BWith wide eyes and a grim mouth, the fortune teller announces his prediction: “You will outlive the lady you serve,” he says, much to the horror of Charmian, Cleopatra’s lady-in-waiting. Our fortune teller (William Grint) speaks in British Sign Language (BSL), creating a snake-like image, his arm pointed and jutting out, his fingers forked at Charmian’s throat.
The Egyptian queen’s court communicates in BSL in Blanche McIntyre’s bilingual production – directed by Charlotte Arrowsmith and with BSL advice from Daryl Jackson – while the Romans perform in spoken English. Subtitles appear on screens around the wooden O. Far from being disruptive, they make a strong argument for making such visual aids a permanent part of the theatre.
Giving Shakespeare’s language a physical form provides an additional gateway into his narrative, which not only makes the text more accessible but often gives clarity to characters and added depth to descriptions. The importance of interpretation is also doubled by the overlay of BSL with spoken English; when a messenger (a radiant Nadeem Islam) reports to the jealous queen that the hair of Mark Antony’s new wife is brown, he performs the act of squeezing out a particularly stubborn pile.
Nadia Nadarajah is a royal Cleopatra. Obsessive and irascible, reckless and romantic, she sweeps across the stage to confess her love to the slimy Mark Antony (John Hollingworth), even though he deserves far more than his tactical cheating and selfish attempted murder. The chemistry between them is hard to detect; they are much stronger in their characters alone than together. Their intimacy is most evident when Antony shakes off his rigid arrogance and gestures to Cleopatra what he would shout to anyone else.
In the second half of the play, Shakespeare is preoccupied with the men at war, as Antony and Caesar stamp their feet and argue over the future of the empire. These scenes, full of heavy drums and slow clanging of swords, are less energetic than the more domestic moments at court. For this production belongs to the women. All eyes are on Cleopatra and her loving, giggling servants, ready to cater to her every dramatic whim, and would rather stick the “strange worm” in their own breasts than live without their queen.
