| A fine production of a gripping and exciting play |
At National Theatre Wales |
| National Theatre Wales- the Persians , Cilieni Village, Brecon Beacons , August 17, 2010 |
The car park in Sennybridge was surrounded by barbed wire. As we boarded the coaches we were issued with dark olive ponchos which we were told we must wear. Half an hour later we arrived at the extraordinary “German” village high in the Brecon Beacons, built and still used by the army for close-quarter training.As the audience walked into the heart of the village the ponchos turned us into the Persian population, to be greeted en route by the Chorus. These were clearly four local politicians in bullish mood about the might and power of the forces even now embarked en route to conquer Athens. Another short walk and we were seated in the grandstand, where observers usually sit to observe fighting. This being a Greek play we were here to listen to reports of fighting, as the events were unfolded to the Queen, a riveting performance by Sian Thomas. Proud on behalf of her son Xerxes, leading the armies, and carrying the mantle of her late husband, Persia's greatest king, Darius, she never lost her dignity even as that pride and her expectations were swept away. To say that she dominated the stage is misleading because what we were looking at was a house with no façade and with hills and fields in full sight behind it. In fact, as befitted a queen, she dominated not just the building but the very landscape too. In the eaves of the house was a large television screen which allowed us close-ups of her. It then became the effective arena for the appearance of Darius' ghost, beautifully spoken by a pre-recorded Paul Rhys. Television was also used for the messenger's report on the devastating sea battle at Salamis and its terrible aftermath. Richard Harrington delivered it, as from the distant battleground, with such precision, clarity and barely controlled emotion that Kaite O'Reilly's powerful words burnt themselves into our minds. It was unfortunate that this passage saw the production's only major mis-step. Mike Pearson's direction generally was exemplary, using the spaces of the landscape brilliantly, incorporating moving vehicles, and taking full advantage of the levels and rooms of the house. But while the messenger spoke he had asked his Chorus to flail about, tearing at their clothes, wailing their despair and, most distractingly, noisily flinging the furniture about. That this was unnecessary was proved by the Queen who disintegrated with style, Sian Thomas ululating is not something I shall easily forget, and also by how effective the Chorus was at other times. Richard Lynch, Richard Huw Morgan, John Rowley and Gerald Tyler were wholly convincing as politicians and as speakers for the nation. A lot of their dialogue comprised complicated lists of people or places and these they delivered with poetic relish. I really wish that they had been asked to show us their realisation of the loss of Persia's finest in some other way, it was the only part of the production that utterly lacked conviction. When they later circled threateningly around Rhys Rusbatch's Xerxes, home safely but as no sort of hero, and spoke yet more lists, this time of the newly fallen, they showed enormous broken power, the mirror image of how they had greeted us on our arrival. Thus they brought this, mostly, triumphant production to an overwhelming close. This was a memorable evening, a fine production of a gripping and exciting play in a setting that made it even more special. |
Reviewed by: Victor Hallett |
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