946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips - Kneehigh at Shakespeare's Globe

Kneehigh and the Globe. They do suit each other rather well, actually. Especially when it comes to a production like 946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips (which I saw at the matinée on 28^th August 2016).

There’s something about the irreverence and exuberance of Kneehigh that suits the Globe space. I think perhaps it’s the way we can all see each other – audience, actors, musicians. The Globe has always encouraged a sort of conversation between the stage and the yard, and Kneehigh certainly live up to that in Adolphus Tips.

From remarking on the weather to getting the audience to sing and dance along – even beyond the performance, to a Q&A session after the show – the cast of Adolphus Tips really welcomed the audience as a part of that afternoon’s story.

946: The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips is an adaptation of a Michael Morpurgo book. I’ve not read the book (though I want to now), so I was coming to the story fresh. It’s a tale of war and displacement – of loss and sadness mingled with joy and love. There were big laughs and some wonderfully joyful song and dance numbers, but there were also some profoundly moving moments, and the girl standing next to me in the yard was sniffing away towards the end.

There are so many bits I want to mention. The puppetry. The motorbike. The way the sea battle was depicted – it reminded me a little of that wonderful Bristol Old Vic production of Swallows and Amazons, but it was also hugely moving. The moment when the cast played a tune by blowing across the tops of bottles. The touching scene when they all played recorders. The morris dancing. And of course the entirely unscripted moment when the heavens opened just as the vicar was lifting his hands to pray.

All of the cast in Adolphus Tips were talented multi-instrumentalists as well as actors. They sang, danced, swapped instruments, and operated puppets all with the same energy, and you couldn’t help being swept along with it all. I couldn’t single anyone out for praise – they were all brilliant.

And it was nice to see the cast onstage afterwards in an unexpected (by me, at any rate) Q&A session along with Michael Morpurgo and Emma Rice. It was a bit like the old Talking Theatre sessions at the Globe (do they still do those?) but on a larger scale. Michael Morpurgo was very funny, and it was interesting to hear Emma Rice and Mike Shepherd talk about Kneehigh and the Globe.

I’ve seen Kneehigh perform at their Asylum down in Cornwall, and – despite some obvious differences – there is something similar about the Globe. I love the Globe – it’s one of my favourite spaces. It’s fun to see Kneehigh here.

The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk - Kneehigh

The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk was a small, intimate piece in the small, intimate setting of the Globe’s Sam Wanamaker Playhouse on 2^nd July 2016. Lyrical is the best word I can think of to describe it.

Every movement in Kneehigh’s Flying Lovers is as carefully choreographed as the words are written. And this flowing movement, combined with the vivid live music, makes for an unusual, charming, and – yes – lyrical piece of theatre.

Just two main cast members, plus musicians, play out this tale of the artist Marc Chagall’s life with his wife Bella. I knew next to nothing about the Chagalls before seeing this. I was not familiar with his work or with hers. But that didn’t matter. Their work, their outward-facing lives, the historical context are all part of The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk, but also somehow outside of its gaze.

Above all, this is a tale of two people. Small and intimate. And I found it a very thoughtful exploration of an individual’s creativity, and how that interacts with everyday life, the wider world, and those you are close to.

Some years ago in Cornwall, I saw Kneehigh’s Midnight’s Pumpkin. There was aerial work in that – trapezes and such – and I was sort of expecting something along those lines in The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk. I suppose it would’ve been difficult in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, but it would have been wonderful to see these lovers actually take flight.

As it was, though, the movement was beautiful, and I was smiling almost throughout the whole piece.

Lyrical really is the best word I can think of for it.

A Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare's Globe

A new Globe season. The start of the summer. (Only a little rain). And a new artistic director – with A Midsummer Night’s Dream the first production under Emma Rice’s leadership, and also the first production directed by her at the Globe.

