Swinging in the Backyard
Scene 1
A garden, somewhere in the state of New York. A swing hangs from a tree centre stage, on which Elizabeth sits, in a sundress. A house upstage. Enter John upstage, from the auditorium. Elizabeth looks up and stands realising who it is.
John:
That damn Bugatti, having trouble with the brakes again-
Elizabeth:
John! I didn't realise / you were-
John:
-and bullshit I'm driving too fast, I don't drive too fast, they just don't like me living, like really living...
Elizabeth:
I think you've got a wonderfully fast-
John:
That's the problem with these mechanic types, they don't know how to live themselves, and they don't want anyone else doing it neither. That's it you see, that's just it.
Elizabeth:
What is, dear?
Pause
How are- how was your day?
John:
Hm? Oh it...yes it was good. It was good. Little thirsty, though-
Elizabeth:
Oh!
She goes into the house. He walks centre stage. She returns with a beer and gives it to him. He opens it. She walks downstage again. He walks upstage to the house, then looks at her, aware of his disregard for her, now guilty.
John:
Come on, Lizzie. Get over here and...play a video game!
She smiles and walks back over to him.
Elizabeth:
No, I don't feel like it. You know I don't get those things.
John:
Why don't you tell me about the future again, how you got it all planned out.
Elizabeth:
(Laughs). Don't be ridiculous, John, I'm not a little kid!
John:
Oh aren't you? (Pause) That is my favourite dress of yours, ya know.
Elizabeth:
I know. I thought you'd like it. I wore it to please you. Maybe you'd like it better off of me.
She takes off the sundress. She stands now in underwear.
John:
You are...so beautiful in the sun.
Elizabeth:
Oh John stop it...
John:
(He grabs her and spins her around). But seriously, come on, tell me. (He sits on the swing and indicates for her to follow)
Elizabeth:
Well. (She sits on his lap). We'll have a house. Not like this, a proper house. French or Italian, Georgian...it doesn't matter. And we'll have big gardens with lawns and fountains and...oh can't you just see it John!
John:
I'm gonna get it for you, Elizabeth. One day I'm gonna get it all, and we're gonna live like...well like king and queen of New goddam York.
Elizabeth:
(Mock silly voice) You the bestest, Johnnie. (Leans in for a kiss. Normal voice) I'm wearing the perfume you like. I want to please you. I wanna make you so happy John. Come on. I'll go put some more perfume on, just say the word, and you, you can...go play a video game. If you like...
She stands and moves towards the door. Stops, turns, beckons seductively. He leaves with her.
Scene 2
Enter Elizabeth
Elizabeth:
I love him. I love him. I really do, I always have...and he knows it - how I worship him, adore him, how I'd do anything for him, anything he'd like, whatever he asked. Whenever. Wherever. I try to be what he wants me to be. He likes...those girls. Dirty, and...bad. I think. But that's not me. I try to be but I don't know if I can. It doesn't matter though. Mother always told me falling in love is the best thing in life, but...I had no idea. When we're together, it's like every other person on this planet of however many billion...they're just not there. Here. It's me, and him. My purpose. My cause. The reason I get up every morning and continue my tiny little life. And in return...he has me.
She leaves.
Scene 3
A bar. Elizabeth stands by the bar with two men in suits, laughing flirtatiously, drinking. John is playing pool with another man, happy, but somewhat uncomfortable with Elizabeth's company.
Scene 4
The scene is eighteen months later, inside the house. John sits on a chair, slouched, his gaze vacant and slightly downcast. Enter Elizabeth in a black leather dress. John does not react to anything in Elizabeth's speech.
Elizabeth:
How do you like it? (Pause) I did my nails. They're black. Do you like my nails black, John? And my hair, too. Well it's not black really, just a dark brown. You like that, don't you. You like women with...you like dark women. (Pause) I suppose I'm boring you. I'm not strong like those girls. Not as...proud. But you haven't left me.(Pause. Looks out of a window) It's still light. It gets dark pretty quick though, right? Won't be long now, I can feel it. I feel like I could do it, like I could spill my black varnish all over the stratosphere- (Begins to laugh, stops almost instantly, remembering herself).
John:
If out of your...varnish bottle came a magic genie, and I could have one wish, any wish, you know what I'd want?
Elizabeth:
Of course not, John.
John:
I'd wish for it to be nighttime. This...day just doesn't fit with me anymore. I'm an instrument. A melody. I'm a collection of melancholic resonances.
Elizabeth:
Don't say that, John, you know I can't have it. It just kills me, John. You should be in tune with the day, you really ought to be.
John:
(Turning to her) But I'm not though, am I? (He returns to his solemn position)
Elizabeth:
(Starting to cry) Oh, what can I do?
John:
Nothing. Nothing at all, my pretty little thing. You always reminded me of a bird. So cheery, so free. You need to be free to fly away. Maybe it's time you stopped singing your song for me.
Elizabeth:
Oh, what can I do? What can I say to make you better, to help you see. Life is so, so beautiful, and you have absolutely no idea. Oh, if only you could have my life, then you'd be happy. For, you see, being in love with you is the best thing in life anyone could have. I feel so selfish, depriving the whole world of it. But I don't suppose I'd give it up for anyone. Not even for you. (Pause). Look at that. Look at the sun, and the ocean. It's such a deep blue, and you can see the light coming off it. It's magnificent.
John:
I don't understand it. It makes no sense.
Elizabeth:
Not to you. Not right now. Your sadness is your beauty. (Beginning to cry) It's a terrible paradox, isn't it, John. So sorrowful, and still so amazing. (Becoming hysterical with love for John) You sit there and I'll get the black paint. No, not the nail varnish, I have a proper pot here somewhere...(searches). What shall we paint next? The house? The house! Look, my dress is already black. Oh, John I've had a wonderful idea. Let's get married again. In this dress, wouldn't I look so cool? It's leather, John. It would suit our wedding so well, because we'd both be black, me on my dress, and you...in your heart. (Reality returning. Calm)
John:
You're love is so strong, and bright, and god knows I appreciate it...but it's too light for me. For my life. I don't have any space to let you in, there's just a darkness that fills every gap, every cubic part of my soul. I hate to say it because I love you, and I love you loving me, but you're wasting your love on me - you're wasting yourself on me. (Pause) Your lips. They're red. Why are they red? I thought you would make everything black for me.
Elizabeth:
But John, don't you think they're wonderful, just like a pair of freshly grown cherries. Just like the ones we see in the garden every spring-
John:
But Elizabeth-
Elizabeth:
(Angry momentarily) For god's sake John you can't just let everything seem so dark to you! (Instantly regretful) Oh, I'm so sorry, my love, I am, I don't know what that was about. I just wanna be able to make up you feel again, like only I can make you feel, I want to make you a man, or I'll settle for less, just to get through this veil, just get through you, to you. Please.(She approaches the side of his chair, kneels) I'll never leave you. I swear I won't. You're so beautiful, I swear I couldn't live without you. I swear it!
Elizabeth cries uncontrollably, rocking backwards and forwards, her speech now incomprehensible. John continues to stare vacantly as her heart breaks, and she grabs his sleeve when-
Blackout.
Tuesday, 8 July 2014
Thursday, 22 May 2014
A comparison of the acting of two actors each from from two plays
On 22nd March, at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, I saw 'The Knight Of The Burning Pestle' by Francis Beaumont, directed by Adele Thomas, a production I found interesting in comparison with 'Much Ado About Nothing' which I saw on 3rd May at Shakespeare's Globe, directed by Max Webster. Two actors who struck me particularly were Matthew Needham as Rafe and Hannah McPake Mistress Merrythought in 'Pestle', and Emma Pallant as Beatrice and Simon Bubb as Benedick in 'Much Ado'.
