Posts Tagged ‘Yukio Ninagawa’

I feel privileged to have seen many theatre productions by great directors from around the world, like Canada’s Robert Lepage and the late Yukio Ninagawa from Japan. Ivo van Hove joined my list of favourites some 17 years ago with his production of Arthur Milker’s A View from the Bridge here at the Young Vic, and 12 shows later he’s back with this solo piece adapted from Edouard Louis’ 2018 autobiographical novel.

It follows the relationship between Edouard and his father from childhood to the latter’s industrial accident and subsequent disability. He was an abusive father and husband, a racist and a homophobe, particularly cruel to Edouard as a gay boy. Hans Kesting plays both father and son at all ages, together with cameos as mother and brother, switching with ease. The mental cruelty is a tough watch. Towards the end it goes off on a tangent, ranting against French leaders for the right-wing turns that impacted the poor and disadvantaged such as Edouard’s dad.

van Hove’s regular designer Jan Verswayveld creates some striking visual images in a black room with just a bed, door and windows, particularly in his use of lighting. It’s very much in van Hove’s ‘house style’ which gives it a visceral quality. It’s an extraordinary tour de force from Kesting, an actor with great presence and range. The turn from personal to political towards the end, albeit true to the source, did jar with me though; it felt as if it was bolted on, an addition rather than an integral part of the story. That said, it’s an enthralling if harrowing ninety minutes.

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It’s taken 22 years for this Jane Tesori musical to cross the Atlantic. She wrote it with Brian Crawley 7 years before her collaboration with Tony Kushner, Caroline or Change, recently revived and now in the West End, which she followed another 7 years on with a collaboration with Lisa Kron for Fun Home, premiered here last year at the Young Vic, and may yet be West End bound. This is a newer one-act version which was on Broadway in 2014

Scarred in an accident when she was thirteen, the 25-year-old Violet begins a journey by Greyhound bus through four states, across half of America, from Spruce Pine NC via Nashville and Memphis to Tulsa OK. It’s the 60’s and civil rights and the Vietnam war preoccupy the country, but her preoccupation is getting to meet a TV evangelist who claims he can heal. Along the way she is befriended by a woman visiting her son and grandchildren in Nashville and two GI’s, one black and one white, one protective and one predatory, both of whom fall for her as she does them.

It’s a journey of a lot more than the miles travelled, during which we flash back to scenes with her dad as both her older and younger self. Tesori’s score is complex, eclectic Americana, largely sung through, with musical twists and turns which keep you on your toes, but it could have done with less volume to bring out the subtlety and ensure all of the lyrics are audible to everyone.

Morgan Large has brilliantly reconfigured the theatre into an intimate traverse space with a revolve which emphasises the sense of travel. I’ve seen Kaisa Hammarlund in many supporting roles, so its great to see her embrace and rise to the challenge of such a difficult lead role. Jay Marsh & Matthew Harvey are excellent as the GI’s and in a superb supporting cast there’s a terrific turn from Kenneth Avery Clark as the preacher. This is the first Charing Cross Theatre co-production with their new Japanese partners, and director Shuntaro Fujita, an assistant to one of my theatrical hero’s, the late Yukio Ninagawa, makes an assured UK debut.

It has its faults, but it’s an original piece which is well worth catching, Kaisa Hammarlund’s performance alone is worth the ticket price.

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This was my first foreign language Shakespeare, 32 years ago at the Edinburgh Festival. Set in Shogun period Japan at cherry blossom time, it blew me away and kick-started an interest which has led to 38 Shakespeare productions in 31 languages, boosted by the wondrous Globe to Globe festival in 2012. Seven of them were in Japanese, six directed by the late, great Yukio Ninagawa whose work this is, back in London after 30 years.

