Review by Sam Waite
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
When it came time to name her antagonist, Panem’s politician-turned-dictator President Snow, Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins’ satirical mind landed on Coriolanus. The name is only fitting, as both Collins’ and Shakespeare’s Coriolanus find political success through their roles in securing their peoples’ position, while an underlying disdain for the common person plays a major role in their downfall. Not long after Snow’s origins were explored on screen, the National Theatre plays host to a new production of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, offering up the tragic tale to a generation ready and willing to question what those in power truly think of those under their command.
Boasting OBE-awarded David Oyelowo’s return to the UK stage, the National's production opts to blend classic and contemporary elements – Roman swords and shields used for combat, modern burgundy suits for the accompanying press conference, a tattered robe donned to seek the popular vote before returning to a sleek, stylish apartment to debrief. Among Shakespeare’s final tragedies, Coriolanus centres on Caius Marcius – surnamed Coriolanus in honour of his military victory – whose service of his nation is traded for a lust for revenge when his lack of affection for the plebeians becomes wider knowledge, and leads to his exile from Rome. Political, brutal, and fuelled by building distrust of a once-revered military figure, the comparisons between Shakespeare’s Rome and Collins’ Panem are seemingly endless.
Reinforcing this connection are nods to the power of mass media in shaping public opinion, with both live and pre-recorded video designed by Ash J Woodward transforming addresses to assembled crowds into televised events. With aerial footage of a crowd on the move opening the show before the stage opens up onto what at first appears to be a museum exhibit, Woodward’s work embeds us immediately in a world of political strife and demanded answers. Es Devlin’s set’s resemblance to a museum is a calculated choice, at once evoking the ancient times of the text’s setting and reminding us just how lavishly its main characters live compared to those our protagonist is so willing to look down upon. Indeed, this curated exhibit is quickly revealed to be the seat of power for this Coriolanus’ Rome, and remnants of the grand display are maintained as locations change – only when Marcius takes to the streets to secure the plebeians’ vote is he not surrounded by grandeur.
As functional as it is visually arresting, Devlin’s set is form of stone columns which rise and descend to reshape the Olivier stage as required by new locales. Director Lyndsey Turner, retuning to The National after recent successes with The Witches and her stunning revival of The Crucible, cleverly uses these hollow columns to remove and introduce props, set pieces, even actors into scenes. Her balancing of old and new is also shrewdly applied, utilising Woodward’s video design enough that it cannot be overlooked, but sparingly enough that its effect isn't dulled. Elsewhere, Shakespeare’s text is allowed to breathe, performed by a first-rate cast guided by Turner’s endlessly apparent understanding of its sociopolitical context and how applicable much of it is to modern political discussion.
Of course, an effective Coriolanus requires a performance worthy of its titular role, a character drawn from a real historical figure and his divisive nature as a would-be elected official. Oyelowo, in a long-awaited return to the London stage, is entirely up to the task, crafting a Caius Marcius who is both a snobbish aristocrat – first entering mid-protest in a full suit with a champagne flute delicately held – and a ferocious, offensively-focused warrior. By now a veteran screen actor, Oyelowo uses the cameras to layer discomfort into his performance, his awkwardness at needing to be paraded for the lower-class masses painted across his face. Neither Oyelowo nor Turner try to obscure Marcius’ disdain for the common people, and his enragement at their turning against him is a highlight of the production.
Sam Lyon-Behan, fight director, also helps to create the Marcius character - there's a brutality to his combat style, always on the offensive and repeatedly jumping to force his right foot into his opponents’ stomachs, that brings to life his determination to win and his belief in overpowering others over careful defence. Lyon-Behan’s battles are exciting to watch, and carry just enough genuine threat to remain compelling even as we are certain of the inevitable outcome. Lighting designer Tim Lutkin also helps to create one particularly arresting moment of warfare, where strobe lighting engulfs the remainder of the stage and combatants, with only Oyelowo in clear focus at the centre of the stage – the literal centre of attention, highlighted as their most valuable asset in the carnage.
Strong supporting performances come from Stephanie Street and Jordan Metcalfe, as the treacherous duo of Sicinius and Brutus – here, the pair's role in turning the masses against Marcius lies in their televised debating over his lack of love for the people he will supposedly serve. Street’s Sicinius is a powerful figure, never losing her cool, while Metcalfe’s Brutus is more shaken by the debate but angles his reaction into a powerful call to arms. Particularly affecting in her role is Oamela Nomvete, making it clear that she – as Marcius’ mother, Volumnia – is the true politician of the family. When called “mad” by others, it is apparent in Nomvete’s performance that she is only seen as such because she is an older woman who dares to claim and express her own power, and her calculated approach to even her son brings this scheming but caring energy to the forefront.
It is likely deliberate that our protagonist and his wife, Kemi-Bo Jacobs’ Virgilla, share little time together and scarcely show any affection, this Coriolanus being cold, emotionally closed in much of his life as observed here. Unfortunately, the potential that this is by design doesn't entirely do away with how awkwardly it sits – she refuses to even leave her home until her husband returns, but aside from a brief but powerfully-performed moment of anger at his exile, there is little to show this devotion to their union. Jacob's is a fine performer, carrying a grace and dignity that elevates her comparatively minor role, but the unexplained nature of their detachment will alienate some and reduce the sympathy his exile had the potential to earn.
Near-perfect in much of its execution, and anchored by an impeccable performance from David Oyelowo, this Coriolanus is not without fault, but is so visually striking and dramatically powerful that such quibbles become easier and easier to dismiss. A stirring reminder of how timely Shakespeare’s tragedies can remain, centuries after their initial creation, and an important exercise in balancing their current potency with their historical context, Lyndsey Turner’s Coriolanus is a masterful and immensely enjoyable take on a still-powerful play. With awe-inspiring design choices backing a triumphant cast, this is Shakespeare as it should be – bold, exciting, and not to be missed.
Coriolanus plays at the Olivier Theatre until November 9th
For tickets and information visit https://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/productions/coriolanus/
Photos by Misan Harriman