The Great
The Great by Tony McNamara; Wharf 1, Sydney Theatre Company, June 6-July 13, 2008; ph: (61 2) 9250 1777 or www.sydneytheatre.com.au. Director: Peter Evans; Set Designer: Fiona Crombie; Costume Designer: Tess Schofield; Lighting Designer: Damien Cooper; Composer: Alan John; Sound Designer: Steve Francis. Cast: Elizabeth Alexander, Nicholas Bell, Alan Dukes, Ben Geurens, Robin McLeavy, Mandy McElhinney, Matthew Moore, Toby Schmitz.
It’s hard to imagine where and why Tony McNamara got the idea of retelling the story of Catherine the Great, Empress of all the Russias. To be honest, word that he had fashioned a comedy out of this grand subject beggared belief, and with the mind propped as open as humanly possible ahead of the unlikely prospect of three hours (with interval) in which to experience the phenomenon, we set off.
What a ride! I love this play!
Caveat: students of history are warned to leave their nitpickers at home: debate about the historical accuracy of The Great will not be entertained, because that’s not the point. Rather, it’s a play about inspiration, ideas and the human capacity to invent and to laugh. McNamara has pulled off a spectacular high-wire act of theatre in combining a comedy of manners and bad behaviour reminiscent of Whitehall farce (Lots of Sex Please, We’re Imperial Russian), with such wit, verve, nonsense, originality and moments of profundity that it defies easy pigeon-holing.
The tone is set in the opening exchange between the young Catherine (Robin McLeavy) and her lemon-lipped companion Angeline (Mandy McElhinney). The two girls’ rapid-fire exchange signals the arc of the play – Catherine’s rise from provincial aristocratic obscurity to the imperial world stage through marriage to her distant cousin, the dimwit Grand Duke Peter. And, in its playful mix of language – modern idioms, knowing plays on words and ideas and archaic constructions – notice is given that this is no ordinary entertainment.
In a first for stage design in the tricky Wharf 1 space, lush crimson curtains conceal the stage in the manner of a 19th century proscenium theatre. It conceals a revolve-centred set which is a visual delight. Also delightful is witnessing a production whose director has the smarts to actually use the revolve – to integrate it into the action and not, as so often happens, use the device to disguise a lack of ideas.
A further pleasure is the evidence as the action unfolds that all creatives – set, costume and lighting designers – worked together to achieve a coherent vision. This is not as common as you might think. And the music that powers the set and the play’s forward momentum is Alan John at his fossicking best in a score of tongue-in-cheek, electro-Russian-folk, steam-driven carousel, oompah-Polski mazurka pastiche.
Happily the actors match the production values. In yet another exuberant yet intelligent performance (after the recent Ruben Guthrie) Toby Schmitz imbues the sly fool Peter the Great with the childish buffoonery that is hilarious one minute and murderously dangerous the next: a potent mix of Hitler and Blackadder.
As the naive dreamer who becomes the great Catherine and makes the lonely journey from unhappy marriage to unchallenged empress of a vast empire, McLeavy also achieves a clear and touching trajectory: idealistic teenager to strategic politician and enlightened despot.
The play is in two halves: light and dark and thirty years apart. In the second half Catherine metamorphoses into the older, wiser sadder and sexually predatory empress (Liz Alexander in a welcome and overdue return to the STC stage) while McLeavy reincarnates as Catherine’s fictitious and ambitious daughter, Princess Natalie. The chameleon-like McElhinney also reappears and confirms yet again, if confirmation is needed, that she has the acid comic ability of Maggie Smith.
Schmitz also doubles – as his own son, Didi – in the second half and his psychological problems in dealing with the mother-son relationship gives rise to a typically sly aside “someone could make money out of this” and also a subtext that delivers a more ominous bass note to the surface froth and bubble.
The rest of the cast perform dizzying doubles as various members of the imperial court. Lusting after young Catherine is the General, a randy old goat played with ghastly panache by Alan Dukes. On the sidelines with one hand on the secular and the other in God’s purse is Nicholas Bell’s Archbishop. Anchoring the merry-go-round is Orlo (Matthew Moore, then Nicholas Bell 30 years on) the vital if thankless straight man role of Catherine’s faithful lieutenant. And then there’s Hermes/Val (Ben Geurens) as the embodiment of Catherine’s early idealistic self – her first and only love, sacrificed for the greater good of Russia who returns to haunt her as her own daughter’s lover. No wonder Didi realises that Freud needs to be invented.
Threading through the frivolity is a strong line of admiration for Catherine. In real life her ambitions and achievements were remarkable. She introduced the smallpox vaccination to Russia, read voraciously, from Plato to agricultural tracts, and conducted correspondences with such men as Voltaire and Diderot. She encouraged art and literature. She embraced the ideas of the Enlightenment and singlehandedly dragged Russia from the social, political and economic dark ages. But it’s not a history play and disappointment looms for anyone expecting that.
The Great is an original play that entertains wildly and ambitiously while leaving moments and ideas that stick in the mind long after the laughter has subsided. McNamara’s band has achieved something special with it.