Matthew Needham interpreted the character of Rafe to be a timid, guileless young man, uttering a barely audible 'peace, mistress', when trying to quieten the citizen's wife, hesitantly touching her shoulder but quickly retreating. We, as an audience, instantly understood his low status. This contrasted with McPake's Mistress Merrythought, who came across as a proud, vain and rude woman, who I found instantly hilarious but dislikable. When she refused to bless her son Jasper she swung her arms around fancifully, without much direction, showing her to be full of hot air. Pallant's Beatrice was instantly assertive, spending much of the first scene stage left, away from Leonato. She is not moody, however, but fiercely independent, lowering her pitch on 'I know you of old', making the tone more serious, informing he audience that she has depth. Bubb's Benedick was unconvincingly brash, as if he was using his comedy as a front, as can be seen when he is taken aback by Beatrice, before physically composing himself, smiling, speaking his first line.
All styles of acting were naturalistic, although somewhat stylised so as to achieve comic effect. When Rafe is brought onto the stage in the prologue, his arms hang limply and straight at his sides and his wide eyes dart nervously about stupidly. The audience all laughed audibly, finding it humorous that one so unprepared had found himself in that situation. Michael Billington made reference to 'Needham's guileless Rafe' in the Guardian, which was a very apt word choice. Merrythought's physicality was equally odd, but more confident, such as when talking to Michael she would turn direction mid-speech and swoop across the stage with apparent purpose, which I found a particularly amusing aspect of the play. This corresponds with Billington's reference to her performance as 'boisterous', which is true, though I might have chosen a less aggressive word. Pallant's physicality was stern; she would step heavily across the stage, evidently with resolve, something which would excite the audience, expecting a confrontation. Bubb was much more reserved, tending to stand further upstage, and making less sudden movements, often moving his arms before his legs in hesitant gestures.
In Rafe's stilted heroic monologue, Needham achieved a staccato effect, adding ridiculous emphasis to the rhymes in the couplets to a comic effect for the audience: this showed him to be an inexperienced actor, a difficult role for an actor to play. He also characterised his social low-standing by his omission of 't' in many words, and pronouncing 'th' as 'f'. Dominic Cavendish in the Telegraph described this as a 'have-a-go knight errant', which I found observant. By the time of his blank verse he has come to grips with acting somewhat more, lowering his pitch to a growl on 'my trusty dwarf', raising it on 'distressed damsels'. He also regulated his tempo, giving enough time for complex sentences to be understood. Mistress Merrythought used her voice often to comic effect, such as when she put emphasis on 'Michael' each time, softening her voice to a sickly doting, exaggerating her preference for this son. When she says 'I have lost my money in this forest', she raised her pitch to comic proportions, clenching her fists, her voice breaking somewhat with the frustration, something I found indicative of her character.
Matthew Needham interpreted the character of Rafe to be a timid, guileless young man, uttering a barely audible 'peace, mistress', when trying to quieten the citizen's wife, hesitantly touching her shoulder but quickly retreating. We, as an audience, instantly understood his low status. This contrasted with McPake's Mistress Merrythought, who came across as a proud, vain and rude woman, who I found instantly hilarious but dislikable. When she refused to bless her son Jasper she swung her arms around fancifully, without much direction, showing her to be full of hot air. Pallant's Beatrice was instantly assertive, spending much of the first scene stage left, away from Leonato. She is not moody, however, but fiercely independent, lowering her pitch on 'I know you of old', making the tone more serious, informing he audience that she has depth. Bubb's Benedick was unconvincingly brash, as if he was using his comedy as a front, as can be seen when he is taken aback by Beatrice, before physically composing himself, smiling, speaking his first line.
All styles of acting were naturalistic, although somewhat stylised so as to achieve comic effect. When Rafe is brought onto the stage in the prologue, his arms hang limply and straight at his sides and his wide eyes dart nervously about stupidly. The audience all laughed audibly, finding it humorous that one so unprepared had found himself in that situation. Michael Billington made reference to 'Needham's guileless Rafe' in the Guardian, which was a very apt word choice. Merrythought's physicality was equally odd, but more confident, such as when talking to Michael she would turn direction mid-speech and swoop across the stage with apparent purpose, which I found a particularly amusing aspect of the play. This corresponds with Billington's reference to her performance as 'boisterous', which is true, though I might have chosen a less aggressive word. Pallant's physicality was stern; she would step heavily across the stage, evidently with resolve, something which would excite the audience, expecting a confrontation. Bubb was much more reserved, tending to stand further upstage, and making less sudden movements, often moving his arms before his legs in hesitant gestures.
In Rafe's stilted heroic monologue, Needham achieved a staccato effect, adding ridiculous emphasis to the rhymes in the couplets to a comic effect for the audience: this showed him to be an inexperienced actor, a difficult role for an actor to play. He also characterised his social low-standing by his omission of 't' in many words, and pronouncing 'th' as 'f'. Dominic Cavendish in the Telegraph described this as a 'have-a-go knight errant', which I found observant. By the time of his blank verse he has come to grips with acting somewhat more, lowering his pitch to a growl on 'my trusty dwarf', raising it on 'distressed damsels'. He also regulated his tempo, giving enough time for complex sentences to be understood. Mistress Merrythought used her voice often to comic effect, such as when she put emphasis on 'Michael' each time, softening her voice to a sickly doting, exaggerating her preference for this son. When she says 'I have lost my money in this forest', she raised her pitch to comic proportions, clenching her fists, her voice breaking somewhat with the frustration, something I found indicative of her character.
A comparison of the stage design and other technical aspects of two production that I have seen.
On 23rd March 2014, I saw the Rose Theatre's production of 'The Massacre At Paris' by Christopher Marlowe, directed by James Wallace, which I found interesting when compared with the design concept of Cheek By Jowl's 'Tis Pity She's A Whore', seen at the Barbican Centre on 24th April 2014, directed by Declan Donnellan and designed by Nick Ormerod. Both designers chose to remove the plays from the Elizabethan and Caroline eras respectively, as well as playing down the significance of geographical setting, France and Italy respectively, in favour of a stylised realism with expressionistic elements. Massacre had a 1950s Hollywood vibe which served to comment on modern desensitisation to violence, whilst 'Tis Pity was set in generic modern bedroom, to emphasise the importance of Annabella's experience over the locale.
Both productions were staged in black box theatres, with the front row of the audience on the same level as the actors, the rows behind tiered, and used their stage design to explore a humanist theme, rather than the original context of the play. In Massacre, whilst the stage was only four meters deep, the railings at the back looked out across the foundations of the old Rose Playhouse, which served as an acting space representing distance, such as for those who fled Paris after the purge. The props onstage were a modern leather stool upstage and a high square wooden table with a three-tiered wedding cake and knives. The stripped back nature of the design was appropriate in terms of the production's focus, which was the effects of intense violence, rather than the historical event itself. In 'Tis Pity, the play also sought to explore the main theme more than the historical context of the play. The setting was clearly Annabella's bedroom, with a wall upstage, reaching only as high as an ordinary wall covered with teenager's posters to make the scene feel domestic. Set in the wall was a door upstage left, to the bathroom, and upstage right, to the hall. Stage right there was a wardrobe, and a table stage left. Annabella's bed was positioned centre stage, around which the majority of the action took place.
