Writer: William Shakespeare
Director: Sean Holmes
The Winter’s Tale might be most famous for its laughable stage direction, “Exeunt, pursued by Bear”, or perhaps the clunky character, Time, who hurries the play along 16 years and is never seen again. Or maybe you’ve heard talk of a statue come to life with no explanation. It is arguably Shakespeare’s most bizarre play, laden with lazy, entropic devices and a wandering plot.
But The Globe appears to have decided that simply producing a good play isn’t enough. Instead, they’ve taken on a near impossible challenge, trying to give legitimacy to what is largely a madman’s fever dream. And, of course, they succeed.
The first part, a classic tragedy, plays out in Sean Holmes’ production as a heavily stylised and choreographed thriller: A King loses his mind with unfounded jealousy, and bears the consequential and unutterable sorrow. Isolated, these first three acts are a perfect short story. Set in the high-ceilinged and tastefully designed palace dining room, tense, dissonant strings, reminiscent of The Menu, accompany the presentation of multiple courses of tiny, delicate plates of cordon bleu food, punctuating and giving pace to a storyline that often appears causeless and chaotic in other productions.
John Lightbody’s Polixenes is charismatic and sexy opposite Bea Segura’s charm and dark beauty. Their chemistry is perfectly matched and you can see clearly how the King, played by Sergo Veres has arrived at the conclusion that they’re lovers.
In order to later explain the bear’s sudden arrival, Holmes has him appear as a kind of emblem of foreboding in these first scenes, initially spotted only for a moment through the distorted glass, and later holding the door for the son whose demise is imminent. It’s got a Donnie Darko vibe, and whilst it’s obviously funny to see a bear out of nowhere, it also brings with it a supernatural eeriness.
Cut to the second half, and you would be forgiven for thinking you had returned to the wrong play. The audience, having moved to the chilly Globe, is no longer in the stylish, metropolitan Sicilia, but the ‘pastoral’ landscape of Bohemia, consisting of what looks like a rebels’ hand-painted flag hiding the musicians in the gallery, a couple of strings of fairy lights and a row of wooden trestle tables. It’s a bit make-shift, explained perhaps by the difficulty of changing the Sicilia set, and then back again. But the slap-dash design suits the friendlier and altogether sillier plotline, and it works just fine.
The king’s daughter Perdita (Jacoba Williams), having grown up believing she is a shepherd’s daughter, is now enjoying a secret affair with Polixenes’ son, Florizel (Sarah Slimani). Of course, no-one knows she’s of royal descent and thus there’s much upset and confusion, etcetera.
The script has been handled very liberally, although it appears more has been added than taken away. But given how strange it is to find oneself watching a classic Shakespearian comedy when just a moment ago it was a classic Shakespearian tragedy, perhaps anything goes. Ed Gaughan’s clowning Autolycus is largely responsible, quickly but thoroughly summarising the entire plot of The Godfather, for example (pretty sure that’s not in the original), or casually referencing Ed Sheeran. There’s even a fire dancer for a minute, twirling batons on the main stage, only to be quickly dismissed. Sure, why not.
When the audience returns to the Sam Wanamaker, it’s only to tie up (very, very) loose ends, and thankfully they’re not asked to dwell too long on the major plot holes.
Despite the contrast between the promising tense start and ensuing ridiculousness, Holmes has created a whole. It feels more like a festival of entertainment than a single production, but all the better. Three hours is a long time to contemplate one narrative, or indeed one genre, so perhaps Shakespeare wasn’t so crazy after all, predicting the ever-shortening attention spans of a modern audience, and creating a chaos to suit.
Runs until 16 April 2023
