Two Noble Kinsmen, one of Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, jointly penned with John Fletcher, is refreshingly different whilst pleasingly familiar. Perhaps this is because it is based on Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale, but I suspect it has more to do with director, Barrie Rutter and his company, who have worked magic on a story packed with Shakespeare’s common motifs: a court from which two soldiers are banished, disguise in the woods; unrequited love and even folk performers who entertain the court.We’re off to a cracking start with Jude Akuwudike’s Theseus debating with Sue Devany and fellow widows, whether he should retaliate in the name of his noblemen (their husbands) slain by the rancid Creon, unusually here the women being the warmongers and the men, the pacifists. Supported at court by a masterful Matt Henry as Pirithous, the women, with the backing of Moyo Akandé’s goddess-like Hippolyta, get their way. The language, beautifully delivered, is always crystal clear.
Two of Creon’s soldiers are his noble nephews played by Paul Stocker as Palamon and Bryan Dick as Arcite, brilliantly believable brothers-in-banter as they emphatically swear devotion to each other one minute, then become murderous rivals then next. First seen bemoaning having to fight what they consider an unnecessary war, their duologue is not only topical, but reminiscent of soldiers Williams and Bates on the battlefield in Henry V. Defeated, and near dead, the noble friends are returned to Theseus’ court where they are held captive while the King considers their sentence.
Perhaps we care most of all for the Jailer’s Daughter who, despite having such a lowly status that she doesn’t warrant a name, manages to go mad with heartbreak in a way that makes you wonder why anyone would rather play Ophelia. Francesca Mills holds the audience in the palm of her hands with a deft combination of vocal and physical comedy that enchants. Falling for her father’s prisoner, Palamon, she decides to set him free and follow him into the woods where she’s sure he’ll return her love. Sadly, he’s already smitten with Theseus’ beautiful sister Emilia who he spotted from his prison cell.
Kevin McCurdy’s freeze-frame fight sequences are executed perfectly and placing the wrestling Kinsmen up in the balcony surrounded by the entire court and musicians, while Emilia is left alone on the big stage below is a uniquely canny choice that brings her troubled soliloquy into focus: “I am bride-habited, but maiden hearted”, the fight appearing above her like an animated thought-bubble. Brilliant.
The costumes are sumptuous with the royal women particularly ravishing in jewel-colours. Award-winning composer Eliza Carthy manages to make Morris dancing crazy-cool with her jazz infused folk music. Rutter even uses her melodies to conclude a potentially gloomy funeral ending by cleverly morphing from melancholy to an uplifting, New Orleans style funeral rift, with catchy choreography, sending us home on a high. The slick pace leads to a much-appreciated running time of two hours ten minutes, keeping us buzzing along with both plot lines.
There’s good reason some of Shakespeare’s plays aren’t performed as often as others, hence I came with reservations, but they soon proved unfounded, and I left wondering why we don’t see Two Noble Kinsmen more often. In Barrie Rutter’s inventive hands, well-served by a stunning cast, this tragicomic pastoral tale is performed with such clarity, it feels like an old favourite.
It is a perfect summer night out for the family.
The wide expanses of the Olivier Theatre are filled with a sloping Irish bog above which fog hangs evocatively. Marooned in the midst of this is an area representing a hedge school, the type of ad hoc improvised location where poor and rural Irish received a rudimentary education in the 18th and 19th Century.