The Master Builder, Chichester, Minerva Theatre, September 2010

“No, I can’t take it anymore” says Knut Brovik, an old architect who now works for Halvard Solness, the Master Builder. Brovik’s son Ragnar, and Ragnar’s finacée Kaia Fosli also work for Solness, and the world revolves around this highly successful, but very insecure man. He holds Ragnar down by refusing to approve his excellent drawings, and holds Ms. Fosli close to him, so we think we see the picture clearly — a man who appears to reject his dutiful wife, while keeping Ragnar down so he can enjoy the young man’s fiancée. Yet like many things in Ibsen it’s not that simple, and when a wild young woman, Hilda Wangel strides into the house all is lost.

Solness’s narcissism has finally found the perfect mirror, and his previous worries about being delusional are suddenly personified in this delusional young woman who claims he once kissed her and promised her a kingdom. Did she really meet him ten years ago and see this acrophobic man climb to the steeple on one of his own churches? He apparently believes it, so taken is he with her games, but she is the catalyst for his downfall, made reality by climbing the tower of one of his own creations. In the meantime she shows generosity to Ragnar by forcing Solness to validate his drawings, but it’s all too late for Ragnar’s father, who couldn’t take life any more.

Michael Pennington as Halvard Solness, photo by Manuel Harlan

Michael Pennington slowly brings out hidden complexities in the character of Solness, helping us understand his assertion that, “there are so many demons in the world”. His was a magnificent performance — a portrayal of great depth — and his wife was beautifully played by Maureen Beattie, allowing us to see her pain at the fire that once destroyed all her possessions. Those dolls — each one alive for her — all perished, and though she says the loss of her twin sons was God’s will, the nurseries are still kept ready for use, beds made up. Pip Donaghy was a sympathetic Dr. Herdal, and Solness’s ‘team’ — his secretary Kaja Fosli, the young architect Ragnar Borvik, and his father Knut — were all well played by Emily Wachter, Philip Cumbus, and John McEnery, as mere appendages to the great narcissist. Naomi Frederick played Hilda Wangel as an intense, slightly whacky yet surprisingly controlled young woman, though I would have preferred less volume at times.

Philip Franks’ direction gave us a drama that moved forward with energy, and this new version of Ibsen’s play by David Edgar — based on a literal translation by an expert — gave a text that flowed well and fitted the time of the drama. Costumes were all late nineteenth century, and the simple stage designs by Stephen Brimson Lewis, flipping interior to exterior, were excellent. The music by Matthew Scott gave a sense of mysterious forces at work, and the whole effect was well worth the trip from London.

Performances continue until October 9 — for details click here.

Bingo: Scenes of Money and Death, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, April 2010

Patrick Stewart as Shakespeare

The bizarre first word of the title, and lack of narrative drive in the text, was a striking contrast to the wonderful acting from a cast headed by Patrick Stewart as William Shakespeare. This 1974 play by Edward Bond, directed by Angus Jackson, is about Shakespeare’s last days. It deals primarily with his wish to protect the income from his landholdings, and secondly with a difficulty in his relationship with his younger daughter Judith. As a piece of fiction it is based on a few facts: Shakespeare did indeed favour a proposed land development by William Combe, played here by Jason Watkins, and he did change his will shortly before his death, leaving most of his estate to his elder daughter Susanna and her husband. An impression is given that Shakespeare cut his younger daughter Judith out of his will, though in fact her inheritance had provisions to protect it from her husband Thomas Quiney, of whose behaviour Shakespeare disapproved.

Patrick Stewart and Richard McCabe as Shakespeare and Ben Johnson

There are six scenes, each interesting enough in itself, but lacking overall momentum. The one I enjoyed most was the fourth, where Ben Johnson, entertainingly played by Richard McCabe, is the life and soul of an evening of heavy drinking with Shakespeare. While Johnson is cheerful and impecunious, Shakespeare is shown as a kindly but taciturn figure, ready to pay when others cannot. One of the talents Patrick Stewart brings to the part is an ability to portray Shakespeare’s long silences while others gaily rant on about things that concern them, but are of little interest to anyone else, including the audience.

The tenor of the times is brought out in the first scene, where Michelle Tate appears as a young woman, journeying without permission to alleged relatives in another part of the country. She needs money, which Shakespeare is happy to provide, but John McEnery, as a foolish and lecherous old retainer, gets her for himself, and she is later strung up on a scaffold for breaking the law in her illicit travels. This was a time in England when people were forbidden to travel without a permit, because of perceived threats by Roman Catholics. A time of casual brutality when executions were the norm, and family members might even pull on the legs of their hanging brethren to shorten the torture — none of the modern skill of calculating the length of rope according to the weight of the body so that dropping yields instant death, rather than a beheading. It was a time of bear baiting when starving dogs were set onto a chained bear, which might be blinded as additional entertainment. The script describes all this, with Shakespeare saying, “I am stupefied by the suffering I’ve seen”. This and the side story of the old retainer being attacked and eventually shot, possibly by his son, along with men running around armed with cudgels, gives the impression of a history lesson — interesting, but lacking in dramatic tension.

The old retainer’s wife, who gently tolerates her nutty husband, was very sympathetically portrayed by Ellie Haddington, and their anger-ridden son by Alex Prince. Catherine Cusack, as Shakespeare’s daughter Judith, showed fury mingled with care towards her father, but with the two of them saying, “I hate you” to one another, I was left with the feeling that while this fiction might be partly true, it might equally well be partly false. Some commentators refer to Lear-like aspects of this play, but I don’t find it remotely on the same level as Lear. What the playwright seems to have done is use Shakespeare as a vehicle for urging the audience to think about the crudity and unfairness of early seventeenth century England. His success would be greater if the play had more energy and drive, and I’m afraid even the presence of Patrick Stewart as the Bard, and fine acting by the rest of the cast, failed to grip me, nor presumably those who left after the interval.

Performances continue to May 22 — for more details click here.