The Misanthrope
Wednesday 18th May 2010 at Upper Brown Street, Leicester
Cast
Alceste… Jamie Moore
Jennifer… Rachael Stevens
John… John Kearns
Covington/Courier… Sam Varney
Ellen… Sidra Bramble
Julian… Rajan Kaushal
Alexander… Chadrac Tshibangu
Marcia… Lesley Emery
This performance was one I attended with my family to support my elder sister, who played the female lead Jennifer. I confess to having never heard of the original Misanthrope by Moliere, let alone this "remastering" by Martin Crimp, so had no idea what to expect, save for snippets I had gathered from my sister in rehearsals.
Alceste, the titular Misanthrope of the piece, is a playwright involved in a tempestous relationship with Jennifer, whose debaucherous behaviour is distancing him from her. The backstage politics of the piece are played out over a series of nights between a series of showbiz caricatures, including the witty agent Covington, who seeks to make his break as a writer, the reporter Ellen, willing to lie and cheat for a good story, and Jennifer's dependable agent Alexander. Sounds promising? Well...
Crimp's decision to have the entire piece in verse format serves to alienate his audience, which is unfortunate given the potential this piece has. The cast nontheless give it their all, with entertaining performances particularly from Lesely Emery's grotesque Marcia and Rajan Kaushal's Julian, a teen idol who swaggers his way onto the stage and elicits a laugh without even opening his mouth. The straight roles are handled well, with John Kearns making the most of his limited time as Alceste's friend (also called John), while Jamie Moore's Alceste is suitably vicious, but his delivery occasionally came across as rushed, no doubt another problem caused by Crimp's rhyming scheme. Finally, I can say without fear of sounding biased that my sister handled her leading part very well, despite the verse and her fear of being typecast as prostitues (this is the third time in a row).
In conclusion, perhaps the wrong play to pick for an amateur drama course, but after attending The Misanthrope, I think I can safely say that some of these young people may not be amateurs for much longer...
This performance was one I attended with my family to support my elder sister, who played the female lead Jennifer. I confess to having never heard of the original Misanthrope by Moliere, let alone this "remastering" by Martin Crimp, so had no idea what to expect, save for snippets I had gathered from my sister in rehearsals.
Alceste, the titular Misanthrope of the piece, is a playwright involved in a tempestous relationship with Jennifer, whose debaucherous behaviour is distancing him from her. The backstage politics of the piece are played out over a series of nights between a series of showbiz caricatures, including the witty agent Covington, who seeks to make his break as a writer, the reporter Ellen, willing to lie and cheat for a good story, and Jennifer's dependable agent Alexander. Sounds promising? Well...
Crimp's decision to have the entire piece in verse format serves to alienate his audience, which is unfortunate given the potential this piece has. The cast nontheless give it their all, with entertaining performances particularly from Lesely Emery's grotesque Marcia and Rajan Kaushal's Julian, a teen idol who swaggers his way onto the stage and elicits a laugh without even opening his mouth. The straight roles are handled well, with John Kearns making the most of his limited time as Alceste's friend (also called John), while Jamie Moore's Alceste is suitably vicious, but his delivery occasionally came across as rushed, no doubt another problem caused by Crimp's rhyming scheme. Finally, I can say without fear of sounding biased that my sister handled her leading part very well, despite the verse and her fear of being typecast as prostitues (this is the third time in a row).
In conclusion, perhaps the wrong play to pick for an amateur drama course, but after attending The Misanthrope, I think I can safely say that some of these young people may not be amateurs for much longer...
