Stephen Dillane is an unshowy,
deliberative actor. He makes every word count. It’s a pity, then, when
you can’t hear them, as is sometimes the case in the pair of plays
which constitute the second year of Sam Mendes’ Bridge Project. Dillane
is a natural Prospero in
The Tempest:
one could easily imagine him so locked in contemplation that his
dukedom slips away from him, leading to his ejection into exile on this
remote island. But, as he explains this history to his daughter
Miranda, in one of Shakespeare’s more vital expository scenes (since
this is the only story the playwright ever originated), he is so
pensive and soft-voiced that words and phrases become unintelligible to
various parts of the house. As the melancholy Jaques in
As You Like It, he is more audible,
modulating his voice downwards in pitch to a sombre rumble, yet he
seems to have given so much thought to the melancholy in Jaques’
character that he scarcely registers as a presence onstage.
Sam Mendes’s directorial keynotes are similar to those of Dillane as a
performer: thoughtfulness, detail, scrupulous attention. Here he links
the plays conceptually through the poet Ted Hughes’ notion that each
concerns the exile of a duke and his daughter, and that the twelve-year
period of Prospero’s exile corresponds to the interval between the
composition of the two plays, making
The
Tempest a later, minor-key variation on the themes first
considered in
As You Like It.
This makes for an interesting diptych, but a less compelling
As You Like It if seen in
isolation. As I have often remarked, bringing out the deeper notes in
Shakespeare’s comedies is all very well as long as it does not hobble
them
as comedies. In Mendes’
As You Like It, many of the laughs
seem dutiful, and it is a long, bleak winter before spring breaks on
the forest of Arden during the interval. In this latter season Juliet
Rylance’s Rosalind hits her stride, palpably “fathom deep in love” at
every moment, and Christian Camargo’s Orlando begins too to meet her
eye after a strangely diffident start in general.
Rylance is also a wonderstruck Miranda in
The Tempest, wooed by Edward
Bennett’s honest, appealing Ferdinand. (Bennett brings a tang of
conscience to Orlando’s brother Oliver in
As You Like It.) The magic and
fluidity of the late play are more interpretatively accommodating, and
as Mendes stages it within a sand circle into which Prospero invokes
other characters, we feel the care and concentration with which this
duke handles all matters, the magic in equipoise with the melancholy.
Here, too, Camargo’s slight air of distraction works as part of the
characterisation of Ariel. Ron Cephas Jones is a dignified Caliban, and
Thomas Sadoski and Anthony O’Donnell strike up another double act as
Stephano and Trinculo, having earlier made an unusually knowing pairing
as Touchstone the jester and Corin the shepherd. As with the first year
of Mendes’ transatlantically cast touring project, one half of the
picture proves more thoroughly satisfying than the other, and once
again it is the late Shakespearean drama rather than either 2009’s
Chekhov or this year’s too-muted festive comedy.
Written for the Financial
Times.