There’s some thrilling creative decisions being made here.
Director and adaptor Lucy Boon abbreviates two Elizabethan texts, and then both juxtaposes and links them.
John Lyly’s Galatea tells of two maidens who escape into the forest dressed as men, hoping to avoid becoming sacrificial tributes to the god of the sea, Neptune. While disguised they meet, and the attraction is instant – and bewildering, and exhilarating. Meanwhile, in the same forest, is the god of chastity, Diana. When her entourage is surprised by Cupid, mayhem ensures. The adaptation is taut and terrific.
Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure tells of Isabella, tasked with saving her sibling from execution. The twist is that Lord Angelo has condemned the supposed criminal for fornication, the very act he now demands of Isabella if her sibling is to escape death. It’s a classic exploration of hypocrisy and, once again, the adaptation is excellent. The beautiful sting in the tale is that Boon cleverly alters Shakespeare’s overly neat and problematic denouement to express the pathos-inducing injustice of silenced voices, both female and lesbian.
The performance style is what I’ve previously termed the Theatre of Audacity. By this, I mean it appears that the audience is being invited to respond with a loud I can’t believe you’re actually doing that in front of me! Performances are fun and high energy. With the support of movement director Miriam Slater, the physical comedy is especially good, with highlights being Clay Crighton as Cupid, Jemima Hartley as the mischievous godling’s victim, and Cara Whitehouse as Venus and the Duke of Vienna. At times, the cast are challenged by Lyly’s language (though that probably helps explain why we still valorise Shakespeare but have pretty much forgotten the earlier playwright. Of course, Lyly’s interest in classical gods rather than real people might play a part in that, too.)
One aspect of the Theatre of Audacity that’s particularly fascinating is that it doesn’t demand perfection. (In fact, if you are flawless, your performance wouldn’t actually be audacious.) This aesthetic is reflected in the decision to have the cast both dance and lip-sync to recorded pop songs. (Drag in general shares this approach, declaring that Who I am is derived from already existing tropes, but I’m claiming it, and so, by sheer exuberance, it boldly stakes out an individual identity, but one still secure within a community.)
Theatre of Audacity’s seeming opposite is Theatre of Authenticity, but they’re not mutually exclusive. Isabella, played with both charisma and vulnerability by Aisling Delahunt, must navigate her conflicting loyalties – but she also radically seeks her own fulfillment. And, by ultimately connecting the two Elizabethan works, this piece offers a stunning resolution, one that’s a clear assertion of the authenticity of identities and of desires that transcend any stifling, small, supposed normalcy.
Paul Gilchrist
Love and Faith (and something unholy) adapted by Lucy Boon from Lyly and Shakespeare
presented by Acoustic Theatre Troupe
at the Substation (Qtopia) until Aug 31
Theatre Red 