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Inspired by Romanian director Duca Darie's 1995
staging of the classic Shakespearean drama as the contemporary story of a then
newly-democratic state, director Joe Devlin has successfully grafted some of the pressing
concerns and dominant iconography of contemporary Ireland onto the Rattlebag Theatre
Company's production of Julius Caesar. When Caesar dies he is surrounded by men
in grey business suits whispering their conspiracies into mobile phones. He is forewarned
by a Romanian gypsy selling "The Big Issues" on a street corner. When civil war
erupts in the final act, the belligerents are indistinguishable from one another dressed
in black boots and combat trousers, armed with hurley sticks and dustbin lids. Staged in
the claustrophobic surroundings of Dublin's Crypt Arts Centre, one of Shakespeare's most
consistently re-interpreted plays is invigorated not by excess, extravagance, or
invention, but by Devlin's ability to explore its complexities by emphasizing its
ambiguities. "In this new production there are no heroes or villains, only people
living in extraordinary circumstances making difficult choices," he tells us.
"Modernizations" of Shakespeare
are far from a new thing, and very often seem to serve no particular purpose, but even the
suggestion here that this story speaks to a Celtic Tiger era Ireland strikes a chord of
recognition which transcends the peculiarities of costume and setting. Julius Caesar was
never really about Romans. It was a Renaissance-era England's vision of the Roman State
filtered through the political sensibilities of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. The play
has endured for more than four hundred years as a depiction of civil unrest in which
well-meaning murderers and cunning demagogues face one another over the heads of the
fickle mob. It is a scenario which lends itself to polar attitudes on the questions of
imperialism/fascism that it raises. Readings of Caesar himself vary from the swaggering
dictator who meets a just end to a sympathetic figure engulfed by forces greater than
himself.
In Devlin's hands, Caesar (confidently portrayed by Ciaran Reilly) is a
slightly imperious but otherwise recognizably typical modern Irish businessman, an avid
supporter of hurling apparently (hurling, a traditional Gaelic sport whose history in the
late nineteenth century was inextricably bound up with nationalism, is here offered as an
iconographic substitute for warfare), who falls at the hands of men all too much like
himself. With its low-key lighting, dapple-grey sets, and strategic use of props and
costumes, Devlin's vision of the troubles of the turbulent Roman State is all-too easily
identifiable in its modern context without being a literal transposition. As it was for
Shakespeare, Julius Caesar is a drama which asks its audience to consider the
lessons of history in the context of the present.
This is a gripping production which will entertain and stimulate its
audience. It makes excellent use of the space at the Crypt to increase the feeling of
enclosure, confusion, and paranoia which envelops its characters. There's a particularly
striking storm scene in Act I and there are memorable moments which emphasize the complex
and contradictory words and actions of the characters. Its sense of the muddied waters of
nationalism demonstrates a more even-handed grasp of the subject than many contemporary
political dramas. It is also, as ever, a riveting yarn in the best tradition of
Shakespeare which is well mounted and well told.
The cast are generally good, with Aiden Condron a suitably intense Marc
Antony and many of the performers fulfilling multiple roles (Gavin McCaffrey is of
particular note in the role of Caska). In the key roles of Brutus and Cassius, Kristian
Marken and John Anthony Murphy respectively are often somewhat constrained by their parts.
Murphy is appropriately quick to anger as Cassius, but the actor leaves himself with
almost nowhere to go after a few scenes, having shown his fury so early. Similarly Marken
is weighted down with Brutus' inner turmoil, which, though appropriate, makes him a less
than dynamic presence. Nonetheless all of the performers work within the directorial
rubric set by Devlin, and if these limitations are to be noted, it must also be said that
they fit the overall scheme of the production.
Dublin, September 6, 2000 - Harvey O'Brien