My initial plan to write a single blog was a joke. Welcome back to the final instalment. I don’t know if theatre reviews will ever be ‘my thing’, but it’s been fun spending time on them this week.
Like the first post on The Rhinegold (which has its final performance in London tonight), this one will largely focus on one show: Oklahoma!. Whether or not ENO’s production is headed for New York as planned (see the previous speculation), the fact that Daniel Fish’s production of Oklahoma! returns to London following 2021 performances at the Young Vic is a huge win.
The 2019 revival has been hyped beyond belief (it has been popularly nicknamed ‘sexy Oklahoma’) and somehow delivers in every area: the bluegrass-tinged take on Rodgers and Hammerstein (Curly is now That Guy with the guitar, a stroke of genius), the universal lighting bringing the audience into this tight-knit community (and occasionally plunging stage and auditorium into complete darkness), and a script virtually unchanged from the 1943 premiere but with the hokey wholesomeness of the 1955 film stripped away. ‘Surrey With the Fringe on Top’ is straight-up seduction. Ado Annie is less torn between two men as she is thrilled by her own ability to seduce. And ‘Pore Jud Is Daid’ is deeply disturbing.
The first thing apparent in the bright auditorium are the racks of guns on every available wall. The story is set in ‘Indian Territory’ - what will become Oklahoma - and a nasty potential for well-practised violence runs under every scene. Essentially, these characters transforming the soon-to-be-state into farmland are colonisers on indigenous land - something the production does not really go into, but which seems to inform its ethos.
The performers are all terrific, but it comes less from any one actor than it does from the concept being so airtight and thought through (Fish has worked on this production for well over a decade and a half). There’s no need to rewrite the material - the characterisations and motivations emerging from the words still ring true, even in the comic relief of sweet, stupid Will Parker. This does not mean they come across as wholly sympathetic: the auction for picnic boxes - and by proxy the company of the women who made them - is deeply uncomfortable.
In some synergy with Jones’ Rhinegold, Fish also takes a remarkably sympathetic look at the piece’s ostensible antagonist (and thwarted lover) Jud Fry. Here, he’s less of an out-and-out threat to Laurey than a lonely, hungry, and cornered soul - outside the insular community and unable to break in as Ali does. Narrowing the gap between Laurey’s rivals in love makes both feel possible options, ramping up the stakes as the second act begins; in the 1955 film, the romantic conclusion is foregone.
Does the Dream Ballet work in 2023? It is hard to say, but it is danced with conviction (and a few nods to Anges De Mille’s original choreography, according to the programme note). But it does not refute the idea that Laurey, sick of men, does not believe she has not bought some sort of mystery cure from Ali Hakim but instead just aimed for the strongest drugs she can get her hands on - worth it for just a few minutes of peace. In the company of cocksure and volatile men, it’s hard to blame her.
The very end of the show is the only portion that plays the words as written as half-truths, bending and stretching them to a harrowing new vision rather than seeking Rodgers and Hammerstein’s neat conclusion. Green Grow the Lilacs, the play on which Oklahoma! is based, ended in ambiguity. This Oklahoma! raises similar questions: who can escape, who can belong, whose justice is served? No easy answers are presented (and I’ve been debating these with my friends and sibling for the past two weeks), but the sight is not easily shaken.
Overall, the performance will stick with me forever for all the reasons above and more - especially the slick, anti-naturalistic lighting design - but my biggest takeaway was the care the creative team and Wyndham’s Theatre technical team took in making this production good from every seat in the house - even the very cheapest ones where no press would be sat. It’s a commitment to the experience that should not be as revolutionary as it felt.
Live video onstage must be executed excellently to make the audience forget the presence of a Steadicam-wearing figure invading the theatrical world. The double-vision of the scene and what it says about characters and action is a huge risk to take artistically, and the production team’s vision and confidence must be bulletproof for the video footage to be a neutral addition, let alone an enhancement.
Fish’s Oklahoma! deploys live video at two key points - sparing, but extremely effective windows into two isolated characters’ psyche, bringing the audience in close in a show where the ensemble are often all on stage at once. This footage is projected onto the back wall of the stage. The back row of the Wyndham’s Theatre balcony is sold noticeably cheaper than even the row in front of it, and that’s where I was sat. The view of the entire stage is excellent from the vantage point, but the back wall of the stage is impossible to see in its entirety. I figured this was a case of getting what I paid for (e.g., not very much).
Imagine my surprise and elation when the video was replicated on the sloped ceiling above the balcony level. What a terrific, considered solution that required nothing more than an extra projector. Sure, switching focus between the ceiling and the stage is not the same as staring straight ahead and getting the full picture, but again, I was in the cheapest seats, and this design did not exclude those in the standing room behind me. This felt like a workaround to include the entire audience, no matter what they paid for their ticket, instead of writing off a portion thereof in the production design and theatrical experience. It’s a small move, but a crucial one. Why hadn’t I seen this before?
More importantly, Ivo van Hove, are you taking notes?!
My long-suffering friends will know that I’ll take any tenuous connection in a conversation to dunk on Ivo van Hove, though perhaps his designer and longtime collaborator Jan Versweyveld deserves his share of my performative ire (if the cult of the auteur gives the director too much credit, it can absolutely make him the scapegoat). While I missed Age of Rage at the Barbican last year, and The Magic Mountain ended up missing the Edinburgh International Festival, All About Eve was one of the foremost frustrations of my theatre-going life.
Why would you unite Gillian Anderson, Lily James, and Monica Dolan on a single stage and then send one or more of them on extended backstage journeys captured on live video and projected onto the top half of the stage’s back wall? Not only did it dilute their diva (complimentary) performances into a mismatch of styles, but the screen was wholly invisible from the dead centre, front row balcony seats I inhabited with a friend. Sure, these were cheaper than stalls or dress circle seats, but we had no heads to peer around or side angles to look in by. A 32” television placed to one side of the auditorium on our level felt like an afterthought, joke, and insult rolled into one.
Lazarus, while enthralling, was entirely unsuited for the enlarged, yet inadequately raked, London theatre it played in during 2016. In almost every single seat, you would miss portions of the action due to poorly-designed, overly deep panels at the back of the stage. At least there was Bowie.
That said, I’m going back to London with the sole purpose of seeing van Hove’s and Versweyveld’s A Little Life in April. I’ll be in the cheap seats. The joke is on me.
What I’m watching
My husband is a Scream-head; last year we watched 1-4 in preparation for 5. All but the original 1996 film were new to me then. This year we are just rewatching 4 and 5 before 6. In my mind, none of the sequels hold up to the original but the later ones are the most fun - especially with the new batch of kids in 5.
Speaking of silly, I haven’t had time to start, but I will be disappearing into You s4 part 2 at the earliest convenience.
GFF continues! The surprise film was War Pony - a genuine surprise that I didn’t see anywhere on Twitter before the lights went down - and I did not love it. Naturalism in scriptwriting is hard - scenes that feel improvised or rambling bring plots to a grinding halt, and this film’s momentum was continually stalled by either the writing or lack thereof.
What I recommend
I saw One Fine Morning this week at GFF, which is slowly growing to become my highlight of the festival. My review is forthcoming but this fantastic piece by Anna McKibben is a loving examination of Mia Hansen-Løve’s oeuvre and how One Fine Morning continues her characters’ journeys through life.
If there’s anything people want to see from this blog, feel free to comment. Otherwise, the inconsistently scheduled ramblings will continue.