The Judas Kiss, Richmond Theatre, October 2012

This David Hare play focuses on two moments in Oscar Wilde’s relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie). One is at the Cadogan Hotel during the day leading up to his arrest, the other in Naples after his release from prison.

Bosie, Robbie, Wilde

The audience found several of Wilde’s lines amusingly witty, and some of Bosie’s breathtakingly narcissistic. This obnoxious young man was well portrayed by Freddie Fox, his admirable physique well befitting the nude scenes, though Tom Colley as Bosie’s Italian lover in Naples arguably beat him in this respect. Cal MacAninch as Robbie Ross, an ex-lover of Wilde who adores him and wants to help him, was very convincing, and the scene with the hotel servants was well played, but Rupert Everett made an unsympathetic Wilde. It’s essential to feel for him, otherwise the play rather loses its point.

Everett as Wilde

In an interview in the programme, David Hare is asked why he picked the two moments he did, and to what extent the dialogue was Hare’s own invention — the answer is most of it. Among numerous other questions and answers, the one asking what the author was trying to achieve is absent: was the intention to explain Wilde’s demise, was it to grieve over a relationship that halted Wilde’s creative genius, or was there some other purpose? However, in an article by Wilde’s only grandson — well worth the price of the programme — Merlin Holland wishes he could ask his grandfather one single question, ’Why on earth did you do it?’ suing Bosie’s father, landing himself in gaol and allowing society to rid itself of a rebel “who called into question … the hypocrisy of those social, sexual and literary values upon which Victorian society was so firmly based”.

The creative team that put this on has done a terrific job. Fine direction by Neil Armfield with excellent designs and costumes by Dale Ferguson and Sue Blaine, and clever lighting by Rick Fisher that allows the audience to experience the passing of many hours as Wilde sits almost immobilised.

Bosie and lover

Time waits for no man, but at the end of this play it seems that Wilde is waiting for time so it can annihilate him. I would have preferred more depth.

Performances at Richmond continue until November 3 — for details click here — after which it goes to the Theatre Royal Brighton, November 5–10, before opening in the West End at the Duke of York’s Theatre on 17 January 2013 (previews from 9 January).

An Ideal Husband, Vaudeville Theatre, London’s West End, November 2010

This witty and cleverly constructed play by Oscar Wilde was beautifully performed by the entire cast. So beautifully in fact that I never had a serious doubt it would all work out well in the end. Perhaps I should have done, because the charmingly dishonest Mrs. Cheveley, brilliantly played by Samantha Bond, exuded an air of inevitable success even though she ends up with nothing and loses the valuable brooch she once stole.

Mrs. Cheveley is poles apart from her old school ‘friend’ Lady Chiltern, who is puffed up with pride at having an ideal husband, a situation that allows her to sail forth clothed in good deeds and moral inflexibility. Unfortunately, the husband Sir Robert Chiltern has a nasty skeleton in his cupboard, well exhibited by a letter that has recently come into Mrs. Cheveley’s possession. This is a play about blackmail, political opportunism and questions of honour, and as such is as fitting to the present time as it was to the late nineteenth century in which it was written.

Rachael Stirling gave a beautiful portrayal of Lady Chiltern, who is pulled up short at the end when her husband, very convincingly played by Robert Hanson, refuses to give his sister’s hand to the shrewd but apparently foppish Lord Goring. Now it is he who shows moral inflexibility, and his wife feels obliged to explain that things are not entirely as he thought. Elliot Cowan played the amusing dandy Lord Goring with witty self-deprecation, a remarkable change from the Macbeth I last saw him perform at the Globe this summer. His wonderful lines, such as “I love talking about nothing, father. It’s the only thing I know anything about” were delivered with superb nonchalance, and his body language was wonderfully expressive. Charles Kay as his father showed ample disdain and concern in a suitably restrained way, and Caroline Blakiston as Lady Markby almost stole the scene at one point with her fine monologue.

The whole cast worked superbly together, and this production by Lindsay Posner turns Wilde’s 1895 drama into something absolutely topical, as did his excellent staging of Roberto Devereux at Opera Holland Park in summer 2009. Lighting by Peter Mumford showed Stephen Brimson Lewis’s designs to perfection, and what fine designs they are, with immensely tall rooms expensively decorated. For a delightful evening’s entertainment in these cold days with protests, strikes and economic gloom, you cannot do better. Performances continue until February 26^th — for more details click here.

Salome, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, July 2010

The evening belonged to Angela Denoke in the title role, and Hartmut Haenchen in the pit, who drew a mixture of gentle lyricism and immense power from the orchestra. When Salome sings of kissing the lips on the severed head of the Baptist, the orchestra roars forth, and Ms. Denoke shows a sense of triumphalism rather than necrophilia in her tone and body language. I think this works, though I do prefer more of the mystery of Salome’s intense yearnings, expressed so well in the words Wilde puts in her mouth, that the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.

