By Darby Turnbull
The Rome depicted in William Shakespeare’s Coriolanus is one of fraught class warfare. The ruling class of Patricians hoard resources during a financial crisis with the Plebeians constantly on the verge of revolt. Civilians have tokenistic representation in the Senate in the form of Tribunes, who are expected to have very little (or no) actual influence, and their society is upheld by a government funded military industrial complex. Sound familiar?
Caius Marcius or “Coriolanus” as he’s later crowned after a town he’s conquered is a product of the Military Industrialist Complex, an elite killing machine, groomed by his mother Volumnia and the state since childhood to serve their interests and amass personal glory, a cycle that is being repeated with his young son, in one of the most chilling pieces of imagery his grandmother reacts with glee when she’s told he’s torturing and ripping the wings of butterflies, the physical presence of a child to represent this is unfortunately missing from this production. In Coriolanus, Shakespeare presents us with one of his most noxious antiheroes; a violent egoist with nothing but contempt for civilians he defends, and the protocols set up so that democracy can function but also one with a staunch integrity. He isn’t motivated by any real sense of nationalism or duty towards his countrymen but thorough self-interest. He’s in thrall to two entities; his mother (hilariously, everyone in the city knows it) and his equal on the battlefield and sworn enemy, Aufidius with whom he shares a bond more intimate than any lover.
As vile as his worldviews are he refuses to play political games and compromise his self-image to appease the masses or advance in government. It’s each of these things that lead to his downfall.
This is only the second time Bell Shakespeare has presented Coriolanus and Peter Evans constructs his production on the assumption that the audience is unfamiliar with it, so the performance has the air of an education session which Bell Shakespeare does so well. We get a direct address pre-show to give us context, the audience is divided into “Patricians” and “Plebeians” based on their side of the theatre and we have insistent projections at each scene to remind us where we are; “a marketplace’’, “Rome” etc. This contributes to a somewhat bloodless production that seems resistant to any urgent political engagement with the themes. Coriolanus is famously divisive, it has been claimed by both the Third Reich and Soviet Russia as a propaganda tool, I’m surprised the American President hasn’t commissioned it for the Kennedy Centre which he’s co-opted. You can either see him as a ‘Strong man’ uber mensch whose hyper individualism is rejected by weaker elites leading to the dissolution of a social structure affirming that strong personalities need to be appeased lest they turn their resources against us or about the dangers of elevating and enabling a volatile nihilist and thinking you can control him.
Headlining his second Bell Shakespeare show after last year’s Macbeth, Hazem Shammas gives an unmissable performance; he presents a figure of magnetic, mercurial machismo who repels as much as he seduces. Presenting a man so supremely confident in his virility Shammas is able to playfully expose the dissonance in how he sees himself versus how the audience might see him and the results are thrilling. Whereas a Ralph Fiennes and Tom Hiddleston imbue the character with unshakable dignity, Shammas lets him be cocky, peevish and more than a little coddled, especially under the ire of his fearsome mother.
Brigid Zengani, is an epic coup for Bell Shakespeare, and I hope this is the beginning of a long association with her. The ultimate ‘Boy Mum’ Zengani’s formidable presence has the audience in her thrall as much as her beloved son. Volumnia is a fascinating role; her son is a vessel for her own militaristic ambition, and she revels in his many battle wounds, victories and accolades, his wife, Virgilia can’t possibly compete and Volumnia treats her with callous contempt, occupying the main space in her son’s life. Whereas Caius Marcius is vitriolic and impulsive, Volumnia is taciturn and it’s clear in the text that her intellect commands a huge amount of respect from the men around her. Zengani is fiercely cerebral with a full arsenal of ways in which she can mollify and control her son and it’s thrilling to watch her utilise them one by one and the utter desolation when it looks like he’s slipped from her grasp.
As Aufidius, Caius Marcius’ Volscian other half Anthony Taufa is a worthy and intensely charismatic foil. Blessed with a bold, velveteen voice and suave physical presence he’s able to elegantly offer a complete contrast to Shammas’ energy. Their few moments together are electric, and they radiate with the physical embodiment of someone finally connected with their other half before they defer again.
The great Peter Carroll as ‘humorous patrician’ Menenius dominates as our main representative of the ruling class who uses his wit and gift for rhetoric to subdue (gaslight) angry citizens. Like Shammas and Zengani he offers an intriguing, unique take on the role, especially the way he uses his age as a tactical weapon. Instead of taking over the space with sheer force of personality he’s calculating, using his seeming dotage to disarm and sharpening up considerably in the presence of his peers where he rules with the driest of repartee. Unfortunately, it tips the scales in favour of the Patricians. Shakespeare’s text definitely errs towards upholding the status quo but other productions have made a strong case for the tribunes Brutus and Sicinius who initiate the public revolt against Coriolanus. Evan’s production is quite resistant to giving the Plebeians equal resonance, which would mean more of a vivid reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s text. The working class aren’t afforded that much dignity; some characterisations lean towards benign buffoonery or guilelessness. Marco Chiappi and Matilda Ridgeway are both exceptional performers in their own right and each have the presence and conviction to make a more pointed impact, if the production made space for it, instead they’re obliquely characterised as awkward killjoys. Like Gonreil and Regan in King Lear, Brutus and Sicinius are due for an image rebrand. They’re actually entirely correct, Coriolanus is a danger to the people of Rome, he openly says he’d let himself loose on them if they revolted too hard, they’re less arch manipulators than opportunists who let Caius Martius expose himself as a vitriolic enemy to the people. Of course, once he defects, joins Aufidius in a siege against Rome, they’re blamed.
Ultimately, what I felt the loss of was a sense of urgency and resonance from every faction. The post-Cold War aesthetic of late 90’s Europe alludes to a social structure that is exhausted and depleted, Ella Butler’s costumes carefully imbues each character in the ensemble with their own texture and silhouette to clearly differentiate social factions; well-tailored Patricians, ill-fitting suits for the Tribunes, sensible beiges for Volumnia and Virgilia, though Evans opts to not have them appeal to Coriolanus in full mourning once he’s defected to Volscians.
It’s one of several aesthetic choices that undermine the impact of the characters arcs. We never get a strong enough sense of just how brutal and fearsome a warrior Caius Marcius is, during an early battle scene his speech is repeatedly halted so that Shammas’ costars can huddle around him and dab him with stage blood, he’ll resume, and the process is repeated several times. This may serve as a visual reminder of the pageantry of war and war wounds, but it does detract from us feeling the essence of Caius Marcius at a key moment.
If there was ever a classic play to meet the moment we’re living in it’s Coriolanus, one of his later tragedies, it’s Shakespeare at his most incisive and nihilistic in his depiction of a fractious society crumbling under the foundations that were already rotten to begin with, there’s no hero coming to save us in a Malcolm or Richmond only chaos and debris. When a ruling class allows unfettered self-interest to bloom unimpeded, we get a Coriolanus. As he becomes increasingly hell bent on revenge, I began to draw private associations with the Police force and the army. What would happen if there were attempts to regulate their power through defunding, legislation or legal accountability? There’s the pervasive knowledge that they have the means, might and resources to overpower us.
It’s a terrifying concept but it speaks to the enduring importance of restaging classical works from a modern lens, especially those as underperformed as Coriolanus. I couldn’t be happier that Bell Shakespeare brought this one back.