It’s hard to explain why the play feels so right in this setting. Perhaps it’s the similarity of two warrior races almost at opposite ends of the planet. Shakespeare’s story works so well with emphatic acting and stressed and distressed dialogue Japanese style. Above all though it’s the visual imagery, every scene a feast for the eyes with a stunning black, red and gold design, sumptuous costumes and of course all that cherry blossom. The stylised battles are brilliant, Lady Macbeth’s madness feels authentic, the murder of Lady Macduff and her children is devastating, Macduff and Malcolm’s determination on revenge intense and Macbeth’s tyranny all consuming.

There’s a Western classical, mostly choral and vocal, soundtrack which you might expect to be incongruous, but works brilliantly, haunting and beautiful. The witches played by men kabuki-style and the human horses aren’t comic at all. The performances are passionate, many larger than life, some more subtle. It’s rare to see the same production so many years apart, but doing so demonstrates it’s timelessness, serving the play so well, a classic production of a classic play.

At the second curtain call, a picture of Ninagawa in front of one of the design’s iconic features appeared above the actors. What a wonderful tribute and memorial this is. I feel privileged and blessed.

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I suppose going to see a stage adaptation in Japanese of a book you haven’t read is a questionable decision. Reading up in advance I discovered that it contained a number of riddles and the novelist, Haruki Murakami, suggested that reading it several times was the key to understanding it. Others have suggested reading earlier works to aid understanding. There are surtitles, but they were badly positioned, requiring you to miss much visually, and I’m not sure if you read every word you’d be much wiser anyway. By the interval I was exhausted and befuddled; my brain was hurting trying to work it all out. Somehow in the second half though it cast a spell and I was surprised to find myself enchanted and moved, even though I hadn’t completed the jigsaw.

The two parallel stories involve Kafka, a teenage boy who’s mother and sister left home when he was very young and he too has now run away, and Nakata, an old man who was struck by a strange affliction when he was the same age as the teenage boy towards the end of the second world war as a result of which he can communicate with cats. Kafka is befriended by a trans-gender librarian and Nakata by a truck driver. Kafka has an alter ego who appears to him as a crow. The senior librarian, where Kafka is now a trainee, may be his mother and Nakata may have killed his father, a sculptor who appears as the man on the Johnnie Walker bottle. Oh, and there’s Colonel Sanders as a pimp, a pair of angry feminists and a prostitute who spouts philosophy whilst on the job – and the cats are wonderful. It plays with concepts of time space and memory and at times feels like a detective story.

It’s striking staging, with every scene taking place in a large glass case, much like a museum, whatever it’s location – office, home, shrine, truck, woods, library etc. These include a bank of vending machines and a row of urinals! These cases are manually moved around the stage and lit by neon lights within and spots from above. I found myself enthralled by the scene changes as well as the scenes. The lighting is crucial and it’s terrific. The performances are uniformly excellent, with Nino Furuhata a charming Kafka and Katsumi Kiba captivating and funny as Nakata.

This stage adaptation by Frank Galati started out in English at Steppenwolf in Chicago and has now gone full circle and been translated into Japanese and brought to the UK. Murakami says he doesn’t want to see stage or film adaptations of his what is in his head, and I do wonder if this is the sort of story that’s better left to your own visual imagination, but for me it was lovely to see the Ninagawa Company do a modern piece, inventively staged, alongside the more traditional Hamlet; between them they illustrate Ninagawa’s genius perfectly. A lovely 80th celebration for us, even though he sadly couldn’t make his own party.

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I’ve called it that because it’s apparently the great Japanese director’s sixth, and the third he’s brought to the UK – well, sadly, not personally this time as he isn’t well enough to travel.

Seeing a Ninagawa Shakespeare production is a bit like travelling back in time to an age of sumptuous flowing cloaks and gowns, actual scene breaks in blackout and larger than life acting with great presence and big exaggerated gestures. If you’re in the half of the audience which doesn’t speak Japanese, it’s the visual impact that matters and that’s where Ninagawa is masterly. Tatsuya Fujiwara, who first came here aged 15 in Shintoku-Maru, is a terrific Hamlet, even if you can’t understand a word he says!

