Theatre
Finely tuned
Giles Gordon
Venice Preserv'd (National: Lyttelton) Measure for Measure (RSC: Barbican) Volpone RSC: The Pit) The Complete Guide to Sex (National Theatre of Brent: Lyric, Hammersmith)
Tf ever our national theatre takes form,' wrote Bonamy Dobree in Restoration Tragedy (1929), Venice Preserv'd must cer- tainly be second on the list of Restoration tragedies', his first, I deduce, being Dryden's All for Love. It is being held against Goldsmith that he described Thomas Otway (1651-1685) as 'next to Shakespeare the greatest genius England has produced in tragedy'. It is also, in some quarters, being held against Otway. This is more than unjust although, plainly, he lacks the range, depth, humanity and, above all, genius of Shakespeare but who doesn't? Venice Preserv'd is, not to mince words, the best production of a classic by the National Theatre since the heyday of the Olivier regime at the Old Vic, and precisely the sort of play it ought to be stag- ing.
Otway's masterpiece was first performed in 1682. Although based on a plot (as in conspiracy rather than story but that also) which took place in Venice in 1618, the in- spiration was Titus Oates and the 1678 Popish Plot, and Shaftesbury's Exclusion Bill of the following year to bar Catholic James from succeeding his brother. The plot (as in story) is simple. Jaffier (Michael Pennington) marries Belvidera (Jane Lapotaire) against the wishes of her senator father, Priuli (Brewster Mason). Jaffier's friend, Pierre (Ian McKellen), inducts him into the plot (as in conspiracy) hatched to overcome the senate, partly for political, partly personal reasons. Jaffier reveals all to Belvidera who then urges him to confess to the senate, fearing for her father's life. Jaffier, in spite of his friendship with Pierre meaning more to him than his marriage, does so and, in turn, is betrayed by the senate and all the conspirators murdered.
Venice Preserv'd is positively operatic whilst a British stab at Greek tragedy, fail- ing which Racine. The verse is heroic, Augustan and advances the plot in long set speeches rather than in dialogue and action. There is no 'character development' and the play is romantic only in that it is more con- cerned with the emotions of the pro- tagonists than revolution in Venice. Two things are required to make the sculptural piece work on stage. First, trust the play and play it straight, as written, which Peter Gill's sumptuously statuesque production does. Second, seek out the best classical verse speakers around and cast the play up to the hilt. Mr McKellen and Mr Penn- ington, Brutus and Cassius, are perfect foils for each other, and each speaks handsomely, Mr McKellen not allowing his vibrato to rampage as sometimes is the case. A touch of Gielgud tremolo is present and appro- priate. Mr Pennington is more vulnerable, less heroic, his divided, confused loyalties bringing down the edifice. Miss Lapotaire has a more difficult part, and makes less of it yet speaks her lines thrillingly.
Hugh Paddick is Antonio, a naughty senator who provides the comic relief, eager to be kicked like a dog by his bored mistress, Aquilina (Stephanie Beacham), who finally takes a whip to him. Ron Pember is the leader of the conspirators, whose motives (lust, not immortal longings) are found to be more base than our heroes approve. Alison Chitty's set is of blasted, charcoal-coloured walls, closer to Piranesi than Guardi. Her costumes are in the darkest of hues with the rarest flash of colour, a vest, a scarlet petticoat. They're a constant ravishment to the eye. The final praise must be to Mr Gill for having struck a middle course, between melodrama and its austere opposite. He has achieved a direct and unselfconscious style that is right for the present and allows Miss Lapotaire, Mr Pennington and Mr McKellen full rein but not to go over the top.
Adrian Noble's operatic Measure for Measure dazzled last year at Stratford in Bob Crowley's exotic 18th-century setting and does so now in London. It's a pleasure and a relief to report that David Schofield's command of the verse and characterisation of a rat-like, clerical Angelo is hugely im- proved. Daniel Massey's Duke is more ex- cited and urgent than before. Juliet Steven- son's luminous Isabella discovers, when pleading for Angelo's life in the last act, a
new maturity and grace. For once, marriage between her and the Duke seems sensible.
The smaller roles are finely played: Oliver Ford Davies's scrupulous Provost, Joseph O'Conor's decent Escalus, Trevor Peacock's Elbow (first cousin to Dogberry) and, especially, Richard O'Callaghan's lizard-like Lucio. The gnarled, complex play certainly suggests that Vienna was ready for Dr Freud.
The Spectator 28 April 1984 Also from Stratford comes Volpone. For me there is still a giant problem at the centre of Bill Alexander's tortoise-paced produc- tion, and that is the soporific, romantic Per' formance of Richard Griffiths as the Magnifico. His wooing of Celia, though, is now most passionate, something (or some- one) he seems to care about. Certain scenes — Scoto of Mantua promoting his elixir, the Sir Politic Would-Be sub-Plot seem to last for ever and hardly justifY eternity. Gemma Jones as a sometime Cockney, now genteel Lady Politic, looking like Mr Block the Barber, and Miles Anderson's greasy-haired Jacobean wiel it e' boy of a Mosca have enriched the characterisations. But the slowness of the evening — four hours for a full text — means that Jonson's quicksilver, corrosive satire doesn't have the venom it should and soe scenes, especially those in the courtroom, are played for too easy laughs. Give or take Michelangelo, leather underpants, Casanova and rabbits (do they really do it all the time, or is it only we vill° think they do? And if they do, is it because they know we expect them to?), The Com- plete Guide to Sex is not about Mrs Whitehouse's subject but about comedy and how actors achieve laughter. J!Ill Broadbent again plays Wallace, and Tc-1 evitably Mrs Wallis Simpson. Des Olivier Dingle alias Patrick Barlow tw'an also scripts the show) is Henry VIII, I °inert) Edward VIII. Andrea Durant is a 111—, abused ballet dancer. Unlike most ctl-j dians, the National Theatre of Brent and their director Jude Kelly understand _ with h sleacurgeht teotftskheoetpitnoghaaouwdiaenhcyeLnhgootinog
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