Lighting was used to set the tone of the plays: in Massacre, during the massacre itself, the main lights were turned off and torches were shone into the faces of the audience. This changed the mood to a frightening one for me, as well as indicating the time of day as being night. It also contributes to the composition of the scene, as the torches are shone onto the victims momentarily as they die. Here we see only small, fragmentary aspects of the scene, making the audience feel disoriented. Miranda Fay Thomas, writing for What's On Stage, remarked that "Wallace's production [...] revels in the play's carnivalesque atmosphere of slaughter and maniacal despotism". Low lighting was also used in the scenes where the Duke of Guise was alone, giving us the location and time of day as being inside his house in the evening, and allowing us selective visibility only, of the Duke. It also set the mood as solemn, scaring the audience. 'Tis Pity also uses lighting to establish mood, however in a more expressionistic manner. The opening sequence was bathed in a harsh red light, unrealistic and therefore setting the style as somewhat expressionistic. It also foreshadowed the copious amount of bloodshed to ensue, and was described by Paul Couch as the 'churning crimson sea of Nick Ormerod's retina-straining set'. This best describes the reaction evoked in the audience members, a sense of stomach-churning nervousness.
Music was used often to create a mood, such as in the Duke of Guise's death scene when dramatic choral music was played. This was a moment of particularly effective staging, as the murderers stabbed the Duke in slow motion, and red confetti was thrown from the 'wounds' across the stage to symbolise blood. Here we had a mock-melodramatic death, which was still quite emotional for me. In the Massacre, fifties rock music was played as the onstage deaths occurred. This staging was particularly effective because it created an irony, as the popular music was playing to the violence, commenting on how both are now media products, both disturbing and amusing the audience. In 'Tis Pity, music was more a part of the play as opposed to overture, but it again was used in ironic instances. Tarantella music was played at the wedding of Annabella and Soranzo, which was humorous for me as the wedding guests were all dancing a clearly choreographed dance to the Italian influenced music in a bizarre situation. Dance music was played in the opening sequence, setting the tone of the play as dynamic and modern.
As for costume, both productions used mainly suits, as the majority of characters of the plays were mainly high ranking males, best portrayed in a modern production with suits. In Massacre, Guise wore a silver penchant round his neck, indicating him being very overtly religious, to extremes. In 'Tis Pity, the religious cardinal was portrayed by dressing him in the traditional ecclesiastical apparel, rather than a single symbolic accessory. This showed up the church as behind the times, since this is the only character who would be dressed the same in original Renaissance production. Annabella wore blacks and a checkered red cardigan, making her look particularly girly, with her hair tied up. Much clothing, such as shirts, blouses and even trousers, were often removed, contributing to the sensuality of the production.
Both productions were staged in black box theatres, with the front row of the audience on the same level as the actors, the rows behind tiered, and used their stage design to explore a humanist theme, rather than the original context of the play. In Massacre, whilst the stage was only four meters deep, the railings at the back looked out across the foundations of the old Rose Playhouse, which served as an acting space representing distance, such as for those who fled Paris after the purge. The props onstage were a modern leather stool upstage and a high square wooden table with a three-tiered wedding cake and knives. The stripped back nature of the design was appropriate in terms of the production's focus, which was the effects of intense violence, rather than the historical event itself. In 'Tis Pity, the play also sought to explore the main theme more than the historical context of the play. The setting was clearly Annabella's bedroom, with a wall upstage, reaching only as high as an ordinary wall covered with teenager's posters to make the scene feel domestic. Set in the wall was a door upstage left, to the bathroom, and upstage right, to the hall. Stage right there was a wardrobe, and a table stage left. Annabella's bed was positioned centre stage, around which the majority of the action took place.
Lighting was used to set the tone of the plays: in Massacre, during the massacre itself, the main lights were turned off and torches were shone into the faces of the audience. This changed the mood to a frightening one for me, as well as indicating the time of day as being night. It also contributes to the composition of the scene, as the torches are shone onto the victims momentarily as they die. Here we see only small, fragmentary aspects of the scene, making the audience feel disoriented. Miranda Fay Thomas, writing for What's On Stage, remarked that "Wallace's production [...] revels in the play's carnivalesque atmosphere of slaughter and maniacal despotism". Low lighting was also used in the scenes where the Duke of Guise was alone, giving us the location and time of day as being inside his house in the evening, and allowing us selective visibility only, of the Duke. It also set the mood as solemn, scaring the audience. 'Tis Pity also uses lighting to establish mood, however in a more expressionistic manner. The opening sequence was bathed in a harsh red light, unrealistic and therefore setting the style as somewhat expressionistic. It also foreshadowed the copious amount of bloodshed to ensue, and was described by Paul Couch as the 'churning crimson sea of Nick Ormerod's retina-straining set'. This best describes the reaction evoked in the audience members, a sense of stomach-churning nervousness.
Music was used often to create a mood, such as in the Duke of Guise's death scene when dramatic choral music was played. This was a moment of particularly effective staging, as the murderers stabbed the Duke in slow motion, and red confetti was thrown from the 'wounds' across the stage to symbolise blood. Here we had a mock-melodramatic death, which was still quite emotional for me. In the Massacre, fifties rock music was played as the onstage deaths occurred. This staging was particularly effective because it created an irony, as the popular music was playing to the violence, commenting on how both are now media products, both disturbing and amusing the audience. In 'Tis Pity, music was more a part of the play as opposed to overture, but it again was used in ironic instances. Tarantella music was played at the wedding of Annabella and Soranzo, which was humorous for me as the wedding guests were all dancing a clearly choreographed dance to the Italian influenced music in a bizarre situation. Dance music was played in the opening sequence, setting the tone of the play as dynamic and modern.
As for costume, both productions used mainly suits, as the majority of characters of the plays were mainly high ranking males, best portrayed in a modern production with suits. In Massacre, Guise wore a silver penchant round his neck, indicating him being very overtly religious, to extremes. In 'Tis Pity, the religious cardinal was portrayed by dressing him in the traditional ecclesiastical apparel, rather than a single symbolic accessory. This showed up the church as behind the times, since this is the only character who would be dressed the same in original Renaissance production. Annabella wore blacks and a checkered red cardigan, making her look particularly girly, with her hair tied up. Much clothing, such as shirts, blouses and even trousers, were often removed, contributing to the sensuality of the production.
Sunday, 27 April 2014
He Jests At Scars - a short play
Trying to direct shakespeare to fall in line with modern day realism's expectations can be a challenge for the best directors. Imagining the well known characters speaking in a naturalistic sense can be difficult for even experienced audience members. And the idea of what the characters of a tragedy might do after such a traumatic and life-changing event can actually be more depressing than the deaths themselves
Scene 1
The hanging of the apothecary, the gibbet not seen onstage. Enter the NURSE, FRIAR LAWRENCE and PETER, facing the audience, as if the gallows were there.
Nurse:
Is it fair?
Lawrence:
It isn't fair.
Nurse:
He had no choice.
Lawrence:
No other options.
Nurse:
Dead for forty ducats.
Lawrence:
He knew the law.
Nurse:
The law on selling poison.
Lawrence:
To any man in Mantua
Nurse:
Death. By hanging.
Lawrence:
We weren't to know.
Nurse:
I didn't know.
Lawrence:
You weren't told.
Nurse:
I loved the girl.
