REVIEWS
RUSSELL KANE Fakespeare 12th October
Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum-dee-dum – that’s how Shakespeare wrote, or, as Owen Horsley, associate director for the RSC on Henry IV at the Cheltenham Literature Festival put it, the Bard wrote a great deal to the rhythm of the heart. Anyone can do, innit?
That was the assumption of self-confessed social observationist-stand-up comedian Russell Kane on the last evening of the festival. Not quite as tight-trousered as usual, he presented his Fakespeare, The Tragickal Savings of King Nigel, the tale of a city banker and his secretary, one of his sub-prime wenches, at the time of the credit crunch. So far so promising. The fact that his performance of the piece was picked up by the RSC in Edinburgh is an interesting one, but more on that later.
Never one to dismiss anyone’s work until I have heard or read it to the end, I was quite prepared to be amused, entertained and even amazed. At first, his reading was amusing, not madly, witty, not madly and suitably lewd in places. He himself mentioned that by taking today’s city slicker’s slang, with all its silly made-up, wide-boy jargon, then ‘turning sentences around’ to play with the words, such as substituting ‘self-topping’ for committing suicide and giving the whole a Shakespearian cadence, was what sparked his new, exciting idea. But then trying to ‘shakespeare-ise’ his usual comedy line is not the same as taking the p… out of the contestants of I’m a celebrity, get me out of here. That hoped for lift-off into a higher sphere simply doesn’t happen in Kane’s offering. He seems firmly ensconced in the world of WAGS and TOWIE, the women with surgically enhanced bodies and so many hair extensions that half of India must now be bald, the men in pointy shoes, low, low cut t-shirts and bum-and arm pit hugging outfits. Could it be that the RSC, in populist mood, is fishing for that kind of audience, relying on the fact that wherever Kane goes, his audience will follow and put their daily waxed and tan-sprayed bums on seats?
Bold as Russell Kane’s attempt is, exciting as it could have been, in the end it left us mainly with the after-taste of his self-confessed chip on the shoulder about high art and posh education. I’m not saying that Kane’s idea can’t work, it definitely could. But instead of trying to drag Shakespeare’s unparalleled word craft down to the TOWIE cultural flatlands it would be good to see him take his idea to a more ambitious level, with a proper story line and engrossing characters rather than a rant delivered in a slightly baboonish stance. He seems totally genuine in what he wants to achieve, but, unfortunately, it takes more than enthusiasm to produce quality. If one reads out the lyrics of some of today’s greatest pop songs they often amount to nothing at all without the music and a great performer and so it is for Shakespeare. In the end, we are gripped by Shakespeare’s enthralling characters and story lines as much as by the music of his writing. To think one can separate one from the other is like setting out to make a sandwich without the bread – and leaving out the filling. Astrid Burchardt
MIKLÓS BANFFY 11th October
Although the Cheltenham Literature Festival, like most book festivals, has in recent years, for literature lovers in any case, veered towards the inclusion of a somewhat disproportionate number of celebrity biographies (some grumble that in future it should be renamed ‘book festival’ rather than ‘literature festival’) there are still real discoveries to be made, albeit in the small side rooms instead of the large tents. One such this year was today’s event, presenting the work of one Miklós Banffy, a Transylvanian/Hungarian multi-talented aristocrat/author, playwright and politician, all rolled in one. Though half of my family has the same origins and social background as Miklós Banffy (in school in France I hid the fact that my mother came from Transylvania for fear of being called a vampire), I had no knowledge of Banffy at all. He was the author of the trilogy A Transylvanian Tale, also called The Writing on the Wall, which traces a story of a character not unlike himself from around 1904 onwards, a time when the Balkans were heaving with unrest and the Austro-Hungarian Empire was on the point of imploding. The novels were published in Hungary in 1934 and 1940.
Banffy was the director of the Hungarian State Theatres from 1913-1918 where he promoted not only the theatre arts but also musicians, giving Belá Bartok his first break. With the upheavals of WW2 he became more and more involved with political matters. In a vain attempt to prevent the destruction of his massive, baroque chateau of Bonchida he remained after his wife and daughter, like most aristocrats, had fled from the advancing Russian troops. His estate was looted and burned down by the retreating German army. He was not reunited with his family until 1949 and died the following year. It wasn’t until 1982 that the Hungarian communist regime relented and allowed publication of some of his work. In 1999 his trilogy was brilliantly translated into English. The castle is currently being restored with involvement of Prince Charles and European heritage funds among others.
