Catherine Bennett resumes the weekly look at the performing arts world, with the sad end of Jerusalem, the luck of a cabbie, and French revolt. Do you hear the people sing?
Adam Alcock reviews Nigel Kennedy playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons and his own Four Elements at York Opera House.
Catherine Bennett highlights the trends in the performing arts world today.
Jonathan Cridford reviews 'Ghosts', one of the Freshers' plays for this year.
Patrick Marber's re-imagining of August Strindberg's Miss Julie relocates the sexually charged drama from turn-of-the-century Sweden to the kitchen of a sumptuous country house in England, on the eve of the Labour Party's landslide election win in 1945. The plot is virtually identical to that of the original; after a night of partying, the lady of the house, Miss Julie, sleeps with her father's manservant, John, and the two spend the rest of the night and the early morning discussing – sometimes tenderly, sometimes violently – the meaning of their relationship and the repercussions their passion will have for the two of them. Meanwhile, John's devout and meek fiancé, Christine, continues her duties as cook and servant, all the while watching as her hopes for a happy future drift away with the puffs of Miss Julie's cigarette smoke. Sadomasochism, the battle of the sexes, and themes of love, lust, power and class all raise their head; this is, for lack of better words, some heavy shit.
Luckily, director Ryan Lane's familiarity with the material is evident, as he scatters his production not with bells and whistles, but with silence and darkness. The spare set is crassly painted yet neatly laden with kitchen furniture, while the deliberately muted lighting scheme foreshadows the secrets and lies to come. Lane also keeps diagetic sounds and music to an absolute minimum, allowing the various silences between spouts of dialogue to be truly poignant, awkward, or tight with sexual tension.
At the centre of this raw production is Ellie McAlpine as the titular title character, who doesn't so much chew the scenery as swallow the Barn whole. Her portrayal of a young woman eagerly weaponising her vulnerability and sexuality is utterly convincing, often times relying on tiny alterations of voice and movement to dart between states of seduction, anger, and despair. Echoing a Basic Instinct-era Sharon Stone, McAlpine effortlessly commands the attention of the audience the minute she sets foot on the stage, and doesn't let her energy slip for a second.
Opposite McAlpine is Ziggy Heath as John, a man seduced by both Miss Julie and the idea of power over her, yet hopelessly subservient to his master – represented brilliantly by his incessant shining of the latter's shoes. Heath's natural swagger initially jars from the tone of the play, suggesting a much younger character, but he quickly settles in and ramps up the intensity, matching the breathless sexuality of Miss Julie with his own penchant for violence, and portraying John's submission to lust with a set of terrifying stares.
Despite having the smallest role in the play, Fran Isherwood expertly plays Christine with a desperate world-weariness evident in her chain-smoking and devout nature. While she sparkles in dialogue with both Heath and McAlpine, it is when she has the entire stage to herself – such as in the initial suspicion of the affair, sitting silently with a cigarette and the hint of a tear – that we see some of Isherwood's finest acting.
After Miss Julie has a running time of around 90 minutes, yet the chemistry between the leads and the superb direction driving them through the story is so electric, that one could be forgiven for thinking the play is far shorter then it really is. I heartily recommend you catch this play while you still can, if for nothing else then to check out three powerhouse performances, and one sexy – and very smoky - production.
Is the last sentence of the lede really appropriate?
yes
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