ANNA KARENINA. To 16 April.
Edinburgh
ANNA KARENINA
by Leo Tolstoy dramatised by John Clifford
Royal Lyceum Theatre To 16 April 2005
Tue-Sat 7.45pm Mat 30 March, 2, 6, 9 April 2.30pm
Audio-described 31 March, 2 April 2.30pm (+ touch tour 12.30pm
BSL Signed 5 April
Runs 2hr 35min One interval
TICKETS: 0131 248 4848
boxoffice@lyceum.org.uk
www.lyceum.org.uk
Review: Timothy Ramsden 26 March
Increasingly moving adaptation finely directed. Helen Edmundson's adaptation of this novel (for Shared Experience) remains the finest I know. Still, John Clifford's version has more narrative intelligibility, if it doesn't fully probe the novel's soul till after the interval.
Muriel Romanes' direction draws upon the theatrical language of other non-naturalistic adaptations. Some of the humour seems forced, but the production's full of ideas that move the story swiftly then, in later scenes, reach to its thematic heart. Francis O' Connor supplies a scrubbed-wood compound serving for confessional scenes and, when its multiple doors swing open, for balls and the races among other social events.
Behind there's the sense of vast forests, birch trunks repeated by equally shining long mirror-panels. O' Connor's set looks superb under Chris Davey's lighting, which also picks out key characters at significant moments.
Clifford and Romanes work by counterpoint. The socially awkward Levin or the neglected Dolly sit reading or hunched on a child's chair respectively as life passes around them. Anna's first adulterous encounter with Vronsky on a big double bed (fortunately pulled forward; at other times it is incompetently used at the side where it's invisible from several dozen seats) is the moment of her descent.
The white heroine of forgiveness in act one is about to become the scarlet-clad outcast of the second part. This secret passion is played against Levin's happiest moment, the stage suddenly flooding with light for his paean to spring in the beloved countryside he's trying to improve.
This setting-off of mood builds to a climax at the emotionally devastating end where Anna's death is partly materialised by smoke and a train approaching, but more importantly becomes the expression of her state, sounding out in a cry that plays against the difficult birth of Levin and Kitty's son. Life has only the meaning human effort and endurance gives it. Clifford and Romanes steer the action from depair to quiet hope in the final, thrilling moments.
There is, too, a superb quiet intensity, first encountered when the still assured Anna persuades
Kitty to forgive her erring husband. While some moments rightly consist of quiet words amid silence, Max Richter's tactful score makes a major contribution. Often, a haunting background phrase intensifies mood or a steady musical pattern counterpoints characters' agitation.
Raquel Cassidy's beautiful Anna is a triumph, finding each gradation of desire and anxiety on her downward track. Liam Brennan's Levin is too one-dimensionally awkward and lacks the reformer's passion, while catching the sense of struggle. Kevin McMonagle's Karenin moves from huffily pompous official to quietly demented insanity, locked in his house's labyrinth of corridors. In all, this Lyceum production is a major achievement.
Anna: Raquel Cassidy
Kitty: Louise Collins
Dolly: Cara Kelly
Lady/Vronsky's Mother/Kitty's Mother/Agatha Mikhailovna/Bessubova/Dolly's Maid/Midwife: Vari Sylvester
Levin: Liam Brennan
Vronsky: Jamie Lee
Oblonsky/Doctor: Paul Blair
Karenin/Kitty's Father: Kevin McMonagle
English Girl: Kirsty Mackay
Director: Muriel Romanes
Designer: Francis O' Connor
Lighting: Chris Davey
Composer: Max Richter
Choreographer: Jane Howie
Assistant director: Jemima Levick
2005-03-26 18:18:22