"Comedy, love and a bit with a dog. That's what they want."

emilylouisehardy
Jul 23, 2014
3 min read

By Hayley Richardson

"Pleasure and action make the hours seem short." This is certainly the case for the new stage adaptation of Shakespeare in Love at the Noël Coward Theatre. With the award-winning film, loved by Bard boffins across the globe (chortle, chortle), setting the benchmark high for any adaptation, the team of Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod (Cheek by Jowl) had a tricky task on their hands. But in the words of Philip Henslowe (portrayed masterfully in this production by Paul Chahidi), "Strangely enough, it all turns out well." The reasons why are far from being a mystery. The production resists the temptation to recreate a cinematic blockbuster - a la 'Ghost, the musical' - and instead opts for a more 'back to basics' approach. The show is fundamentally rooted in simple, traditional theatricality - an approach that, given that this is essentially a play within a play, works superbly well. Simple lighting, tricks and basic props enhance a production which, like any Shakespeare play, can afford to rely on the words. The theatre itself plays its part well; the curved design of the Noël Coward helps to provide a feel of being in Shakespeare's Globe and the cleverly designed wooden panelling and tiered balconies onstage complete the illusion. Characters are frequently littered about the balconies, becoming part of the audience and inviting us to feel as though we too are involved within the production. Scene changes are incredibly fluid and make excellent use of the moving set. The show opens with a hilarious sequence which sees Will Shakespeare (Tom Bateman) surrounded by his admiring contemporaries struggling to devise his famous sonnet "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day." Eventually, with assistance from friend and rival, the delightfully smug Kitt Marlowe (David Oakes), Will cobbles together the opening few lines. Thankfully, Will's creative mojo is restored upon meeting his 'lover and muse', the beautiful Lady Viola De Lessops (Lucy Briggs-Owen) at the palace ball, giving us our first taste of the ensuing Romeo and Juliet saga. Far from the 'obedient mule' desired by her hubby-to-be, the pompous Lord Wessex, Viola is a fanciful, eccentric tomboy who dreams of becoming 'a player' (in the old fashioned sense of the word, of course) to feed her insatiable appetite for words. Briggs-Owen brings Viola to life with glorious energy and imagination. Admirably, her character's long blonde locks are the sole resemblance she bears to Gwyneth Paltrow's strong portrayal of the part. The chemistry between Briggs-Owen and Bateman is remarkable and makes the final scenes, where they play Romeo and Juliet respectively, incredibly engaging and devastatingly heartbreaking - like a "sickness and its cure together". Though the script is adapted from the film, Lee Hall does an excellent job of retaining many of Stoppard's treasured lines: Queen Elizabeth frequently cuts her loyal subjects to the quick - "have a care with my name - you will wear it out!" - and Viola's identity is revealed in the playhouse by young John Webster's outburst that Will was "kissing her bubbies." However, there are some neat additions to the text too: Viola, disguised as Thomas Kent, turns up late to rehearsals on account of "a terrible snarl up on the Putney Bridge". Appropriately, the production pays homage to its Elizabethan setting, where music and dance were prevalent art forms and often distinguished ones status as gentry. The show is infused with traditional Renaissance music, peppered with an artful, contemporary twist, and simple yet effective period dance. The (immensely talented) live band provide seamless interludes and highly emotive underscores throughout. Credit must be given to the show's composer Paddy Cunneen and choreographer Jane Gibson. A special mention should also go to 'Spot' the dog, who makes a delightful nuisance of himself throughout the show. Will and his company continually lament their contemporary audience's obsession with seeing animals on stage, yet, ironically, whenever Spot does appear, the crowd go wild. You need only watch an episode of Britain's Got Talent to gauge how little audiences have changed over the years in that respect. There is truly little to fault; Donnellan's incarnation of the popular film, a spectacular celebration of theatre and all things theatrical, ends with the opening pages of The Tempest, a journey and many, many tears.