THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
I have a running debate with my family over the relevance of Shakespeare to today's world.
My wife, a former English teacher, is not convinced.
My son, who is next summer to take his 'GCSE' exams, arguably this country's most important state mandated external exams, one of them in English literature, also is not convinced. He is an aspiring actor.
But if I can get them to Josie Rourke's limited eight week run of As You Like It, in the West End's newest theatre, @sohoplace, I stand the best chance I will ever have of converting both of them. For this warm, intimate production, about love, familial conflict, betrayal, grief, the boundaries of identity, and the infinite space for play in those liminal spaces between what we present as and what we are, feels like a story that could not get more relevant or more inclusive, for the fractured times we live in, the tentative way that we are navigating our way through our own forests of confusion, looking for answers, love and a sense of belonging.
As You Like It is the second production in @sohoplace, and suits the venue beautifully. Rourke and set designer Robert Jones have decided on a sharp economy of things on stage, deftly giving impressions first of the court of Duke Frederick and then of the quasi French fantastical sylvan setting of the Forest of Arden. Using thin paper snow and leaves, a well placed tree, and some removable floor panels, the actors take their cue from the bard's actional dialogue, giving us a clear sense of place. Even more effective though are lighting designer Howard Harrison's nuanced evening sun like lighting, sound designer John Leonard's judicious use of ambient hints of nature, as well as Michael Bruce's aurally awesome compositions that drive the mood of each scene, sometimes comically, sometimes gently and sadly and in one scene bringing together a pivotal visual moment of heartbreak, making for a sensually immersive experience in this pastoral narrative.
The performances are also riveting, Alfred Enoch commanding the stage as Orlando, in charismatic, smitten, heroic, and flawed glory, seeking his rightful place in court after his eldest brother has kept him down and seems to have disinherited him from a place of privilege as the son of Roland de Boys. Enoch brings a comfortable physicality to the role and has a natural sympathetic magnetism as an actor. As does Leah Harvey, who plays Rosalind, arguably the intellectually meatier and more compellingly written character, who happens to be in love with Enoch's Orlando. This is not even close to the only Shakespearean play where a clever woman dresses up as a man in order to be seen as an equal and to face the object of her affection without judgment. It may be the only one where that female character is pretending to be a man, who is in turn pretending to be herself so that Orlando can practice courting the woman he loves (Rosalind).
Harvey captures this internal conflict beautifully and is masterful in waving a hand in the air and magically, spellbindingly resolving the seemingly unresolvable.
Rose Ayling Ellis, one of the several star billings in this cast - groundbreaking herself as the first deaf actor and character to use British Sign Language on the staple soap of English screens, Eastenders - is charmingly magnificent as Rosalind's foil, Celia, whose father banishes her best friend from court, triggering the two to seek refuge and love in the aforementioned wood.
And it would be remiss to not mention Martha Plimpton, formerly of Goonies fame (as Stef, the wise cracking friend, cue eyeroll at '80s tropes), so deftly capturing Jaques' sanguine take on life as she delivers one of Shakespeare's most famous pronouncements, that 'all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' As a now award winning veteran of stage and screen, she strides with authority and a sly mischief, and cuts a sad and stoic note in the end as a powerful counterpoint to the prevailing frivolity.
The production feels modern in its diversity of casting, poignant in its commentary on life, and terrifically relevant in the way it still brings us to the contemplative last moments and the playful way we are given the reins over what we do with a timeless story that is so essentially human in nature. I hope it convinces as many doubters as possible that it is as important now as it was 400 years ago.