Lawrence:
We all did.
Nurse:
And now...and now...
Lawrence:
You have to leave.
Nurse:
I have to leave.
Lawrence:
It's what the Prince has said.
Nurse:
The sentence is passed.
Lawrence:
He thinks you helped the girl.
Nurse:
I didn't know...
Lawrence:
You never would have.
Nurse:
But you did.
Lawrence:
I married them.
Nurse:
You married them.
Lawrence:
I know.
Nurse:
Then why must I leave but not you?
Lawrence:
Isn't it obvious?
Nurse:
No. Not to me. But I suppose to you.
Lawrence:
Where will you go? Mantua?
Nurse:
It's haunted for me there.
Lawrence:
Then Milan.
Nurse:
Further.
Lawrence:
Rome? Naples?
Nurse:
Perhaps.
Lawrence:
Before the end of the day
Nurse:
Don't remind me.
Lawrence:
Fine.
The trap is heard to fall through. The crack of the Apothecary's neck.
Peter:
Come on.
Exit.
Scene 2
The funeral of Juliet, Lady Montague, Mercutio, Paris, Romeo and Tybalt. Enter PRINCE ESCALUS and LORD MONTAGUE. Then enter LORD CAPULET and PETRUCHIO. All are visibly upset, save the Prince.
Prince:
Lord Capulet.
Capulet:
My Prince Escalus.
Montague:
Boy.
Petruchio:
Yes, my lord.
Montague:
You were a friend of Tybalt.
Petruchio:
I was, my lord.
Prince:
No more of that, Montague.
Montague:
No, no, I wasn't...that...I wasn't.
Prince:
I'm glad. Who's conducting the service?
Capulet:
Friar John.
Prince:
Ah.
Capulet:
He's not the best, but-
Prince:
Yes I know.
Montague:
I wonder.
Prince:
You wonder what?
Montague:
Why Lawrence chose to leave.
Capulet:
He didn't say. He didn't really have to.
Montague:
He went into the hills.
Prince:
Hermitage?
Capulet:
It's not uncommon.
Montague:
In the friary. Quite a popular change to one's lifestyle.
Capulet:
She's gone too.
Prince:
Good. Where to? Padua? Florence?
Montague:
Athens.
Prince:
Athens? Why in the name of God?
Capulet:
Wanted to get away. Far away.
Montague:
As if she had a choice.
Prince:
Look, would you not? You were no saints in these wars, and are not free from my judgement.
Petruchio:
My masters, if I may be so bold as to speak against you, I've come to mourn my friend, Tybalt, you your children. We should be respectful.
Montague:
That we should.
Capulet:
Ah, I must go. My eulogy.
Prince:
Lord Capulet. Remember this.
Exit CAPULET. PETRUCHIO begins to cry.
End of scene.
Scene 3
Enter BENVOLIO.
Welcome to Verona. Verona in 1562. 1595. Umm...oh never mind, it shouldn't matter either way. The city upholds a solemn vigil. Tybalt, Mercutio, and Paris, are murdered. Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet are dead. Suicide. Lady Montague is also dead. Juliet's Nurse is exiled and Friar Lawrence has retired to a cave, two miles outside the town. Old Capulet, Lord Capulet's cousin, has died at the funeral of the aforementioned dead. I, a friend of the aforementioned Romeo, and the aforementioned Mercutio, am attending the second funeral in four days. But death has yet to leave Verona.
Enter ESCALUS.
Prince:
Who's there?
Benvolio:
Nay, answer me. Stand, and unfold yourself.
Prince:
Prince Escalus, of Verona.
Benvolio:
Apologies, my lord.
Prince:
No need, no need, I see now you are Benvolio, the last son of the house of Montague.
Benvolio:
Need I reminding?
Prince:
Of course not, I'm sorry.
Benvolio:
Aye.
Prince:
Did you know Old Capulet.
Benvolio:
No.
Prince:
But you have to be here.
Benvolio:
Show my face.
Prince:
It's the proper thing.
Benvolio:
A reconciliation isn't easy. It takes time.
Prince:
What's keeping you awake.
Benvolio:
Romeo.
Prince:
Of course.
Benvolio:
I just want to remember him as he was. But...to think that they lay him in the cold ground...
Prince:
All things must die, Benvolio.
Benvolio:
Not so young, surely.
Prince:
No, of course not-
Benvolio:
At fifteen.
Prince:
Look, all I meant was-
Benvolio:
Cut it! (Pause) I'm sorry, that wasn't intented.
Prince:
Don't mention it.
Benvolio:
So why are you awake?
Prince:
I am a prince. Sleep favours the poor.
Benvolio:
Yes, that it does. My lord?
Prince:
Yes?
Benvolio:
Do you think that...Romeo...thinks about us. In heaven.
Prince:
Heaven? Romeo is a murderer of two, and himself!
Benvolio:
He died in a friary, he would have repented.
Prince:
No amount of repentance could save a murderer.
Benvolio:
Foul? He was a good man, he only killed for love.
Prince:
Affectation.
Benvolio:
Affect- who are you? Have you no heart? Finds charity in you no sharper spur?
Prince:
I hope you will not reject the good book for affection and...mere sentiment.
Benvolio:
Goodnight, Escalus.
Prince:
You will-
Benvolio:
Goodnight.
Exit BENVOLIO.
Prince:
Quietude. The city feels empty. No tumult, no strife, no factious warring. I should be happy. But it's just...purposeless. This life, is purposeless. And I can't settle, dispel my anger. Everyone else has moved on with their lives, why can't I? Maybe I should leave, get away for a while. But who would rule the city? Capulet I suppose, but I don't trust him yet. No, I'll stay. I'll wait it out. (Pause) For now.
End of scene
Scene 4
Enter PETRUCHIO and MONTAGUE.
Petruchio:
My lord. (Goes to exit)
Montague:
Yes,- ah, boy! Boy!
Petruchio:
(Stops) Yes, my lord?
Montague:
I, uh...I'm sorry about the other day, at...you see everything was so fresh-
Petruchio:
My lord, I really wouldn't worry about it.
Montague:
Ah, yes, well...thank you. (Pause) Where are you going?
Petruchio:
Umm...to see Lord Capulet. I received word that I'm needed urgently.
Montague:
Ah. Then I won't keep you.
Exit PETRUCHIO
Oh, my, oh, my...they won't find out, they won't, I...I don't even want to remember. I won't...i can't...shouldn't.
Montague collapses. Flashback. Enter LADY CAPULET, putting make-up on in front of a mirror. Montague's speech is a prerecorded projection. Lady Capulet acts as if he is present.
Montague:
My lady.
Lady:
Oh, my- Montague?
Montague:
None but he.
Lady:
What- how did you gain admittance to my bed-chamber?
Montague:
You are a very beautiful woman, do you know that?
Lady:
My lord!
Montague:
You've failed to answer my question.
Lady:
What?
Montague:
Do you know that you are a very beautiful woman?
Lady:
I must insist that you leave at once, my lord.
Montague:
Sweet lady, I must confess, ever since the death of my dear wife I have felt so alone in this terrible world, this awful world of harsh inconsequence!
Lady:
Ever since? That was three weeks ago!
Montague:
Three weeks are for me a lifetime without my dear wife, I need the soft touch of a woman, so dearly-
Lady:
Do not touch me! leave go of me!
Montague:
No, if the gentle spirit of moving words can no way change you to a milder form, I'll woo you like a solider, at arms' end, and love you against the nature of love - force you.
