National
Theatre Live's Coriolanus a Rip Roaring Performance
by
Kristin Battestella
After
having seen the 2011 film version of Coriolanus starring
director Ralph Fiennes, I was quite keen to watch this 2013
stage production of Coriolanus presented
by the Donmar Warehouse and broadcast internationally through the
National Theatre Live program in 2014. Unfortunately, it would seem I
live in the uncultured sticks, as during its initial live capture
run, Coriolanus never
came to a cinema near me – until this fall's encore season that is!
Roman
general Caius Martius (Tom Hiddleston) single handedly captures the
town of Corioli from his Volsican enemy Aufidius (Hadley Frasier).
Now coined Coriolanus, Martius returns to Rome where his mother
Volumnia (Deborah Findlay) and long time friend Senator Menenius
(Mark Gatiss) urge him to become consul. Tribunes Brutus (Elliot
Levey) and Sicinia (Helen Schlesinger), however, use Martius' crass
exterior and poor opinions of the common people against him,
resulting in his banishment from Rome. Will Coriolanus ally with
Aufidius and march on his former homeland or do his familial ties to
Rome hold a fatal influence?
Film
versus Stage Design
Where
Fiennes used his adaptation as a modern, war-torn, political
commentary, director Josie Rourke presents her Shakespeare in a
slightly abstract morale space, creating a classical feeling like
Clash of the Titans where the
gods place the players in the arena as though they were mere chess
pieces. While the costume design may be generic and modern, precious
few props leave nothing but the intimate sword fighting, arguments,
escalation, and turnabout drama to tell the tale. Brief,
slightly loud music covers the simple set and scene changes,
but Coriolanus uses the small
Donmar Warehouse staging to its advantage with shadow and lighting
schemes – color lights differentiate locales, smoke fills the
battles, and spotlights or darkness are used for surprise character
entrances and exits. Graffiti painted on the wall and sparse
background projections or graphics accentuate dialogue points while
the central stage ladder is both used in battle scenes and stands
symbolic of the social highs and lows. Boxes are painted on
the floor to define where action takes place – or where one may
stand inside to be judged – and the showering onstage multitasks by
shrewdly saving time and washing the set clean as it reveals the
painful bloodshed. Superb pops of red on the wall, floor, and the
actors themselves create visual emphasis alongside flares, falling
flower petals, and scarlet ballot papers littering Coriolanus with
more representative details. The cast moves about the stage,
adding more treats for the eye to follow, and the National Theatre
Live presentation is well edited for the cinema. We see the cameras
around the stage at times, but the machines doing the magic don't
feel intrusive thanks to the varying up close shots, zooms, and
camera angles they provide. Coriolanus is not one unmoving
videotape, nor do we need that type of pulled back, full view of the
Donmar. Rather than frame the scope of the production, the lense here
slowly closes in on the only thing that matters: the people upon the
stage.
Granted,
Fiennes' Coriolanus film
has more star power name recognition, and it is a treat to see such
players in real life warzones chewing on meaty political commentary
and modern media statements. Here, however, the taut ensemble is
ready to race – this Coriolanus is
a contest and the audience is waiting to see whose ruthless
will be the victor. Sure, most viewers may already know who the
eponymous loser is, but that doesn't deflate the packed drama. Even
understandably condensed and paired down with altered scenes, a lot
happens on this Donmar stage, and Coriolanus is
a well paced, fast moving three hours. It's amazing how much
can be said in one scene, let alone how much heavy can happen from
one minute to the next. The public is so fickle amirite, and this
squeeze happens quickly. Martius, his family, the Volsci, the
Roman Senate, tribunes that rise or fall on the people's whim –
nobody really wins in Coriolanus. Without
the contemporary spoon-fed simplicity to which the audience is
accustomed, all that remains is the emotion and corruption
spearheading the dramatis personae toward the inevitable. By
second the half of play, we don't even need the sparse stage
dressings to be steeped in what's happening. The lights themselves
close in on our protagonist, dwindling the the stage space until
there is one lone chair and nowhere else to go. Ultimately, it isn't
quite fair to compare the movie and this play edition, as the former
relies on multiple film takes over weeks at a time with crew to
perfect an overall encapsulation. That's tough enough, but it's
amazing how here Coriolanus was
performed day in and day out for weeks in its entirety. On the spot,
no mistakes – there's nothing on which to rely but the ensemble's
words, once again proving that intensity can be found just by
people observing other people in a dramatic situation, no bombastic
and CGI needed for the bravo here.
The
Man of the Hour
Well
then! Tom Hiddleston (The Avengers, Crimson Peak) is hefty,
muscular, and unrestrained as Caius Martius Coriolanus. He bangs on a
feeble pedestal to plead his case, spits when he shouts – I swear I
could hear his leather gloves flex as he squeezed his fists. There
are no over the top theatrics, and Hiddleston remains commanding with
an unblinking, award winning, ticking clock fervor. He throws chairs,
climbs ladders, is dosed in water and blood – the stage is his and
he uses every element of it to craft this imposing, unlikable figure.
