A Woman Killed With Kindness

Re-staging a classic play is a perfectly viable option. Cutting it, adapting it, throwing it around, trying on new eras, fleshing out relevant themes, finding continuity between then and now - are all things to consider when bringing an old drama to a contemporary stage. That is, after all, what art is about - finding, exploring, pursuing connection. But, sometimes a bold vision falls flat. And unfortunately Katie Mitchell's re-envisioning of Thomas Heywood's 1603 domestic drama A Woman Killed With Kindness fails to achieve any continuity. The tale of two women trapped in a male dominated world certainly still has relevancy, especially in Mitchell's 1919 suffragette setting.

The first is Anne Frankfort who has recently married John and is the virginal and virtuous woman - the perfect wife. John invites his best mate, Wendoll, to live in the house and whilst John is out on business Wendoll helps himself to his wife and Anne easily gives in. John, of course, catches them in bed together and instead of killing Anne, he sends her away, never to see her children again. She chooses self-starvation to lament her adultery, which sends her to her death bed. The other woman is Susan Mountford who's brother, Charles, prostitutes her out to their enemy, Sir Frances Acton, to whom he is deeply in debt. She refuses but in the in is forced to marry Acton.

Katie Mitchell put's these two story lines on equal par having the two household share the stage. The set is amazing with the Mountford's dilapidated Georgian home to the left and the Frankfort Arts-and-Crafts manor to the right. Throughout the piece Mitchell has introduce beautifully choreographed movements indicating the passage of time and the solitude these women share. But it felt, much like the split set, that I was experiencing two completely different texts - Heywood's text and Mitchell's vision. They were not cohesive, but rather played in cuts - as if Mitchell cut and paste chunks of Heywood's text into her contemporary, existential production. And it felt entirely dogmatic - oh look at how badly women are treated! And still are, this play is so relevant still! This is most evident by Mitchell giving the last line originally spoken by John at Anne's deathbed to Susan, who delivers it full of contempt "Here lies she whom her husband's kindness kill'd".

Although there were some beautiful, poignant and even charming moments they were not enough to lift up the whole. In the end I cared nothing for the characters, thought the acting was inconsistent, the direction even more inconsistent and felt like I was being preached at.

Fela! at the National

So this one is really really late as I saw Fela! at the National back in December. But as I spent winter "break" writing essays and am now starting semester 2 of my MA programme, I figured better late than never. (It's also super short as I have another post to write).

The musical is set in Lagos in 1978 at the Shrine, the last concert by afrobeat father Fela Kuti. The story chronicles his life from his upbringing, education in London and eventual explosion into the blended sounds of jazz, funk and the rhythmic African drums. After encountering the Black Power movement in America, he shifted the focus of his music to the political, spreading activism through music. After the brutal death of his mother, who was thrown off a building by the police, he delved even further into politics, making him an even bigger threat to the unstable Nigerian government.

I knew absolutely nothing about the life of Fela Kuti before stepping foot into the National. Upon leaving I wanted to learn more. Although Fela! is a flawed musical, and doesn't quite follow the life of this influential man, there's a lot to be gained from it.

For brevity's sake, I'm not going to go much further into the actual musical, rather I'm going to focus on the show-spectator relationship. Because I think it's really interesting. Fela addresses the audience as if we were at the actual Shrine and this was a concert in the middle of Lagos, rather than a well-funded national theatre in the heart of London with a bunch of middle-class white people. He encourages us to respond "ya-ya" and even has everyone get up to dance. Sitting by myself, I had no "support" to get involved and get my hip-shaking grove on, because no one else around me was dancing. The boy to my left looked like he was going to die from embarrassment and the couple to my left, with wine in hand, made pitiful, yet joyous, attempts. If I were to really let loose it would have become the "Ashley show" and I just wasn't prepared for that. So I stood there awkwardly, watching the majority of the auditorium stand in awkward solidarity, and looking envious on those with friends who were dancing. Many of the criticisms referenced this aspect (probably old disgruntled white guys). This made me wonder how this scene would have played out with different audiences. And by different I really mean a predominantly black audience vs a predominantly white (and British white to be specific) audience. Anyways on with the show...

A lot of the political problems in Nigeria were the result of British Colonialisation so it was a very interesting subtextual dialogue happening. He talks about the corrupted government, and even makes fun of the British to a (predominantly British audience). It's clear that many developing countries are still trying to get over the repercussions of imperialisation. I'm sure I'm not the only one to have seen this connection but it's ever so slight that I think the entertainment value surpasses any implications of compromising historical ramifications.

Overall, I absolutely enjoyed the show. It's a flawed musical but the music was rhythmic and continuous, the dancing was inventive and energetic and the performance by Sahr Ngaujah as Fela is absolutely phenomenal.