3 hours ago
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It’s tempting to say that by programming All Is But Fantasy the RSC has put a grenade under its own repertoire, but that’s not quite right. Whitney White’s gig-theatre quartet isn’t so much exploding Shakespeare as needling at it. The writer-composer-performer has a love for these plays and their musicality, but she also wants to ask difficult questions about them. Who’s allowed to take up space in these works? Who gets to perform in them? And why do so many of the ugly things in these plays continue to speak to us today?
To grapple with these ideas, White takes on four of Shakespeare’s characters: Lady Macbeth, Emilia from Othello, Juliet, and Richard III. As a Black woman, she questions which parts of the canon are open to her, trying out a series of the playwright’s women before claiming one of his male leads. She is joined in her storytelling by a glorious, shape-shifting chorus of witches (Renée Lamb, Georgina Onuorah and Timmika Ramsay), a white male performer (Daniel Krikler) who is the ever-present “he” to her “she”, and a white female foil (Juliette Crosbie) representing the sorts of actors who will for ever be Juliets.
The show takes some time to hit its stride. White begins by stepping into the boots of Lady Macbeth, a role offering plenty of swagger. She reframes the character as a woman pursuing her only path to power, before finding that power alone isn’t enough. But it’s in the second part, Emilia, that White’s creation gets real teeth. Here, female solidarity and white allyship are unpicked, and we’re challenged to consider the cost of reproducing violence against women on stage.
In Juliet, White reluctantly takes on a role that has never felt like hers, while simultaneously questioning the version of youth, innocence and star-crossed love that Romeo and Juliet has bequeathed to contemporary culture. And finally, fed up with all these women who suffer and die, White decides to play one of the most villainous of Shakespeare’s men: Richard III. But is shrugging on the mantle of masculinity really a solution?
The riffing on these texts sometimes threatens to become repetitive, circling around similar questions. But it’s a performance that also problematises itself, with the interrupting voices of the other performers adding complexity. And then there’s the music, bringing texture and passion to what could be a dry intellectual exercise. Each character or play has its musical signature – rock for Lady Macbeth, blues for Emilia – with refrains and echoes across the four parts, all brilliantly performed by the ensemble and the onstage band.
White’s most compelling intervention is to turn the idea of “timelessness” on its head. We’re used to hearing that Shakespeare’s work transcends its time, but what does that say about our time? Or why – as White puts it – are we still lapping up stories of sexy men killing sexy women? Those looking for answers might be frustrated. But White leaves her audience sitting with the discomfort – perhaps to carry with us the next time we see one of these plays.
English (US)