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t h e a t r e

Posters outside the Royal Shakespeare Theatre

TRAGEDY AND HUMOR enrich each other in the engrossing production of "Antony and Cleopatra" at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, through 9 October.
Designer Yolanda Sonnabend has given us an open set filled with allusions to the great themes of the play: the narcissism, the theatricality, the decadence that begins playfully and soon darkens until all is lost. Steven Pimlott's direction provides fluid transitions, so that the scenes move with elegance and economy. We always know where we are, but the action moves from Egypt to Rome as swiftly on stage as it can in one's imagination. This clarity gives us maximum access to the play and its players.

There are four splendid performances to savor here: in the title roles, Alan Bates as Antony and Frances de la Tour as Cleopatra give us three-dimensional, vital, flawed human beings, afflicted with hubris or sex addiction, or perhaps a bit of both. The chemistry of the two lovers is evident: both are charismatic, complex; a sense of destiny hangs over them both. Bates captures the many layers of Antony: the lover "whom ne'er the word of 'no' woman heard speak," the soldier at home drinking with his men; his public self warring with his private self, eventually overcome by anguish. Bates has had a bit of time to work on his Antony, having been sidelined from last year's National Theatre production by knee surgery, and he has used it to good effect -- one feels that he knows his Antony inside out, and so do we, by the end of the evening.
Frances de la Tour is simply the best Cleopatra I have seen. She, like Bates, is blessed with a voice of flexibility and nuance, used here to great effect. By turns passionate, playful, arrogant and, finally, ennobled, de la Tour creates a bewitching woman of great charm. Her early energy and physicality contrast with the last act in which she becomes grave and still. One of many superb moments occurs as we watch, silent and breathless, as Cleopatra transforms herself with makeup in preparation for her end. Such a shared moment is, to this viewer, precisely what theatre is about: it's magic, it shouldn't be analysed.
Guy Henry's chilly and repressed Octavius Caesar is a finely wrought character. How well he conveys the elements warring within him: his affection for, and exasperation with Antony; his love for his sister (how can he make his voice break in parting, night after night!). He can't unbend in the drunken revel -- his attempt to let loose and dance is risible -- he's the very picture of a by-the-book civil servant.
In this production Enobarbus, played by Malcolm Storry, is a faithful intimate who becomes fed up; eventually his guilt and grief kill him. Storry's command of the language is notable, his delivery of the famous description of Cleopatra on her barge, and Antony's first meeting with her, is superb; and his demise provides another of those still moments -- we hang on his dying whisper.

The supporting cast is also strong. Sarah Walton makes a particularly touching and fragile Octavia; as the soothsayer, Peter Kelly appears wonderfully to have emerged from some crypt. Michael Gardiner's Lepidus is excellent, as are Rachael Joyce (Charmian) and Hermione Gulliford (Iras). The incidental music is filled with character; I would have welcomed more of it.

Is this the perfect production? Well, not quite, but my caveats are minor. (When so much is right, it is tempting to wish for perfection.) A few of the costumes seem gimmicky, obtrusive to no purpose, or unflattering (but others are wonderful).
My other small quibble is really just a wish for a bit of theatrical magic. Antony's last scene as, dying, he is elevated to Cleopatra's monument, is one about which there are many stories of disasterous moments. (Antony Hopkins once got caught half way up and had to deliver his last words dangling in mid-air-- clearly much can go wrong in this scene when the staging is literal.) In the present RSC production, it is all left to our imagination: Antony sits in a chair in plain sight, as Cleopatra, Charmian and Iras pretend to haul him up. Does it work? Yes, I suppose it does: we can accept the convention, we know what's happening, it really can't go wrong. But I can't help thinking that some miracle of stagecraft or lighting could have made the moment even better.
But these are small and subjective points. It's a magnificent production -- laurel wreathes to all! |||

[Note: Guy Henry and Malcolm Storry are also performing in a splendid production of "Volpone," at the Swan Theatre. So, spend a couple of days in Warwickshire -- enjoy the Tudor architecture and the many gardens. A visit to a golden Cotswold village or two might also be in order.]

Karen Rappaport
Stratford-upon-Avon and London
Special to the Bates Archive

Footnote: When the production transferred to London, there were numerous costume changes; and Antony's dying scene had been reworked and improved.