Review: Women Beware Women, National Theatre

The view of Women Beware Women as an alternative ending to Romeo and Juliet is borne out in the opening scenes of this production at the National Theatre. But the dangers in this play are not parental ire and family feuds, but the boredom of routine and, with it, the temptations of power, wealth and lust. Or as Livia suggests to her niece, “To take, or to reject, or to do both”. Ultimately, this is a play about having your cake and eating it too.

Leantio, a poor clerk, arrives home to his mother in Florence, bringing with him his still-veiled bride Bianca, freshly stolen from Venice and her parents. Called away on business, his pent-up wife quickly catches the eye of the Duke of Florence, who sets about claiming her for his own. Meanwhile, at court, Isabella is being forced by her father into marrying a foolish but wealthy ward, unaware that her uncle is incestuously in love with her. It is the central figure of Livia, a role Middleton seems to have written with relish, who unites these two plot strands by becoming a female Pandarus to these transgressive relationships.

Twice-widowed and “all of 39” (deliciously played for laughs at the improbability of this being true), Livia ensnares Bianca and Isabella with all the tools at her disposal – wealth, power, social connections, and the sheer force of her charisma. Harriet Walter is more than capable of the last, delivering a beautifully nuanced portrait of Livia, blending pleasure at her own virtuoso meddling with a subtle self-awareness of the perverted position she occupies. Her view on how Bianca will cope with her rape, that “Sin tastes at the first draught like wormwood water, / But drunk again, ‘tis nectar ever after” is as much a comment on her own actions as Bianca’s. Indeed, incorporated into Olly Fox’s (at times incongruous) jazzy score, these lines come to act as a refrain for the corruption of the play as a whole.

This corruption is evident in Marianne Elliott’s vision of Florence, which is dominated by a crumbling monument to “Cosmos Medice”, all reflective black surfaces and snaking stairways. Lez Brotherston’s multi-level staging is used to great effect, particularly in the infamous scene where Bianca is raped in the picture gallery, while her mother-in-law and supposed protector is distracted by a game of chess with Livia. The National’s reliance on the revolve, however, is much less successful, culminating in a dizzying dénouement, reminiscent of the opening scene of The Revenger’s Tragedy at the same theatre in 2008 (knowing homage to another Middleton production, or shameless rip-off?). The set spins relentlessly, confusingly so, and excised of most of the dialogue, one is left with no sense of who killed whom or why.

It is this attempt at finding believable motivation in the ridiculous satire that ultimately is the play’s undoing. Middleton’s strength is his irony-laced satire, cruel and sardonic, and although Elliott seems to want to explore just how black the comedy can get before becoming tragic, most of the production is never fast or slick enough to tread that line. Although the ward is meant to provoke the most (in every sense) explicit laughter, Harry Melling’s fool rings the painful one-note of misogyny a bit too eagerly. Vanessa Kirby as Isabella and Lauren O’Neil as Bianca offer solid performances, and Samuel Barnett‘s Leantio is a sympathetic cuckold.

But it is Walter’s already-praised Livia who manages to plumb the lines for their simultaneous humour and gravitas, resulting in a bittersweet guilt on our part for becoming complicit in her machinations, and who would easily convince us to drink again of the wormwood in the hope of nectar.

Ticket:
£10, Circle C section, left hand side. This offered a great view of the whole stage, as well as a glance into the huge open backstage area behind the revolve. Given the production, I was more than happy with a £10 Travelex seat.

Programme:
£3

Glass of Wine:
£3.95

Total Cost:
£16.95

Women Beware Women is booking at the National Theatre until 4 July. Tickets from £10. Visit www.nationaltheatre.org.uk for more info.