Ralph Fiennes has proven himself to be a Shakespearean actor with gravitas over the decades. He brings that weight to his directorial stage debut of a Shakespeare play – and a comedy at that. Not exactly known for his comic chops (there is the odd Wes Anderson film in his oeuvre), Fiennes brings a depth to this pastoral about tyrant brothers and exiles that dares to venture into sombreness. It gives the drama a fuller body without taking away from its mischief.
Played in modern dress, the court of Duke Frederick (Patrick Robinson) is less a kingdom than a suited and booted corporation. Although his usurped brother, Duke Senior (also played by Robinson) bears vestiges of the boardroom in his demeanour, he and his band of self-exiled dukes seem to have built an alternative community in the forest of Arden, inclusive, kind and living alongside nature rather than seeking a Prospero-like dominion over it.
The production feels modern, and not, in its stripped-down stateliness. It is slow at times but there is sureness in it: Fiennes does not want to rush through the text or its meanings. Emotion is drawn, delicately, from scenes that are often swallowed up in faster-paced productions such as Duke Senior’s kindness towards Orlando (Charlie Rowe) in the face of his initial aggression which is born out of hunger, and in Orlando’s tender relationship with ailing servant Adam (Paul Jesson, touchingly played) who follows him into exile. These passing moments draw surprising tears.
The philosophical depths of the play are mined too: the idea that you have to get lost in order to find yourself, and wisdoms on ageing and mortality, so ruefully spoken by Jacques (Harriet Walter) in the seven ages of man speech.
“To liberty and not banishment,” says Celia (Amber James) to her cousin Rosalind (Gloria Obianyo), as they leave the court for exile in Arden. As this suggests, the forest is not merely a place of magical mayhem as in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It is a charged space in which characters connect with nature, find release, and where tyrants such as Duke Frederick and Oliver (Jake Neads) recover their humanity. Those latter transformations remain unconvincing, but the idea offers an optimist fantasy and way out of our current state of real-world darkness.
Part of a Fiennes season of productions, the actors bring their own star quality and a truthfulness to their performances, especially Obianyo and James. The central intimate relationship here is in fact between Celia and Rosalind, who have a sizzlingly sisterly chemistry. The latter’s romance with Orlando (Rowe is sweet and earnest) pales in comparison, the romance filling in for the comedy here, barely believed. This stalls the tone of the play somewhat, but not fatally. Dylan Moran’s Touchstone is another weak link, undercharged and perhaps eclipsed by the quality of actors around him.
The gender-bending does not always seem loaded enough either, although Rosalind carries on wearing the trousers – is it Ganymede that Orlando has fallen for by the end? – and the epilogue is an assertion of Shakespeare’s most female-led play.
There is exquisite stagecraft in the production’s minimalism, generally. Bob Crowley’s set of diaphanous curtains runs the risk of looking bare but is filled by layers of light (by Peter Mumford) and projections of flora (by Roland Horvath) which mark the passing of time and changes of mood.
Shakespearean scholar James Shapiro, in the programme, calls this “an early attempt at a musical” and music is certainly a highlight here: songs by Ilan Eshkeri and Tim Wheeler have a pure-voiced folksy sound, with characters singing over guitar solos, including Rosalind in an early scene.
It does feel static at times, and the pace slows too much towards the end, but these are teething problems for a directorial hand that shows great thought and skill. I wonder what Fiennes could do with a Shakespearean tragedy on stage.