Simon Jenner September 24th 2024
Placard-wielding protesters who morph into rioters with knives. Yet their reps are later measured for freebie clothes. A world where left and right collapse into the rage of an oppressed people; whereas the ruling elites seem one class. An epic Coriolanus of lucidity and scale directed by Lyndsey Turner till November 9th seems not just resonant but prophetic.
Indeed the two tribunes, Brutus (Jordan Metcalfe) and Sicinius (Stephanie Street), are here given licence as major party fixers, SPADs without responsibility inciting riot. Representing the poor they do “great hurt and mischief” to Rome (as Coriolanus claims he has to the Volsci). It might sound paradoxical that Metcalfe and Street emerge as major players, but their performances are a highlight.
Coriolanus (David Oyelowo) originally appears in a meek dinner suit to quell the trouble. Literally emerging from his class he drips with privilege and a shell of urbanity, with his adoptive father Menenius (an excellent and saddened Peter Forbes) who later discovers the limits of his influence. It’s a powerful symbol of Turner’s vision of us and them.
This is though a production of thew and power too, particularly from Act Four when in Es Devlin’s magnificent set the depth of the Olivier is revealed studded with fires in the Volscian encampment, or in smoky battle in Sam Lyon-Behan’s striking fight-direction.
Oyelowo takes his time to release the depth of his contempt. Too long perhaps. But at the climactic “I banish you” and vault off the stage (no spoilers, but he makes a thrilling exit) this is finally a Coriolanus of thrilling arrogance and power unleashed.
David Oyelowo Photo Credit National theatre
There’s two key relationships that either humanise Coriolanus, incapable of self-reflection, or render this play as marmoreal as Devlin’s set. It’s one Shakespeare that has to be cracked open or it turns into its own effigy.
The first between Coriolanus and his mother, Volumnia (Pamela Nomvete, vocally adamantine), emphasises the Roman matron tough-love syndrome; and this love is for the most part one-way. At one great moment though, when Coriolanus breaks with the elemental relationship between them, his dependency finally shudders out. We see Coriolanus’ fatal need to bring trophies back to his mother, though fleetingly. It’s been a long time coming. Nomvete too by this time is moving in her supplication. It is though too late to raise the tragedy.
Coriolanus and his wife, Virgilia (Kemi-Bo Jacobs) are condemned to the “gracious silence” he greets her with. Some productions edge a gestural tenderness, a moment. Not here. Jacobs finds far more release as Appius, a protesting but emollient citizen.
The second key relationship with Aufidius (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith), the Volscian general can be charged with homoerotic tension. He treats Coriolanus as his peers complain “like a mistress” and this Act Four volte-face can be electric with conflicting passion discharged painfully throughout the rest of the play.
Josie Rourke’s chamber-sized 2013 Donmar production excelled in this. Holdbrook-Smith stands more aloof, including the final moments with Coriolanus: as if he too is a patrician letting others carry out the assault. But the lack of chemistry here nullifies their love-hate relationship.
Jacobs’ confederate Conor Macleod the knife-wielding protester Antonio is volatile, as is his later Volscian chef. It’s one of many literally edgier performances that make one regret this level of detail doesn’t enjoy such an overwhelming production.
There are huge virtues though. For one thing Turner’s clarity illuminates both the argument and seething multitude of this complex (and originally very long) play. A large multi-roling cast irradiate small moments. Sam Hazeldine’s youthful and battle-weary Cominus always advising and being ignored; Jo Stone-Fewings a more patrician General stiffened to ritual. There’s telling contributions from Oliver Senton as a suave senator on both sides, Anushka Chakravarti particularly strong in her protester Alba claiming her vote for banishment was “pity” and changing tune every scene. Ashley Gerlach’s trounced Volscian guard complaining to another in Richard Pryal’ and Luke Aquilina’s harassed tailor. Cheren Buckley, Anton Cross, Patrick Elue, Marcia Lecky, Jordan Rhys, John Vernon glint in multiple cameos.
Devlin’s extraordinary set dominates both as spectacle and story. And as if hewn in stone it takes a while to fire up (that does literally happen). The Oliver’s initially quite shallow. From precious museum objects plinthed and foregrounded – both as exquisite interior and fragile public art – through to hewn-square pillars that descend in different volumes and arrangements, also doubling as screens. The Volscians feature Etruscan friezes.
Tim Lutkin’s lighting irradiates their hollowness or solidity. Occasionally there’s a zoom link to a hidden committee. Mostly though in Ash J Woodword’s video, actors are doubled behind themselves as news items, and black and white surveillance footage emerges like a newsreel for riot squads, scudding over the surface. Angus McCrae’s thrubbing score is deft and discreet too.
A world of comms like this still fights with sword and shield: there’s none of that muddle of machine-guns and scimitars some productions hedge bets with. Annemarie Woods’ magenta-themed uniforms and dresses ingeniously swivel to helmets invoking ancient and modern riot gear. Finally the deputation of women arrives at the Volscian camp head-dressed in a ritual that fingers back into prehistory. It’s where Young Martius (Kaelum Nelson on this occasion) scores with diminutive ire and pathos.
Certainly a Coriolanus blazing with extrinsic relevance, it brings clarity to a play that can seem an unmitigated grey – stoked with superannuated furies and irrelevant. Nearly every point and scene is rinsed clear in two hours 55. What it lacks is not tragic point, but the mainspring of tragedy to make Oyelowo’s crash the titanic thing it might be.
Directed by Lyndsey Turner, Set Designer Es Devlin, and Costume Designer Annemarie Woods, Lighting Designer Tim Lutkin, Sound Designer Tom Gibbons, Composer Angus McCrae, Video Designer Ash J Woodword
Fight Director Sam Lyon-Behan, Casting Director Bryony Jarvis-Taylor, Voice Coaches Cathleen McCarron and Shereen Ibrahim, Dialect Coach Richard Ryder, Associate Set Designer Claudia Fragoso, Associate Costume Designer Philip Engleheart, Associate Wigs, Hair & Make-up Designer Adele Brandeman, Intimacy Co-ordinator Ingrid Mackinnon
Producer Harriet Macke, Production Manager Heather Doole, Dramaturg Stewart Pringle, CSM Laura Draper, DSM Emily Porter, ASMs Sophie Alice Cooper and Wen-Haing-Chiang