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Christopher Luscombe’s pair of Shakespeare comedies for the RSC make a pretty neat box-set. Both are set at court, and both feature a pair of sparring lovers. Luscombe strengthens the link by using the same cast and Edwardian setting, in a visually sumptuous double bill that feels downright ‘Downton’.
The first, and weaker of the pair, is ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost’, an early play that’s rarely performed, thanks to its often impenetrably scholarly wit and inconclusive ending. The King of Navarre has made his entire court vow not to talk to women, and devote themselves to study for three long years. Needless to say, shenanigans ensue. Edward Bennett plays Berowne, the court clown who’s bent on wooing Rosaline (Lisa Dillon). But his decision to use unreliable bumpkin Costard (a wonderfully shambolic Nick Haverson) as a messenger leads to a thesaurus’s worth of letter-based complications.
You can see Berowne’s DNA in Benedick, his far better-known successor in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’. This is where Bennett and Dillon come into their own, hurling insults in a polysyllabic bunfight. Luscombe’s production amps up the silliness with slapstick set-pieces, including some brilliantly silly bits of bother set in a giant Christmas tree.
He’s also created a full-on castle on stage, complete with turrets and an ingenious sliding array of rooftop, forest and drawing room settings. These trappings often make the staging static, with the cast proclaiming their lines from picture-perfect groupings.
It’s artfully done, and Shakespeare’s wit is crystal clear. But in the year of Emma Rice’s groundbreaking (and rocking) reign at The Globe, it feels a bit weird seeing Shakespeare done with televisual levels of naturalism. Dropped objects are matched with clanging sound effects, and an unseen chamber orchestra accompany the action with Nigel Hess’s score of period-drama-style flourishes.
Even the hints of bleakness that come from references to World War I (which is supposed to have happened between the two plays) only serve to give this performance the polished light and shade of a Christmas telly special. A brilliant scene set in the local watch’s chaotic mess room breaks the tone with Haverson’s clowning tipping over into surreal pathos. But otherwise the tone is refined: this is Shakespeare, to the manor born.