She’s come from Kneehigh, and there were some familiar Kneehigh faces in this – particularly Puck (Katy Owen), who was very funny as the young servant Robert in Kneehigh’s wonderful Rebecca last year. She’s equally funny as Puck in this – mischievous, naughty, dangerous and fun, playing gleefully with both the actors and the audience. And Bottom (Ewan Wardrop) was another familiar face from Kneehigh who became an instant Globe favourite.

There were also echoes of Kneehigh’s style in the music, dancing, aerial work, and general air of irreverence in this A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Special mention to the Changeling puppet, which was quite beautiful too.

I can see what this production is intended to be – a riot of fun and colour and wildness. I’m thinking something like a Baz Luhrmann film live, on stage, in the Globe space. But it needed to be pacier to really achieve that wildness. I dare say the pace will pick up as the run goes on.

What worked particularly well were the scenes with the lovers. I really like the male Helena – ‘Helenus’ – the gender switch brought something new to the dynamic. And all four lovers had great chemistry and comic timing. They were recognisably of our world and our time (the Hoxton hipster references went down well, and I enjoyed the Beyoncé dance).

In fact, all the dancing was fabulous – from the fairies’ slightly terrifying moves right through to the joyous Bollywood-inspired jig at the end.

But am I allowed one quibble, as someone who goes to the Globe a fair bit? I know I probably sound like a bore, but I found the amplification of the actors’ speaking voices quite disconcerting. I didn’t mind it for the music, but for the dialogue it seemed unnecessary and took away from the intimacy of the Globe space. When you’re standing in the yard, sometimes actors talk directly to you - or sometimes someone tall is standing in front of you and you can’t see who’s talking, so you rely on your ears to tell you where to crane to look. When their voices are coming from somewhere other than their bodies, neither of those things work.

In a production that was otherwise really proudly physical – with some imaginative and brilliant movement – it seemed strange that the voice was treated as separate from that physicality. The voice is part of the body too.

But hey, that’s a minor quibble. It’s exciting to see new things at the Globe. New ideas, new approaches, new faces. And I really enjoyed A Midsummer Night’s Dream (which I saw at the matinée on 21^st May 2016). It was naughty, irreverent, imaginative and fun, and – most importantly for a comedy – it was funny.

I’m looking forward to the rest of the season!

Nell Gwynn - Shakespeare's Globe

What a fab end to my Globe-going season this year! Nell Gwynn (which I saw at Shakespeare’s Globe on 11/10/15) is funny, bawdy, energetic, and fun, with a luminous star turn from Gugu Mbatha-Raw in the title role.

This is another Globe play about women and theatre (see also The Heresy of Love) – but Nell Gwynn has a much lighter touch, making serious points by making you laugh. The conversation about why Lady Godiva is famous being a case in point.

While based on real people from 17^th century London, the play is not afraid of including a few anachronisms and of speaking to the modern Globe audience through references to our own culture. For instance, Dryden describes the plot of Titanic when trying out ideas for plays – and King Charles’ resounding “Down with austerity!” got a big cheer from the audience.

Like most of my favourite Globe productions, Nell Gwynn does not go for all-out naturalism. During the performance, the ‘fourth wall’ was regularly broken – with Nell’s mother even taking beer from the audience at one point – and this created an atmosphere of inclusivity and spontaneity that made the whole afternoon great fun.

Probably the best thing I saw at the Globe this season.

The Oresteia - Shakespeare's Globe

So it’s been a summer of Greek theatre this year, what with the Alemida’s Bakkhai and now The Oresteia at the Globe.

The two productions were done very differently from each other, but you could see that the plays came from the same Ancient Greek tradition. It’s quite unlike any other theatre you see. It’s certainly very different from the Shakespeares and the more modern plays that you usually get at the Globe.

However, I thought The Oresteia (which I saw on 26^th September 2015) suited the Globe quite well. I liked the way the cast walked through the yard, and how the chorus merged with the crowd at some points.

Like the Bakkhai, The Oresteia is intense, gory, and morally perplexing. Perhaps in Ancient Greece it was obvious whose side to be on and what view to take of the characters and their actions – but, if so, it’s certainly not so clear today.