Hiddleston is loud and intense but also whispers, becoming incredibly
emotional and moved to manly tears whether he is on the dark stage
near alone in brief soliloquy or surrounded by the ensemble in mock
battle. Martius is svelte and war fit but a brute in his speech and
mannerisms, unaware that the Senate is not the right time or place
for his gruff attitude and hatred of lesser people breathing his air.
Like Gretzky or Jordan, he could not base himself to lesser athletes'
levels even if he were so inclined. He does not comprehend why he
would try to be anything other than the soldier he is or play a
political game to appease others and instead mocks public customs.
Ironically, it's almost heroic how he keeps to his warped convictions
– Martius is not without kindness when it comes to his men and an
enemy that helped him. He appreciates battlefield respect, and
although the audience sees the pain of his wounds and showering
cleanse, he is correct in saying that we mere civilians can't
understand what goes on in war. Unfortunately, any such truisms won't
stop those more shrewd from manipulating this warrior and his
weaknesses as an inept politician with no people skills.
From
Loki to Henry V, several of Hiddleston's previous characters have had
“daddy issues,” but our titular, one man, city destroying machine
is a whipped and easily swayed mama's boy who does what he is told.
“Theirs not to reason why...” and when Coriolanus does play
beyond his political means, indeed it's “do or die” as Tennyson
says. Hiddleston spends nearly half the play with one arm in a sling,
wonderfully symbolic of how his lack of a political silver tongue
ties one hand behind his back. They all twist his arm – the unlucky
left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. Wrong in his
arrogance as he is, once Martius is used for everyone else's gain and
kicked to the curb for sticking to his guns, his brought low and made
humble flaws become relatable, even humorous in this ironic turn from
famous and strong to ignoble nobody. His body itself parallels the
stage's graffiti and visual design– his wounds written upon him in
battle again and again. Hiddleston stands back against this wall out
of the spotlight until needed for Martius to be hosed down and made
clean only to be bloodied again. This Coriolanus gives
precious few character asides to tell us Martius' inner feelings, but
thanks to this dynamite, nuanced performance from Hiddleston, we see
Caius break. The audience doesn't blame him for embracing his
emotional realizations and finally having a heart – even if this
vulnerability is his final detriment. Whether he deserves his fate or
not, in the end, does it really matter? Everyone wants a piece of
Martius, and the wounds these dishonest wordsmiths give him are more
fatal than his hard earned battle scars. In both senses of the word,
he is a tool used and abused at the whim of others for bloodshed –
be it enemy blood or his own. Whew. Hiddleston delivers an almost
religious and Shakespeare made flesh overture in Coriolanus, but
my goodness those fruit in the face zingers must have stung!
The
Women in his Life
While
Hiddleston may be the most famous player in Coriolanus and
certainly makes his case for a captivating, blood-and-guts, one man
show, Deborah Findlay (Cranford) comes close to stealing the
play as Martius' vicariously living through him mother Volumnia. This
self styled Madonna feels Rome's power via her son – a tall order
that may be over the top for some viewers unaccustomed to theatre
exaggerations. However, Volumnia's spectacle fits and spells are also
intentionally emphasized to force her mighty son to kneel, cower, and
tremble in her wake. Volumnia takes over every situation and assures
her will be done, often shrewdly by planting the seed and letting her
opposition feel they hold the decision. A husband, Cauis' father, or
other customary Roman male relation is never mentioned, implying a
lone woman suffering as she bore this son, rising him up to battle
glory as an extension of herself and her name. Volumnia would be
Martius' everything as he is hers – a heavy maternal hand and one
of Shakespeare's stronger written women because she in many ways
rules with a masculine fist over her son. Martius bleeds for Rome,
but she has already bled for him and never misses an opportunity to
recall her womanly superiority and womb trump card.
Volumnia
is revered as having saved Rome and receives all the recognition she
desired, but its bemusing that there's been some historical confusion
over the similar names of Coriolanus' wife and mother – almost as
if they were one woman, not two. Volumnia keeps her son's marriage
stunted, almost as if she is in the bed between them. She uses
Virgilia to soften Martius as needed, grooming them both and
controlling her daughter-in-law like an approved surrogate. Volumnia
schools her grandson, and as written, Vrigilia doesn't have much to
do but speak when spoken to, assure Martius' lineage, and sew.
Fortunately, Rourke uses the silent staging to her advantage, placing
Birgitte Hjort Sorensen (Borgen) outside the painted square
but in view during Volumnia's plots. She's listening from the
shadows, showing how Virgilia isn't always content that Volumnia is
first and she is second in Cauis' life. Her tenderness and soft,
household balance shouldn't be an afterthought or deemed as inferior
to her mother-in-law's marital intrusion. Sorensen matches the cast
with her look and poise, and again the astute play movements often
have Findlay in the background of the frame – the third figure
between Caius and Virgilia. Unfortunately, these ladies have opposite
interests for Martius, and only one will have her way.
Our
Ensemble
Elder
statesmen Mark Gatiss (Sherlock) as Senator Menenius and Peter
de Jersey (Broadchurch) as the Roman commander Cominius
likewise add brevity and staunch countermeasures in Coriolanus.