This isn’t overtly Japanese, like his Shogun cherry blossom Macbeth or Kabuki Twelfth Night. We’re told the setting is a poor Japanese neighbourhood in the 18th century, when Shakespeare was first seen in Japan. The play within a play references the Hinamatsuri (dolls day or girls day) tradition. Other than that, it’s royal everywhere. Some of the verse speaking seemed very rushed, but that could be the natural rhythms of Japanese speech. It’s at its best in the big scenes and the sword fight between Hamlet and Laertes is one of the finest I’ve seen, and the arrival of Fortinbras at the end is terrific. The more introspective parts work less well (for non-Japanese speakers) without comprehensible verse.

These visits to London by the Ninagawa Company have enriched my theatre-going for almost 30 years. (He’s brought 19 productions, including 10 different Shakespeare plays and two productions in English – including Nigel Hawthorne’s Lear)  and it looks like I’m soon going to have to come to terms with life without them, but for now this 80th birthday visit includes the more modern Kafka on the Shore next week, so my fix will continue a little longer.

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Well I suppose you’re bound to have some controversy if you invite artists from 37 countries, but my heart sank as I approached The Globe for the 21st time in 38 days to find it resembling a war zone. Two groups of protestors – for and against, obviously – lots of police vans and officers, x-ray and bag searches on entry (via a special door). All I wanted on this sunny evening was my now customary Pimms and more of that drug called Shakespeare.

Though the disturbances were few and far between, it was hard to concentrate (particularly in the first half) on this Israeli  Merchant of Venice. The eyes of the audience (and the actors; I don’t know how they concentrated) moved to banners, ladies with taped mouths and the occasional cry or appropriate Shakespeare quote. I couldn’t clock the regulars I’d by now got used to seeing and talking to and I was as disturbed by this very partisan audience as I was by the protesters. I felt someone had hijacked MY festival and I felt violated. Artistic Director Dominic Dromgoole addressed us, positioning the evening as art not politics, asking us to remain calm during the inevitable interruptions.

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, the interpretation was more sympatric to Shylock than many, in particular by inserting an opening scene showing him attacked by his anti-Semitic neighbours (including his subsequent victim Antonio) and a long sad journey from the stage at the end. The (Venice) carnivalesque style was clever and the trail scene (the whole second half) was expertly staged. There were fine performances from the entire company. Exiting the theatre through a police cordon was a sad end to the evening.

The Spanish drew the short straw with Henry VIII but they did an excellent job, with a particularly fine company of actors who commanded the whole stage like few others have. Their interpretation was also more sympathetic to their compatriot Katherine of Aragon, in particular with her ‘haunting’ the closing coronation and christening scenes; Elena Gonzalez was superb in this role. There was terrific music from a faux period organ above the stage and suitably royal costumes. There’s something delicious about an English lord talking in Spanish about his visit to the French court! The young German girl standing next to me, who spoke no Spanish and limited English, told me it was the best thing she’d done in her visit to London, which really made my day.

Like South Sudan before it, the appearance of a company from Afghanistan (with help from The British Council) was very welcome indeed. It was a somewhat broad staging of The Comedy of Errors, a little rough at the edges, but the combined enthusiasm of the cast and the audience swept it along on a wave of fun. Ephesus was Kabul & Syracuse was Samarkand (an excuse for a few jokes, like the dress of the arrivals from Uzbekistan!) but in other respects it was TCOA as we know it, played for laughs as it is meant to be. The Kitchen maid who lusts after a Dromio, played by a man in drag with a beard, brought the house down!

