Firstly, a word on the theatre itself. I had been anxiously watching the weather all day, because I thought I had booked groundling tickets. When we arrived, it was a nice surprise to find that we'd actually got seats, under shelter (phew! it hailed at one point!). The theatre was extremely impressive, and I'm led to believe, authentic, with gilt edgings, colourful facades and worn-out posts and framing. There was, as I'd expected three tiers of seats (in a circle), and of course the middle section, for groundlings to occupy. I was pleasantly surprised that, as one would of in Shakespeare's time, the people standing could go right up to the front of the stage - practically resting on it! (with our current health and safety climate, I had assumed there would be some sort of barrier - especially as 'death' was wielding some dangerous looking, bloodstained cleavers uncomfortably close to the expectant eyes of the people at the front).
The performance began with the opening lines of the play, sung in a conglomeration of South African and English, by the female actors. It is worth noting that each one of the cast was profoundly vocally accomplished, able to sing as well in English as in other languages, and the majority of arias were truly spell-binding. The first scene featured Venus and Cupid, a comically morbidly obese man in a romper-suit, who got a lot of laughs, frolicking. Venus is accidentally pricked by one of Cupid's arrows, and this is how the love-story begins. Now, I have a slight bone to pick here. After studying Shakespeare's 'Venus and Adonis' in horribly deep depth for a recent second-year undergraduate essay, I know, as many of the theatre-goer's probably wouldn't, that this is not how his epyllion begins. However, it is found in his analogue Ovid's Metamorphoses, and I'd like to think that Shakespeare's overwhelming admiration for and indebtedness to the master-poet overrides that fact that this scene is not authentic to his poem.
Once pricked, Venus' wooing begins. Unusually, Venus was not played by a single actress. Almost every actress in the ensemble took a turn to play her, each wrapping a white linen cloth around them when they would assume the role. Usually, I might consider this to be slightly twee, however, for the character of Venus it is extremely appropriate. Shakespeare's Venus is a veritable emotional whirlwind; at some points she playfully jokes with Adonis, at others is comically lustful, occasionally extremely sensitive and loving, and, disturbingly regularly, is stiflingly oppressive and/or ferociously aggressive. Although each of the actresses displayed these various, shifting emotions during their performances, the literal changing of Venus effectively conveyed just how capricious, conflicting and perplexing she is, in the midst of overwhelming love and passion.
Another aspect of the Venuses performance was their use of the cloth (used to identify her) to bind, constrain and envelop Adonis at various instances. The company has successfully drawn out the aspect which I believe Shakespeare tries to emphasise most strongly in his poem - Venus's oppressiveness - and made it a visual symbol. This effect is particularly helpful when considering that, i'd say nigh on 99%, of the audience, maybe more, was not versed in South African. When language is a barrier, spectacle takes over.
A further notable characteristic of the Venuses performances throughout the wooing scenes, was their use of their bodies/sexuality. I'm keen to avoid stereotyping, however, the Venuses truly were beautiful, buxom ladies who knew exactly what moves to make, or hips to shake, to illustrate the lustful, sexual aspect of Venus's pursuit. Part of this was their sly glances, or covert winks at the audience, which made it lucidly clear - when language again confounded interpretation - exactly what Venus's intentions were. Oozing subtle sensuality at times, secreting raging passion at others, this female company had the goddess of Love (the vicarious goddess of Sex) down to a tee.
If they perfected Venus's sensuality, so too with her hopelessness. 'She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not loved', says Shakespeare. In her most desperate moments, the Venuses haunting, mesmerising voices give a true sense of her despair: her illimitable capacity to love, to cause other's to love, yet, paradoxically, her inability to make Adonis love.
