May 25, 2012, by Peter Kirwan
The Two Gentlemen of Verona (Two Gents Productions) @ Lakeside Arts Centre
It’s been two and a half years since I last saw Two Gents Productions perform their debut show, and a lot has changed in the meantime. I won’t offer a full fresh review here as my last blog covers the important points, but it was a pleasure to see the company again and the show has remained as striking and innovative as ever, so it’s well worth mentioning a few of the key changes.
Denton Chikura and Tonderai Munyevu are currently performing the show in two versions – the original, primarily English version, and an all-Shona version written for the Globe to Globe festival. This occasioned a great deal of joking over missed cues and forgotten lines in tonight’s performance, all of which fed into the community spirit of the production. This was an exercise in storytelling, beginning with the unpacking of a trunk and closing after the company had repacked all of its props, leaving only two loose ends – the glove and shawl representing Julia and Silvia. This closing scene lost some of the power I felt the Oxford performance had – in that scene, the two ‘women’ were left lying on the floor while Proteus and Valentine bartered them, an image that drew attention to the objectification of the women in this scenario. This time, the items of clothing were left hanging from a line, leaving the women silent but separate from the scene. The point remained clear though; this was the men’s climax, with the women sidelined, and the closing image of the two women embracing left the production on a sober, sad note.
The interaction between Lance and Crab was changed this time, with Crab remaining happy and panting for both of their scenes while a white-faced Lance delivered his lines mournfully. In a pointed move, though, at the end of these scenes Crab stood upright and removed his collar, but his tongue continued panting as he turned into Proteus. Proteus and Crab temporarily shared the body of Munyevu, the former taking on the unrestrained characteristics of the latter. This was particularly brought out as Proteus began his attack on Silvia, removing the glove that signified her from Chikura’s hand and licking it deeply. The sickening nature of this gesture, performed on an inanimate object, reminded me how invested I had become in the ‘characters’ represented by these objects, given personality through the simplicity of their use throughout the production.
I’m not sure how clear the story would have been to an audience unfamiliar with the play, particularly in the case of characters such as Thurio and Sir Eglamour, the latter becoming a taxi driver who offered to rape Silvia himself, standing over her and touching her menacingly from behind, before she fled. The threat offered to the women throughout was only hinted at in the earlier scenes as Julia and Lucetta gossipped together, but became more apparent as the women were left on the edges of the performance, hung on washing lines and denied a voice. This was something made even more apparent in the original production in the witch doctor sequence that allowed Julia to spy on Proteus; here, a more conventional overhearing scene reduced the sense of voyeurism, but arguably left Julia even more vulnerable in the presence of her betrayer. Conversely, the relationship between the two men was established more amicably at the start, with the two going through a long ‘bye bye’ routine that jokingly portrayed Valentine’s deep affection for his friend.
The amiable interaction with the audience, including the Duke sitting among the crowd to pass judgement on Valentine, created a forgiving atmosphere throughout that allowed the actors to banter, especially in an amusing sequence where Chikura misplaced his Julia costume and Munyevu, feigning sleep, teased him mercilessly. The atmosphere of mutual enjoyment and ramshackle storytelling served the tale perfectly, making this – yet again – one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve had in the theatre for a while.
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