as a wounded war hero, washing off his blood in a shower scene that surely left most of the audience ever so slightly aroused.  As Hiddleston walked off the stage, wet and half naked, I could clearly see a happy theatregoer give her friend the thumbs up when he walked past her.

But he’s also a proud snob, and the scene where Coriolanus puts on the “gown of humility” in an attempt to gain the people’s trust (while at the same time being downright sarcastic to their faces) is handled with a lightness of touch that still gets across the sheer contempt with which he holds the plebs.

I also loved the transformation of Brutus and Sicinius into Brutus and Sicinia, a bitchy power couple who snipe from the sidelines in their attempts at bringing Coriolanus down a peg.  If I thought Elliot Levey was more successful as Brutus than Helen Schlesinger was as Sicinia, that’s probably just because I fancied Levey something rotten.  It was definitely a nice touch portraying Brutus as a slight, quietly spoken henpecked husband, considering the role he plays in the downfall of the buff Coriolanus.

And then of course, there’s the homoerotica.  Ah, yes, the homoerotica....If it’s fair to say the production rather overplays this aspect of the play, please understand this really is not a complaint on my part.

The scene in which Coriolanus fights the rough, Northern-accented Aufidius (Hadley Fraser) begins with swords and impressive acrobatics, but descends into what is essentially two well-defined men rolling around the stage together, panting heavily, grasping on to each other’s shoulders.  When Coriolanus offers up his assistance to his former enemy, Aufidius has him get down on his knees before (what can only be described as) caressing his chest with his...well, with his big sword.

Considering that Aufidius goes on to compare Coriolanus more favourably to the “maid I married”, and details dreams in which “we have been down together in my sleep / unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat”....well, I don’t think you need to have a particularly dirty mind to see what we’re going for here.

To be fair, Coriolanus might be unpopular with the common man, but Aufidius isn’t the only person who appears to want a bit of hot Roman action.  Witty patrician Menenius (played brilliantly by Mark Gatiss) displays an avuncular affection for Coriolanus that occasionally borders on the lovestruck.  And the mother – let’s not forget the mother.

The play ramps up the vaguely incestuous nature of Coriolanus’s relationship with Volumnia, his mother – made all the more awkward by the presence of his wife Virgilia.  If Virgilia is a character with not a lot to do in the course of the play, she at least signposts the sheer weirdness of the mother-son relationship, frequently standing on the side of the stage making barely disguised faces of disgust at what she sees.

The bare stage also serves the play well – the battle scene is conveyed surprisingly effectively with nothing more than well placed chairs and the odd flash of fire in the background.

I was less impressed with the costumes – a weird mix of traditional Roman battle wear and modern threads.  Virgilia in particular had to wear an especially ugly dress, paired with some nasty vagina-flapped boots that I’m sure stylish Roman women weren’t sporting at the time.

Performance-wise, I can’t really fault any of the cast, but it’s Hiddleston’s show and he delivers a commanding performance.  When he starts shouting in the Senate-house you genuinely feel the need to sit down and be shouted at.  Similarly, when he cries real tears in accepting his fate at the end of the play, it’s a properly moving moment.  As he takes Volumnia’s hand and sighs “mother, mother – what have you done?” you really sense this is man experiencing an actual emotion other than pride or battle-lust for the first time in his life.

And without wanting to give too much away – spoilers, sweetie (as much as you actually can spoil a Shakespearean tragedy) – the plays ends with a pleasingly gory death and one last shot at good, old fashioned homoeroticism.  All I’ll say is ‘Aufidius’ and ‘full facial’.  I’ll let you imagine the rest.

Once again, we hotfooted it to the front of house post-play to attempt some actor bothering.  We already knew Hiddleston wouldn’t show – the crazy fangirls, remember?- but we thought we should at least try for some Gatiss appreciation.  This was clearly a common thread of thought amongst the stage-door masses.  As the security guard explained why he wouldn’t be bringing Hiddleston out, a woman could be heard asking her friend “should we stay for Gatiss then?”.

We waited, and waited, and waited....”Thank you! We love you all!” a man shouted to the crowd.  It was a drunk on the way home from the pub.  The Donmar staff turned off the lights and locked the doors.  Life’s like that.