BME Shakespeare: Anthony and Cleopatra review

Lakshya Ravikumar argues BME Shakespeare’s Eurocentric presentation of Cleopatra was a deliberate choice to underscore Shakespeare’s timelessness, but it may have been more powerful to reject English quaintness.

Photos by Morayo Ibidunni

As she is about to embark on one of the most poignant moments in the history of theatre with her suicide, Cleopatra declares ‘The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch / Which hurts and is desired’, effectively reconciling the two beating hearts of this play: love and death. Tragedy is often difficult to place on stage, both for the actors as well as the audience. It is unpredictable, moody and tempestuous, much like the characters themselves which the cast and direction of this year’s BME Shakespeare attempt to dissect so bravely.

Qawiiyah Bisiriyu’s Cleopatra manifests as a restrained lover; stripping away accusations of ‘strumpet’ and ‘whore’, we are left not with a queen who has forgone her Empire, but a steadfast lover akin to that of Rosalind in As You Like It or Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Bisiriyu clamps down on the human, chiselling away the stone-masked Queen,  and speaks to the nuanced, humane impulses of love and subtle passion. Though at times her speech became lost in the flurry of conversation, her stage presence was impressively commanding.

Whilst Cleopatra was donned in her charming, patterned frock and golden hair, preserving the Elizabethan cadences of the time, I was rather hoping to witness an ‘Egyptian Queen’, not stifled in the cloths of the West but adorned in the fabrics of the East. I wonder if it would have added more to reject Cleopatra’s exoticisation, with a decision to embellish her in the very garments the West both fears yet so eagerly imposes, as it may have added greater weight in restoring her agency. It is quite possible, however, that this assertion of the English quaintness is a deliberate choice to underscore Shakespeare’s timeless relevance, a subtle nod to the Renaissance - how it’s always twinkling away somewhere, illuminating every production.

Likewise, Jaysol Doy artfully delivers Antony’s drawn-out monologues, capturing his character’s tumultuous highs and lows, an evocative embodiment of the male struggle to unearth emasculation and ardour all the while wearing a skirt! Though his physicality bore more resemblance to an Iago-esque demeanour rather than the warrior-like bearing of Antony, there wasn’t a word Doy uttered that did not reach me. With his booming voice, he executed his performance as well as any seasoned Shakespearean actor.

“The production creates a perfect juxtaposition between the sensual, shimmering East and the cold, harsh West, aided by the lighting.”

‘Antony and Cleopatra’; now, there is a reason why those two names would feel incomplete without the other, recalling the iconic ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and this endures for a reason other than simply filling in as a role for the title. As a rather fervent Romantic, I eagerly awaited the lead couple’s frenzy of love, lust and wrath. In this production however, what is supposed to be a sexy, self-deluded love affair was somewhat muted on stage. In my eyes, the chemistry between the two leads needed some work to tunnel out the ever-present risk and theatricals of their love.

I do applaud, however, the calculated decision to minimise, if not altogether avoid, scenes featuring just the two of them on stage; the ensemble always lurking in the corner points to exactly the sort of dysfunctional, in-the-public-eye couple they are – the stuff of tabloid papers - and the direction’s choice perfectly situated that for us. Caesar, played by Sawen Ali, captured my attention straight away; from body language to enunciation, from action to reaction, Ali flawlessly embodies Ceasar’s commanding presence, dominating the stage with both demeanour and voice.

Photo by Morayo Ibidunni

The closing act is a process of gutting up the body of the tragedy, getting to the belly of it all. Corpses are piling up as its true unpalatable nature reveals itself just before the curtain closes. Deaths are difficult to stage, and this was certainly a brave attempt to bring it out into the open. However, as in many cases, when it came to certain characters impaling themselves or dying from sheer grief, the acting seemed less compelling. It all felt perhaps too gruelling and laborious for my taste. The play seemed to have lost some of its potency in the last few scenes, even if it does retain melodrama.

Before Cleopatra passes, she eroticises death, asserting she yearns for it as a lover’s touch. This is akin to what a tragedy often unveils in its climax – a union between mortality and passion. The cast of this year’s BME Shakespeare are teetering on the brink of capturing exactly that. I am keen to witness how they delve further into these themes over the coming week.

The production creates a perfect juxtaposition between the sensual, shimmering East and the cold, harsh West, aided by the lighting. Even amidst the opulence of Egypt, the industrial setting of Rome protrudes, asserting that cast iron grip on the racialised ‘other’. However, I would argue this did not go far enough. It is a BME production after all.

BME Shakespeare: Anthony and Cleopatra is on at the ADC theatre until Saturday 2nd of March.