TWO PRINCES. To 17 November.
Mold.
TWO PRINCES
by Meredydd Barker.
Clwyd Theatr Cymru (Emlyn Williams Theatre) To 17 November.
Mon-Sat 7u.45pm Mat Sat 2.45pm
Audio-described 15 Nov.
Captioned 17 Nov 2.45pm
Post-show discussion 15 Nov.
Runs 2hr 30min One interval.
TICKETS: 0845 330 3565.
www.clwyd-theatr-cymru.co.uk
Review: Timothy Ramsden 12 November.
Quarrels old and new.
There’s a rehearsal-like feel to the Emlyn Williams Theatre as Meredydd Barker’s new play opens with a medieval knight and squire clanking across the stripped-open stage. They stand talking in the anonymous area, with just a few jumbled set pieces obscurely at the back.
There’s talk of treachery and traps, skulduggery and the future, plus the important question of who will write about the present - when it’s the past - for the future. The set-up’s provisional in Phillip Breen’s production; rightly, because next thing we know (and we don’t know much at this point) we’re swept into that future, which is the present-day.
Knightly treachery is replaced by civic rivalry, focusing on a piece of public art, a new sculpture for the West Wales village of Treianto. Councillors bicker with such members of the public as have managed to locate a meeting clearly not programmed to encourage their participation.
An intense Dutch artist plans a conceptual artwork, but there are calls for something local. And all that’s local to Treianto is the legend of the two princes, part-enacted at the play’s opening. In the first of two artful caricatures Tom Silburn gives the Dutchman Thomas Donk a seriousness that holds itself uncomprehendingly aloof over the quarrelling councillors and locals: principally a businessman and an art expert.
But the fulcrum for this argument, and subsequent manoeuvrings is Roz, who mixes community involvement with family concerns, and knows the local sink estate from the inside.
It’s easy to make fun of councillors, artists and pundits, but difficult to extend it over two-plus hours. Barker doesn’t entirely succeed, and scenes don’t grow inevitably out of what’s happened before; things seem a bit too deliberately plotted, rather than being organic. Yet two things rescue the play, to a considerable extent. One is Rachel Isaac’s Roz, a pillar of necessary sense amid surrounding egos and agendas.
The other is that opening scene, recalled throughout with its themes of loyalty and betrayal, and its resonance of historical reality as opposed to the trail of ‘heritage’, exemplified by the shining sculpture of the closing moments.
Gwynfor: John Atterbury.
Ronnie/Ianto: Jordan Bernarde.
Howard/Welder: Brendan Charleson.
Hopper: Richard Elis.
Bronwen: Gillian Elisa.
Peter Harris: Steven Elliott.
Nia Roberts: Sian Howard.
Roz: Rachel Isaac.
Vince/Bedwyr: Ciaran Joyce.
Cullen/Prince: Simon Nehan.
Eurig: Dean Rehman.
Thomas Donk/Fin: Tom Silburn.
Director: Phillip Breen.
Designer: Max Jones.
Lighting: Tina Machugh.
Sound: Matthew Williams.
Composer: Matilda Brown.
Fight director: Daniel Llewellyn-Williams.
Assistant director: Mared Swain.
2007-11-18 21:35:56