Most of all, the impression I was left with was that The Oresteia is a play that hates women. We may have been encouraged to laugh, in this production, at some of the outdated notions on display – parading a giant gold phallus at the end of the play doesn’t allow anyone to take the conclusion seriously – but it remains an uncomfortable story in terms of gender relations and hierarchy.

Even when Clytemnestra kills her husband, another man comes along and claims the credit for it! (I never thought I’d feel so indignant on a savage murderer’s behalf).

I feel like this would have been a good piece to study at A level. To really dig down into its problems and contradictions; to analyse the way they used the space, the visuals, and the sound; to work out how the meaning or meanings were pieced together.

But as it is, it was an interesting, enjoyably perplexing afternoon at the theatre. I may not be a student any more, but I can still appreciate feeling perplexed occasionally.

The Heresy of Love - Shakespeare's Globe

Well, the summer’s coming to an end, but there’s still time for a few more trips to the Globe yet. We’ve done some Shakespeare (The Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Much Ado About Nothing), and now we’ve started on the non-Shakespeare.

First up, The Heresy of Love by Helen Edmundson. I saw this at Shakespeare’s Globe on its last performance (Saturday 5^th September 2015).

Following Blue Stockings a couple of years ago, this is another play about the plight of intelligent women in a world run by men. It shares themes with this season’s Merchant of Venice too, dealing as it does with the more oppressive aspects of religion.

I found The Heresy of Love an interesting play because of its constant sense of deferral or displacement of the truth. You were never sure who was being honest with whom or about what. And while most of the characters seemed to be in the wrong at one point or another, none of them was ever really presented as being in the right. No straightforward goodies and baddies here – just lots of people, each with their own conflicting motivations.

I’ll be honest, I’m not sure the Globe was the ideal setting for this play. It’s difficult to conjure a sense of claustrophobia or being shut in or trapped when there’s a wide open roof and sky above you. But perhaps that would have been better at an evening performance (I saw a matinee).

It was a thought-provoking play, though. And very moving at the end. Not a play that gives you any easy answers.


On a sort-of related note, the playwright Helen Edmundson also wrote the musical adaptation of Swallows and Amazons with Neil Hannon, which is one of my favourite things I’ve ever seen at the theatre. Just wanted to give it a mention…

Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare's Globe

So this was my second Much Ado in a week. Hot on the heels of The Pantaloons’ version (my review here), I saw this production of Much Ado About Nothing at Shakespeare’s Globe on 15^th August 2015.

This was one of the Globe’s touring productions, and it was noticeably different in style from a normal, non-touring Globe production. In fact, it was rather like a cross between a Globe-style and a Pantaloons-style production.

There was a smaller cast than usual for the Globe: just eight of them. Each actor played at least two roles and at least one instrument, as well as singing. (So far, much like The Pantaloons). They also did things like make references to overhead helicopters and throw oranges into the audience and encourage them to throw them back. (I have seen Globe productions that have done this kind of thing before, but it’s also the sort of thing The Pantaloons might do).

...That’s probably enough of the comparisons now.

The cast of this Much Ado, most likely used to playing in all sorts of different settings, made the most wonderful use of the Globe space. They drew in, spoke to, and acted towards every part of the audience – not just front and centre, which some recent Globe productions have had a tendency to do. And the cast were clearly exhilarated by the response they received from the sold-out Globe crowd.

Benedick (Christopher Harper) was undoubtedly the star of the show in this production of Much Ado About Nothing. His clowning in the gulling scene went down particularly well, and he was both funny and believable throughout. Beatrice (Emma Pallant) was also strong.

I like Much Ado About Nothing as a play. It’s probably up there with Twelfth Night in terms of Shakespeare’s comedies. I suppose it’s just as well I like it, as I’ve got to know it quite well in the last week or so.

Both enjoyable versions. Both worth seeing.

The Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare's Globe

The Merchant of Venice is an uncomfortable play, dealing as it does with racism, religious enmity and revenge.

