A television version of the Shakespeare's Globe Theatre revival of John Webster's Jacobean tragedy, directed by Dominic Dromgoole and with a cast led by Gemma Arterton.
As a televisual piece of drama, this DUCHESS OF MALFI is compelling to watch. The camera focuses tightly on the protagonists' expressions, reminding us of just how much of a domestic tragedy Webster's work actually is. On the other hand, the frequent reaction-shots of the audience encircling the playing area make us aware of how this domestic tragedy is being played out in a very public sphere: emotions that are customarily kept private are openly expressed, whether the characters like it or not. The effect is rather like a Jacobean royal soap opera in which the Duchess (Arterton) becomes a Princess Diana-like figure trying to cope with her domestic and private responsibilities while being aware that she is consistently under attack from Bosola (Sean Gilder), and his two evil sidekicks Ferdinand (David Dawson) and the Cardinal (James Garnon).
Strictly speaking, the Duchess has transgressed the prevailing moral codes of her society by choosing to act independently and have children by her lover. Yet Dromgoole's production shows how bankrupt such codes are, when they are upheld by figures such as Ferdinand and the Cardinal, both of whom harbor unnatural sexual desires for the Duchess. Bosola is merely a hired hand, someone who will do their dirty work for them by humiliating the Duchess both publicly and privately. In the early stages of this production, he takes a positive pleasure in his work; like the so-called royal 'confidantes' who disclose their dealings to the press, he delights in entertaining the theater audience (as well as the viewers) with accounts of what he has done and why he has done it.
As the production unfolds, however, so Bosola's attitude changes, as he comes to understand the Duchess' stoicism in the face of adversity. In Arterton's characterization, she becomes something of a Diana-esque figure in the way she stubbornly resists all attempts by the three male characters to make her submit to their will - even if protocol dictates, she will never allow herself to be compromised. In the end she is killed off, but we feel that her demise has proved beyond doubt the rightness of her cause; even death is more preferable than accepting patriarchal authority.
The production ends in an orgy of violence, which in this production is staged in stylized fashion: no Grand Guignol orgies of blood here. Through such strategies director Dromgoole shows how sexual rivalries inevitably lead to destruction, especially when such rivalries involve competition for authority, both moral as well as intellectual. Nonetheless the Duchess' soul remains intact; no one has ever managed to weaken her resolve.
It is perhaps invidious to talk of a production being 'relevant' (as it inevitably begs the question 'relevant to whom'), but Dromgoole's revival - brought to the small screen by executive producer Julian Birkett - inevitably prompts reflection on recent events in British monarchical history. Highly recommended.
As a televisual piece of drama, this DUCHESS OF MALFI is compelling to watch. The camera focuses tightly on the protagonists' expressions, reminding us of just how much of a domestic tragedy Webster's work actually is. On the other hand, the frequent reaction-shots of the audience encircling the playing area make us aware of how this domestic tragedy is being played out in a very public sphere: emotions that are customarily kept private are openly expressed, whether the characters like it or not. The effect is rather like a Jacobean royal soap opera in which the Duchess (Arterton) becomes a Princess Diana-like figure trying to cope with her domestic and private responsibilities while being aware that she is consistently under attack from Bosola (Sean Gilder), and his two evil sidekicks Ferdinand (David Dawson) and the Cardinal (James Garnon).
Strictly speaking, the Duchess has transgressed the prevailing moral codes of her society by choosing to act independently and have children by her lover. Yet Dromgoole's production shows how bankrupt such codes are, when they are upheld by figures such as Ferdinand and the Cardinal, both of whom harbor unnatural sexual desires for the Duchess. Bosola is merely a hired hand, someone who will do their dirty work for them by humiliating the Duchess both publicly and privately. In the early stages of this production, he takes a positive pleasure in his work; like the so-called royal 'confidantes' who disclose their dealings to the press, he delights in entertaining the theater audience (as well as the viewers) with accounts of what he has done and why he has done it.
As the production unfolds, however, so Bosola's attitude changes, as he comes to understand the Duchess' stoicism in the face of adversity. In Arterton's characterization, she becomes something of a Diana-esque figure in the way she stubbornly resists all attempts by the three male characters to make her submit to their will - even if protocol dictates, she will never allow herself to be compromised. In the end she is killed off, but we feel that her demise has proved beyond doubt the rightness of her cause; even death is more preferable than accepting patriarchal authority.
The production ends in an orgy of violence, which in this production is staged in stylized fashion: no Grand Guignol orgies of blood here. Through such strategies director Dromgoole shows how sexual rivalries inevitably lead to destruction, especially when such rivalries involve competition for authority, both moral as well as intellectual. Nonetheless the Duchess' soul remains intact; no one has ever managed to weaken her resolve.
It is perhaps invidious to talk of a production being 'relevant' (as it inevitably begs the question 'relevant to whom'), but Dromgoole's revival - brought to the small screen by executive producer Julian Birkett - inevitably prompts reflection on recent events in British monarchical history. Highly recommended.