Each father figure has his turn to levy on Martius' shoulder, with
Menenius playing politician as a devilishly dressed whimsical
gentleman and Cominius the loyal battlefield angel. Unfortunately,
Martius heeds neither of them and pays a hefty price thanks to Hadley
Frasier (Phantom of the Opera) as the Volscian leader
Aufidius. Frasier doesn't have as much to do as the rest of the
ensemble and is smaller in stature than Hiddleston but he is no less
dangerous in his words or blows. There's a different energy to the
Volsci scenes, and Aufidius looks ready to pounce on Coriolanus as
soon as the opportunity presents itself. Martius took his sword in
battle, emasculates him, and Aufidius bides his time until their
rematch, toying with his prey like the lion in the arena. Aufidius is
both a political and military leader who knows how to succeed –
unlike Martius, who mocks commoners so easily yet fails to see when
someone else is messing with him. When Martius makes Aufidius look
bad, lets his guard down, and asks his enemy to advise him on what to
do...Whelp! It's interesting how we
look back to Shakespeare or the likes of The Tudors
for our scandal and drama, yet The Bard himself looked back into
earlier history to find the political parallels of his tragic “Roman
Plays.” Five hundred years or fifteen hundred and have we learned
our lesson yet? Nope.
Love
to hate muckrakers – er tribunes Elliot Levey (Da Vinci's
Demons) as Brutus and Helen Schlesinger (The Way We Live Now)
as Sicinia are a lot like Volumnia in many ways. Both the powerful
opposing women wear purple, however the tribunes' calculating is not
with one man, but a dangerous game with the people of Rome. Their
ploy manipulates the public into betraying Coriolanus, and their
politicking happens not on the battlefield but inside the
increasingly smaller senate space. Martius is literally boxed in upon
their stage with nothing but speeches in this match, and he is not up
to par compared to these deceptive wordsmiths. Their orchestrate from
the back underhanded has little backbone compared to commanders who
lead the charge, and the tribunes can't just press the reset button
when Martius' turnabout goes wrong for Rome. Coriolanus is
already a political play, and recent global events in the
weeks before this encore only add more dimension to Shakespeare's
perennial examination on the state of affairs. At times, the multiple
roles played by Jacqueline Boatswain (Hollyoaks), Mark Stanley
(Game of Thrones), Roschenda Sandall, and Dwane Walcott can be
confusing due to subtle costume changes or a dialogue delay in
whether they are Roman or Volsican. Fortunately, this small ensemble
necessity also works in the play's favor, for indeed the highs and
lows on both sides of conflicts are ultimately one and the same.
Although Alfred Enoch (Harry Potter) appears as Lartius
largely in the first half of Coriolanus before
disappearing, it might have been neat to see him play both
this Roman and the Volsican lieutenant to hit that common
soldier point home. Lastly, I must also applaud Coriolanus for
the colorblind and gender-blind casting of this production. It's sad
and I'm sorry to say, but simply put, we don't see that type of
equality in the mainstream industry stateside.
A
Theatre Experience
For
this encore showing I attended, there was a group of girls in the
back of the cinema who kept laughing at the wrong time. Whether that
was due to a Hiddleston effect, lack of Shakespearean comprehension,
or perhaps both, I don't know. There was also a loud pretentious
young couple who announced that they were going to carry on their
conversation in Italian – presumably just because they could and
wanted everyone to know it? Though at a small independent venue, the
showing was filled to near capacity with a slightly older, mature,
educated audience who did chuckle at the right Shakespeare
puns, and it is nicer to be amid an intellectual audience for a
change instead of the increasingly popcorn bombastic. The
downloadable audio commentary featuring some of the cast and crew is
also an interesting addition to Coriolanus, and
it's neat that new exclusive content could still be added to
make the encore screenings even more special. I completely understand
the National Theatre Live's goals in wanting to bring people to a
regular movie “theater” to expand interest in “theatre” and
it is a catch-22 to release Coriolanus on
DVD and risk losing this unique combination cinema experience.
However, I do believe that interest in National Theatre Live's
programs would be maximized with some sort of free video content or
streaming subscriptions and official online availability. Instead of
wasting time with trailers, a short behind the scenes for Coriolanus
and a history of the Donmar
Warehouse lead into the play and there is an intermission half way
through for audiences to break without interfering with the show.
What's this time to cater to a moviegoer's mind and body? Pfft
big blockbusters packing in the most screenings possible don't have
time for that!
I
don't often review theatre programs like Coriolanus because
most special presentations such as this don't come to my area and
traveling far isn't always an option. Must I spend two days in New
York City every time I want to see a three hour play? I'd love to see
the National Theatre Live's Frankenstein presentation,
and I wish I could see another production directed by Rourke
or more from the Donmar Warehouse. This is a lot to take in live,
granted, and Coriolanus should probably be seen more than once
if possible – thrice with the commentary. Coriolanus asks
an audience usually dulled by their entertainment to instead infuse
our time with history and tragedy. In an era where billion
dollar record breakers rule the box office each year, Coriolanus
proves there is still room for quality alternative cinema and
innovated outside the box drama. Amen!
