Antony and Cleopatra
Dec. 27th, 2024 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerMy history with Antony and Cleopatra is short: we did it in Zoom theater and spent much of the chat cackling delightedly “These guys are such IDIOTS” (somehow simultaneously affectionate and derogatory). Great to watch, also so great that they lived 2000 years ago so I will never ever ever meet them personally.
Julius Caesar started me on a Roman kick, so I decided to watch the National Theater’s Antony and Cleopatra. It stars Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo, both of whom give absolutely powerhouse performances as two people so obnoxiously in love that when they’re together they barely remember the rest of the world exists.
Bad enough when you’re forced to attend a party with these two people. Far, far worse when they are your bosses, who are currently in charge of all of Egypt, and swiftly incurring the wrath of the most powerful man in the world. Cleopatra’s maids Iras and Charmian seem to enjoy the drama, but Antony’s Roman retainers often look like they wish their souls would briefly leave their bodies so they don’t have to witness his latest drunken buffoonery.
Fiennes’ performance is masterful in part because he can switch so naturally between that drunken buffoonery and the masterful soldier that he still is—and yet still not as strong as he once was; he is losing his grip, coming undone, staggering drunkenly across the stage and collapsing in a heap on the floor after his attempt to fight Octavian at sea goes wrong. Only Cleopatra can cheer him back to his old fighting self, and he faces the final battle with courage. But fortune has forsaken him, and he must lose.
Sophie Okonedo portrays Cleopatra as similarly mercurial, slipping easily between treacly cooing, suggestive teasing, and red-hot rage. When the messenger tells her that Antony has married Octavian’s sister Octavia, she manhandles him across the stage in fury, ending by tossing him into the pool.
Let’s pause here for a shout-out for the staging here. It’s on a rotating set, wonderfully designed: a gold-lit Egypt with elegant blue pools, a business-like office that is Rome, two trapdoors in the stage most often used during battle scenes to add an element of surprise, a curving wall that represents a ship when Octavian, Antony, and Lepidus, temporarily reconciled, go to meet Pompey’s son who has allied with a pirate king.
They go onto Pompey’s ship and get wildly drunk, all except Octavian, who appears to be the one sensible man in Rome, which is perhaps how he ended up emperor. At the end of the party there’s almost a brawl, and Octavian, the unfortunate sober man stuck at a frat party, admonishes them all to go home.
His one misstep lies in taking Agrippa’s advice to give his sister Octavia in marriage to Antony to cement their alliance. Antony jumps at the chance, because it will get him out of his present difficulties with Octavian and he’s incapable of thinking more than five minutes ahead to realize that marrying Octavian’s sister then dumping her to race back to Cleopatra might just make Octavian mad. And of course the marriage doesn’t work. Octavia is Octavian’s female counterpart, cool and reserved, the last woman on earth to hold Antony, who needs a drama llama to match his drama llama.
In Shakespeare, it is the general Dolabella who tells Cleopatra that Octavian will lead her through the streets of Rome in triumph. In this staging, this role goes to Octavia, which infinitely sharpens the scene. Her first words to Cleopatra: “Most noble empress, you have heard of me,” are a straight quote from Shakespeare, and yet how much more meaningful when we saw Cleopatra’s rage when indeed she heard of Octavia!
And this change suggests a number of interesting interpretations. Is Octavia motivated by jealousy or spite? Does she feel a kinship to her, through their shared love of Antony (if indeed Octavia did love Antony), now that Antony is dead? Highborn herself, she wants to give the highborn Cleopatra the chance to take the noble way out, so that the people can say “Noble Cleopatra triumphed only over herself”?
Other standout performances: the aforementioned Iras and Charmian made fantastic foils for Cleopatra, a delicious comedy trio teasing her about her past love for Julius Caesar, then seamlessly turning on a dime to comfort her whenever things go wrong with Antony. Antony’s right-hand man Enobarbus has a wonderful tragic turn after he forsakes Antony and then bitterly repents.
There are a few faults, of course. They cut the deliciously comic “Joy of the worm” scene to its bare bones. Also, the National Theater and I are never going to see eye-to-eye on whether putting the characters in modern clothes and tossing up a TV or two adds anything to a Shakespeare play. But overall, a superb performance, a fascinating interpretation of this delightful play. Highly recommended.