Lady:
I will not have it, I- Help! What ho, help!
LADY CAPULET throws herself around the room as if she were being thrown. She turns away from the audience, and is stabbed, a knife in her chest when she turns again. She falls to the ground, twitching, not yet dead.
Montague:
I'll force you to yield to my desire!
Her dress is pulled slightly up. End of scene.
Scene 5
MONTAGUE and CAPULET, sitting. PETRUCHIO and PETER, with heads in hands.
Petruchio:
What have you done?
Montague:
I didn't mean it.
Capulet:
She was so beautiful.
Petruchio:
We have to do something. Call the prince.
Montague:
What's the point?
Capulet:
What's the use?
Montague:
What's done is done.
Capulet:
Can't change the past.
Petruchio:
I don't understand why you're just...sitting there! Isn't one of you remotely angry at, or afraid of, the other?
Capulet:
Call the prince then.
Montague:
There's nothing he can do.
Capulet:
Not anymore.
Montague:
Not now.
PETRUCHIO gestures to PETER, who exits.
Petruchio:
I didn't know it would come to this. Is this what happens when you're on your own? You just sit back and let every good thing in your life leave you?
Montague:
Tell me, boy.
Capulet:
Have you seen death?
Montague:
Have you watched someone.
Capulet:
As they die.
Petruchio:
Have I- what? What does it matter?
Montague:
It matters because you'd realise.
Capulet:
That there's no point. To anything.
Montague:
All the fighting.
Capulet:
Everything you've ever worked for doesn't matter.
Petruchio:
You're wrong. I know you're wrong, you're just...sad, still. You'll see.
Enter ESCALUS, followed by PETER close behind.
Escalus:
Good afternoon, gentlemen. (No response). Gentlemen? (Still no response). I shall be listened to! (All jump. The two lords stand.) I have been informed, as to an incident. Whilst I won't go as far as to expound upon the details, since that everyone present is already completely aware of both the circumstances and the implications of the event, I shall let it be known, how sad this event makes me. (ESCALUS looks, however, completely unfazed). If anyone would like to say anything, I would advise them to do so now. (A pause. PETRUCHIO goes to speak, PETER grabs his arm to silence him). Normally, a matter of such severity would be taken to the courts, and you, my lord Montague, would be found, inevitably, guilty. I have, however, made something of an exception, given that you are a gentleman of such standing, and I have reached a judgement. Since I fear the damage potentially to be done if I deliver a harsh verdict may outweigh the consequences of a slight...neglecting of the law, I have decided, just this once, to allow for Montague to remain free, with a warning. After all, Capulet seems quite content to be in the same room as the offender, and as she was his wife...I feel there is no more to be said.
Petruchio:
No more to be said?
Peter:
Petruchio, don't-
Petruchio
What on earth do you mean, no more to be said?
Escalus:
As is typical with most people when they speak, I meant exactly what I said.
Petruchio:
This is an insult. This is an abandonment of justice, of order.
Escalus:
As a mere servant, it may be hard for you to understand, but this is the only decision that can be made, however difficult it may seem.
Petruchio:
Difficult? It's completely immoral. And you two, how can you just sit there, that was your wife! Is no punishment in order for this...this rapist?
Montague:
Nothing to be done.
Capulet:
Nothing to be said.
Escalus:
They aren't wrong, my boy.
Petruchio:
I don't understand, I- I can't...
Montague:
Can't change the past.
Capulet:
Have to move on.
Escalus:
Best course of action.
Petruchio:
Doesn't make sense, doesn't make-
As the quartet are caught in these loops, all to the same effect, PETER eyes the group with frantic concern, but is unable to bring himself to say anything which might bring the others out of their trances.
Blackout
Scene 1
The hanging of the apothecary, the gibbet not seen onstage. Enter the NURSE, FRIAR LAWRENCE and PETER, facing the audience, as if the gallows were there.
Nurse:
Is it fair?
Lawrence:
It isn't fair.
Nurse:
He had no choice.
Lawrence:
No other options.
Nurse:
Dead for forty ducats.
Lawrence:
He knew the law.
Nurse:
The law on selling poison.
Lawrence:
To any man in Mantua
Nurse:
Death. By hanging.
Lawrence:
We weren't to know.
Nurse:
I didn't know.
Lawrence:
You weren't told.
Nurse:
I loved the girl.
Lawrence:
We all did.
Nurse:
And now...and now...
Lawrence:
You have to leave.
Nurse:
I have to leave.
Lawrence:
It's what the Prince has said.
Nurse:
The sentence is passed.
Lawrence:
He thinks you helped the girl.
Nurse:
I didn't know...
Lawrence:
You never would have.
Nurse:
But you did.
Lawrence:
I married them.
Nurse:
You married them.
Lawrence:
I know.
Nurse:
Then why must I leave but not you?
Lawrence:
Isn't it obvious?
Nurse:
No. Not to me. But I suppose to you.
Lawrence:
Where will you go? Mantua?
Nurse:
It's haunted for me there.
Lawrence:
Then Milan.
Nurse:
Further.
Lawrence:
Rome? Naples?
Nurse:
Perhaps.
Lawrence:
Before the end of the day
Nurse:
Don't remind me.
Lawrence:
Fine.
The trap is heard to fall through. The crack of the Apothecary's neck.
Peter:
Come on.
Exit.
Scene 2
The funeral of Juliet, Lady Montague, Mercutio, Paris, Romeo and Tybalt. Enter PRINCE ESCALUS and LORD MONTAGUE. Then enter LORD CAPULET and PETRUCHIO. All are visibly upset, save the Prince.
Prince:
Lord Capulet.
Capulet:
My Prince Escalus.
Montague:
Boy.
Petruchio:
Yes, my lord.
Montague:
You were a friend of Tybalt.
Petruchio:
I was, my lord.
Prince:
No more of that, Montague.
Montague:
No, no, I wasn't...that...I wasn't.
Prince:
I'm glad. Who's conducting the service?
Capulet:
Friar John.
Prince:
Ah.
Capulet:
He's not the best, but-
Prince:
Yes I know.
Montague:
I wonder.
Prince:
You wonder what?
Montague:
Why Lawrence chose to leave.
Capulet:
He didn't say. He didn't really have to.
Montague:
He went into the hills.
Prince:
Hermitage?
Capulet:
It's not uncommon.
Montague:
In the friary. Quite a popular change to one's lifestyle.
Capulet:
She's gone too.
Prince:
Good. Where to? Padua? Florence?
Montague:
Athens.
Prince:
Athens? Why in the name of God?
Capulet:
Wanted to get away. Far away.
Montague:
As if she had a choice.
Prince:
Look, would you not? You were no saints in these wars, and are not free from my judgement.
Petruchio:
My masters, if I may be so bold as to speak against you, I've come to mourn my friend, Tybalt, you your children. We should be respectful.
Montague:
That we should.
Capulet:
Ah, I must go. My eulogy.
Prince:
Lord Capulet. Remember this.
Exit CAPULET. PETRUCHIO begins to cry.
End of scene.
Scene 3
Enter BENVOLIO.
Welcome to Verona. Verona in 1562. 1595. Umm...oh never mind, it shouldn't matter either way. The city upholds a solemn vigil. Tybalt, Mercutio, and Paris, are murdered. Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet are dead. Suicide. Lady Montague is also dead. Juliet's Nurse is exiled and Friar Lawrence has retired to a cave, two miles outside the town. Old Capulet, Lord Capulet's cousin, has died at the funeral of the aforementioned dead. I, a friend of the aforementioned Romeo, and the aforementioned Mercutio, am attending the second funeral in four days. But death has yet to leave Verona.
