FESTIVAL THEATRE | Reviews
ANTIGONE Star-powered translation of Sophokles’ Greek tragedy ●●●●●
With the great Juliette Binoche being the face of this much- publicised production of Antigone at the King’s Theatre, it would not be unreasonable to assume that it was all about her and her alone. After all she is an international film star and arguably one of the finest actresses working in the world today. From the moment she flutters on stage like a baby bird, you know that you are in the presence of elegance and a professional at the top of her game. However, there is much more to this finely crafted show than just Binoche. In fact, she may not be the best thing about it.
When Antigone defies the orders of the head of state, Kreon, and buries her brother Polyneikes who has died in a cruel civil war, being deemed a traitor and a terrorist, she is sentenced to death. There is much unrest and the advice is to reverse Polyneikes’ punishment, to release Antigone and bury the boy. Tragedy, however, looms on the horizon as decisions are made too late and the blood of many is spilled. Approaching the work with both a classical sensitivity and
modern resonance, this sharply written and strongly directed piece demands attention. As the sun and the moon shine down on the stage like ever-watching gods, the action feverishly and passionately plays out with barely a moment to draw breath. Juliette Binoche is startling as the tortured Antigone, but it is
Patrick O’Kane as the fearsome Kreon who steals the show. His confident and muscular performance outshines even Binoche, creating an air of authority that the character demands, yet displaying a complex and layered spirit. Moving, dark, yet at times even funny, this is a show that has
been worth the hype. (Alex Eades) ■ King’s Theatre, 473 2000, until 22 Aug, 7.30pm (also 22 Aug, 2.30pm), £17–£48 (£8.50–£24).
D L E V Y E W S R E V N A J © O T O H P
R E N N E R B X E L A © O T O H P
MITCH’S MOVIE PITCHES A solid, if unremarkable, solo show ●●●●●
JAMIE WOOD – O NO! Taking on the art establishment in interactive show ●●●●● I, ELIZABETH An intimate and richly detailed portrait of a young Elizabeth I ●●●●●
For the second year running, London performance art duo Sh!t Theatre have facilitated the Fringe debut of a new artist with their support scheme. This time, the product is Mitch’s Movie Pitches, written and performed by Eric Sigmundsson. Sigmundsson gives a confident performance as
Mitch, a haughty but charming writer / director with a creative vision too radical for film commissioners. A loop pedal at his feet, he drawls, hums and hiccups his outlandish plot descriptions into a microphone, recording parts and playing them back as a soundtrack to his monologues. Sigmundsson’s inexperience is apparent. The
pitches occasionally lose their way, audience interaction is awkwardly handled, and clumsy delivery fails some decent lines. Yet, it remains a promising debut. Although the play’s climax – a piercing moment of self-realisation – feels somewhat unearned, it’s performed with a manic intensity that contrasts perfectly with the arrogant monologues.
While the humour is spotty, Sigmundsson’s performance is assured. Despite its flaws, Mitch’s Movie Pitches marks a solid debut for the young artist. (Jordan Shaw) ■ Summerhall, 560 1581, 20, 22, 25, 27, 29 Aug, 2pm, £5.
80 THE LIST FESTIVAL 20–31 Aug 2015
Comedy and conceptual art have always been interesting bedfellows, from when Tony Hancock skewered its lofty pretensions in feature film The Rebel, to The Mighty Boosh’s Howard Moon, an artsy character not given to much self-awareness. Jamie Wood sees things differently. Inspired by
Yoko Ono’s Grapefruit manifesto, he lampoons and homages hippy idealism, using tenets like ‘don’t use emotionally manipulative music ‘ (cue Lennon’s ‘Imagine’) or ‘never capitalise on Lennon’s death’ (he is ‘shot’ at, over and over). Wood admits that when he suggested to partner Wendy he would like them to emulate John and Yoko, her response, played on tape, is the kind of exasperation I feel halfway through. However well-meaning, optimists can grate, with a seeming social myopia. The whole ‘hello, trees’ thing is a cliché, but at least Wood’s sweetly goofy bearded persona is such that the joke is always on him. When a giant orange ball representing the sun appears, we all reach for it. He creates a happening which is less avant garde art, more the controlled chaos of a hip music teacher in corduroy. (Lorna Irvine) ■ Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 31 Aug (not 24), 7pm, £10–£12.
Scripted from the words of the monarch herself by performer Rebecca Vaughan, Dyad Productions’ I, Elizabeth presents a tempestuous portrait of a young queen. Vaughan’s performance is rich and commanding, but has the fragile undertones of a gifted young woman buckling under a life of perpetual scrutiny and painfully aware of the precarious isolation that comes with the throne.
Petitioned by parliament to consider either marriage or the appointment of a successor, the young queen enlists the audience to act as her confidante while she ruminates on the duties and perils ahead. Vaughan is the very picture of Elizabeth I, complete with russet wig, powdered countenance, ringed fingers, and period costume (constructed and designed by Kate Flanaghan).
The production, directed by Guy Masterson, is rich with historical detail yet sacrifices none of its white-hot theatrical potency. Although at times it can be hard to shake the feeling that similar ground has been trodden before, it is none the less thrilling to watch Dyad breathe life anew into a remarkable historical figure. (Elliot Roberts) ■ Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 31 Aug (not 24 & 25), 11.45am, £12–£13 (£11–£12).