It would undoubtedly have had different resonances in Shakespeare’s time from the resonances it has for audiences now. But I can’t imagine it would have been any less uncomfortable back then. Almost every character in this play does or says something questionable, and they are each called out on it by another character. The uncomfortableness is right there in the text.

The conflicts enacted and the complexities of these conflicts are not shied away from in the play. And the Globe’s production of The Merchant of Venice (which I saw Saturday 6^th June 2015) really drew this out.

The ending was particularly powerful – with Jessica’s Jewish identity reasserting itself as her father was forced to convert to Christianity – but the lighter moments also explored the same theme. When Launcelot Gobbo got two audience members up on stage to play his conscience and a fiend, it was hilarious. The guy playing the fiend got three rounds of applause all to himself. But it also signified the confusion over what’s ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in the play. Gobbo got the audience shouting out for one side or another, all in fun, until all that could be heard was a great muddled din.

It’s interesting, watching The Merchant of Venice from the position of someone in a multicultural, increasingly secular society, where it is not assumed that the majority of the audience is Christian. The audience at the Globe is not expected to automatically identify with the Christians in the play. But what we do see – particularly in this production – is one culture asserting its dominance over others in troubling ways.

In the Globe’s production, this is not just about race and religion. Antonio’s love for Bassanio is also used to show how homosexuality is suppressed. And the female characters, of course, are quite clearly shown to be trapped in a man’s world.

For once, I didn’t mind that there was no jig at the end here. It would have seemed inappropriate after those troubling final scenes. As it was, we left the theatre still feeling troubled and uncomfortable. The world has not resolved these problems yet.

Shakespeare in Love - Noel Coward Theatre

Clever, fast-paced, energetically played and slickly mounted, this stage adaptation of the film Shakespeare in Love is worth seeing before it closes. I caught it on Saturday 11^th April 2015.

Like the film, the play is littered with references to Shakespeare’s plays and poems. Other well-known playwrights and actors of the period feature as characters – as do monarchs, come to that. The audience is expected to know these references and to recognise them quickly. The pace does not let up for a moment.

Being a regular Globe-goer, I appreciated how the set on the stage of the Noel Coward Theatre cleverly mimicked the Elizabethan-style theatre. The scenes where we were watching the characters backstage (in the foreground) looking out onto the actors onstage were particularly well done.

(It perhaps goes without saying that I thought the way the play within a play was handled here was much better than in Peter Pan Goes Wrong).

With Elizabethan-style music and a jig at the end of the play, Shakespeare in Love consciously echoes the conventions of Elizabethan theatre. I couldn’t help thinking how fun it would be to see this put on at the Globe. Some of the cleverness of the set might have to be jettisoned, but it would bring the kind of immediacy and sense of fun to the production that is a struggle to achieve in a proscenium arch theatre.

As it is, though, Shakespeare in Love has a pretty good go at recreating that atmosphere, and it’s undoubtedly a clever, witty show.

Farinelli and the King - Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, Shakespeare's Globe

I went to see the last performance of Farinelli and the King at the Globe’s Sam Wanamaker Playhouse on Sunday 8^th March 2015, and I haven’t had much time to write about it since. So sorry this is rather short!

This was a strange, sad little play – both humorous and melancholy. Musing on the relationship between dreams and reality, madness and reason, the physical and the metaphysical, the court and the forest, private and public.

The dual casting of Farinelli – singer (William Purefoy) and actor (Sam Crane) playing the same role – only heightened this sense of duality. The voice as separate from the man.

And surely the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse is the ideal setting for this play. Close, candlelit, intimate, but with obscured sightlines meaning you could only ever see part of the action. A wonderful acoustic, too – important for the music.

It was my first visit to the Globe’s indoor theatre and it felt a little strange coming to the Globe and not worrying about the weather. It’s another magical space, though. And it’s always a pleasure to see Mark Rylance do his thing. Especially here.

Doctor Scroggy's War - Shakespeare's Globe

Well this was all pretty timely.