Julius Caesar started me on a Roman kick, so I decided to watch the National Theater’s Antony and Cleopatra. It stars Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo, both of whom give absolutely powerhouse performances as two people so obnoxiously in love that when they’re together they barely remember the rest of the world exists.
Bad enough when you’re forced to attend a party with these two people. Far, far worse when they are your bosses, who are currently in charge of all of Egypt, and swiftly incurring the wrath of the most powerful man in the world. Cleopatra’s maids Iras and Charmian seem to enjoy the drama, but Antony’s Roman retainers often look like they wish their souls would briefly leave their bodies so they don’t have to witness his latest drunken buffoonery.
Fiennes’ performance is masterful in part because he can switch so naturally between that drunken buffoonery and the masterful soldier that he still is—and yet still not as strong as he once was; he is losing his grip, coming undone, staggering drunkenly across the stage and collapsing in a heap on the floor after his attempt to fight Octavian at sea goes wrong. Only Cleopatra can cheer him back to his old fighting self, and he faces the final battle with courage. But fortune has forsaken him, and he must lose.
Sophie Okonedo portrays Cleopatra as similarly mercurial, slipping easily between treacly cooing, suggestive teasing, and red-hot rage. When the messenger tells her that Antony has married Octavian’s sister Octavia, she manhandles him across the stage in fury, ending by tossing him into the pool.
Let’s pause here for a shout-out for the staging here. It’s on a rotating set, wonderfully designed: a gold-lit Egypt with elegant blue pools, a business-like office that is Rome, two trapdoors in the stage most often used during battle scenes to add an element of surprise, a curving wall that represents a ship when Octavian, Antony, and Lepidus, temporarily reconciled, go to meet Pompey’s son who has allied with a pirate king.
They go onto Pompey’s ship and get wildly drunk, all except Octavian, who appears to be the one sensible man in Rome, which is perhaps how he ended up emperor. At the end of the party there’s almost a brawl, and Octavian, the unfortunate sober man stuck at a frat party, admonishes them all to go home.
His one misstep lies in taking Agrippa’s advice to give his sister Octavia in marriage to Antony to cement their alliance. Antony jumps at the chance, because it will get him out of his present difficulties with Octavian and he’s incapable of thinking more than five minutes ahead to realize that marrying Octavian’s sister then dumping her to race back to Cleopatra might just make Octavian mad. And of course the marriage doesn’t work. Octavia is Octavian’s female counterpart, cool and reserved, the last woman on earth to hold Antony, who needs a drama llama to match his drama llama.
In Shakespeare, it is the general Dolabella who tells Cleopatra that Octavian will lead her through the streets of Rome in triumph. In this staging, this role goes to Octavia, which infinitely sharpens the scene. Her first words to Cleopatra: “Most noble empress, you have heard of me,” are a straight quote from Shakespeare, and yet how much more meaningful when we saw Cleopatra’s rage when indeed she heard of Octavia!
And this change suggests a number of interesting interpretations. Is Octavia motivated by jealousy or spite? Does she feel a kinship to her, through their shared love of Antony (if indeed Octavia did love Antony), now that Antony is dead? Highborn herself, she wants to give the highborn Cleopatra the chance to take the noble way out, so that the people can say “Noble Cleopatra triumphed only over herself”?
Other standout performances: the aforementioned Iras and Charmian made fantastic foils for Cleopatra, a delicious comedy trio teasing her about her past love for Julius Caesar, then seamlessly turning on a dime to comfort her whenever things go wrong with Antony. Antony’s right-hand man Enobarbus has a wonderful tragic turn after he forsakes Antony and then bitterly repents.
There are a few faults, of course. They cut the deliciously comic “Joy of the worm” scene to its bare bones. Also, the National Theater and I are never going to see eye-to-eye on whether putting the characters in modern clothes and tossing up a TV or two adds anything to a Shakespeare play. But overall, a superb performance, a fascinating interpretation of this delightful play. Highly recommended.
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Date: 2024-12-28 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-12-29 02:20 am (UTC)Now the Macbeth I really wish I could see is the puppet version my dad saw decades ago in Chicago. Any puppet Shakespeare, really. So rare to see a puppet show these days!