John Ford’s ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, working within the already violent genre of the revenge tragedy, has to be one of the most controversial pieces of Jacobean drama. The play very openly tackles incest, features graphic violence (including a heart on stage) and domestic abuse, and contains explicit sexual references. Quiet moments are few and far between; it is a drama of extremes.
All this to say that this is a piece of theatre that poses significant challenges to any director wanting to approach it. Fortunately, Peach Productions’ take on ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore lives up to what is demanded by the source material. Director Yasmin Nachif had a clear vision for Ford’s revenge tragedy and her passion and creativity shines through. Her mark on the text is obvious from the opening, which features an added movement scene. Characters walk in and out of the immersive space of the Michael Pilch Studio to music, foreshadowing the complex web of interpersonal relations that the protagonists will quickly find themselves suffocating in.
Revenge tragedy is, by its very nature, highly dramatic. Nachif decided to counter the obvious drama of the plot with a stage that is stripped to the minimum, allowing the actors to fill the space instead; for the entire first half of the play, only a stool is present on stage.
The actors are dressed in a circus-like manner with jester costumes, all black get-ups, corsets and caged underskirts – absolutely remarkable costume design from Ella Chitt – topped off with clownish makeup. This adds immensely to the metatheatrical elements of the text and the obvious implications of life as performance. It also allowed the crew to get creative with props. One of the main challenges facing Nachif was how to depict the copious amounts of onstage violence, on a student drama budget, without making it seem comical. The solution is ingenious. Instead of swords, they used paint brushes, so that rather than being stabbed, actors get swabbed with red paint. This is an immensely creative choice, which once again fits in perfectly with themes of the theatricality of life.
The play has multiple scenes of extremely graphic violence where a heart is ripped out of a body and eyes are gouged out of someone’s face, as well as implied sex. Nachif replaces these with movement pieces that, in conjunction with Michelle Ng’s lighting design, prove very effective. In a scene where a character dies, a balloon pops causing a reaction of surprise in the audience that I would argue was greater than if blood had started pouring out of the actor’s body.
If there are any criticisms to be made to the production, it is that the acting does sometimes veer slightly into the histrionic – with perhaps too much screaming – but then again, with this kind of source material it is hard to steer entirely clear of melodrama. Catherine Claire shines in the role of Annabella, delivering an extremely nuanced and vulnerable performance. Susie Weidmann also delivers a deliciously unreadable Vasques, balancing his many masks with moments of genuine emotion. The supporting cast are amazing. Jem Hunter was an audience favourite, gaining many laughs with his constant somersaulting and physically comedic approach to the role of Bergetto. Killian King’s Donado also perfectly complements Hunter’s erratic Bergetto. King is quietly hilarious, looking like he is in the deep depths of depression every time his nephew opens his mouth. Oli Spooner, Caeli Colgan and Hattie as Florio, Hippolyta and Putana also deliver great performances.
All in all, this is a great production which deserves to be seen (if only because it features two copies of Cherwell as props)!