2014 is the hundredth anniversary of the outbreak of World War One. I have recently been re-reading Pat Barker’s Regeneration – a novel about shell-shocked patients in a WW1 psychiatric hospital. And the day before I went to see Doctor Scroggy’s War at the Globe (which I saw on 27th September 2014), the Commons voted in favour of military intervention in Iraq.

So let’s take those one by one, shall we?

It’s a century since WW1 started. The Great War looms large in our culture at the best of times, but this year it’s everywhere. I imagine that’s why the Globe put Doctor Scroggy’s War on this summer.

The anniversary also means that we’re looking back and evaluating the events of a hundred years ago. There’s recently been a backlash in certain quarters against the widely held view of the war as a futile tragedy of epic proportions. Some are trying to claim it as a shining example of what makes Britain great. (And this is when I can’t help turning into one of the History Boys: “You can’t explain away the poetry”, I cry!).

Doctor Scroggy’s War recognises both perspectives. One of the play’s main characters, a soldier named Twigg, wants to return to the war after being injured – he enjoys the frontline action. And though other characters disagree with him and find it incomprehensible, his attitude is recognised as existing, alongside other responses.

That’s something the play has in common with Regeneration. A complex look at the motivations and responses of those involved in war – and, especially, those injured in war.

Doctor Scroggy’s War is concerned with physical injury, but emphasises the role of psychological healing as well. It looks at the real-life Dr Gillies’ pioneering facial reconstruction techniques alongside his alter ego Dr Scroggy’s important sense of fun. Regeneration, meanwhile, looks at the pioneering psychological therapy of the real-life Dr Rivers, and examines how psychological scarring can produce physical symptoms. Both pieces deal with the crossover between the psychological and the physical.

Both Doctor Scroggy’s War and Regeneration also mix fact and fiction in their storytelling, with real-life characters interacting with fictional ones. It’s a thought-provoking mix when you’re navigating your way through competing narratives about the war. That blur between ‘true’ and ‘made up’ and whether things are any less true for being made up.

And that brings us to current world events, where it sometimes feels like WW3 is happening on the sly. The competing narratives, the debate over what is true or not – these don’t ever go away. We might wonder how we can learn from the past (and there were certainly some mutterings amongst the Globe audience about how we don’t seem to).

But what I feel I’ve learnt from these plays, books, poems and other recollections of the First World War is that there is no single past. There is no standalone truth or one story that makes sense of it all.

In Doctor Scroggy’s War, themes of national identity, class politics, and gender inequality were also touched upon. More viewpoints to consider; more clashes and crossovers between different truths. And, as befits the Globe space, various characters addressed the audience directly at times, giving their individual perspective on events.

My favourite moment was when Twigg said to the audience: “You all know what’s going to happen to me.” It was a brave recognition that we all know the drill – we’ve seen the films and read the stories – and we, as an audience, know how these narratives play out.

But just acknowledging that challenged us to recognise the very ‘story-ness’ that most stories want you to ignore.

We were in a theatre, watching a play. There was a jig at the end. The play may have featured real people and real events, but it was a story nonetheless. One story amongst many. A narrative. A response. A truth?

Blue Stockings - Shakespeare's Globe

The first thing we noticed when we went to see Blue Stockings at the Globe (21/9/13 at 2pm) was that the audience, overall, was shorter than usual. Perhaps there were proportionally more women in the audience, with this being a play about women’s education. It’s funny, though, isn’t it: would a play about men’s education attract a predominantly male audience?

But for an audience of modern, educated women (and modern, educated men), Jessica Swale’s new play Blue Stockings hit all the right notes. You could feel the audience bristling with indignation at some of the male characters’ attitudes towards women. And that indignation manifested itself in audible gasps – and even erupted into boos at certain points of the play.

I do love a Globe audience – never mind the fourth wall, they’re a real part of any play. No passive spectators here. As the actors at the Talking Theatre afterwards said, the audience and actors at the Globe are ‘all in it together’.

Another thing I always enjoy at this theatre is the jig at the end of the play. They kept that here in Blue Stockings, despite the play being a more naturalistic piece than is usually seen at the Globe – and it worked beautifully.

