Henri Landon (disguised as Cesario) and Jeremy Crutchley (Malvolio)

At the opening last night of Maynardville’s 50th Annual Shakespeare production, the Cape Town City Council generously treated its guests to “a cocktail evening” – well, no cocktails in sight, or even a party, but the usual staid white marquee, seating at round tables, blomme, platters of deep-fried foods and a few prawns.

Though President Mbeki seems to have moved from quoting Shakespeare to Robespierre, it’s cheering to see our ANC led council take an interest in propping up Maynardville. The backstage facilities are a health hazard for the actors and the toilet facilities for the patrons hopelessly inadequate – women have to use the men’s cubicles if they are to finish by interval – “Gentlemen, please only use the urinal” – the usher martially urged us last night. Decent chairs – it’s currently unwise not to lug along your own cushions – are hopefully a priority.
The money – predictably – has been held up for two years now, but it seems there is never a financial impediment to throwing a banquet and creating a political platform, especially in an election year. I thought it an inappropriate way to celebrate the 50 years, and would have prefered the unveiling of a new ablution block.

The keynote speech or more accurately the reminiscence of a thespian, who has been away far too long to be missed and remains out of touch, read like a send-up. It recalled the opening scene of All About Eve – the presentation of the Sarah Siddon’s Award for Distinguished Achievement. The crisp voice of George Sanders as Addison deWitt entered my head in self-defence: “Being an actor he will go on speaking for some time. It is not important that you hear what he says. . .Having covered in tedious detail. . .” and no information, exhausted every possible clichéd preface to a series of irrelevant theatrical anecdotes [with indulgent laughter], his exit was applauded. At least I had a dry seat while the opening rains of Maynardville drenched the undeterred and far happier picnickers outside.

A review of the current production of Twelfth Night is scheduled for the M&G on January 27. I’ll hold off critical review until then, but will say that it gets an unequivocal thumbs up and stands as one of the best Shakespeare productions I’ve seen in South Africa for a long time. Congratulations to Geoffrey Hyland.

This year celebrates the fiftieth year since the annual Shakespeare productions started at Maynardville.

Twelfth Night remains one of the Bards best-admired comedies, together with A Midsummer Night’s Dream – the other most performed work at Maynardville – they account for ten of the past fifty productions. By contrast, the most acclaimed tragedies, Hamlet in 1964 and King Lear in 1966, were done once and never since.

Director Geoffrey Hyland’s Twelfth Night is spot-on. It is Shakespeare straight – no impinging directorial statements, no gimmickry, no fake modish relevancies. Illka Louw’s costumes – sybaritic and eye-catching – support the action, don’t become the act. Every word is audible, even from the minor players, delivered naturally, without marring the poetry.

In the female leads, Henri Landon is an impeccable Viola and Astara Mwakalumbwa a captivating Olivia. Part of the success is the cast of veterans and theatre troupers Hyland has assembled, with their considerable stage presence and precision comic timing. They’re worth listing: Jeremy Crutchley excels in his sympathetic portrayal of the repugnant Malvolio, Nicholas Ellenbogen as the ebullient Sir Toby Belch and Robyn Scott as a rather bawdy Maria, Adam Neill as the twit Sir Andrew Aguecheek.

Robert Jeffery’s courtly musical compositions played by his trio, together with the tender vocals of Claire Wattling as the Fool, round out a production of Shakespeare, that is the most accomplished seen in South Africa for years

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
The Wild Duck (Donmar)

It is a cold winter this year, but that only makes the theatres even more convivial spaces especially as there is a particularly strong showing of quality productions here right now.

First up, I was lucky enough to get in to a preview of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? which has transferred from Broadway’s Longacre to the Apollo; once word gets out I predict it is going to be impossible to obtain tickets to this fine show. The divine Kathleen Turner – somewhat buxom now reminds one physically of Liz Taylor in Mike Nichols’s abiding film version of playwright Edward Albee’s greatest work – was unfortunately constrained by laryngitis and sounded like an out of breath Elaine Stritch. The night belonged to her riveting counterpart Bill Irwin, who also played the Broadway production lead in Albee’s other masterpiece – The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia?. Mireille Enos as the hapless ingénue pulled off a difficult part with aplomb. Not only is it over forty years since the work premiered and the running time is three hours with two intervals, but nothing has dated or dented the script.
Booking until May 13.

Nor has anything dated another solid, almost flawless production at the most reliable theatre space for quality in London – the Donmar Warehouse – of Ibsen’s The Wild Duck – in a skilful new version by David Eldridge. I am always amazed at how the Donmar team manage to create spectacular atmospheric spaces in their peculiar shaped building. Michael Grandage (the artistic director of the Donmar) directs.
Booking only until February 18.

The musicals Billy Elliot and Mary Poppins, which I saw in October, are still running to good houses as they deserve. Both are actually more enjoyable than their film versions. Billy Elliot has visceral moments – the performances are superb, the book is excellent, though the Elton John musical score is bland, almost dismissible – only a few highly derivative genre driven tunes rise to the occasion. Mary Poppins is a treat- though now with a largely new cast that has received a marginally less enthusiastic reception. Chicago and The Producers continue to run and run, while Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Woman in White (also unkindly known as ‘the bitch in beige’) is giving up the ghost after a disappointing reception.

MamaTembu

The innovative Nicholas Ellenbogen returns for the second time to his new pet project – the extraordinary space that used to be the lions’ den at the Old Zoo. Seated on platforms, the audience is separated from the mountain slope enclosure by a deep chasm. Ellenbogen makes good use of this gigantic canvas, hoisting actors up with ropes, dressing them in oversized costumes, and choreographing a great underwater sequence – part of the theatre magic created by design supremo Saul Radomsky.
Set on the Cape’s west coast, a feud between the families of the Grootbooms and the Thembus is healed through a parody on the story of The Little Mermaid. It is a lively combination of pantomime, physical theatre, Disney send-up, and burlesque humour with slapstick moments, in a sort of vaudeville format. The whimsical Godfrey Johnson, proficiently utilising a wide range of recognisable styles – smatterings of Broadway, local folk, pop and cabaret – has composed the musical numbers to lyrics from Ellenbogen.

With Nhlanhla Mavundla in the lead role, Ellenbogen has assembled a cast of respectable talents including Lindiwe Matshikiza, opera singer Bongani Bubu, and musician Roger Lucey. Ivan Abrahams gives one of his best career performances as Methusala.

A past master in the alphabet of theatre craft, Ellenbogen pulls his entertainment off as usual, though the story is not always clear and some of the antics off target. His success is his lack of pretension about his eclectic style, his spirit for fun and critically, the honesty with which he presents his stories.

Dinner is served nightly before the show in the unusual setting of the old lion cages.