To experience Cheek By Jowl’s ‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore you must immerse yourself in the excess and madness, and hold on for dear life until you are released two hours later. Exhausting and exhilarating, it grabs you by the tongue and doesn’t let go.
We start in Annabella’s poster-covered bedroom, bathed in red. Pumping music plays and she begins dancing provocatively on the bed, surrounded by scantily clad males. She’s clearly not being portrayed as an innocent child here, but the adaptation is faithful to the fact that the play neither condemns nor permits the relationship between Annabella and her brother Giovanni.
Director Declan Donnellan has a lot of fun with the staging. A striking scene occurs right at the beginning of the play when Annabella is discussing her numerous suitors with her nurse, Putana. As Putana goes through the lists of men each one comes strutting onto the stage, effectively creating a catwalk show, until Annabella admits that she has no interest in any of them as Giovanni is all she thinks of. This innovative scene is in stark contrast to the rather indecipherable one preceding it where Giovanni confesses to the Friar his incestuous feelings. In this case, sacrilegious as it may be to say so, the fewer words spoken (or shouted) and the more stagecraft the better, simply for comprehension’s sake. That is not to say that the stagecraft is simplistic. Far from it, it is purposely disorienting, with most of the actors being onstage most of the time creating a claustrophobic atmosphere.
Scene-stealers abound in ‘Tis Pity, with strong performances across the board. The intense pair doomed to an unhappy end are played with desperate intensity by Eve Ponsonby and Orlando James; Nicola Sanderson is clearly having a blast as Putana, the nurse whose adventures with a leather-trousered stripper are truly gasp inducing; Ruth Everett as the spurned lover Hippolita has a particularly enjoyable ridiculously long death scene (which it is particularly enjoyable to compare to a ridiculously short death scene a bit later on); but perhaps the most interesting character is Vasquez. Appearing to be gentle and acting out of loyalty on the outside, most of the horrific things that occur in the play come about because of Vasquez’s actions. Will Alexander manages to balance this duality convincingly, walking the knife’s edge between faux gentleness and thuggish violence.
Tone is however a problem. Difficult scenes of violence towards women sit alongside completely over the top melodrama played to a fever pitch, and the occasional group dance. I giggled at the horrific violence, was distracted by the bare bottoms, and felt no particular sense of tragedy for the doomed pair. Events race along at such a pace that there’s barely time to breathe, let alone ponder the moralities of the age. As sheer entertainment it was great fun though. I’m not too sure what that says about me… ★★★☆☆ Deborah Sims