Choreographed to reflect the themes of the piece – with the women sometimes taking the traditionally ‘male’ roles in the dance, and the choreography getting progressively more modern – the jig provided a strangely cathartic end to the play. It certainly left the audience on more of a high note than the script would otherwise have allowed. It felt as if we were celebrating the women and acknowledging how far we have come.

And I do think sometimes we forget how recent this all is. As someone who has been to university myself, and who never questioned my right to learn or to graduate, I was shocked that women were not given the right to graduate from Cambridge until 1948.

1948!

I still feel a bit sick at the thought of the way these women were treated. And yet, in some pockets of our society, similar attitudes prevail. I’ve never understood why women aren’t allowed to be bishops, for example. And judging by some of the abuse levelled at women online, there are quite a few people whose views haven’t changed much from the views of their counterparts in 1896, when Blue Stockings is set.

So it’s not even over. There are still battles to fight and votes to win; there are still attitudes to change – of both men and women. And that’s just in the UK – the education of girls and women is still a contentious subject in many countries around the world. Thinking back to Persepolis, I can see some remarkable parallels with Blue Stockings.

Someone suggested (and I’m not sure who it was) that Blue Stockings would make a great Call The Midwife–style television series.

I think that’d be brilliant. After Jessica Hynes’ not-as-good-as-I-wanted-it-to-be suffragettes comedy recently, maybe pioneering turn-of-the-century women need redeeming on TV. And maybe we need reminding of what they battled against and how they set us on the path we are walking today.

It wouldn’t be as good as a Globe production of course (there’d be no jig for a start), but I could definitely see Blue Stockings working on TV...

Gabriel - Shakespeare's Globe

On Saturday 20^th July at 2pm, I went to see Gabriel at Shakespeare’s Globe. It was billed as ‘An entertainment with trumpet’ and that’s exactly what it was. It was entertaining. There were trumpets.

Gabriel is a new play, which came about because the trumpeter Alison Balsom wanted to play at the Globe. Or that’s what I read in the programme, anyway. The play featured a cast of Globe actors (most of the same cast as were in The Tempest) alongside musicians from the English Concert, and music was very much at the heart of the piece.

The play was structured as a series of miniature stories from the period when William and Mary were on the throne and Purcell was writing music for the trumpet. While the cast brought all the characters vividly to life, I did feel that it could have done with something apart from the music to pull the stories together.

I’ve seen ‘compilation’ shows like this before (The Pantaloons’ Canterbury Tales and Grimm Fairy Tales spring to mind), and these sort of pieces seem to work better if the audience is given a clear reason for the bitty structure. Why are we hopping from one tale to the next? Why should I care about these new characters? What has this tale got to do with the last one?

But despite this little niggle, Gabriel really was very enjoyable. The bawdy humour was fun. I loved the ‘true stories’ told by the waterman (Sam Cox) in the first half and enjoyed the acting lesson given by Kate (Jessie Buckley) in the second half. The reference to A Midsummer Night’s Dream was nicely done, and I did giggle at the cardboard cut-out London landmarks being run across the stage to signify a boat’s progress along the Thames.

And the music was beautiful. It was all so evocatively played and sung that it seemed to bring a real stillness to the Globe. When, near the end, the actors shared out and passed sheets of music around the stage, it was a wonderful symbol of the sense of sharing that comes from experiencing music and theatre in a space like the Globe.

We went to the Talking Theatre afterwards, which featured Jessie Buckley and Richard Riddell from the cast, and which was almost as entertaining as the play itself. The talk started as a formal question and answer session, where the cast members spoke (amongst other things) about the unique experience of performing at the Globe, and how theatre is all about ‘sharing stories’.

And then somehow this sense of sharing seemed to spread out amongst the audience, and stories were shared amongst the Talking Theatre group. We heard from a lady who’s been to see this year's production of The Tempest 12 times, from a young boy who’s learning to play the trumpet, and from an 84 year old lady who has been going to the Globe as a ‘groundling’ since 1997. She’s giving a talk at her local WI about her Globe experiences, apparently. I kind of want to go.

