As You Like It review – French aristocratic trappings bring fresh comedy to Arden
In a lively and deftly designed production, gowns and wigs fit for Versailles give way to plainer disguises as banished courtiers pursue happiness in the country
For a play that pivots around the liberating disguises inside Arden’s bucolia, this production of the Bard’s pastoral comedy begins the dress-up long before its characters enter the forest for their games on gender and identity.
Duke Frederick’s court resembles that of Louis XVI’s Versailles, with flamboyant gesticulations that seem to belong to Molière. It is Shakespeare, but it could be a French period romp. Costumes become plainer and more earthy in Arden. Is there a suggestion that these characters live their courtly lives in a constant state of disguise?
It is probably not as deep as that in Sean Holmes and Charlie Josephine’s production, which seems to lead with great comic merriment above all else. The costumes appear an aesthetic decision, reflecting the pomp of a court. Rosalind (Lola Shalam), and Celia (Gracie Oddie-James), dispose of their enormous wigs and bustles in the glade, Rosalind replacing them with simple yokel garb as Ganymede, Celia still flouncing in exaggerated Little Bo Peep costume as Aliena.
Many aspects of this production soar high, including the comedy, sublimely eked by almost every character. Touchstone (Jonnie Broadbent, bare-chested with lacy ruff) is a comic highlight, Jaques’ (Katherine Pearce) “All the world’s a stage” speech is quietly moving and Shalam is a commanding Rosalind, full of charm and cheek.
Class delineations are made deftly through costume and accent but with no sense of overstatement. So Orlando (played by Josephine) has an estuary accent which points to his lowly position among his brothers and lack of schooling, while Rosalind and Celia look and sound aristocratic.
The forest has a stripped-down nature, with whiteboard backdrops on to which trees are drawn, first bare-branched but slowly coloured in to bloom. Paul Wills’ set design provides so much of Arden’s magic, along with the folksy musical accompaniment to Shakespeare’s many songs composed by Katie Richardson. The occasional winding in of the audience feels clever too, including a sing-along.
And yet you never feel Rosalind and Celia’s closeness; the two stand at opposite ends of the stage as Celia declares “thou and I am one” after Rosalind’s banishment by Duke Frederick (Colm Gormley), but with a conspicuous sense of courtly performance that undercuts earnestness or intimacy. Later on, you do not feel Orlando’s infatuated flutters for Rosalind as he nails his poetry to the trees. Josephine plays him flatly, with little variety, although their performance certainly amuses. Thankfully, Shalam carries their romance, managing to be both arch and excitable in her passion.
And although the comedy entertains, it takes away the play’s subversive edges, from the same-sex infatuation between Orlando and Ganymede to the alternative model for living that Duke Senior (also Gormley) encapsulates, in exile, and which seems a little lost among the fun.
The production occasionally seems unclear in its action, although, what you lose in narrative clarity you gain in hearty comic frolics. Its achievement is ultimately this, along with its originality, which works a transformative kind of magic in itself, turning a familiar drama into something weirdly fresh.