King Lear, Act 4, Scene 6
As usual my pre-university post-summer September spike is here, and I’m back reviewing. First up, the National Theatre’s production of The Threepenny Opera. In a new adaptation of Brecht and Weill’s famous collaboration by Simon Stephens, Rory Kinnear stars as king of the murky underworld of the East End, Captain Macheath aka Mack the Knife – that’s right, the one from the song. I had no idea, in fact, that the ‘Mack the Knife’ song of Michael Buble and Robbie Williams was originally from this show. It’s actually in a way a relief for a Brecht/Weill virgin like me to be introduced to their dark and spiky theatrical and musical style through a jazz standard. In fact, I’ve attached Buble to give added atmosphere while reading this review – enjoy!
Kinnear was my main reason for going to see this production; he’s never let me down before and he did not disappoint this time either. His Mack was a completely immoral, shameless, self-centred arsehole, who nonetheless – or perhaps unsurprisingly – was very entertaining to watch. His singing voice was unexpectedly good as well, and his trademark distinct diction came in very handy in this musical where the words seemed really more important than the music. Rosalie Craig as Polly Peachum, Nick Holder as J.J. Peachum, and Sharon Small as Jenny Diver were all equally clear in their phrasing which was much needed. However, although Haydn Gwynne brought much to the part of Celia Peachum, it was very hard to understand a lot of the words when she sang. It sounded to me (not to get too technical) like the break between her chest and head voice was weirdly low in her range. This meant most of her solos couldn’t be belted; instead they became a little shrill and less clear.
George Ikediashi had the most beautiful voice of the cast as the Balladeer. I only wished he’d had more solos than just the ones at the beginning and the end. I can’t lie, the music wasn’t necessarily what I’d listen to on a daily basis, and it did feel occasionally like some of the songs were unnecessary, particularly in the first half. Saying this, the band was absolutely fantastic. It’s always lovely having the music-makers visible on stage, and this production particularly used this to great effect. In fact, the staging in general was one of the best things about Rufus Norris’s production. Vicki Mortimer has worked out a fascinatingly bare-yet-cluttered set design which makes full use of the Olivier’s famous revolving drum. The effect is to provide something obviously theatrical, where the atmosphere, rather than the image, of London’s East End is produced. It is made very clear when the actors and crew are moving sets, and these sets are made out of quite ordinary materials (paper and wood), yet altogether, lifted out of the depths of the stage, they make something extraordinary.
This is a play that gets better as it goes on, with the overtly melodramatic ending as the clear highlight of the show. Peter de Jersey and Matt Cross as the consistently corrupt Police Inspector and Police Officer also stood out comedically. I loved that the amorality of the play was made clear from the start. Nonetheless, despite Kinnear’s excellent performance, and the staging, this self-proclaimed amorality and the focus on satire rather than emotion somewhat distances the audience. You can be entertained by the foul and lewd behaviour, yes, but you can’t emotionally connect with it. That’s not really the point of this I suppose, and yet it did leave me feeling a little unsatisfied; I guess I’m somewhat of a sentimentalist, but there you go. The Threepenny Opera will be screened as part of NT Live sometime this month, I believe; it is worth going to see, if only for the set, but it’s not a play that left me with any sense of lasting impact.
The Threepenny Opera at the National Theatre: 3/5 stars