I might know nothing about the greatest comedy actors of all time, especially ancient ones, but I do love a bit of Rick Mayall. His comedic acting shines as his movement, facial expression and loud, insane line delivery makes the often gouache and rude comedy sections emphasized to the point of being cringeworthy (think Blackadder Goes Forth or Bottom). Acting like this has the power (yes, the power) to transform any material into something amusing and worthwhile even to the least humorous individual, and it’s well advised to see acting magic like this whenever you can.
Now that I’ve got my tangibly related foreshadowing out of the way, on to infinitely more important things. On Thursday 15th March I went to dutifully watch the first of three performances of Pseudolus, performed by the mighty Classics society. For those who don’t know (I certainly didn’t, thanks for the help Wikipedia), Pseudolus is an early Roman comedy and the child of the playwright Titus Maccius Plautus, a writer of some of the earliest Roman literature available to us in the modern day. A brief plot summary may go like this: the slave Pseudolus enters a bet where he must return the prostitute Phoenicium from the dastardly pimp Ballio to his master Calidorus before she is sold to an Alexandrian officer, thus winning a reward from Calidorus’ father Simo. Using all his cunning and charisma, Pseudolus succeeds in tricking the messenger Harpax, posing a slave of Calidorus’ friend as an imposter Harpax to take the girl from Ballio and leave the pimp in great financial inconvenience, Pseudolus claiming his reward from Simo.
The play itself is full of banter and plot exposition which keeps the situation and position of the characters clear, but there are not too many segments which a modern-day audience would naturally find gut-busting. I could see this meant that a lot of commitment and gusto would be needed to drive the performance and keep it funny in a consistent manner, staying tongue-in-cheek even through the plot exposition and character introductions and interaction in between the humorous set pieces, deceptions and payoffs. Not surprisingly, the actors worked their sandals off to achieve this (I should know, the rehearsals two weeks earlier made me wait an hour for the Troy drinking game to get started!). And just as unsurprisingly, they pulled the performance off in fine fashion.
The acting ranges across every scale of silly, from cocky and boisterous to mean and straight-out teenage-Mr Bean territory; all of it is deliciously overacted. Every facial expression was a treat to view, changing from instant to instant so often that any grumpy audience member is likely to find a pout or a steely or embarrassed look hit the funny bone. I identified with the characters through their motion and expressions, from Pseudolus’ (Jevany Thompson) flouncing, hands-on-hips confidence to Calidorus’ (Jack Rigby) neurotic pouting to Charinus’ (Helen Rowland) helpless bumbling innocence. Props were used magnificently here as well, from Ballio’s ever-ready whip to the swirled and floor-bashed walking sticks of Simo (Alexander Woodward) and Callipho (Zara Malik).
Each line delivery is filled with energy and sarcasm, spoken with such clear and almost booming volume that the start of every scene with Harpax (Siobhan Duffy) almost forced upon me involuntary heart attacks. This kind of energy is why I brought up Rik Mayall earlier (in what I laughably call an introduction), because it carries the performance from “a Classic play” to “a Classic play and a pretty funny night out too”. This attention to any single actor’s performance even shines through here when it is the other actor speaking, with facial expressions and bodily actions being performed constantly throughout the period from one line to their next.
As impressive as the monologues and dialogues are the set pieces. Some of the most memorable include the early first-part dance performed by the Belly Dancing Society, (achieving hip-wiggling with velocity I never thought with my small uneducated mind to be physically possible), as well as the utterly hilarious and madly-engineered kitchen sequence during the second act; not only did we have two outrageously funny cooks (Alex Lawson and Nathaniel Horne), but the movement and actions of the slaves in the background added to the utter chaos of the entire scene. This production shows itself to be a team-effort, as everyone is given something to do whenever they hit the stage.
As for the production values, a lot of creative and solid work went into this piece. The set was colourful and nicely themed, and I hear a lot of work went into the drawing and co-operative painting of those backgrounds; congrats to Isabel Sudbury and Kelly Braund for the set design. Costumes and make-up (worked by Hannah Doncow and Laura Dann) were well-realized and practical (I should get myself one of Simo’s sweet-holding toga-bags!) Hannah Wiltshire deserves special mention for her technical work with the lights, as I would have been scared if I was tasked with pushing all those intimidating buttons and sliders. And the team effort was topped off with Matt Hyder and Lois Pearce showing their support and selling drinks (especially wine) and sweets at the door.
A barebones, forced-out work this is not; this is an excellently acted piece, and to any audience member it was clearly painstakingly directed, direction duties taken by Alex Payne and Freddie Clayton. All in all, it was worth every penny of the £4-£5 ticket, and at time of writing I’m sure anyone following up with a second or third viewing would still get their money’s worth. Even if you are unfamiliar with Roman literature and performance, performances from the Classics Society should be on your priority list for going out and watching some quality antique comedy.
P.S: Any members and contributors to the production I have not mentioned here, or any of those named in this review that I have not credited fully or properly, I wish to give my credit here, and explain my lack of awareness due to lack of involvement in the production and work involved with the play.
