EDMOND, 10 Sept 2003
A play by David Mamet, which I saw in the Olivier Theatre room of the National Theatre. It’s an arena like structure, with the stage surrounded by seats on three sides – very Globe-like, although the lights are turned down and there is little of the breathless energy that’s usually apparent at the Globe.
A good thing in this theatre is the excellent view you have from each and every seat. And that was important, as I went to the play to see Kenneth Branagh live on stage. I got more than I bargained for, but more on that later ;D. Mr Branagh’s amazing on stage, truly awesome. Unfortunately, I didn’t like the play one bit, no matter how good the cast was. Edmond, even in his despair, for me had no redeeming feature and there was no other character who was featured enough to engage me. I thought Edmond a caricature – friendless, desperate, alone, but ultimately bleak, with no power over my imagination or emotion.
Perhaps it was also the language – the myriad “fucks” in times of high emotion aren’t something I can particularly relate to; I swear, but not to that extent, ever. Mamet’s play did draw a good picture of a disillusioned society and the few props helped to illustrate that. The very bleakness of the staging was very effective. The speeches were fast, with American accents, and, I thought, draining to follow. Language and story line were clear, though.
There was one scene where Edmond went to a brothel and stripped (his trousers and boxers; he was left in his undershirt). I couldn’t see a reason for seeing Mr Branagh half-naked, the weight he seems to have gained for the role making him look like a very pale teddy bear sort of guy. I admit it interesting, though. Unlooked for, but interesting ;D.
The one scene that I thought fascinating was Edmond’s break down from guilt in jail over his stabbing the girl he’d been with. Mr Branagh’s acting was wonderful, stirring – and the scene was over in two minutes. Too little time to grasp me. He said he’d been sodomized by his cell mate and in the last scene they were in deep conversation and shared a good-night kiss. Sweet, but I don’t get it. Is that a happy end?
The play reminded me of a grey video clip environment; the scenes changed so fast there was no point in establishing an emotional contact with the characters. And the play was over in an hour and fifteen minutes, no break.
HIS GIRL FRIDAY, 12 Sept 2003
Very enjoyable evening indeed. It would’ve been even better if the microphones had been properly turned on all the time, to make it easier for the audience to understand what was going on. Zoë Wanamaker (Mme Hooch, Harry Potter) and Alex Jennings (My Fair Lady), with American accents, in a classic love comedy – brilliant.
Ms Wanamaker is incredible; her voice and modulation, her stance, the mimics (so funny) and gestures; the way she rushed across the stage, pulling up her tight skirt enough to be able to sit down. She was at once appealing, sexy, nonchalant and girly.
And she had lots of chemistry with Mr Jennings ;D. Still a macho, though a little less than as Prof Higgins – I loved the way he moved and talked, so perfectly at ease in his role. The supporting cast was excellent and the 1939 setting wonderfully staged.
The story seemed to be taking part at a film set of sorts – the stage was set up while the audience were coming in, make-up girls were milling around and actors were “warming up”. I liked that a lot and I loved the comedy, too.