So my experience of going to see Gabriel ended on a communal sort of note, with the audience just as important as the cast in making the afternoon what it was. Sharing stories. I like that.

The Tempest - Shakespeare's Globe

I love the Globe. £5 to see a production like The Tempest is a complete bargain.

With a sold-out auditorium, the sun shining and a sense of summertime in the air, Saturday 29^th June was a brilliant afternoon to go to Shakespeare’s Globe. I was in a good mood before I went in, I laughed a lot during the performance, and the just-under-three-hour running time flew by without my feet aching at all.

I don’t exactly know where to begin with writing about this production, because it just hung together so beautifully as a whole. It almost seems a shame to pull out any particular bits. There wasn’t a single weak link in the cast and the mixture of humour and poignancy was perfectly balanced.

I’m not sure I’ve seen a production of The Tempest that was this funny before. Right from the start – where the actor playing Trinculo (Trevor Fox) came on to remind people to turn their mobile phones off and told us that the afternoon’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream would be starting shortly – a teasing, light-hearted tone was set. And this carried on throughout the afternoon. Even Miranda and Ferdinand – characters who can often be a bit insipid – were laugh-out-loud funny as played by Jessie Buckley and Joshua James in this production.

But then there were moving moments too: the final speech by Prospero (Roger Allam); the halting way Ariel (Colin Morgan) asked if Prospero loved him; the petals falling from the rafters during the wedding masque. I actually saw people picking up some of these tissue paper petals and taking them home as souvenirs.

The music, too, was really effective in conjuring that idea of an isle full of noises (a description familiar to everyone now as part of the Olympics ceremony speech). From the unaccompanied singing in parts to the way music came from unidentified parts of the auditorium – even to the noisy aircraft flying overhead – it all contributed to the feeling that the language being spoken by the human characters was overlaid on top of this ‘natural’ state and was almost usurping the place of music on the island.

That reading would certainly fit the rest of the plot, which is largely concerned with usurping in one form or another. I’m trying to resist going into a deeper analysis of the text of The Tempest (postcolonialism, language, the place of magic – all that kind of stuff). But I will just say that the major themes I took away from this particular production were all to do with power and redemption.

A few other bits of flotsam and jetsam before I finish: the model ship ‘sailing’ over the audience at the beginning really reminded me of Bristol Old Vic’s production of Swallows and Amazons a year or so ago; Sam Cox’s Stephano reminded our group variously of Bill Nighy and John Cleese in his mannerisms and silly walks; and – as someone said of Jessie Buckley’s post I'd Do Anything career as the audience traipsed out of the Globe at the end – ‘well, that was better than Oliver’!

To me, watching The Tempest felt like watching a production from Mark Rylance’s heyday at this theatre. Especially with the jig at the end. It never feels like a proper Globe production unless there’s a jig at the end.

As You Like It - Marjanashvili Theatre at Shakespeare's Globe

There were a few things that affected my enjoyment of As You Like It by Georgia’s Marjanashvili Theatre at Shakespeare’s Globe on 7th May. It was a midweek afternoon and there weren’t many people in the audience; I was starting a cold; and there was a rather annoying tall woman who – despite the ample space in the Yard – somehow managed to stand right in the way wherever she moved. (Note to tall people at the Globe: if you choose a space and stick to it then shorter people can arrange themselves around you more easily).

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy this Georgian language version of As You Like It. I did – it was charming, with some sweet ideas and amusing moments. But I was left with the feeling that I’d have enjoyed it more had it been in English – and this is not something I would have said about the multilingual Venus and Adonis I’d seen a few days previously. (See my Venus and Adonis review here: http://somethinglikereviews.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/venus-and-adonis-isango-ensemble-at.html).

Without the English scene synopses, and without some prior knowledge of As You Like It, I suspect I would have been rather lost in this production. As it was, there were times – in the wordier scenes – when the company felt the need to distract us by using their framing ‘off-stage’ narrative to provide physical comedy to keep us entertained. Of course this did the trick, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about being distracted from the ‘on-stage’ plot in this way.

