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?”.
