The forbidden lovers. Publicity still, from the Barbican website.
It’s a boom time for Jacobean and Restoration plays in Britain at the moment. There’s The Recruiting Officer, George Farquhar’s lovely comedy, at the Donmar; The Way of the World, William Congreve’s brittle play, in Sheffield; She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith is conquering all at the National; and now one of tragedy’s goriest, ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, by John Ford (1629, though disputed), has come to London, where it’s on at The Barbican till the 10th March.
Directed by Declan Donnellan, of Cheek by Jowl, it tells of incest between Annabella (Lydia Wilson) and Giovanni (Jack Gordon.) A friar, Bonaventura, tries to convince Giovanni of the evil of his lust. But Giovanni, like the honey badger, don’t care; and Annabella willingly capitulates. Annabella, however, has attracted many suitors, and must marry someone who isn’t her brother (surprisingly enough), so does so; but she is pregnant with Giovanni’s child. Her husband finds out, imprisons her, mutilates her maid (who’s overseen the terrible act); Annabella writes to her brother – in her own blood, naturally – who then, whilst kissing her, kills her; he then proceeds to massacre almost everyone else in sight and being murdered himself. Phew. It’s a blood-spattered, bold and brilliant work, and critics are wowed into submission by Donnellan’s staging, despite the fact that some think it’s a little overwrought.
Hallucinogenic glow. Dominic Cavendish in The Daily Telegraph said it was the stufff that Jeremy Kyle or Jerry Springer could only dream of. It could seem “simply sensational”, without an “emotional channel.” But Donellan solves the problem by daring the audience “not to believe a word of it.” The action is bathed in “an hallucinogenic glow.” There’s disco music, and the cast are in modern dress. The action is “fleet-of-foot and fluid.” Characters referred to “step directly into view as though what was in the mind’s eye was instantly tangible.” There might be a little less “modishness”, though – there are “enough gyrating bodies and bared torsos to stock a Gay Pride parade”, which risks “swamping” the clear delivery with “hedonistic excess.” But ultimately, you do feel for the siblings and for those they hurt.
But we need a context. That hallucinogenic quality, said Michael Billington in The Guardian, leaves the society around it undefined. Ford’s play doesn’t exculpate or condemn the sibling, but simply “presents their passion as something inescapably doomed in a hypocritically religious world.” The loose modern setting, however, suggests a permissive world. There are some “visually brilliant ideas.” The lovers are played “with the right feverish intensity.” The production has an “undoubted dynamic”, but Billington “rarely felt” that he was “watching a tragedy of lust and death in which a corrupt society was just as culpable as the outlawed lovers.”
A bit de trop? David Benedict on Variety was unimpressed. Though subplots have been “stripped out”, if you’re not familiar with the story, you’re “likely to have a very hard time.” The modern touches swamp the play: for instance, when to illustrate a line (“I’ll help your old gums”, the actors massage cocaine onto their gums. “The translation of word into action is undeniably neat but it’s indicative of a production that does your thinking for you.” In the end, “there’s too much display, not enough play.”
Not at all. Nonsense, said Spoonfed. Donnellan directs the play with “a sure-fire wisdom of the play’s deeper meaning.” The stage seems “limitless”, with “every inch of space explored.” The cast is “magnificent.” This production is “full of twists and turns, laughter and tears. Cheek by Jowl’s work embodies the essence of theatricality. ‘Tis Pity is an incredibly polished piece of theater and an immensely powerful revival of a timeless classic.”
