Oxford Mail, 2nd
April 1976, Don Chapman
There is one moment of magic in Trevor Nunn’s production of “Romeo and Juliet” for the Royal Shakespeare Company, which launches the 1976 season at Stratford-upon-Avon.
As Romeo cradles the limp body of Juliet in his
arms and prepares to swallow the fatal poison the life starts to return to her
fingers and her hand to curl round his neck
It is what Prof. Nevill Coghill once described as a
moment of pure theatre when the director kids you into believing that a tragedy
against all the odds is going to have a happy ending.
But unfortunately
the production itself does not have quite the same air of magic. The
‘Wooden O’ with its token row of spectators in the galleries at the back of the
stage which John Napier has devised for the season is reasonable enough.
And so is the direction, especially the impressive
brawl scene, where Michael Pennington’s somewhat flashy performance as Mercutio
at last achieves ironic stature, and the discovery of the ‘dead’ Juliet, where
Marie Kean reaps the full rewards of her earthy Irish portrayal of the Nurse.
The trouble lies with the Romeo and to a lesser
extent with the Juliet. Ian McKellan tries hard to convey impetuous youthful
athleticism but with his bounding gait and costume suggests rather a cross
between Nureyev and Norman Wisdom.
Francesca Annis is a demure gigglepot, who pretends
to be a schoolgirl but is obviously well into her twenties (?) suspects in a
vain attempt to provide a reasonable foil for Mr McKellan’s Romeo.
Once all the talk about her being not yet 14 is
over and forgotten her performance grows considerably in stature and her
passion is obviously real. But Mr McKellan never comes to terms with Romeo.
Even the lightning physical reaction with which he punctuates: ‘Soft, what is
that light through yonder window breaks?’ is actor’s artifice.
The supporting cast is competent rather that
outstanding with Paul Shelley giving perhaps the most convincing and natural
performance as Tybalt. But the ex-Oxford actor, Richard Durden, makes a fair
debut as Paris.
Financial Times, 7th
July 1977, Michael Coveney
It seems usual for the RSC Stratford productions to improve in transit to the Aldwych. This show is no exception. In fact, Trevor Nunn and his marvellous company have effected a quite astonishing transformation since last summer’s opening night. Gone is the confusing hurly burly of the opening scenes, gone the uncontrolled hysteria of the of the senior Montagues and Capulets. This difficult play is gloriously restored to us as a tale of tragic domestic strife, a beautifully unravelled narrative told with breathtaking assurance and style.
Ian McKellan is still very much one of the young, swaggering
Montague blades, but his performance has sharpened and deepened beyond
recognition. At the ball, he dances joyously alone on the upper level, subtly
blending the reality of his awakening love for Juliet with a strikingly
flirtatious disposition. He is quick, intelligent and impressionable, forever
finding fresh resonance and passion in his verse.
And Michael Pennington’s Mercutio is now a truly
brilliant interpretation: a magnetic leader of the pack whose mocking
braggadocio is an attractive cover for perceptive behavioural criticism.
Mercutio’s death is superbly staged; he leaps at Tybalt, kissing him full on
the mouth before dying with a wound his companions believe to be another
practical joke. Their horror and sorrow is all the more forceful in the end.
David Waller has tightened his reading of Friar
Lawrence considerably and his realisation that Romeo’s liaison with Juliet
could have a curative effect on the family squabble emerges as crucial to the
production. Mr Nunn stages much of the action as a series of intensely
experienced scenes between two or three people, while the larger set-pieces
decorate the central tensions with a telling power.
Nowhere is this better achieved than in the arrival
of the wedding party at Juliet’s ‘death-bed,’ where the background jubilation
is sensitively elided to a mourning exodus. The servant Peter’s scene with the
musicians is played uncut, providing a poignant opportunity for Richard
Griffiths to round off a truly touching performance with a lyrical expression
of private grief.
As Juliet, Francesca Annis matches Mr McKellan for
freshness and intelligence, playing her imaginative misgivings before consuming
the Friar’s vial more memorably than I have ever experienced. She catches
perfectly that balance between impetuous girlishness and maturity of reflection
necessary for a great Juliet. Particularly good is her scheming determination
in following the Friar’s instructions while temporarily satisfying her father’s
sturdy command to marry Paris. John Woodvine’s Capulet is another vastly
improved performance, although at this point in the review I am prepared to
concede that I may be doing all concerned a serious injustice in so thoroughly
revising all previous opinions. Could it be that I am merely waking up to the
merits that were always there in the first place?
There is a fine Irish Nurse (Marie Kean), a strong
Paris (Richard Durden), a splendid Benvolio (Roger Rees) and a plethora of
excellently defined performances right the way down the cast list. I have never
enjoyed “Romeo and Juliet” so much and I can only suggest that here is further
evidence of the remarkable groundwork put in by this company over the past
couple of years. They promise much for the future and I suspect that in two or
three more years we shall look back and begin to appreciate the silent
revolution on which Mr Nunn and his colleagues are now engaged.
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