Beyond the tinsel and the presents, the carols, and even the nativity, lurks the true heart of Christmas. It is, of course, the selection box of chocolates; cloistered in its golden cardboard sanctuary lies a multifarious feast, truly evocative of the yuletide season. Before you complain, I concede that I’m stretching it a bit, but the token gifts shared between those whom we know well enough to warrant some sort of seasonal offering, yet not well enough to have the inclination to tramp along a high street in pursuit of something meaningful nevertheless prove a useful festive metaphor through which to briefly examine some of the dramatic exploits of last Michaelmas. Now shove a praline in your mouth and read on.
Truffle – Posh
Laura Wade’s Posh was unlikely to disappoint. It exuded class – both in its thematic content and in the superbly slick manner of its delivery. Rich, satisfying, and dark, the production at the Union was hard to fault.
The Chewy Caramel – Antony and Cleopatra
Any production of Shakespeare is likely to have a bit of a leg-up, just from the sheer quality of the writing. It is, undoubtedly, why the playwright’s work remains ubiquitous on the drama scene. Yet Tara Isabella Burton’s refusal to cut enough of the script meant that this term’s Anthony and Cleopatra simply became tedious. Unlike its chocolaty counterpart, there was no option just to spit it out – it had to be endured to its very end.
Sickly Strawberry – The Two Cultures
In The Two Cultures, writer and director David Kell managed to create a production that sounded intriguing and appealing, yet was a painful disappointment. Like the confectionary to which I liken it, it seemed to have a lot of promise, innovation, and appeal, until it was actually experienced. Patronising in both writing and staging, the play was saved only by some good acting performances.
The errant Smartie – Noughts and Crosses
Though enjoyable (and perhaps for all the wrong reasons) the shambolic Noughts and Crosses seemed out of place amongst the other dramatic offerings. The actors had their work cut out for them trying to make something of what felt like a dreadfully juvenile script. It was certainly colourful, yet the production was of a much lower quality to the rest of the selection of drama seen last term. It was, however, a light-hearted way to look back at a classic of the ‘pre-teen’ genre.
The wrapped up one – Clytemnestra
In every selection box there seems to be an obligatory outsider, a chocolate encased in its own coloured wrapping. For those that can resist immediate gluttony and have the bravery to forestall their pleasure by taking the time to unwrap it, the rewards of finest quality are often revealed. So it was with the Greek play – Clytemnestra – performed in its original classical language at the Playhouse. Though at first daunting, it proved an evening of surprisingly excellent entertainment.
Before my tenuous conceit becomes even more dilapidated then when I began, I shall wrap it up there, and simply bid you all a very merry Christmas: and a happy new year to boot.
