The Tragedy of Richard III
Director: Fred Abrahamse
Shakespeare’s villains tend to arrive fully formed. Most often, the Bard was not interested in charting the event or conditions which turned a once pure heart black. He was more concerned with plotting them at their peak, which invariably preceded their destruction.
So in a sense Shakespeare gives his villains free rein by allowing them to live out the apotheosis of their evil existence before snuffing them out. For, of course, they all meet the grim reaper by the close of the play. It is not so much a case of good triumphing over evil in the vein of the Hollywood blockbuster but evil begetting its own annihilation, which is much more gratifying.
Richard III is not only a fully formed baddy when he opens the play with one of the Bard’s most evocative openers – “this is the winter of my discontent” – but it seems his unbridled malevolence not only festers within but has corrupted his physical being.
Or is his evil persona the result of a deep-seated resentment about his deformed appearance? The latter seems slightly improbable in this production, for the actor playing Richard III, Marcel Meyer, is far too attractive to have earned the sobriquets “hedgehog” or “toad”, which are used to describe this rotten royal. Some might feel that this actuality might render Meyer completely unsuitable to play Richard III but it presents another idea about this nasty character: that his malicious nature has influenced how people perceive him.
Of course, like most of Shakespeare’s villains Richard III leads a double existence in the sense that he mostly conceals his true nature from others – it is only through extended soliloquies that the audience is privy to his true intentions and the extent of his evil plots. It’s such an interesting inversion of the narrative mode that defines most contemporary products, where the onus so often falls on the good-natured characters to uncover the actions of evildoers.
So it is slightly disappointing that Meyer doesn’t quite pull off Richard’s dual nature, particularly in the earlier acts, where his angry register remains unchanged whether he is alone or in company. Perhaps it was Abrahamse’s intention to demonstrate the way Richard becomes more adept at turning on the charm as he becomes more embroiled in his own web of deceit.
Like most evildoers, Richard has his sights set on becoming king and will readily bump off anyone who stands in his way of achieving this – even if it means having his brothers murdered, their children, and just about anybody else who does not support his plan, such as Lord Hastings. What is unique and rewarding about this particular production is the suggestion that Richard is something of a serial killer. Each time one of Richard’s opponents is murdered, he appears with their head in a plastic bag, which he stores in a large cabinet at the centre of the stage. These gory trophies evoke the behaviour of serial killers.
This production is peppered with a number of contemporary twists – most noticeably the exquisite costumes that the male characters wear. Designed by Meyer and fashioned from black leather, they could be best described as Goth-biker gear with a medieval twist. They create aesthetic and ideological links with the Elizabethan era and the present-day: the dark tone of this play obviously summons the bleak outlook of the disillusioned Goth. As an ugly, bitter outcast, Richard has the makings of a Goth hero and his murderous inclinations could be read as a metaphorical compulsion to upturn a dominant culture.
Richard might be an angry young man, lashing out at the world that has rejected him – even his own mother claims to have despised him since birth – but Shakespeare doesn’t give his audience any room to empathise with him. Mostly it is his duplicity that stands in the way of this; his deceit simply cannot be forgiven. There are also no bounds to his malevolence – such as the murder of his young nephews (Edward IV’s heirs). And just when it appears as if he might be remorseful, such as when he attempts to persuade his sister-in-law, Queen Elizabeth, that by wedding and bedding his niece he will restore her status, it is revealed to be another one of his ploys. Thus a path to absolution is not open to Richard. It is only through death that he and the country that has been polluted by his corrupt acts can be cleansed.
Meyer delivers his lines with skill but he simply isn’t convincing as a villain. His performance was, however, stronger in the second half of the play, particularly in the final scene with Queen Elizabeth.
His fellow cast members, David Dennis and Nelisa Phewa, who appear under the guise of a string of characters, seem to flit from one role to the other with ease – though the costumes and masks no doubt grease the wheels that propel the multiple transitions.
Abrahamse could have further extended the contemporary twists that subtly run through the production but after decades of being treated to Shakespearean plays with an Africanised slant or being adapted to articulate local themes it is somewhat refreshing to encounter his poetic prose unfettered by a contemporary playwright or director’s politicised agenda.
l The Tragedy of Richard III is showing at the Market Theatre until April 24