by Christian Baines
Those who missed what remains of Toronto’s Fetish Fair this year would do well to get down to Buddies for The Theatre Elusive’s energetic take on Antony and Cleopatra. But even if the wardrobe reads more like Priape’s Fall catalogue than Shakespeare, this production has its heart and its focus in the right place.
At a relatively lean two hours with no interval, this Antony & Cleopatra embodies that brand of provocative, youthful hunger more often applied to productions of Macbeth or Titus Andronicus. But it never veers off into excess violence or gore. Instead, director Rosanna Saracino favours minimalism, restricting her set to two seats of power and letting her actors do the rest. She encourages them to explore the play’s sensuality, and so they do. If that means scenes of beatings and whippings induce a sly smirk, rather than a wince of sympathy, so be it. It’s become a common trick in landing Shakespeare’s darker tragedies, to keep the show’s tongue firmly in cheek, and Saracino uses it well. The show’s tone remains consistent, yet never cheap or excessive in its campness, and while that might not please purists, it’s undeniably entertaining.
Leading the cast is producer, Gillian English as Cleopatra, determined to portray Egypt’s queen as an object of respect, admiration and fear, whilst never forgetting to indulge those character traits that see her attacked as Antony’s whore. Cleopatra is one of Shakespeare’s most complicated female roles, and English attacks it with fearless authority. That said, in a production that prides itself on emphasizing the queen’s political prowess, it’s an oddly submissive gesture to enter the space by descending the stairs backwards, emphatically rear-first. This, however, is a one-off offence. There’s no questioning English’s presence or charisma throughout the rest of the play.
The surrounding performances are a mixed bag. Most notably, William MacGregor’s Antony, who at times, struggles to keep up with his queen. Idle hands are the most insidious enemy across the board, with cast members too frequently retreating to the oft-abused stance of helpless, upturned palms and pointless indication, mostly for lack of knowing what else to do. For the most part however, the sizable supporting cast acquit themselves well, many across a number of roles (Kyle Purcell and Ryan Kotack in particular, seem to revel in more costume changes than Madonna’s Evita, each more fetish-styled than the last!).
Word of warning. Buddies’ Cabaret space was obviously never intended for a cast this size. Be wary of seats to the front left as backstage noise is an issue.
What Elusive’s Antony and Cleopatra lacks in polish, it makes up for in enthusiasm, delivering a satisfying, if highly sexualized portrait of its lead character and those around her. And if the end result feels a little messy, it’s a fitting reminder that when these plays were first performed, they were never all that tidy to begin with.
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