weak, its “vision of a system tearing itself apart” 42 was compelling.
2. Glen Byam Shaw’s 1957 Stratford production: “the interval curtain fell on the image of ‘Cinna, the poet, wrongfully stoned to death by the crowd.’ ”
Gielgud returned to the role of Caesar for the National Theatre in 1977: “For once the man dominates, in death as in life: Gielgud suggests both his greatness and why the conspiracy came to a head.” 43 His Ghost hovered over the final proceedings, projecting a spirit of revenge and indomitability. However, the rest of the production failed to impress: Brian Cox’s Brutus, whose “ringing tones betray the unworldly idealism of the born loser,” 44 was praised, but the lack of a “sense of impending, or actual, tyranny” rendered the production “apolitical” and “dreary.” 45
Herbert Wise’s 1978 BBC film featured a strong cast including Richard Pasco (Brutus) and Charles Gray (Caesar). Unapologetically Roman in setting, this production utilized the possibilities of television to create a conspiratorial atmosphere, particularly in the opening temptation of Brutus: “We watch Cassius’s face past the back of Brutus’s head. Until Cassius circles his auditor, we do not know for certain how Brutus is responding. As positions shift, Wise gets an extreme close-up of Brutus’s face; we see his eyes as an eyebrow lifts.” 46 A voice-over, meanwhile, betrayed his thoughts only to the audience. The film as a whole, however, felt studio-bound and static.
More recently, a 1999 original-practices experiment at the reconstructed Globe Theatre received mixed reviews: the
Guardian
felt it offered “no visible interpretation of the play,” 47 while the
Telegraph
found it “comes over with freshness and strength.” 48 The mixed costume (Roman, Elizabethan, and modern) served to suggest “what a live and touchy issue the play’s subject—the ethics of tyrannicide—must have been for the original audiences.” 49
Deborah Warner’s 2005 Barbican production hearkened back to earlier spectaculars with a hundred-strong crowd that was particularly praised: “Head-scarfed and dreadlocked, furious and stunned, surging and chanting behind metal barriers, it gives urgency and variety to a play unappetisingly made up of committee men and soldiers.” 50 Warner’s modern-dress production was severe on media manipulation and public image: Ralph Fiennes’s Antony “gets giddilyhigh on the fans’ frenzy,” 51 while the Soothsayer was an attention-seeking drunk. In a concurrent production on Broadway directed by Daniel Sullivan, Denzel Washington’s Brutus was accused of mangling the verse: “much of what comes out of his mouth is undifferentiated mush.” He was the star attraction of a “colourless” Eastern European-set production that compensated for a lack of focus following Caesar’s death with “plenty of plaster-cracking explosions.” 52
Other twenty-first-century productions have chosen to focus on the conspiracy and intrigue as reflective of modern politics. The intimacy of Bristol’s Tobacco Factory allowed Andrew Hilton’s 2009 production to be played in near-whispers, and Jacobean cloaks and hats evoked the famous image of the Gunpowder Plot as a key reference point (a costume decision also taken in 1986 by David Thacker’s production for the Young Vic), yet the powerful Act 4 Scene 1 suggested the callousness of modern bureaucracy as Antony literally signed away his nephew’s life. Toneelgroep Amsterdam’s 2009
Roman Tragedies
more explicitly updated Rome to the anonymous “corridors of power” of modern politics. Here, Renée Fokker’s Cassius was a female politician trying to make her way in a man’s world, and needed the validation of Roeland Fernhout’s Brutus for her coup. Their conflict stemmed from her frustration as Brutus took increasingly more control over “her” plan; but, in this world, all politicians served their own interests. Across
2. Glen Byam Shaw’s 1957 Stratford production: “the interval curtain fell on the image of ‘Cinna, the poet, wrongfully stoned to death by the crowd.’ ”
Gielgud returned to the role of Caesar for the National Theatre in 1977: “For once the man dominates, in death as in life: Gielgud suggests both his greatness and why the conspiracy came to a head.” 43 His Ghost hovered over the final proceedings, projecting a spirit of revenge and indomitability. However, the rest of the production failed to impress: Brian Cox’s Brutus, whose “ringing tones betray the unworldly idealism of the born loser,” 44 was praised, but the lack of a “sense of impending, or actual, tyranny” rendered the production “apolitical” and “dreary.” 45
Herbert Wise’s 1978 BBC film featured a strong cast including Richard Pasco (Brutus) and Charles Gray (Caesar). Unapologetically Roman in setting, this production utilized the possibilities of television to create a conspiratorial atmosphere, particularly in the opening temptation of Brutus: “We watch Cassius’s face past the back of Brutus’s head. Until Cassius circles his auditor, we do not know for certain how Brutus is responding. As positions shift, Wise gets an extreme close-up of Brutus’s face; we see his eyes as an eyebrow lifts.” 46 A voice-over, meanwhile, betrayed his thoughts only to the audience. The film as a whole, however, felt studio-bound and static.
More recently, a 1999 original-practices experiment at the reconstructed Globe Theatre received mixed reviews: the
Guardian
felt it offered “no visible interpretation of the play,” 47 while the
Telegraph
found it “comes over with freshness and strength.” 48 The mixed costume (Roman, Elizabethan, and modern) served to suggest “what a live and touchy issue the play’s subject—the ethics of tyrannicide—must have been for the original audiences.” 49
Deborah Warner’s 2005 Barbican production hearkened back to earlier spectaculars with a hundred-strong crowd that was particularly praised: “Head-scarfed and dreadlocked, furious and stunned, surging and chanting behind metal barriers, it gives urgency and variety to a play unappetisingly made up of committee men and soldiers.” 50 Warner’s modern-dress production was severe on media manipulation and public image: Ralph Fiennes’s Antony “gets giddilyhigh on the fans’ frenzy,” 51 while the Soothsayer was an attention-seeking drunk. In a concurrent production on Broadway directed by Daniel Sullivan, Denzel Washington’s Brutus was accused of mangling the verse: “much of what comes out of his mouth is undifferentiated mush.” He was the star attraction of a “colourless” Eastern European-set production that compensated for a lack of focus following Caesar’s death with “plenty of plaster-cracking explosions.” 52
Other twenty-first-century productions have chosen to focus on the conspiracy and intrigue as reflective of modern politics. The intimacy of Bristol’s Tobacco Factory allowed Andrew Hilton’s 2009 production to be played in near-whispers, and Jacobean cloaks and hats evoked the famous image of the Gunpowder Plot as a key reference point (a costume decision also taken in 1986 by David Thacker’s production for the Young Vic), yet the powerful Act 4 Scene 1 suggested the callousness of modern bureaucracy as Antony literally signed away his nephew’s life. Toneelgroep Amsterdam’s 2009
Roman Tragedies
more explicitly updated Rome to the anonymous “corridors of power” of modern politics. Here, Renée Fokker’s Cassius was a female politician trying to make her way in a man’s world, and needed the validation of Roeland Fernhout’s Brutus for her coup. Their conflict stemmed from her frustration as Brutus took increasingly more control over “her” plan; but, in this world, all politicians served their own interests. Across
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