A far cry from the first London performance, photo by Clive Barda

For those unfamiliar with the original 1891 play — very recently performed at several theatres in England — a reduced version of its text provides the libretto for the opera. Oscar Wilde wrote the play in French for Sarah Bernhardt, but during rehearsals in London the next year, the Lord Chamberlain’s office banned it, and it did not appear in Britain at a public performance until 1931. In the meantime the opera was performed, conducted by Thomas Beecham.  This was to be in a Bowdlerized version, with the action taking place in Greece rather than Judaea. Among various changes the silver platter containing the Baptist’s head was empty and covered in a cloth, and Salome’s claim of kissing his lips was converted to a desire to be his follower. Unfortunately for Beecham, the soprano forgot the changes and let rip with the original. I won’t repeat this well-known story, but refer to Beecham’s entertaining book A Mingled Chime.

photo by Clive Barda

In this 2008 production by David McVicar the action is set in twentieth century Germany between the wars, with the soldiers in Wehrmacht uniforms and Herod’s party in evening dress. The dance takes place through a series of moving doorways, and at one point when Salome puts on a long tutu, Herod dances with her. From the Amphitheatre the changing backdrops for the dance are only partly visible, which is unfortunate. One of these is a huge projection of a doll in a chair, matching the rag doll Salome plays with, and this is important because the doll imagery is recaptured at the end of the opera as the executioner breaks her body like a rag doll. He is there throughout the opera, but dressed in a cloak that he throws off when climbing down into the cistern to behead the Baptist, and once again Duncan Meadows performed this role to perfection, turning away in disgust during Salome’s performance with the head, while most of the cast simply stand and look on rather stupidly.

This revival was directed by Justin Way, and I particularly liked the way he made Narraboth, the captain of the guard, make desperate physical contact with Salome. His early suicide thus becomes more understandable than in other productions where he simply hangs in the background and kills himself. Here Andrew Staples plays him as a Shlemiel — I use the Yiddish term deliberately as the Jews are all dressed in kippahs and prayer shawls. There seems to me something rather unnatural about all this, and I dislike the gratuitous female nudity in a coldly lit basement. It does nothing to assist the warmth and obsessiveness of the music that speaks of a sultry night in the Middle East. Herod sings of the moon, yet the white light from above was very intense.

The Baptist grapples with Salome, photo by Clive Barda

The performance however was excellent. Johan Reuter sang the Baptist with emotional sincerity, grappling physically with Salome, and in this revival staying upright more than Michael Volle was permitted to do in the 2008 original. Gerhard Siegel was a fine Herod, showing impotence in the face of Salome, the same characteristic he showed as Mime in the face of Siegfried during his performances in the Ring three years ago. Irina Mishura looked gorgeous and sounded suitably imperious as Herodias, and I was particularly impressed by the bass power of Michael Courjal as the First Soldier. But it was Angela Denoke whose singing I found so strikingly good, and though I prefer a little more sexiness in the portrayal of Salome, particularly in the dance, this was a powerfully convincing performance. And then of course there was the huge orchestra, so brilliantly conducted by Hartmut Haenchen.

Performances continue until 16^th July.

Salome, by Oscar Wilde, Richmond Theatre, May 2010

Oscar Wilde originally wrote this play in French, for the great actress Sarah Bernhardt. He translated it into English, but during rehearsals in London in 1892, with Sarah Bernhardt in the title role, the Lord Chamberlain’s office banned it. John the Baptist could not be portrayed on stage, and it was nearly forty years before the first public performance took place in Britain in 1931. In the meantime it was staged in Paris in 1896, and Richard Strauss turned it into an opera in 1905, using a reduced version of Wilde’s play. The opera, which cuts many of Herod’s lines and makes Salome the main character, is now much better known than Wilde’s play, so I was excited to see the original text performed.

Zawe Ashton as Salome

This production by Jamie Lloyd for the Headlong Theatre Company is vividly modern, with the music for Salome’s dance coming from a ghetto blaster. Everything is played at top intensity, but I would have preferred the introspective moments to be taken more calmly. For example at the end of her penultimate speech, Salome says, “I know that you would have loved me, and the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death”. This was delivered far too rapidly by Zawe Ashton as if it were the mere recitation of a jingle repeated every day at school, which was presumably the director’s intention since her acting earlier in the play was admirable. Was the director going for a final scene of banality, and if so why did that not fit with the rest of the production?

Con O’Neill portrayed Herod as a bisexually vicious ruler in red lipstick, high on drink and marginally out of control. When Salome dances he masturbates, as do several of the other cast members, but their excitement is a bit unconvincing. The person who really was convincing was Jaye Griffiths as Herodias. She showed a presence off the words, as well as on them, and made it entirely believable that she had married her husband’s brother and has a daughter whom he desires. Without Strauss’s music we need some indication that he really does desire Salome, but such desire was only noticeable by its absence. The appearance of Seun Shote as Iokanaan (John the Baptist) was striking, but could have been stronger if his voice had been clearer and more commanding, as I’m used to in Strauss’s operatic version. However the acting of the cast was very good, particularly since Herod’s guards had to double up as the Jews who argue about scriptural prophecy. Vyelle Croom as Naaman, who goes into the cistern to behead the Baptist, was particularly strong, with a physically threatening nature well suited to the unpleasantly dark surroundings of Herod’s court.

Cast featuring Herod and Herodias

The lighting by Jon Clark was darkly effective, the costumes by Soutra Gilmour were good, but oddly the stage was raised so that those in the first dozen rows could neither see the actors’ feet nor, more importantly, the hole from which John the Baptist emerged. The production was geared to showing visceral sexuality, with Salome putting her hand inside her knickers and pressing it towards Iokanaan’s mouth. This was when she first meets him, but I’d prefer a more cautious approach so that she has somewhere to go later, instead of relapsing into a banal repetition of lines. This play should build tension and sexuality gradually as the hot moonlit evening in the Middle East wears on, and the teenage Salome gradually heats up to boiling point. I’d rather it were that way than having everything at simmering intensity from the beginning, until falling short at the end.

This production started life at the Curve Theatre in Leicester, and after Richmond it tours to the following: Oxford Playhouse, June 1–5; Northern Stage, Newcastle, June 8–12; Theatre Royal Brighton, June 15–17; Hampstead Theatre, London, June 17–22. The powerful operatic version by Richard Strauss is playing at the Royal Opera House, July 3–16.