We begin on the
minimalist, but as we shall see extremely versatile and clever, set by Laura
Willstead, where the Goblin Queen Rajnhildre (Danielle Bird) and her subjects
are merrily running about in their striking red costumes, working their mischief,
playing pranks on humans and generally having a good time. Unfortunately for
them the humans’ Warrior Queen (Polly Lister) doesn’t see the funny side of
their tricks and, doing what comes most naturally to her, goes to war against
Goblinkind.
The Warrior
Queen’s young son – whom we meet on his birthday – is mute, a condition which
his mother blames unjustly upon Goblin magic. Returning from battle, she has
brought with her the ultimate present for the lad; one which should finally
loosen his tongue. This is none other than the captive Rajnhildre who, tricking
the Queen into undoing her shackles, promptly places an enchantment upon both
mother and son. The Queen is turned to stone. You’ve probably guessed already what
happens to the Prince.
Fast forward
many years, and we find Bella, Nigella and Prunella about to set to work
cleaning the Palace. It’s their first day on the job and they have heard
rumours about an awful inhabitant whose diet apparently includes humans.
Off-stage roars do little to calm their disquiet as Bella (Rhiannon Skerritt)
gets the work done, “supervised” by her hilariously lazy and shallow sisters
(Rhyanna Alexander-Davis and Solaya Sang).
The Beast
(Nicholas Richardson) is an awesome, terrifying spectacle to behold, the
combination of Richardson’s brilliant, intensely physical performance and Lis
Evans’ genius in costume design. He stands about eight feet tall on curved
stilts which give him a goat-like gait whilst his electronically-enhanced voice
booms out in rage and despair.
He lives alone
in the palace surrounded by a squadron of “Mechanicals” who attend to his every
physical need but can do nothing to soothe his aching heart. Their leader is
quirky Wheeliam (Jonathan Charles), who motors around the palace on two wheels
– Charles’s sense of balance and core stability must be first rate – variously
providing food, making music and showing the guest around the palace. This is
where Laura Willstead’s set comes into its own as a series of metal rectangles
descend to create the doors of the palace’s many rooms including, of course,
one room which Wheeliam warns, “we don’t go in there”.
The “guest” of
course is Bella, to whom the Beast has taken a shine. Each evening after dinner
the Beast asks Bella to marry him, only to be rebuffed. The Beast knows that
only finding true love can free him from his enchantment and return him to his
human nature, just as he is aware Bella finds his beastly habits – over which
he has no control – more appalling than appealing.
Of course,
Bella does go into the room into which we don’t go, and so begins the sequence
of events which leads (spoiler alert – although you know what happens anyway!)
to our heroine realising that in fact she really does love the Beast and, in
doing so, ultimately liberates him from his enchantment.
There is a lot
in this story. Unlike most fairy tales, the female character is the one who
liberates the male one from enchantment and isolation; this is refreshing now
but would have been seen as positively rebellious in mid-18th Century France. There are some deep questions too, about what it means to be
human: the dichotomy is presented between the Warrior Queen whose nature is to
be fierce and warlike and the Prince who (despite all those years as a beast)
is actually a cultured soul who loves music.
But don’t worry
about all that profundity. If you want to see a spectacle, a piece of theatre
which is practically perfect, then this is for you. If you want to treat your
family to a joyful experience over the festive period, this is the show to
bring them to see. 'Beauty And The Beast' is an enthralling and magical feast for
the senses.
Reviewer - Ian Simpson
on - 30.11.21
No comments:
Post a Comment