Enter ESCALUS.
Prince:
Who's there?
Benvolio:
Nay, answer me. Stand, and unfold yourself.
Prince:
Prince Escalus, of Verona.
Benvolio:
Apologies, my lord.
Prince:
No need, no need, I see now you are Benvolio, the last son of the house of Montague.
Benvolio:
Need I reminding?
Prince:
Of course not, I'm sorry.
Benvolio:
Aye.
Prince:
Did you know Old Capulet.
Benvolio:
No.
Prince:
But you have to be here.
Benvolio:
Show my face.
Prince:
It's the proper thing.
Benvolio:
A reconciliation isn't easy. It takes time.
Prince:
What's keeping you awake.
Benvolio:
Romeo.
Prince:
Of course.
Benvolio:
I just want to remember him as he was. But...to think that they lay him in the cold ground...
Prince:
All things must die, Benvolio.
Benvolio:
Not so young, surely.
Prince:
No, of course not-
Benvolio:
At fifteen.
Prince:
Look, all I meant was-
Benvolio:
Cut it! (Pause) I'm sorry, that wasn't intented.
Prince:
Don't mention it.
Benvolio:
So why are you awake?
Prince:
I am a prince. Sleep favours the poor.
Benvolio:
Yes, that it does. My lord?
Prince:
Yes?
Benvolio:
Do you think that...Romeo...thinks about us. In heaven.
Prince:
Heaven? Romeo is a murderer of two, and himself!
Benvolio:
He died in a friary, he would have repented.
Prince:
No amount of repentance could save a murderer.
Benvolio:
Foul? He was a good man, he only killed for love.
Prince:
Affectation.
Benvolio:
Affect- who are you? Have you no heart? Finds charity in you no sharper spur?
Prince:
I hope you will not reject the good book for affection and...mere sentiment.
Benvolio:
Goodnight, Escalus.
Prince:
You will-
Benvolio:
Goodnight.
Exit BENVOLIO.
Prince:
Quietude. The city feels empty. No tumult, no strife, no factious warring. I should be happy. But it's just...purposeless. This life, is purposeless. And I can't settle, dispel my anger. Everyone else has moved on with their lives, why can't I? Maybe I should leave, get away for a while. But who would rule the city? Capulet I suppose, but I don't trust him yet. No, I'll stay. I'll wait it out. (Pause) For now.
End of scene
Scene 4
Enter PETRUCHIO and MONTAGUE.
Petruchio:
My lord. (Goes to exit)
Montague:
Yes,- ah, boy! Boy!
Petruchio:
(Stops) Yes, my lord?
Montague:
I, uh...I'm sorry about the other day, at...you see everything was so fresh-
Petruchio:
My lord, I really wouldn't worry about it.
Montague:
Ah, yes, well...thank you. (Pause) Where are you going?
Petruchio:
Umm...to see Lord Capulet. I received word that I'm needed urgently.
Montague:
Ah. Then I won't keep you.
Exit PETRUCHIO
Oh, my, oh, my...they won't find out, they won't, I...I don't even want to remember. I won't...i can't...shouldn't.
Montague collapses. Flashback. Enter LADY CAPULET, putting make-up on in front of a mirror. Montague's speech is a prerecorded projection. Lady Capulet acts as if he is present.
Montague:
My lady.
Lady:
Oh, my- Montague?
Montague:
None but he.
Lady:
What- how did you gain admittance to my bed-chamber?
Montague:
You are a very beautiful woman, do you know that?
Lady:
My lord!
Montague:
You've failed to answer my question.
Lady:
What?
Montague:
Do you know that you are a very beautiful woman?
Lady:
I must insist that you leave at once, my lord.
Montague:
Sweet lady, I must confess, ever since the death of my dear wife I have felt so alone in this terrible world, this awful world of harsh inconsequence!
Lady:
Ever since? That was three weeks ago!
Montague:
Three weeks are for me a lifetime without my dear wife, I need the soft touch of a woman, so dearly-
Lady:
Do not touch me! leave go of me!
Montague:
No, if the gentle spirit of moving words can no way change you to a milder form, I'll woo you like a solider, at arms' end, and love you against the nature of love - force you.
Lady:
I will not have it, I- Help! What ho, help!
LADY CAPULET throws herself around the room as if she were being thrown. She turns away from the audience, and is stabbed, a knife in her chest when she turns again. She falls to the ground, twitching, not yet dead.
Montague:
I'll force you to yield to my desire!
Her dress is pulled slightly up. End of scene.
Scene 5
MONTAGUE and CAPULET, sitting. PETRUCHIO and PETER, with heads in hands.
Petruchio:
What have you done?
Montague:
I didn't mean it.
Capulet:
She was so beautiful.
Petruchio:
We have to do something. Call the prince.
Montague:
What's the point?
Capulet:
What's the use?
Montague:
What's done is done.
Capulet:
Can't change the past.
Petruchio:
I don't understand why you're just...sitting there! Isn't one of you remotely angry at, or afraid of, the other?
Capulet:
Call the prince then.
Montague:
There's nothing he can do.
Capulet:
Not anymore.
Montague:
Not now.
PETRUCHIO gestures to PETER, who exits.
Petruchio:
I didn't know it would come to this. Is this what happens when you're on your own? You just sit back and let every good thing in your life leave you?
Montague:
Tell me, boy.
Capulet:
Have you seen death?
Montague:
Have you watched someone.
Capulet:
As they die.
Petruchio:
Have I- what? What does it matter?
Montague:
It matters because you'd realise.
Capulet:
That there's no point. To anything.
Montague:
All the fighting.
Capulet:
Everything you've ever worked for doesn't matter.
Petruchio:
You're wrong. I know you're wrong, you're just...sad, still. You'll see.
Enter ESCALUS, followed by PETER close behind.
Escalus:
Good afternoon, gentlemen. (No response). Gentlemen? (Still no response). I shall be listened to! (All jump. The two lords stand.) I have been informed, as to an incident. Whilst I won't go as far as to expound upon the details, since that everyone present is already completely aware of both the circumstances and the implications of the event, I shall let it be known, how sad this event makes me. (ESCALUS looks, however, completely unfazed). If anyone would like to say anything, I would advise them to do so now. (A pause. PETRUCHIO goes to speak, PETER grabs his arm to silence him). Normally, a matter of such severity would be taken to the courts, and you, my lord Montague, would be found, inevitably, guilty. I have, however, made something of an exception, given that you are a gentleman of such standing, and I have reached a judgement. Since I fear the damage potentially to be done if I deliver a harsh verdict may outweigh the consequences of a slight...neglecting of the law, I have decided, just this once, to allow for Montague to remain free, with a warning. After all, Capulet seems quite content to be in the same room as the offender, and as she was his wife...I feel there is no more to be said.
Petruchio:
No more to be said?
Peter:
Petruchio, don't-
Petruchio
What on earth do you mean, no more to be said?
Escalus:
As is typical with most people when they speak, I meant exactly what I said.
Petruchio:
This is an insult. This is an abandonment of justice, of order.
Escalus:
As a mere servant, it may be hard for you to understand, but this is the only decision that can be made, however difficult it may seem.
Petruchio:
Difficult? It's completely immoral. And you two, how can you just sit there, that was your wife! Is no punishment in order for this...this rapist?
