Review: CYMBELINE, Barbican, 3 November 2016

Over the next six years, the RSC aims to produce every single Shakespeare play. Its 2016 season features Cymbeline, one of the lesser known but not lesser performed plays; this production is a transfer from Stratford-upon-Avon, and there have been two productions at Shakespeare's Globe this year alone. Why the sudden revival? A fool boasts "Britain is a world by itself" (and no, I don't mean Nigel Farage). In a post-Brexit Britain, these words ring truer than ever before in this bold production, which ironically seems to be lacking a sense of unity and cohesion too.

As the play begins, Queen Cymbeline finds herself in a position of no control: her country is in an uneasy relationship with the Romans; her only surviving child Innogen is in a relationship with unworthy Posthumus; and she herself is in a manipulative relationship with the Duke.

The casting of Gillian Bevan as Cymbeline is one of a number of cross-gender castings in 2016: the Donmar's Shakespeare Trilogy features an all-female company, Emma Rice's inaugural Globe season brought with it equal gender representation on stage, and Glenda Jackson plays another troubled leader in King Lear at the Old Vic. Like Jackson's counterpart, Bevan's Cymbeline is one weighed down by woes, and Bevan conveys this in every movement: a hunched figure at the start, her mantle (or cloak) of responsibility does not sit well with her.

In an attempt to reassert her power, Cymbeline banishes Posthumus, who swears with Innogen that they will remain faithful. Seeking refuge in Rome, Posthumus meets Iachimo who wagers he will make Innogen break her word. Tricked into believing he has, Posthumus orders Innogen to be killed. As her country goes to war with Rome for its independence, Innogen claims her independence the only way a Shakespearean heroine can: disguising herself as a man. Setting off to find Posthumus, Innogen finds her husband and other family members along the way...

With so much journeying, Cymbeline features three distinct locations: England, Italy and Wales. Anna Fleischle's playful design creates three distinct looks in costume and staging, from the decaying, denim, "duller Britain", to the suave and sexy Rome, with no denim in sight. Comparisons may be drawn between this and the Globe's recent production, which renamed and reclaimed the play as Imogen. Both are modern, both are musical, but each paints a very different picture of London: one broken and one breaking bad.

This Italy is multicultural, a world not by itself but working with others, with Italian, French and Dutch being spoken. This shows just how insular Britain has become, precisely what director Melly Still wants the audience to feel. An interview in the programme reveals the production is set in a "dystopian Britain some time in the not too distant future where the country's belligerent independence and insularity have taken root". That the Britain of the RSC's Cymbeline is dystopian is evident in Fleischle's design. That it is a supposedly post-Brexit Britain is evident nowhere, save for some throwaway graffiti. Had I not read the programme, I wouldn't have thought it was a major theme.

Other choices only complicate the message of this production. Nationalism, environmentalism and gender issues are all being raised here. Much like the giant tree trunk sat in the middle of the stage, you question why these themes are there and why they are not fully formed. Similarly jarring are certain staging choices. The only thing more awkward than the tree trunk is the only other thing on stage for most of the show: a soothsayer-cum-bird-cum-spirit-cum-whirlwind. This character walks on stage in the middle of scenes, observing but essentially doing nothing.

Fortunately, the acting saves this production with versions of characters never explored before. Oliver Johnstone is one to watch as Iachimo, who could easily be played two-dimensionally; here, Iachimo is both moral and menacing, conniving but considerate. It makes his change of heart at the end all the more believable.

Hiran Abeysekera's Posthumus is the first truly mad Posthumus I have seen; Abeysekera is transformed in these scenes. Bethan Cullinane is an expressive and present Innogen - her dagger scene drew gasps from audience members to rival Juliet's. Finally, the Milford trio of Graham Turner, Natalie Simpson and James Cooney are literally thick as thieves, such is their chemistry.

Much like the Britain it attempts to emulate, the identity and focus of this production seem at odds. If an audience has to read the programme to understand your vision, you have not created an open world for them to engage with.

Cymbeline at the Barbican until 17 December

Read our interview with Gillian Bevan

Photo: Ellie Kurttz

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