Writer: William Shakespeare, adapted by Robert Chevara
Director: Robert Chevara
Of all of Shakespeare’s plays, Antony and Cleopatra can be one of the hardest to like. The tale of Marc Antony, one of the triumvir rulers of Rome who risks it all for the love of the Egyptian Queen, spends more time dealing with Roman politics and the divisions of Empire than it does convincing us of the supposed romance at the centre of the play.
Robert Chevara’s shortened version, set and performed in a gay nightclub, thankfully cuts out a lot of the discussions about piracy and Roman scheming. This should allow the four-strong, all-male cast to focus on the powerplay and dynamics of the central tragic romance. Instead, so much is elided that the ups and downs of the titular characters’ relationship tend towards incoherence.
Jonny Woo’s Cleopatra becomes a leather-clad diva of the dance floor, snorting coke with his right-hand man Charmian (Alexis Gregory). While he and William McGeough’s Antony share several passionate kisses, there is little interpersonal chemistry between the two. This is underlined by the pair having precious little time together. Chevara opts to keep in many of Antony’s soliloquies, ensuring that McGeough can orate to the audience, but it keeps the character’s developing motivations largely hidden. Instead, Antony has a different relationship with Cleopatra each time he arrives on stage, from utter love to utter betrayal. The excision of so much content in between robs McGeough of the opportunity to ground his performance.
Instead, this is the Cleopatra – and, mainly, the Jonny Woo – Show. Whether dealing with Charmian (a hapless, pearl-clutching character, with Gregory more comfortable showing the character through posture and movement than in dialogue) or with Jonathan Blake’s conglomeration of minor characters, Woo is formidably in command. The frequent costume changes may be unnecessary, but they do at least suggest a queen for whom opulence and excess are de rigeur.
Again, though, there is little otherwise to suggest majesty. Woo’s command of Shakespearean prose is the strongest of the four men’s, but once more, the play’s drastic editing makes Cleopatra’s motivations muddled and obscure. The most vital plot point comes near the end, as the Queen fakes her death to get Antony to return, only for him to take his own life in grief. That scene and Cleopatra’s subsequent actual suicide (the asp replaced by a hypodermic needle) is the closest this Antony and Cleopatra comes to fulfilling its subtitle of A Dream of Passion.
It’s a shame that the moment is undone by the immediate pivot to one of the play’s several song moments, with Woo (and, on occasion, other performers) singing live to backing tracks. The use of Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes’ Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong early in the show is the closest the piece comes to conveying a sense of love between the titular couple. However, the numbers offer diminishing returns after that. As Cleopatra dies, Woo stands to deliver a samba-infused rendition of My Way that robs that final, tragic moment of its power.
“Regrets? I’ve had a few,” as the song goes. And that’s about right for this take on Shakespeare’s tragedy. While the characters may live – and die – to rue their doomed romance, the biggest regret is that the bold idea to reframe Rome vs Egypt in the basement of a gay bar just doesn’t work.
Continues until 27 September 2024
The Reviews Hub Score
Doomed