Montague:
Nothing to be done.
Capulet:
Nothing to be said.
Escalus:
They aren't wrong, my boy.
Petruchio:
I don't understand, I- I can't...
Montague:
Can't change the past.
Capulet:
Have to move on.
Escalus:
Best course of action.
Petruchio:
Doesn't make sense, doesn't make-
As the quartet are caught in these loops, all to the same effect, PETER eyes the group with frantic concern, but is unable to bring himself to say anything which might bring the others out of their trances.
Blackout
Tuesday, 22 April 2014
The Government Inspector
As somebody hoping to go into the theatre, I have been lately thinking about the challenges and opportunities of staging a play: namely Nikolai Gogol's 'Government Inspector'. I decided to write a rationale, describing my choices in staging and design in this masterpiece of Russian dramaturgy:
The Government Inspector - design concept
In my production of The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol, I would set the play in modern day Russia, in an attempt to demonstrate that despite the overthrowing of the Russian empire and then the Soviet Union, corruption is still the largest issue facing the Russian Federation, the largest nation in the world. Originally staged in the Alexandrinsky theatre in St Petersburg on a proscenium arch stage, I would remain with this stage type, for the reasons that the play was probably written for this type of stage and is therefore better suited to it, and that it would better befit my style of performance, which would be naturalistic.
The set for the room in the mayor's house takes inspiration from the skyscrapers of Moscow, with all three walls being opaque glass, each side having a narrow wall of oak set in the centre, those walls stage left and right having large doors in them, the wall upstage having a large elevator. The frequent ping of the elevator as each new character arrives will remind the audience of the scenes' chaos. Above the elevator upstage is positioned a large portrait of the mayor, who is made up to look much like Vladimir Putin, to further the image of corruption in small towns being a microcosm of the whole state of Russia. The floors are of opaque glass, and centre stage is a large round oak table, around which chairs are placed in a semi-circle upstage, meaning no individual's seat is obscured by a chair downstage. The oak displays the disproportionate wealth of the mayoral office, which will be contrasted in the set for the the inn. For this set, old, stained red wallpaper will be rolled down over the walls, a tattered brown carpet across the floor, the elevator doors will be covered, and a low energy lightbulb will be lowered to seven feet above the bed, to create the illusion of the room being small. The glass table and chairs are removed and replaced with a large double bed, which is lower down on the left side as it is broken, with a plywood side table with peeling white paint. A mirror is positioned above the bed, but at a cheated, downward angle. This way, Osip can perform his opening soliloquy lying back on the bed, introspectively, but the audience can see him via the mirror above. Characters in this scene will enter up stairs from the door stage left.
The play would open in the morning, before dawn, displayed by a dim light to emulate dusk, and all the characters would appear visibly tired, some still putting on suit jackets and ties. This is because the mayor has called an emergency meeting, the night time setting adding to the idea of the government of the town being underhand, dealing with things they do not want the public to be aware of. Twilight will start to dawn as the officials begin to move on their way, culminating in the beginning of dawn as Anna shouts out of the window, displayed by a warm orange light appearing stage left, which continues directly into the next scene, with the sun rising during Osip's soliloquy, meaning that by Khlestakov's entrance, the sun has risen. This will be marked by an intensification of the light, and the orange glow changing to yellow, then to white. As Khlestakov makes his departure in the final act, and the loose ends are being tied up, the sun will start to set, marking the beginning of the evening twilight. This will be achieved via a reversal of the technique used to portray sunrise, except the light will be stage right instead. Dusk falls as the characters learn Khlestakov's true identity and that the real inspector is present, and light returns to the exact level as at the beginning as the final tableau is formed. This darkening is, again, merely a reversal of the dawn lighting sequence.
The tone of my production would be quite dark, in order to make the play didactic in nature. This would not be portrayed through sound, of which there is little, save the ping of the elevator, and a loud, deep, thumping sound as the characters arrange themselves into the final tableau, but through the depiction of all of the characters as fickle. The only departure from a naturalistic style would be the wearing of comedia dell'arte masks when a character is putting on a front, such as when Khlestakov pretends to be the inspector, when the mayor pretends not to know the the thinks Khlestakov is the inspector, or even just when one character lies to another, such as when the individual town officials beseech Khlestakov in act IV. I would change the plot in only one respect: the postmaster being a police spy. This would be made evident through his wearing of a mask throughout the play, and also an inserted dialogue between the officials leaving the mayor's room in act I and Anna and Marya entering, in which he makes a phone call, confirming that the mayor is falsely convinced that the inspector is staying at the inn.
As for costume, the dress would be modern suits for the part of the officials. The mayor would be cast, made up and dressed to look like Vladimir Putin. Aside from the obvious connotation of corruption, this would add to the image of the mayor of being sly and arrogant. This concept would involve a black suit, white shirt and red tie. The superintendent of schools would be dressed in the same suit and die, but with a striped shirt, mainly to differentiate whilst portraying them as similar. This sycophant is positioned always on the right hand side of the mayor and is the obvious successor, adding to the idea that nothing will ever change as the implicit line of succession is made up of the same corrupt officials. The judge wears the same suit, the same shirt as the mayor, and a silver tie. He wears them in an untidy manner, however, shirt untucked, collar up, lapels turned over, tie loose, a button on the shirt undone, and his hair ruffled. He is therefore presented as someone disorganised and, therefore, seemingly incapable of making decisions in court, and explaining his odd, haphazard dealings in bribery and geese keeping. The charities warden would be a woman, which would make her harsh stance on the welfare of patience even more shocking, and she would have blonde, shoulder-length hair, a pure blue coat and dress and a fashionable flowery scarf. The postmaster would wear a white shirt, but a dark blue suit, to ever so slightly differentiate him from the others, and a lilac tie to give him a deceptive friendliness. His hair would be close cropped, making him harder to read as an individual. Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky would be dressed in the same suit, except Bobchinsky's would be jet black, and Dobchinsky's would be bright white, both with their hair slicked back, dark. This would act as a method of parallel characterisation. Anna would wear a very pale pink jacket, have heavy glasses attached round her neck by a cord, and be slightly overweight, her hair dark, shoulder-length and unkempt. She appears as a woman past her prime, attempting to look proper but always seeking to be the most respected figure by all. Marya is a beautiful, tall, blonde young woman, who wears a revealing black dress, and a leopard print coat over the top, and tall black boots. She is quite obviously prettier than her mother, meaning their competing over attractiveness is not really a competition, but Anna deluding herself. Osip is dressed like a butler, with a starched shirt and a stiff detachable collar, with tie, waistcoat and tails. He is, however, in his seventies, and is most of the tasks given to him by Khlestakov are far too strenuous for a man of his age. This shows Khlestakov up as ungentlemanly, allowing such an old man to do work which would be easy for a twenty-three year old such as himself. Gibner the physician would wear, again, a black suit, a white shirt, and a red and blue striped tie, differentiating him slightly from the others, as a German. Despite his position as a doctor, his wearing a suit proves him to be more of a pen pusher, like the rest of the officials. None of them do any actual hands-on work in their sectors, showing them up as bureaucratic, making their corruption all the more distasteful. Svistunov an Dherzimorda the constables would wear standard Russian police dress, thick black coats and ushankas with police badges on the front. Svistunov would carry a whistle round his neck, which he would blow frequently whenever he is ordered to do something. He is of an average size, whereas Dherzimorda is a much larger, more intimidating character, to characterise the police force as brawny. Khlestakov, cast as a twenty-three year old, with long, dark hair and a beard, starts the play wearing a grey striped suit, which, whilst respectable, is clearly a little old. However, upon his reemergence in act three he wears a long, red and blue dressing gown, his hair newly washed, depicting him as a quasi-Jesus figure. This mocks the way in which the officials spend the last two acts seeking redemption, whilst in fact he is only a conman.
