In
this season of Christmassy theatrical fare (and also of what one might
call alt.xmas shows), one feature that disappoints all too often is the
attempt to update, relocate or otherwise jazz up one of the traditional
tales. Modernising the story itself can seem too worthy, trying to make
the fun more contemporary in style too laboured. And sometimes even
deadlier is "returning the tale to its authentic roots".
These
are the reefs which David Farr has chosen to navigate with his version
of the Robin Hood story. On the one hand, he strips away the
romanticism of Robin the outlawed nobleman who gives his booty to the
poor; this Robin is a commoner and a simple robber, although he
acquires higher feelings and motives as the tale progresses. On the
other, the real focus of Farr's version is Marion, a daring and
self-willed woman who teaches Robin that he has a heart. And, since
this is an RSC production, Shakespearean devices and allusions are
rife. Marion goes from her castle into exile in the forest, disguised
as a young man, with a clown for company, à la
As You Like It;
there is a long, dark night in the woods (though not a Midsummer
Night), with confusion, much crossing of paths and even a supernatural
presence (really, throwing the Green Man archetype gratuitously into
the mix is just excessive); and when his wicked plans are thwarted,
Prince John's final line, "I shall be revenged on every single one of
you!", is almost verbatim Malvolio's exit line in
Twelfth Night. This is the kind of Bard-buffs' fun which tries too hard for it ever to actually
feel like fun.
Gísli
Örn Garðarsson's production keeps things lively, though, with his
trademark aerialism on ropes, ribbons and up and down the enormous
slide which forms the back wall of Börkur Jonsson's set. Iris Roberts
is a spirited Marion, James McArdle allows Robin not to be too
likeable, Little John actually is little for once (Michael Walter being
a person of restricted growth), and as Pierre the clown, amongst many
other enjoyable moments Ólafur Darri Ólafsson gives us the rare
experience of hearing an Icelander playing a Frenchman exclaim in broad
Yorkshire, "Bloody Nora!" Garðarsson and his cast supply the vitality
which Farr's script strives for but ultimately only mimics.
Written for the Financial
Times.