As has been discussed recently by Nicholas Hytner, there’s that moment at the beginning of a Shakespeare play when you have no idea what the actors are talking about. Usually, your ear will tune in and you’ll soon be able to more or less follow. And the bits that are trickier to follow – well, that’s where the acting and direction become even more important in conveying meaning.

With these Globe to Globe productions, the visiting companies have this issue throughout their performances, as your ear just doesn’t tune in to a foreign language. Venus and Adonis, I thought, handled it very well. The live music, the choreography, the sharing of roles, even the different languages used – all of these helped to tell the story to the audience without the help of any translation.

But then, maybe it was a simpler story to tell. As You Like It can be a bit confusing even in English – lots of characters, entanglements, cross-dressing – so it’s no wonder that some of the intricacies of the plot got lost here. The emotions of the characters were beautifully conveyed – especially the moments where characters fell in love (the lingering looks, the leaves as confetti, the little ‘ding’ on the triangle) – but the causes and consequences of these emotions were not so clear.

So while there were moments where the story came alive, for me the language was a barrier in a way that it simply wasn’t when watching Venus and Adonis.

As I said, there were a few things that affected my appreciation of this production, and perhaps if I’d seen it on a different day I’d have enjoyed it more. If you had a different experience of seeing this As You Like It, let me know by leaving a comment below, or by contacting me on Twitter @SomethingLike_A.

Venus and Adonis - Isango Ensemble at Shakespeare's Globe

I didn’t know much about Venus and Adonis before I went to see it. I knew that it was a poem rather than a play, but while I’d heard the names of Venus and Adonis, I didn’t really know their story.

What I did know was that this South African production had been well-received at last year’s Globe to Globe festival, and that it was one of four international productions that had been invited back this year.

But I didn’t really know what I was going to be seeing when I went along to Shakespeare’s Globe on the afternoon of Saturday 4^th May.

The Isango Ensemble’s Venus and Adonis was performed in six languages (one of which was English). The programme, as they do when you go to see a ballet, included a synopsis of the plot so that the audience could follow what was going on – but actually the company told the story so well on stage that this was hardly needed.

For me, this production was all about the strong women. The role of Venus was passed between the women of the company, with each actress bringing a different quality to the part as Venus tried everything she could to entice Adonis. What’s that Motown song? The one with the line ‘I’m gonna use every trick in the book / I’ll try my best to get you hooked.’ That’s what the multiple manifestations of Venus seemed to be doing.

And while the women had a glorious time taking centre stage, the men made up the ensemble. I know the Globe are somewhat constrained by the parts Shakespeare wrote for women, but I couldn’t help thinking how unusual it was to see women so strongly central to a piece on this stage. And I don’t know if this was deliberate casting or not, but the women were physically more substantial than most of the men too. When Adonis walked through the audience in the Yard shortly before the interval, I was surprised to see that he was not much taller than me (and I’m what’s euphemistically known as ‘petite’).

Overall, this was a joyful production, with traditional African music and dance combining with a European operatic style to unique effect. While full of humour and vitality, there were also parts that were scary (Death, whose eye you were almost afraid to catch), and very moving (Venus’ lament towards the end of the piece). Sometimes the audience in the Yard alongside me was bouncing along to the music; other times it was so still and quiet it felt like everyone was holding their breath at once.

One of the wonderful things about the Globe is the proximity to the performers, and the actors in the Isango Ensemble were unafraid to look the audience right in the eye. I remember seeing Thom Yorke (of Radiohead) perform at a festival once, and he did something similar. When Thom Yorke – or a South African Venus – is singing, and they catch your eye and hold your gaze for a moment, there’s something spell-binding about it. And I think both audiences – at the music festival and at the Globe – had a similar feel, as if we were all under some sort of enchantment.

Adonis may not have fallen for Venus’s charms, but I have a feeling the rest of the Globe did.