The Duchess of Malfi started off rocky, but left the audience on the edge of their seats by the end.
Completed by John Webster in 1613, the play takes the audience through a gory tale of love, revenge, and murder. It follows the recently widowed and somewhat youthful Duchess as she falls in love with her steward, Antonio, against the wishes of her brothers, the pompous Cardinal and sleazy Ferdinand.
This rendition by the UCL Shakespeare Company — co-directed by Isabella Hanklin, and Emilie Holden, and produced by Nell Ward Warren — left me glued to my seat by the end, a good sign when it comes to any tragedy. For the most part, the acting was deeply compelling, yet, as a kindred spirit in the audience and I agreed, some aspects of this play were much stronger than others.
The play was set in the Bloomsbury Studio, a much more intimate space than its larger sibling, the Bloomsbury Theatre. The set was immediately visible as I walked into the room, consisting of a smattering of candles and a low table that served as an altar, a wall, and a mortuary slab throughout the play – a testament to the production’s commendable use of the painfully small Bloomsbury Studio space.
Yet, as the play progressed, the set could have benefited with a chair or two, the constant standing left a palpable feeling of awkwardness, as the actors tried to navigate their way around blocking standing monologues that clearly needed the dynamism of seating. Nonetheless, the simplicity of the set was ingenious.
The show’s greatest downfall was its pacing: it began with a violin performance from Joshua Man, who was brought on in between as a means of segmenting the five acts of the play.
It was unfortunate that things only picked up after the first intermission — before that, I could not help but notice several audience members forgoing good theatre etiquette to quickly flash their screens for the time. The speed with which the actors ran through their lines in the first half made the dialogue somewhat unintelligible, this was only exacerbated by the Shakespearean English of the play.
Perhaps it was nerves, but it was unfortunate that Antonio, played by Zaryab Hashmi, largely garbled his way through his lines — a recurring pattern until the end of the play, where Hashmi forgoes all precedents set previously and puts on a stunning display of grief and suffering that even I, as a hardened critic, was sympathetic to.
To some it may seem cruel, but it was even more unfortunate that despite having a great command of emotion, Angelina Paz-King, who played the Duchess, and Hashmi, had the chemistry of two limp socks.
Yet, despite my qualms, the casting of the show was brilliant. I was enthralled every time Ferdinand, played by Jumah Brandt, came on stage. So convincing was his performance as the sleazy, maniacal, and plotting brother that I found myself instantly recoiling in my seat every time he appeared on stage. Paired with a beautiful use of cadence, movement, and breadth of emotion, his performance was deserving of every laugh, grimace, and clap it received.
The starlet of the show, Angela Paz-King as the Duchess of Malfi, had incredible facial control. Every single twitch, contortion of her face, and shortened breath felt intentional. It was difficult to not be spellbound by her stage presence.
Most notably, her monologue delivered after the intermission was a haunting portrayal of joy, grief, and love. Her acting was refreshing, and her lines were delivered with not only conviction, but a familiarity that betrayed hours of rehearsal.
All in all, a stellar performance. The only shortcoming was that of the lack of chemistry with Antonio, yet that was quickly forgotten. The lacking stage dynamic was quickly overshadowed by the delightfully palpable tension between the Duchess and a gender-swapped Daniel de Bosola, played by Anna Bagan. Watching Bagan and Paz-King felt like watching two fencers moving back and forth, lithely, yet skilfully.
This is likely attributable to Bagan’s masterful stage presence, which presented itself once again in her interactions with the character of Ferdinand. Both of her monologues left me latching onto every word, and her spiteful disdain felt deeply tangible.
Yet, these strengths only appeared as she eased into her role, and it felt as though the rushed introduction of each character undermined her character and its place in the logical flow of the play. This is to say, Bagan, with time on her side, managed to navigate the rocky start of the play with ease.
Beyond the standouts, the accompanying and ensemble cast was also composed of an excellent group of actors. Henry Drake as the Cardinal, Kate Hulin as Cariola, Alejandro Membrillera as Delio, and Maia Schlesinger as Julia all deftly played their parts, providing much needed scaffolding for the storyline. There was little criticism to be offered, and praise must be offered to the directors for weaving their presence so seamlessly into both the blocking and the storyline.
Special mentions must be offered to Thea Hancocks and Sophia Wan for the costumes and makeup, especially that of Cariola — the linens were draped beautifully, and it would have been nice to see some of those same fabrics on the Duchess and Julia, for a touch of historical accuracy.
Nonetheless, I was impressed with the makeup, which was noticeable only if you were looking for it, yet enhanced the effect of the lighting on the actors’ faces. The lighting, especially for monologues, was almost celestial. Every expression on the actors’ faces, and every transition was marked by changes in lighting.
By the fourth act, the performance was stellar. It is a true shame that the cadence, performance, and intelligent direction was not consistent through the first and second acts.
Yet, it did what a good tragedy does — it left me hanging on, hoping for a little bit more, and haunted by the expressions of grief. I would say, largely a success for the UCL Shakespeare Company.