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The
Edinburgh Fringe
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Fringe 2001 Reviews (4)The Executive Lear It must have seemed a good idea at the time: let's set Lear in the boardroom of a theatre and have the chairman devolve his powers: we can make it into a black comedy. After all, Shakespeare took the story from someone else and changed it: why shouldn't we do the same? Note: it's the story, not the words. This isn't a modern setting of a Shakespeare play, it's a totally new version: only (the basis of) the plot and character names remain the same. What changes? - the ending. Yes, we have a happy ending! Goneril, Regan and all the baddies get their comeuppance; Cordelia and financier Mr France take over the company; Lear has a happy retirement... Need I go on? It could have worked, but I'm afraid it would take a far better production than this one - and more accomplished actors - to manage it. There was little light and shade, no variation of pace, and the performances, in most cases, were merely adequate. Sorry, New Route TC: it just didn't work for me. Berkoff's "Hell" & Dostoevsky's "Dreams of a Ridiculous Man" George Dillon, who got my vote for best actor at last year's Fringe, returns in 2001 with two short one-man pieces, Steven Berkoff's Hell and the rather longer Dreams of a Ridiculous Man by Dostoevsky. Although they both deal with men who are on the verge of suicide, they are very different pieces. The protagonist in Hell is desperately lonely, never leaving the chair which is placed centre stage, whilst the character in the Dostoevsky piece - who knows he is a "ridiculous man" - is almost manic in comparison. Played one after the other, the two pieces showcase Dillon's remarkable talents. It isn't just the voice, superbly controlled though it is, but it is the physicality of his performance which impresses most. Even in Hell, confining himself, as he does, to a chair, every muscle talks directly to us. If you want to see the craft of acting at its best, there's no better place to go than here! Bedbound The house lights go down. The stage lights come up. We're looking at a blank wall. There's a moment's pause as we wait for someone to enter. Then the wall comes crashing down, revealing a bed which is to be the setting for the rest of the play. A nice little coup de theatre, spoilt only by the fact that it was given away by the "Guardian" critic in her review, so I'm not the spoiler here! There are two characters, the strutting turkeycock Maxie and his polio-afflicted daughter. They don't communicate, until she forces the issue. They reveal their lives in a series of what are essentially monologues, showing how they came to be in their present situation, imprisoned by Maxie in this bedroom, on this bed. We learn of his obsessions, of his marriage; of her relationship with her mother; how she contracted polio; how the mother died. We see them achieve a kind of relationship, even peace. But I, for one, didn't care, and therein lies the weakness of the play. It becomes a relentless rant, a spewing forth of a flood of words, full of sound and fury and signifying not very much at all. Definitely not another Disco Pigs. Next page - - - Index |
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