BRITANNICUS. To 16 November.
Scotland
BRITANNICUS
by Jean Racine translated by Robert David MacDonald
Citizens' Theatre Circle Studio To 16 November 2002
Tue-Sat 7.30pm Mat 3pm 9 November
Runs 1hr 30min No interval
TICKETS 0141 429 0022
Review Timothy Ramsden 24 October
A bold, clear passage through imperial Rome's labyrinthine passions.It's probably heresy in the face of Phedre but, in British stagings at least, this always seems to me the most gripping of Racine's tragedies. It's one where the French classical tragedy technique of expressing action verbally through the passions, consciences and contrivings of highly-placed figures - here, from the court of Nero, who has wrested power, and now seeks the beloved of his half-brother Britannicus - substitute most clearly for the overt action that Shakespeare and his coevals offer in English drama.
These dark passions are played out in the black box Philip Prowse has made of the Citizens' Circle Studio. It's intensified by the black costumes- in the case of Paul Albertson's emotionally-charged emperor, given also the smooth sheen of an ill-omened crow. A bright, blood-red track of carpet, its edges braided with imperial gold, stretches across this dark space, between entries that are constricted, bloody-chambers of confinement.
Robert David Macdonald's remarkable translation is based round rhyming Alexandrine couplets: the extra pair of syllables in each line (MacDonald often stretches their length yet further) gives a breadth to the emotions, which hurtle explosively through their rhymes.
A few First Night uncertainties apart, Prowse is blessed with bold performances. Ann Mitchell's scheming emperor's mother maintains a near-unbearable quiet as she re-plots the future she'd like by recounting the passionate complexities that have led to the disposal of power as it stands: lust, incest, and a pliantly law-changing Senate included. Then her fury bursts out, before self-control and sotto voce intensity resume.
Among the imperial creatures, Murray Melvin's tutor has a polite insolence that serves well until we eventually discover Burrus had genuinely hoped to mould young Nero away from his dysfunctional background. But Derwent Watson's Narcissus is impressive, as smugly self-regarding as the name suggests. He's an experienced politician, aware there are thick emotional layers to cut through before he can influence the emperor Nero's reason. The only thing to break through Watson's mask of smiling assurance is concern for his own safety.
Sarah Walton's Julia has to stand - literally - facing the fury of two strong men, both seated at various times on the same seat, directing their undeserved tirades at her. First there's Nero, then her own love, Britannicus, furious at the apparent dismissal she was forced, in the emperor's hearing, to give him in order to save - for a time - his life.
Walton provides Julia with a remarkable composure: not for nothing has this lady lead her recent life in the imperial court. Listening to Nero, she stands straight-backed with dignity, his talk of her beauty merely making her suck in her cheeks and stand tight-lipped at his hated words. And her look pierces him steadily; it's he, the one in charge, whose eyes hurtle, treacherously, anywhere but at her gaze.
Such performances, and Prowse's bold simplicity of staging make this Britannicus a notable revival.
Albina: Georgina Hale
Agrippina: Ann Mitchell
Burrus: Murray Melvin
Britannicus: Aleksandr Mikic
Narcissus: Derwent Watson
Nero: Paul Albertson
Julia: Sarah Walton
Director/Designer: Philip Prowse
Lighting: Gerry Jenkinson
2002-10-25 18:03:12