How do you solve a problem like Leontes?

 

 

Kenneth Branagh fits the mould of one of the famous actor managers, so it is a happy accident that his new rep company is being housed at London’s Garrick Theatre. We were treated to a double bill on the formal first night of the new venture, with The Winter’s Tale rounded off by a Terence Rattigan double header: the dramatic monologue. All on Her Own serving as curtain-raiser to Harlequinade.  Branagh is evidently a persuasive man, for among his company are Dame Judi Dench, Michael Pennington and Zoë Wanamaker, to mention just the starriest veteran actors; they are collaborating with a host of mostly younger and very impressive actors.

All on Her Own is a 1968 made-for-TV commission Rattigan developed for the BBC, in which a widow nearly empties the whisky decanter while apostrophising her late husband, who seems to have been a suicide. The programme says that the character of Rosemary is partly a self-portrait, as the playwright was “impeccably polite,” disliked heated arguments and needed to feel needed. Zoë Wanamaker plays her with a slight provincial accent and the kind of aplomb that makes you feel you’re watching a character get drunk, but with none of the comic undercurrent that usually attends a drunken scene. It tugs gently at the heartstrings.

Harlequinade has really been superseded by Michael Frayn’s Noises Off, as it’s a tale of things going wrong for a theatrical touring company. Frayn’s 1982 play is so fine that he has perfected the genre and no earlier effort can stand comparison. Still, I laughed a lot at this farce, which guys scenes from Romeo and Juliet and makes real comedy of the efforts to cast The Winter’s Tale, by Branagh himself, playing the actor manager, Arthur Gosport, who is actually a couple of generations too old to play Romeo to a gloriously blowsy Juliet.  Ms Wanamaker, appearing in the Nurse’s wimple, is both subtle and side-splitting. Christopher Oram’s handsome sets and period costumes and Neil Austin’s house lights up-and-down lighting added to the mirth.

I’ll let you in on the secret that the critics were fed canapés (not many) and served (perhaps too much) very good wine in the long interval between the plays, which might have enhanced my appreciation of the Rattigan plays.

But I approached The Winter’s Tale with critical facilities intact. (We had a stimulating argument at the refreshment table, with one of our number insisting that The Winter’s Tale was one of Shakespeare’s greatest plays, perhaps his best. And as our table-mates included a celebrated biographer of the Bard, you can probably imagine the riveting scene for yourself.)

Branagh, of course, played Leontes, King of Sicilia. The problem with this “problem play” is: why does he change so suddenly from adoring his childhood friend, Polixenes, King of Bohemia (whose visit has already lasted nine months) to being uncontrollably jealous, and certain that he is having an affair with his wife, Hermione?

Branagh plays it as grand guignol, howling with jealous rage as he leaves the stage. I didn’t believe a decibel of it.

But much of the trouble is in the play itself, in the unexplained reversal from affection to consuming and anguished distrust. The question is: is it inexplicable?

If I were directing, I’d explicate the turnabout by making it evident that Leontes has a sexual passion for his old chum. In the opening minutes of the play, it would become clear that the relationship began and was consummated when they were young, and has been rekindled by Polixenes’ physical presence. Then, in the scenes where Hermione implores Polixenes to stay and not return to Bohemia, you could understand why her flirting and their cuddling would drive Leontes mad.

Absent this, the company did its best. Dame Judi was, of course, stunning as Paulina, and gave her usual generous performance. “Generous,” not only to the audience, but to the rest of the cast. She is the only actor I can think of who can appear on stage solo, without in the least seeming to upstage or diminish anyone else. She makes you feel she is always sharing the stage with someone – even with the entire dramatis personae. Her greatness lies somehow in her bounteous nature, and she is the ideal member of a company such as Branagh’s. Lucky him – or perhaps he actually is that persuasive.

In any case she, and most of the rest of the company, make up for the boss’s small lapse. He needs to ask himself the hackneyed question, what’s my character’s motivation? Even so, this is a stunning evening in the theatre, and I look forward with enthusiasm to the rest of the company’s season. The development of new companies is becoming an exciting feature of the London theatre, with Michael Grandage and Nick Hytner in on the action. So bravo Branagh.

 

 

 

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