Across the river at the Barbican, you couldn’t have got a Shakespeare production further away from this – an epic staging of Cymbeline in Japanese by the Ninagawa company. His Macbeth was the first Shakespeare play I saw in a foreign language (so the addiction is his fault!) and I’ve seen a handful more of his since. Though I regretted buying a ticket without a practical view of the surtitles (more important with this rarer, more complicated play than any others), having seen it a few weeks ago (the South Sudan production at G2G, also a million miles away from this) and read the synopsis, I survived – and it allowed me to concentrate on the  visual feast before my eyes. It was surprisingly funny and somewhat moving at the denouement, but it was the epic staging of battles and beautiful visual images that captivated. Gorgeous!

It would have been nice to end on a high, but I’m afraid the German Timon of Athens showed the worst of (mainland) European theatre i.e. where the director thinks he knows better than the playwright and takes too many liberties. The Polish Macbeth took a lot of liberties, but it still got to the heart of the play, which for me this one didn’t. Giving the Germans a play about a spendthrift Greek was a bit of a gift given current events, but they didn’t really make the most of it! It will probably be remembered most for being the first exposed male genitalia (?) on the Globe stage.

This has been an extraordinary once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. My only regret is that I missed 13 of them, especially those from Kenya, Macedonia and Belaruss – but of the 24 I did see, I left only 5 feeling disappointed, which is a better hit rate than my normal theatre going! Hopefully, The Globe will return to an annual visit from an overseas company (can we start by asking the Georgians back please?!), as they did in their early years. For now, though its back to English language Shakespeare with a deconstructed Hamlet inside a box, Henry V & Mark Rylance’s Richard III back at The Globe, Simon Russell Beale’s Timon of Athens at the NT, Coriolanus at an RAF base in Wales and Jonathan Pryce’s King Lear at the Almeida – oh, I forgot my 4th Polish Macbeth in Edinburgh!

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I’m fond of Shakespeare but not that fond of Hamlet. It always seems overlong and ponderous and I find it hard to believe in or be moved by it. Give me a more cracking yarn like Richard III any time. Yet somehow, its hard to resist re-visiting it – maybe to find what I haven’t yet found or maybe to see how an actor rises to the challenge of that pinnacle for a leading man.

My first one was Roger Rees and my second Kenneth Branagh; both deeply introverted and neither RSC productions really did it for me. Then there was highly strung Daniel Day-Lewis on the same stage (before he had his breakdown, withdrew and was replaced by a dying Ian Charlston) and cool Adrian Lester at the Young Vic. A couple of adventures followed with Ingmar Bergman’s Swedish Hamlet and Ninagawa’s Japanese Hamlet. After a long break, I started again as I couldn’t resist Jude Law or David Tennent, both of whom turned in very good interpretations but neither production was totally satisfying. I regret not giving Simon Russell Beale and Ben Wilshaw a crack.

One of the pleasures of going to the National in recent years has been to see the range and growth of Rory Kinnear, but I thought it might be too soon for him to tackle Hamlet. Well, I was certainly wrong there, as it was the most interesting, intelligent and real Hamlet of them all – I actually cared about what this man was going through for probably the first time.

What helps is a production which creates a believable timeless police state where everyone is watching everyone else. This brings a plausibility to the story and adds an excitement which propels the play along. What also helps is a faultless supporting cast. Patrick Malahide is such a good Claudius that I became tense every time he came on stage. Dame Clare Higgins creates a highly original stilletto-heeled shallow gullible monster, drink almost always in hand. You could really believe in and were touched by Ruth Negga’s journey as Ophelia. The production didn’t seem at all imbalanced by understudy James Pearse standing in for David Calder as Polonius.

I’ve liked Nicholas Hytner’s other Olivier Shakespeares – Henry IV parts 1 & 2 and Henry V – but I liked this most of all. Vicky Mortimer’s design is important in creating this believable world and facilitates the pace, energy and excitement. I also liked the use of sound to create atmosphere.

So, the most satisfying Hamlet so far and one that will no doubt encourage me to continue exploring the play – somehow, I doubt I will be able to resist Michael Sheen at the Young Vic next year!

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