Warren Sunday Review: Coriolanus Gives Modern Context to Revive an Old Epic
by Simone McFee
Coriolanus may not be one of Shakespeare's better-known tragedies; however, it is undoubtedly one of the most visually epic. Sieges, duels, and visceral wounds dominate this play, and so director Josie Rourke's decision to stage the story of the stubborn, brave, and unapologetically imperious Roman general Caius Martius “Coriolanus” at the minimalist space of the Donmar Warehouse appeared a difficult and ambitious choice.
Thankfully, Rourke demonstrates skill and economy in directing for a small space. The set is simple, consisting largely of chairs that are moved strategically to mimic the benches of the senate or the barricade, which the soldiers hide behind at the bloody siege of Corioli. The “room” where the primary action takes place is marked on the floor with red paint by the actors themselves, and this square is manipulated or added to in accordance with the demands of the scene. The primary backdrop is a plain brick wall with the graffiti of the malcontent public scrawled across it (“grain at our price”). The graffiti stylistically resembles protest graffiti that has sprung up in places like Egypt in the wake of the Arab Spring. It is, therefore, unlikely incidental that the costuming of the actors, and particularly the angry public, resembles an urban military aesthetic reminiscent of the rebels fighting in Syria.
These stylistic choices are not only gripping and visually intriguing, but they remind the audience that the struggle of the people to be heard by the ruling elite is not a story removed from our own present. The anger of the people manifests itself in colour: red is a prominent component of the set, from the lines painted on the floor to the lighting. In one scene, the blood that drips off Coriolanus himself becomes indistinguishable from the lines painted on the floor; red also emphasizes the visceral attention to blood and injury paid by the script of Coriolanus.
The aforementioned script is slightly abbreviated for this adaptation, but the drama and intensity is not lost largely due to the talent and presence of the actors. Tom Hiddleston plays the title role, and his inherent playful likeability made me doubt his ability to embody the self-destructively haughty general. Fortunately his outward geniality serves to strengthen the complexity of Coriolanus's character: he is fierce on the battlefield and kind and loyal to those he considers his friends and allies. His contempt for the “plebians” and devastatingly naive lack of political sharpness is subsequently all the more dismaying: tragic heroes are Shakespeare's forte, and Hiddleston makes Coriolanus's downfall heartbreaking enough that we almost forget his distasteful contempt for democracy. Deborah Findlay is similarly compelling as Volumnia, Coriolanus's mother. Because of her intense influence over her son, Volumnia can and has been portrayed as manipulative and callous; Findlay, however, brings us a Volumnia who is temperamentally like her son in her fierceness and bravery but who exhibits a flair for diplomacy that Coriolanus's personal impetuousness does not allow. The shared moment of vulnerability and tenderness in their final meeting at the close of the play emphasizes their relationship as one ultimately of affection and not an unbalanced power play.
Mark Gatiss delivers an absolutely luminous performance as Menenius, Roman senator and Coriolanus's closest friend. His wry witticisms and shrewd diplomacy are a welcome contrast to Coriolanus's obstinate earnestness and the effect when he abandons his glibness in the face of utter betrayal is painful to watch. Birgitte Hjort Sørenson manages to make her brief time onstage as Coriolanus's distraught wife Virgilia memorable and her character deeply sympathetic.
Elliot Levey and Helen Schlesinger are satisfyingly infuriating as the scheming tribunes Brutus and Sicinius, and Hadley Fraser plays Coriolanus's sworn opponent Aufidius with the pride and macho swagger expected of his character. Interestingly, the homoerotic insinuations found within the text of the play are physically brought into the forefront by Fraser: Coriolanus's and Aufidius's obsession with one another overtly blurs the lines between hatred and passion in this adaptation.
There are problematic components of this play. While I loved the decision to cast Sicinius as a female rather than a male, I found the addition of a romance between her and Brutus contrived and unnecessary, and played out awkwardly on the stage. The set change music attempts to continue with the edgy and contemporary look of the play, but the grimy, dub-y club beat forcibly pulled me out of the production. Thankfully the components that work work well enough to outweigh the unsatisfying elements.
This production of Coriolanus tells the torturous story of a man spiralling toward his own self-made destruction but also reminds us that the concerns of the public to whom he refuses to cater are not removed from our contemporary society. It is quick, smart, moving, and entertaining as hell. Josie Rourke has made a minimalist epic with brilliant success. The Cineplex Odeon will broadcast an encore performance of Coriolanus on February 22. Tickets are available at the theatre or on their website, cineplex.com.