“A potentially explosive cocktail ready to flare up on the issue of making Shakespeare more relevant. Relevant to who exactly?”
Editorial Rating: 4 Stars (Nae Bad)
Gandhi once said something about how the railways made pilgrimages less meaningful. The journey matters as much as the arrival. Make the journey too simple, too short, too easy and something of great value is lost. For centuries Shakespeare has been mucked about with. It’s strange because nobody ever thinks to rework Jonson or the rest of the Elizabethian / Jacobean hall-of-famers whose works moulder on the subs bench alongside the Bard’s own lesser-performed works. Are uncurious audiences or are overcautious producers to blame for the constant repetition of the greatest hits? Is there a feedback loop? And why have so many people been so keen to impose their own ski lifts and coach tours on the slopes of Mount Shakespeare National Park?
Big money has a big sense of entitlement. Hitch that horse to the creeping bureaucracy of arts funding, add a struggling playwright to the mix and you’ve got a potentially explosive cocktail ready to flare up on the issue of making Shakespeare more relevant. Relevant to who exactly?
Brian Dykstra’s script is high polemic poetry. Every. Single. Word is a masterclass in precision iambic pentameter delivered naturally, fluidly, and candidly. As the billionaire with the billion-dollar idea, Dykstra bestirdes the stage like a colossus. His big Willy Shakespeare energy summons the ghost of the Stratford schoolkid who went to London, made his fortune, and returned to live in the second-biggest house in his auld home town. Bums on seats and coins in the box – the one that lives in the box office – the spirit of enterprise hitched to a purpose, unshackled from any higher motive.
Shakespeare did not live to edit his plays for publication in a folio as Jonson did in 1616. That task was left to Mssrs Heminges and Condell. There is strong evidence to suggest Shakespeare had made a start. In Greenock, there is a copy of North’s translation of Plutarch with an impeccable provenance containing much marginalia in need of closer study. The fact that the charms and strength of Shakespeare was overthrown before he could curate his legacy left a space for lesser talents.
As Ms. Branch, Kate Levy is the curatorial middleman all too familiar to us but unknown to Shakespeare whose only paymasters were his public and his Royal booking agent. Levy never entirely decides if she is playing the true villain of the piece, the pandering procuress intent (knowingly or unknowingly) on selling purity and virtue for the right price. Levy plays it safe which is what her character would do.
The serious heavy-lifting, the role of the besieged struggling playwright Janet, is outstandingly performed by Kate Siahaan-Rigg. Through tongue-twisting monologues, moments of sensational sturm and serious drang Siahaan-Rigg breathes life into the script keeping it real, keeping it thought-provoking.
Is the result on stage always entertaining? I guess that depends on how much you like being repeatedly beaten around the head with an over-extended allegory. Here is a script demonstrating perfectly why direction matters. Margarett Perry is one of the best directors at EdFringe. She has a gift for pace like Elvis had a gift for rhythm. She worked what she’s got into the shape of something truly memorable, perhaps even culturally valuable. Just don’t sit anywhere but dead centre, the show’s blocking must not have made it through customs.
Come for this light and fluffy performance of a hardcore script. Stay for the things that need saying about the state of the arts in our own day and age. Get your coats on and go see this!







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