Michel de Ghelderode was part of that
extraordinary explosion of European playwrights who blended wit, emotion and
absurdity to make sense of the mad interwar years in which they lived. The
Belgian’s frequently gothic-tinged work is notable more for its quantity than
any one classic.
First performed in 1929, this one-acter is typical of his
obsessions - the gloomy yet romantic setting of the 16th-century court of the
Spanish king Felipe II, pithy period language and characters pitted against
each other in a mind-twisting endgame.
As his queen lies dying, the King (Andy McQuade) engages
his fool, Folial (Geir Kjelland), in a battle of wits that turns from cerebral
to physical, while the Monk (Corin Rhys Jones) attempts to bring an occasional
reality to break up their bouts. Theirs is a remarkable performance that never
lets up in intensity yet builds to a climax which leaves the onlookers as
drained as the actors.
But it is difficult to understand what audience director
Victor Sobchak is aiming for. The dense, chivalric language is one obstacle. It
is evocative in the original French or possibly in translation in languages
such as German and Russian but it comes across as cloyingly artificial in
today’s English. The thematic resonances too have little meaning for a modern
theatregoer.
There are numerous ways of offsetting this - give the
piece an overt political slant by drawing parallels, for example, with Blair
and Brown, or play it with the dark humour de Ghelderode always strove for, or,
since it is a near perfect vehicle for the style, why not create a purely
physical piece?
This production attempts none of the above. However, as
the chance to see a well-known play by an under-performed writer, it comes
recommended.