Top fringe venue hits a wrong note with this simplistic mystery play
The Great Theatre of the World
Arcola, London E8
For once, the Arcola Theatre has served up a dud. Its production of The Great Theatre of the World looked rather promising. The play is referred to as the masterpiece of the 17th-century Spanish playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca. It had been freshly adapted by Adrian Mitchell, and staged by the venerable director William Gaskill. Even a half-empty auditorium didn't put me off. Arcola is one of those places that is routinely called a "fringe powerhouse", and I thought I was among a crowd of early adopters. Five minutes in, I rather wished I'd been an early adopter of the fantastic Turkish restaurant opposite.
This is essentially a Christian miracle play, working on the twee, but not offensive metaphor that "all the world's a stage". God (or, as Mitchell has it, presumably for purposes of multiculturalism, the Director) creates Earth, and on it, animates six stock characters, from King down to Beggar. He then sits on his throne and watches what they do with their roles. This is the "brief play of the human race". After their deaths, he sends them to Heaven or to Hell. You can probably guess where each ends up. Greedy Rich Man goes to the inferno and humble Beggar is exalted to dine at the right hand of the Director. For some entirely purposeless - and, to my mind, rather miserable - reason, there is also Still Born Baby (who ends up in Limbo).
It's the sort of play that should really be put on in a church, or on a medieval high street, or in the ruins of Fountains Abbey. It's a mystery play. These were written to be as didactic as a stained-glass window, performed by ordinary people to other ordinary people to explain the morality of the Bible, amid the bustle of a market town or in the nave of the parish church. A detached modern studio theatre is something of a dead hand to this most community-centred of dramas. Yes, the National Theatre did a brilliant cycle of mystery plays about 20 years ago but everything was thrown at it, including (as I recall) a rather arrestingly naked Adam and Eve. Anything to escape the dead weight of the black drapes.
Here, the actors have only a series of amateur skeleton outfits (which I've seen done better in Woolworths) and they are given precisely zero to work with onstage.
However, for the first 15 minutes of the night I watched, there was a rather interesting, very loud soundtrack going along. Sort of heavy bass and possibly a bit of rapping. After about three minutes, however, it became clear that this was merely evidence of the outside world, namely the local Hackney environment. Did anyone charge outside and remonstrate to have the interference turned down, or off? Not likely. Seventeenth-century mystery play or no, Arcola is a cool venue, and to be so hopelessly prim about sound pollution in the middle of Dalston is clearly not its style.
Never mind. The outside world was positively melodic compared to the singing of the actors onstage. "Howling" is the verb I would prefer to use. Actually, "yowling" was what I wrote in my notes on the night. Andrew Dickson is credited as composer, though if I were him I would get my name taken out of the programme immediately.
To depict the unimaginable mortality of we humans, there is a cradle above one exit and a coffin above another. Everyone came on stage via the cradle door, and left via the coffin door. "Fey" was another word in my notebook. Why Arcola, which seemed to be bowling along quite merrily with an arresting and thoughtful programme, has indulged Gaskill with this ill-conceived production is anyone's guess. Frankly, if I want to have a meditation on mortality, I would far rather muse on the words of Woody Allen. When consoled with the notion that he would "live on in his works", the great man merely replied: "I don't want to live on in my works. I want to live on in my apartment."
For further info and booking details visit: http://www.arcolatheatre.com
Pick of the week
Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
Adelphi Theatre, London WC2
Overly padded, but still rather fun.
Twelfth Night
Chichester Festival Theatre
Patrick Stewart shows off his magnificently cross-gartered legs as Malvolio in this new production.
The Hothouse
Lyttelton Theatre, London SE1
Rarely performed Pinter, directed by Ian Rickson, latterly of the Royal Court.
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