Power Play
Julius Caesar
by William Shakespeare
State Theatre Company
Playhouse, February, 1991.
Reviewed by Murray Bramwell
Of all of Shakespeare’s work, Julius Caesar seems to most invite the intervention of modern sensibilities. There is no way that the text can be left to tell itself (if such a thing were ever possible in the theatre).It presents such a spectrum of political shenanigans that any production has to make choices straight off – whether to favour the Brutus team or take Mark Antony at his own valuation, deciding how lean and hungry its Cassius should be and how statesmanlike its Caesar.
If the play posed questions for audiences in the reign of Elizabeth then they leap out even more at twentieth century spectators. Small wonder that as an account of the problem of tyranny, Julius Caesar has been much interpreted in the light of recent history. There is no need for Simon Phillips’ slightly defensive tone in the programme notes, in presenting a modern dress production the State Theatre Company is following what has become the convention. So much so, that there is a risk that deliberate anachronism can become cliche, an outing for designers and Brutus shouting that the swatch has stricken three.
From Caesar’s first entrance, surrounded by his power-dressed retinue and a flurry of media scribes, it is clear that Simon Phillips has his production assuredly in hand. The contemporary trappings of the board room are all in evidence but are integrated with the text to powerful effect. The movers and their moves are refracted through the electronic media. Caesar, Brutus and Mark Antony appear janus-faced on rows of monitors, multiples of image and meaning. The mixed intentions and secret ambitions of the power cliques translate to an all-too familiar present.
There’s a bit much Ronald Colman acting, with curlicues of cigarette smoke wreathing their way through the film noir lighting but overall this production works extremely well. With the tight combination of Nigel Levings’shrewd lighting, Shaun Gurton’s smartly functional set and the subliminal menace of Ian McDonald’s synthesiser soundtrack, Phillips has created a filmic decor for the players which they make the most of.
Billed as a political thriller, the production is a fast-paced two hours without interval. The performances are well-judged and strong. Don Barker’s Caesar provides an imposing and likeably telegenic focus of power. Enfuriated by his affable autocracy on a TV screen Cassius, played with a brittle intensity by Edwin Hodgeman, grabs for a remote in order to extinguish him. It’s a neat correlative for the envy of the conspirators. Others in the faction also work well- Geoff Revell’s creepily comic Decius Brutus, Jane Henderson’s Mettellus Cimber, Ian Boyce’s patrician Cicero and Daphne Grey’s sardonic Casca.
Phillips took a risk casting Casca and Mark Antony as women. He has indicated his reasons as practical ones, to use actors from his ensemble- but the play is enhanced beyond those considerations. As Mark Antony, Carmel McGlone not only finds credibility for the role, she defines a recognisable political opportunism, particularly in public oration. As the cameras move in for a crocodile close-up she brushes aside expedient tears for the dead Caesar. Her self-righteous intonation carries undertones of the departed Thatcher- slyly derisive in TV debate and, in front of the crowd, promising drachmas for all, icily manipulative. Arms upraised, her face a mask of fury, frozen on the monitors, she embodies suburban fascism.
As Brutus, The Candidate, Hugo Weaving gives an intelligent and relentless performance. The mixture of idealism and reluctant action is well struck, he is man overtaken by events, one who looks like a winner but fails because he can countenance a large crime but not a series of petty ones. Phillips effectively marks the shift to chaos when Brutus’s spacious office is turned into a pandemonium of strewn paper. This is the tent in which Brutus and Cassius clash, reconcile and separately die. The pace is furious and the ending swift. This was the noblest Roman, intones Mark Antony in her perfectly enunciated doublespeak, the rest being eloquent silence.
The events in Romania late last year were a starting point for this production. Now, in this season for troop movements, tyrants, sanctioned barbarism and public sanctimony, Julius Caesar is even more ripe with meaning. Apart from the current international monstrosities, the play is an extraordinarily accurate dissection of the strategies of the political party room. In our own two-party Byzantium it is telling of what is past, or passing, or to come.
As I have said, a modern dress Julius Caesar is a commonplace. What Simon Phillips and his company have achieved is a precise, accessible reading that admirably expresses our present mistrust in political process while drawing strength and cogency from Shakespeare’s unswerving belief in the possibilty of good and just governance.
“Power Play” The Adelaide Review, No.86, March, 1991, p.34.