The Government Inspector - design concept
In my production of The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol, I would set the play in modern day Russia, in an attempt to demonstrate that despite the overthrowing of the Russian empire and then the Soviet Union, corruption is still the largest issue facing the Russian Federation, the largest nation in the world. Originally staged in the Alexandrinsky theatre in St Petersburg on a proscenium arch stage, I would remain with this stage type, for the reasons that the play was probably written for this type of stage and is therefore better suited to it, and that it would better befit my style of performance, which would be naturalistic.
The set for the room in the mayor's house takes inspiration from the skyscrapers of Moscow, with all three walls being opaque glass, each side having a narrow wall of oak set in the centre, those walls stage left and right having large doors in them, the wall upstage having a large elevator. The frequent ping of the elevator as each new character arrives will remind the audience of the scenes' chaos. Above the elevator upstage is positioned a large portrait of the mayor, who is made up to look much like Vladimir Putin, to further the image of corruption in small towns being a microcosm of the whole state of Russia. The floors are of opaque glass, and centre stage is a large round oak table, around which chairs are placed in a semi-circle upstage, meaning no individual's seat is obscured by a chair downstage. The oak displays the disproportionate wealth of the mayoral office, which will be contrasted in the set for the the inn. For this set, old, stained red wallpaper will be rolled down over the walls, a tattered brown carpet across the floor, the elevator doors will be covered, and a low energy lightbulb will be lowered to seven feet above the bed, to create the illusion of the room being small. The glass table and chairs are removed and replaced with a large double bed, which is lower down on the left side as it is broken, with a plywood side table with peeling white paint. A mirror is positioned above the bed, but at a cheated, downward angle. This way, Osip can perform his opening soliloquy lying back on the bed, introspectively, but the audience can see him via the mirror above. Characters in this scene will enter up stairs from the door stage left.
The play would open in the morning, before dawn, displayed by a dim light to emulate dusk, and all the characters would appear visibly tired, some still putting on suit jackets and ties. This is because the mayor has called an emergency meeting, the night time setting adding to the idea of the government of the town being underhand, dealing with things they do not want the public to be aware of. Twilight will start to dawn as the officials begin to move on their way, culminating in the beginning of dawn as Anna shouts out of the window, displayed by a warm orange light appearing stage left, which continues directly into the next scene, with the sun rising during Osip's soliloquy, meaning that by Khlestakov's entrance, the sun has risen. This will be marked by an intensification of the light, and the orange glow changing to yellow, then to white. As Khlestakov makes his departure in the final act, and the loose ends are being tied up, the sun will start to set, marking the beginning of the evening twilight. This will be achieved via a reversal of the technique used to portray sunrise, except the light will be stage right instead. Dusk falls as the characters learn Khlestakov's true identity and that the real inspector is present, and light returns to the exact level as at the beginning as the final tableau is formed. This darkening is, again, merely a reversal of the dawn lighting sequence.
The tone of my production would be quite dark, in order to make the play didactic in nature. This would not be portrayed through sound, of which there is little, save the ping of the elevator, and a loud, deep, thumping sound as the characters arrange themselves into the final tableau, but through the depiction of all of the characters as fickle. The only departure from a naturalistic style would be the wearing of comedia dell'arte masks when a character is putting on a front, such as when Khlestakov pretends to be the inspector, when the mayor pretends not to know the the thinks Khlestakov is the inspector, or even just when one character lies to another, such as when the individual town officials beseech Khlestakov in act IV. I would change the plot in only one respect: the postmaster being a police spy. This would be made evident through his wearing of a mask throughout the play, and also an inserted dialogue between the officials leaving the mayor's room in act I and Anna and Marya entering, in which he makes a phone call, confirming that the mayor is falsely convinced that the inspector is staying at the inn.
As for costume, the dress would be modern suits for the part of the officials. The mayor would be cast, made up and dressed to look like Vladimir Putin. Aside from the obvious connotation of corruption, this would add to the image of the mayor of being sly and arrogant. This concept would involve a black suit, white shirt and red tie. The superintendent of schools would be dressed in the same suit and die, but with a striped shirt, mainly to differentiate whilst portraying them as similar. This sycophant is positioned always on the right hand side of the mayor and is the obvious successor, adding to the idea that nothing will ever change as the implicit line of succession is made up of the same corrupt officials. The judge wears the same suit, the same shirt as the mayor, and a silver tie. He wears them in an untidy manner, however, shirt untucked, collar up, lapels turned over, tie loose, a button on the shirt undone, and his hair ruffled. He is therefore presented as someone disorganised and, therefore, seemingly incapable of making decisions in court, and explaining his odd, haphazard dealings in bribery and geese keeping. The charities warden would be a woman, which would make her harsh stance on the welfare of patience even more shocking, and she would have blonde, shoulder-length hair, a pure blue coat and dress and a fashionable flowery scarf. The postmaster would wear a white shirt, but a dark blue suit, to ever so slightly differentiate him from the others, and a lilac tie to give him a deceptive friendliness. His hair would be close cropped, making him harder to read as an individual. Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky would be dressed in the same suit, except Bobchinsky's would be jet black, and Dobchinsky's would be bright white, both with their hair slicked back, dark. This would act as a method of parallel characterisation. Anna would wear a very pale pink jacket, have heavy glasses attached round her neck by a cord, and be slightly overweight, her hair dark, shoulder-length and unkempt. She appears as a woman past her prime, attempting to look proper but always seeking to be the most respected figure by all. Marya is a beautiful, tall, blonde young woman, who wears a revealing black dress, and a leopard print coat over the top, and tall black boots. She is quite obviously prettier than her mother, meaning their competing over attractiveness is not really a competition, but Anna deluding herself. Osip is dressed like a butler, with a starched shirt and a stiff detachable collar, with tie, waistcoat and tails. He is, however, in his seventies, and is most of the tasks given to him by Khlestakov are far too strenuous for a man of his age. This shows Khlestakov up as ungentlemanly, allowing such an old man to do work which would be easy for a twenty-three year old such as himself. Gibner the physician would wear, again, a black suit, a white shirt, and a red and blue striped tie, differentiating him slightly from the others, as a German. Despite his position as a doctor, his wearing a suit proves him to be more of a pen pusher, like the rest of the officials. None of them do any actual hands-on work in their sectors, showing them up as bureaucratic, making their corruption all the more distasteful. Svistunov an Dherzimorda the constables would wear standard Russian police dress, thick black coats and ushankas with police badges on the front. Svistunov would carry a whistle round his neck, which he would blow frequently whenever he is ordered to do something. He is of an average size, whereas Dherzimorda is a much larger, more intimidating character, to characterise the police force as brawny. Khlestakov, cast as a twenty-three year old, with long, dark hair and a beard, starts the play wearing a grey striped suit, which, whilst respectable, is clearly a little old. However, upon his reemergence in act three he wears a long, red and blue dressing gown, his hair newly washed, depicting him as a quasi-Jesus figure. This mocks the way in which the officials spend the last two acts seeking redemption, whilst in fact he is only a conman.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)