During the festival event, Julian Evans, biographer, travel writer, Académie Francaise prize winner for his translations of French literature and author of BBC Radio 3’s series on the European novel The Romantic Road, and Artemis Cooper, biographer of Patrick Leigh Fermor gave us a taste of the beautiful translation of Miklós Banffy’s writing. I for one am now on the hunt of an English translation of his plays. What a find. Astrid Burchardt
SHEILA HANCOCK talking about her book Miss Carter’s War 10th October
While still at art school in London, and in between working nights to pay for my studies, I spent my few free evenings in cheap theatre seats. At the Alwych theatre I saw the Royal Shakespeare Company production of Edward Albee’s A Delicate Balance directed by Peter Hall. Though not as seering as Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? it portrayed a seriously dysfunctional family. Playing an aggressive four-times divorced daughter, and along side theatre giants Peggy Ashcroft and Michael Hordern, was 36 year-old Sheila Hancock, a life-force that stormed across the stage. In fact, hers is the only performance I remember from the piece. Although I have often heard her on Just a Minute, her speed of repartee and wit outstripping that of comedians two generations younger than herself, last night was the first time I saw her again in the flesh, and she has lost none of her passion, sharpness and honesty. Now 81 years-old, she has spent the last 4 years writing her first novel about a woman named Miss Carter, a former SOE spy. Sheila has delved deep into her own experience of London life, both during the war and the post-war years. ‘No, I’m not in the book,’ she says, ‘I hate reading about myself.’ Though judging from the extracts she read to the packed Forum tent (close to a thousand people), it was clear that she had brought all her powers of observation that make her a brilliant actor to this book. Her description of a mysterious woman taking tea in Fortnum & Mason’s was simply delicious. Sheila Hancock is an amazing woman, made stronger by her life experience, who now enjoys her old age immensely. ‘The great thing about old age, ‘she jokes, ‘is that you can be as rude as you like.’ She is a living lesson that provided you keep fit and healthy, 81 is no worse age to be than 18. ‘I wasn’t so good at 18,’ she confessed. ‘If people don’t like the book I don’t care,’ she waved, ‘I won’t be here in a few years anyway!’ To tackle a hefty volume after such a long career in one of the most precarious of professions, all I can say is, ‘not bad for a girl who grew up over a pub and left school at fifteen.’ Astrid Burchardt
SHAKESPEARE AFTERNOON 8th October.
I don’t know who had the idea of the Shakespeare Afternoon events at the Cheltenham Literature Festival, but the huge Sunday Times Theatre tent was full to the brim yesterday for King Lear Live!, as well as today for Henry IV, Part 1 & 2, a long-time favourite of theatre goers with all its bawdiness and general bad behaviour by a young royal (now where have we heard that before?).
This time it was all about how to read and deliver the Bard’s words, the rhythm, the verse used for the royals, the prose destined for the lowly characters. Owen Horsley, associate director for the RSC on Henry IV and an actor called Sam showed us their rehearsal process of Prince Hal’s soliloquy in which the prince explains his plan of how to be a king in waiting – and a cunning plan it is. As a young prince he will carouse and cavort, drink and even participate in a robbery, in fact, do anything to get the reputation for being a bad boy. Then, by some heroic act and undergoing a total character reformation, he will be all the more appreciated and worthier to sit on the throne at the demise of his strict and disappointed father, Henry IV.
The RSC, Owen Horsely told us, rehearses for around eleven or twelve weeks to stage two plays. This is in sharp contrast to Shakespeare’s time when the Bard would hand the actors their parts just one day before the performance. This, to me, was the most interesting fact to come out of today’s event. Did actors of the time have a better memory than today’s products of drama school? Even in the days of British repertory theatre, right up to the 1980s, actors would be playing a part every night, plus matinees, learn their part for the following week’s play and at times even a role for a third play in another theatre. As Horsely explained, today we no longer work with ‘long thoughts’, i.e. an idea expounded over several lines, in some cases whole pages. Now there is texting and twitter, he says, we are coerced to express ourselves in a contracted form, which, of course, leads to throwing one’s opinion onto the ether in a rather brutal way as though throwing a punch in the boxing ring – no debate, no exposing an idea in its fullness.
The second extract the duo worked on was Prince Hal’s speech when his father shows his disapproval and disappointment to which Hal replies, ‘…I’ll be more myself,’ and makes to exit. To me this half-hearted promise sounds like today’s ‘whatever’ uttered by every teenager in the land.
The audience enjoyed this presentation/RSC rehearsal demonstration immensely, despite the hammering of a violent rain storm on the roof of the tent. Spectators were much amused by Sam’s pacing across the stage with giant steps, like a toddler who has just learned to walk in order to demonstrate the heartbeat of Shakespeare masterfull pen. It was a relief not to have to watch two dusty chairs facing each other on the platform with the predictable, stale form of interviews.
I was left wondering if, a few years ago, Prince Harry might have forged a plan not a million miles from the one in Prince Hal’s soliloquy. Astrid Burchardt
SHAKESPEARE AFTERNOON 7th October
The first Shakespeare Afternoon at the Cheltenham Literature Festival packed out the enormous Sunday Times Theatre tent with a presentation/performance of King Lear, Live! Fronted by Ben Crystal at the head of his Shakespeare Ensemble which has the mission of performing the Bard’s works in O.P. – original pronunciation as opposed to the R.P. (received pronunciation) which for so long has dominated the stage. The difference is stunning – here we hear Shakespeare ‘spoken from the heart’ as Ben Crystal demonstrated by comparing the two pronunciations. It reminded me of a strange experience I had a few years ago. During an international Shakespeare week at the Globe I once saw a performance of King John – in Armenian. I didn’t understand a word of it but there too it was a performance from the heart – breathtaking.
In the Literature Festival tent five ruck-sacked twenty-somethings, one of them a puppeteer, climbed onto the stage for a slice of the Original Pronunciation World Première of King Lear. With not one of them approaching Lear’s age, they constructed him out of a well-stuffed rucksack and a pair of yellow rubber gloves pulled over two small collapsed umbrellas for hands. A waggling, upturned black beret with a pink lining stood in for mouth and beard and was lip-synched by Ben Crystal to give life and emotion to the creation. It was all very improvised but none the worse for that. After a lively exchange between actors and audience, Crystal, who lives and breathes Shakespeare, ended the event with an impassioned plea that in schools Shakespeare should not be read but taught to be spoken – from the heart, as he reminded us. He is also the author of Shakespeare On Toast, a little tome much praised by Judi Dench. Astrid Burchardt