Now for Adonis. In Shakespeare's poem, Adonis is frustratingly reticent, declining to speak until around line 80, and largely vocal only to reject Venus's advances and/or, like the petulant teenager he is, to complain about the sun, or about her wringing grip. I was happy that the Isango Ensemble maintained this aspect of Adonis's character - it is not an unwarranted swipe to say that, for Shakespeare, he is not much of a character at all - as it would have been extremely tempting to make him vocal earlier, for the sake of theatrical interest. Really he is uninteresting, and uninterested: throughout Venus's elaborate wooing process, he'd much rather be somewhere else. Mhlekazi Mosiea, who played Adonis throughout - a petulant, stoic consistency which was a lovely contrast to Venus's capriciousness - had perfected the disdainful glances, pained grimaces, and violated vocal objections that characterise Shakespeare's young, narcissistic mortal beloved. Like the Venuses, Mosiea had a beautiful voice: he sang in English (which seemed quite appropriate for the young, unloving chap) and carried each note perfectly, with a tad more clarity than the rest of the company.
Other notable mentions include:
- The treatment of the palfrey and jennet - a focal point in Shakespeare's poem, illustrating the successful sexual love which Venus attempts to persuade Adonis to - was very well done. The company used horse heads, yet, moreover, their bodies to convey the sexual act - securing a lot of laughs, imbuing the episode the comedy it deserves.
- The cast performing African songs and dances together, bare-footed and raw, were truly magnetic. All of the ensemble were enthusiastic, vocal, and spell-binding: this is clearly a cast who knows how to work well together.
- Death, played by Zebulon Mmusi - not embodied in Shakespeare's poem, but embodied here, I assume, for some clarity/ to add some perspective to Venus's speech - was particularly harrowing. His frame painted as a skeleton, cavernous red mouth and serpentine tongue, bloodstained hand-held scythes and occasional menacing, animal-like hisses combined to make him a truly terrifying figure. We realise, perhaps before Venus, that he is not a character to be chastised - and his vengeance costs Venus her love.
- The boar was similarly effective. Wild, ferocious, rabid, we are given a true sense of the danger he can inflict.
- I know this is purely coincidental, but at one point, as Venus said 'the sun that shines from heaven shines but warm', the sun prophetically gleamed on the so-far gloomy stage. A sheer chance occasion, but a beautiful one at that.
I only have a couple of criticisms about this performance.
- One, is that I believe at some points, the cast was playing for laughs (at the cost of sentiment of the poem). I appreciate that they must cross a language barrier, and appeal to a popular audience, yet I would argue that pathos overrides comedy, and theatre trumps pantomime. 'Venus and Adonis' is an indubitably humorous poem, yet it is also a poetic master-piece: any more comic moments, and the play could have descended into farce.
- Two, they could have made a lot, lot more of the final metamorphoses (after all, Shakespeare's analogue was Ovid's Metamorphoses!!!, and Adonis's growth into a purple flower gives Venus far more hope and joy that this simple, unmemorable conclusion conveys.) However, I did appreciate when all the Venus's joined together again to indite her horrible prophesy (love will now be jealous, unkind, unrequited etc.), each woman versing the different afflictions in a round: they say do not mess with a woman scorned, but a woman thwarted by death is even worse.
- Finally, not really a criticism but a piece of advice: it may be too late for Venus and Adonis, as it only had a short run here, but, if you are going to see a play in another language, read the English version. It was clear that almost 80% of the time, almost 80% of the audience had no clue at all what was going on. Obviously, not knowing the language (here, a mixture of IsiZulu, IsiXhosa, SeSotho, Setswana and Afrikaans) will always prevent anyone from grasping the exquisite lilts and facets of Shakespeare's verse (I recall them all too familiarly from my recent studies), yet having a general gist of the basic arguments definitely helps. I saw far too many confused (and quite disinterested) faces in the audience, which rather distracted me from the play itself. I know some people like to be surprised by a plot, but, if the play's in another language, you won't be surprised by the plot, you will never know it! The cast did their absolute best to transcend the language-barrier, but the audience needs to helps themselves.
In conclusion, I was thrilled with my theatre trip. I was slightly skeptical following the recent theatrical-disaster of Hamlet, but all those concerns were dispelled from the first song of Venus and Adonis. A highly accomplished cast, a beautiful translation, a captivating, rich, multi-cultural performance.
****
Video - http://vimeo.com/42139882
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