A Measure of Success

Measure for Measure is a Problem Play. This is not a reflection on the play’s quality, or the beauty of its verse, but rather an academic classification that has been applied to the Bard’s first Jacobean work. Not quite a tragedy, but retaining too much seriousness and darkness or a comedy, Measure for Measure straddles a middle ground, making it ripe for interpretation and reinvention. And reinvention is precisely what we get with Cheek by Jowl’s version of the play, a collaboration with Moscow’s Pushkin Theatre that transports the rulers from dukes to plutocrats, the time from the Middle Ages to modernity, and the language from English to Russian. Far from ironing out any of the problems inherent within the play, this production revels in the messy, ambiguous nature of Shakespeare’s work.

The play centres around Claudio (Petr Rykov), who comes under fire from Angelo (Andrei Kuzichev) for getting his partner pregnant; Angelo has been left in charge after the Duke (Alexander Arsentyev) left the city on what he claimed was a diplomatic mission. But of course this wouldn’t be a Shakespeare play without some degree of subterfuge, and the Duke has actually snuck back into the city dressed as a Friar, in order to observe Angelo’s iron rule. Just in the nick of time the Duke intervenes to save Claudio’s life, returning to power on a wave of good feeling that he himself has created.

This production revels in the messy, ambiguous nature of Shakespeare's work

As you would expect with such plays, there are usually a number of sub-plot, and sub-sub-plots to follow, but this production has radically stipped most of that away, resulting in a run-time of under two hours. While some may decry this as a defiling of the original text, it actually means that we get to spend most of the play focussing on Isabella, a novice nun and sister to Claudio, who appeals to Angelo to save her brother’s life. Angelo agrees, but only on the condition that Isabella surrenders her puritanically-guarded virginity to him. Isabella refuses, in no uncertain terms: ‘Better it were a brother died at once/Than a sister, by redeeming him/Should die forever’. An exploration of both sexual neuroses and religious fanaticism, of power and powerlessness, of woman’s much-maligned place in the world, Isabella is one of the most interesting characters in Shakespeare’s work, and Anna Khalilulina plays her with astonishing power.

Encased in starched white gowns, Khalilulina is simultaneously coy and innocent; her frustration at being a mere pawn in a world of men is etched on her face, clear for all the world to see. At points, she seems a million miles away from the traditional idea of a Shakespearean woman, instead inhabiting the grand dames of Greek tragedy: Elektra, Medea, Antigone. Kuzichev is similarly adept in the role of Angelo; a character that can be played either menacingly or comedicly, Kuzichev opts for the former, imbuing his character with an ice-cold personality and a series of sexual hang-ups.

Where the play lets itself down is the way the Russian translation is handled. I am not trying to say that Russian is an unattractive language, but so much of Shakespeare’s power, what makes it endure to this day, is the astonishing beauty of the spoken verse. The fact that they have surtitles hanging above the stage (and - at least for those near the front - at an incredibly inconvenient angle for viewing) is more of an annoyance than a help: the translation flashes so fast across the screen that most of what is said is being lost, and by the time you look back down you’ve missed a majority of what the actors are doing. It must be disconcerting, for a play that is so heavily involved with the idea of audience (the people are audience to Claudio’s torment; the Duke is audience to Angelo’s tyranny), when the cast find that most of theirs is staring at a space three meters above the stage. A much better idea would be, if not to remove the surtitles completely, to take a leaf from the Globe to Globe campaign, which saw the Globe perform work in a multitude of languages, and instead just display a general overview of what is happening in the plot.

Cheek by Jowl have brought an immense energy to the Barbican's stage

However, once one has made the decision not to pay attention to the surtitles, it is possible to truly appreciate the magic of the stagecraft. And what stagecraft. Cheek by Jowl, well known for their dynamic performances, have brought an immense energy to the Barbican’s stage. Their simple setting is dominated by five large red cubes, between which the cast, clustered together like a pack of wolves, duck and dive; the various players congregate, forming an intimidating mass that spits out characters, allowing them to perform their scenes, before drawing them back into their mass of hands and feet. The climax of this staging comes with the introduction of a double-bass, which - aside from reminding me of Kate Bush’s video for Babooshka - signals the beginning of a waltz, struck up by Claudio; from there we have a whirlwind of activity, in which the ‘Bed Trick’ - where Isabella is switched for Mariana (Elmira Mirel), unbeknownst to Angelo - is carried out spectacularly. It is one of the most engaging pieces of physical theatre I have witnessed.

Of course, it would be amiss to review a modern work coming out of Russia without trying to make an analysis of how it related to Putin’s rule. Cheek by Jowl and the Pushkin Theatre make it clear what they think of modern Russia: Angelo is a besuited tyrant, bringing the full force of the law down on a single individual in order to make a point, but the Duke is no unambiguously moral character either, manipulating the orchestrations of the state to come out on top, displaying his benevolent mercy in front of a beatific crowd. This production of Measure for Measure takes the mistreatment of a single citizen as a starting point, looking at how bureaucracy within Putin’s Russia can be used to undermine and isolate people; like Andrey Zvyagintsev’s recent acclaimed film Leviathan, Measure for Measure decries the power of ‘man, proud man/drest in a little brief authority’ . With such profound ideas going around, it is a pity that awkward surtitling should turn our attention towards other things, and away from the magic happening on the stage right in front of us.

Measure for Measure is on at the Barbican's Silk Street Theatre until 25th April. Tickets from £21. Available online