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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Kate Wyver

The Winter’s Tale review – the Globe’s two-venue telling loses its way

There’s hardly time to care … Jacoba Williams, left, (Perdita), Colm Gormley, centre (Old Shepherd), and Sarah Slimani , right (Florizel), in The Winter's Tale.
There’s hardly time to care … Jacoba Williams, left, (Perdita), Colm Gormley, centre (Old Shepherd), and Sarah Slimani , right (Florizel), in The Winter's Tale. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/the Guardian

Glimpses of fine craft and grand ambition cannot hold together Sean Holmes’s sprawling production of The Winter’s Tale. Taking over both the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse and the Globe theatre, this chaotic tragi-comedy struggles to root us emotionally in Shakespeare’s story.

At the candlelit Wanamaker, we are in Sicilia, Grace Smart’s design conjuring the sleek, rich dining room of King Leontes (strait-laced Sergo Vares). Over an extravagant tasting menu of tiny, dry-iced dishes, the king’s accusation that his wife is cheating with his friend, the king of Bohemia (a looser, more confident performance from John Lightbody) feels entirely unfounded. So sets off a whirlwind of events as courses keep coming. Time collapses and the king’s sanity quickly scuttles away from him. But the impact has little time to be felt; delivery is rushed, lines sped through. News of deaths pile up like dishes. In the constant hurry, there’s hardly time to care.

Sergo Vares (Leontes) and Toby Barnett-Jones (Mamillius) in The Winter’s Tale.
Sergo Vares (Leontes) and Toby Barnett-Jones (Mamillius) in The Winter’s Tale. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/the Guardian

There’s a rush of cold as we move to the chilly Globe, our Bohemia. The production breathes more easily here, under the fairy-lit sky. Curiously, Holmes ignores the majority of the Globe’s stage, which queries the need for the hefty transfer of the audience. Instead, we are hosted for the countryside feast in the pit, where the revellers drink and dance, with long, ill-fitting tables just right for stomping on. Where Sicilia is orchestrated by dissonant, scratching strings, Bohemia has the buoyant pluckings of a folk festival, as Ed Gaughan’s ad-libbing Autolycus and Samuel Creasey’s buffoonish Young Shepherd compete joyfully for the role of clown. These scenes are jolly; humour leads the way and plot clips along behind.

Back in the tightly packed Wanamaker for our return to Sicilia, it seems no air has been let in during the 16 years that have passed. As the inhabitants of the two countries collide, the first setting finally finds its feet. The examination of the living statue of Leontes’ wife Hermione (Bea Segura) is beautifully executed, with an elegance and weight the rest of the Sicilian action lacked. This finale can’t entirely smooth over the haphazard proceedings, but it is a glimpse of what this show could have been, if dramatic moments were left to settle and tension encouraged to grow. Instead, rapid plot progression in the tragic scenes and ribald songs in the comic ones overwhelm any strong sense of emotional impact or character development from either.

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