Norwich and Norfolk Festival at the Playhouse, Norwich
22.05.2012
Irving
and Olivier, Sinden and Sher, Nigel Hawthorne, Simon Russell Beale –
so many memorable Malvolios. But none, I'm sure, got under the skin
of the steward as successfully as Tim Crouch, in a wonderful
one-man-show of his own devising.
It's
actually the fourth of his Shakespeare solos, with Cinna [the poet]
to come later this year.
The
houselights are never completely dimmed; we, the audience, are Sir
Toby Belch, we represent the forces of disorder and misrule, with
Malvolio the lone, sane voice of reason. And there's no shortage of
latter-day cakes and ale for him to rail against – slouching,
binge-drinking, inappropriate dress – the way he says "DVD"
makes it sound like the distasteful work of the devil.
In
the best tradition of stand-up, the innocent are singled out: reading
the programme, blowing one's nose, laughing, all ruthlessly pounced
upon.
"Find
that funny, do you ? Is that the sort of thing you find funny ?"
is his refrain, for all the world like an old-time schoolmaster. At
other times he's Basil Fawlty, or the nutter on the bus – "I
am not mad ..." - with Olivia's discarded letter the catalyst
for a priceless rant about litter – "a godless mass of filth".
"Somewhere
between comedy and pain," he advises, encouraging a lad in the
second row [still wearing his school uniform] to come up on stage and
kick his proffered arse. And that's the melancholy magic of this
unsettling monologue: we laugh at this wretched "funny, funny
man", but shift uncomfortably in our seats, knowing that
laughter can easily turn to bullying and bear-baiting, as our hero is
"hideously abused". Some moments are very bleak, but even
the hangman's noose is testing tragi-comedy, with two more
'volunteers' up on stage, Joe to hold the rope, Lizzie poised to pull
away the bentwood chair.
Crouch
starts off in his grimy, fantastical, prison garb, with a red wattle
under his chin and "Turkey Cock" pinned to his back. By the
end he is his Puritan self again, and is cleverly "revenged on
the whole pack of you".
Along
the way he unpacks the mad "improbable fiction" of the plot
of Twelfth Night, and explores the dark despair of lost love, the
struggle between order and anarchy, and the cruel comedy of Illyria
and the playhouse.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.