Though I do love the Bard, it is refreshing to sometimes see a non-Shakespearean production. While I was familiar with the concept of Frankenstein, I knew little about the story itself, so to see it brought to life (or should I say, 'reanimated'?) on the stage, filled me with an intriguing mix of excitement and unease. Here's my thoughts.
The production was staged at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester, UK. The theatre itself is a fascinating space - the grandiose exterior building is a Grade II listed building, with a domed glass roof and marble-effect columns. The interior auditorium is, in contrast, a steel and glass module in the centre of the hall - inside, the audience are seated on three levels, with the stage at the centre. It is an intimate theatre, and with its unusual set-up, seeing the stagecraft at work is almost as fascinating as the drama unfolding on stage.
The production of Frankenstein fit this playing space perfectly. Though it was published in 1818, the story seems at once both older (harking back to the 'primeval slime' and the emergence of humanity), and ahead of its time (looking forward to an age of biological enhancement, futuristic technologies, and control over life and death itself). Both old and new, the story strikes a chord with the building of the Royal Exchange, which in itself is both antique and futuristic.
There is something remarkable too in how the narrative of Frankenstein mirrors the space it inhabits. The novel is written (and this production staged) as a nested narrative, or a story within a story - first we join Captain Walton (Ryan Gage), on his ship stranded in the ice, then Victor Frankenstein (Shane Zaza) is pulled aboard, and begins his tale of the creation of the monster. The first, dreadfully bleak, quiet and lonely; the second vivid, tumultuous and terrifying. When a performance at the Royal Exchange begins, the exterior building is closed off to visitors, allowing for no distractions to the actors and audience enraptured in the auditorium. So, the outside space becomes Walton's ship - quiet, empty - and the auditorium is Victor's tale, alive with action, pain, and horror.
Now to the production itself. As I mentioned above, it becomes as intriguing (to me at least) to watch the stagecraft effects at play, and Frankenstein pulled out all the stops in this respect. Smoke machines hazed the stage at times, bringing alive the settings of cold Victorian graveyards and icy ship's decks alike. At times, water cascaded from the rafters in torrents, dousing Victor Frankenstein during his childhood exploits into raising the dead, and then again, years later, reflecting his anguish at having succeeded in the task. Fire is incorporated into the production, too: Victor bears a torch as he relives his time scouring graveyards for body parts; in the Arctic, he removes a floorboard from the stage and uses a small tinderbox to light a fire in the hole.
A standout scene for me, and one that still sends shivers down my spine, is the moment when Victor Frankenstein brings his monster to life. Frantically, he recounts his actions to a skeptical Walton, explaining how he went about his task as gory workbenches are rolled in from the wings, and a gurney bearing a body under a sheet is lowered from the rafters. Pulling down a long mechanical arm, Victor punctures the body with electrical prongs, and begins the process of reanimation. A humming sound, as neon lights flash about the auditorium, extending down the arm. A flash of sparks, then all goes dark.
In the pitch blackness, a raspy breathing begins. Victor scrambles for a match to ignite his lantern, then holds its faint light up to the gurney, only to see that the sheet is pushed back, and the body underneath is gone. The gasps become words, as the monster fumbles for speech. Here, the scene got even more chilling for the audience, as the excellent surround sound had even us on the upper gallery looking over our shoulders. It really did sound like the monster could be stalking amongst us. Occasionally movement could be seen in the gloom of the stage. The scene came to a terrifying climax as Victor cast his light upon the far table, where the monster was stood, bare and grotesque, before leaping down and out of the auditorium.
But the monster wasn't a 'creature in the shadows' for long. Indeed, he featured heavily in the scenes to follow: returning to Victor's life to prey on his loved ones, to demand the creation of a companion, and then to pursue his maker into the Arctic wastes. By far the most startling appearance was in the final scenes, where the monster loses the ragged cloak he has donned, and bares his true shape. Actor Harry Attwell is a shocking sight, with his white eyes, rot-blackened lips, a crude patchwork of skin across his lopsided back, and his right leg buckled together with leather straps. But at the same time, this is when he appears his most pitiful. To see his lacerated flesh, his hastily constructed and deformed leg, is to see the tormented life of a creature who never asked to be made, yet having been so, is never taught why.
This was a superb production, and a great introduction for me to the story of Frankenstein. It runs at the Royal Exchange Theatre until 14 April 2018.
The production of Frankenstein fit this playing space perfectly. Though it was published in 1818, the story seems at once both older (harking back to the 'primeval slime' and the emergence of humanity), and ahead of its time (looking forward to an age of biological enhancement, futuristic technologies, and control over life and death itself). Both old and new, the story strikes a chord with the building of the Royal Exchange, which in itself is both antique and futuristic.
There is something remarkable too in how the narrative of Frankenstein mirrors the space it inhabits. The novel is written (and this production staged) as a nested narrative, or a story within a story - first we join Captain Walton (Ryan Gage), on his ship stranded in the ice, then Victor Frankenstein (Shane Zaza) is pulled aboard, and begins his tale of the creation of the monster. The first, dreadfully bleak, quiet and lonely; the second vivid, tumultuous and terrifying. When a performance at the Royal Exchange begins, the exterior building is closed off to visitors, allowing for no distractions to the actors and audience enraptured in the auditorium. So, the outside space becomes Walton's ship - quiet, empty - and the auditorium is Victor's tale, alive with action, pain, and horror.
Now to the production itself. As I mentioned above, it becomes as intriguing (to me at least) to watch the stagecraft effects at play, and Frankenstein pulled out all the stops in this respect. Smoke machines hazed the stage at times, bringing alive the settings of cold Victorian graveyards and icy ship's decks alike. At times, water cascaded from the rafters in torrents, dousing Victor Frankenstein during his childhood exploits into raising the dead, and then again, years later, reflecting his anguish at having succeeded in the task. Fire is incorporated into the production, too: Victor bears a torch as he relives his time scouring graveyards for body parts; in the Arctic, he removes a floorboard from the stage and uses a small tinderbox to light a fire in the hole.
A standout scene for me, and one that still sends shivers down my spine, is the moment when Victor Frankenstein brings his monster to life. Frantically, he recounts his actions to a skeptical Walton, explaining how he went about his task as gory workbenches are rolled in from the wings, and a gurney bearing a body under a sheet is lowered from the rafters. Pulling down a long mechanical arm, Victor punctures the body with electrical prongs, and begins the process of reanimation. A humming sound, as neon lights flash about the auditorium, extending down the arm. A flash of sparks, then all goes dark.
In the pitch blackness, a raspy breathing begins. Victor scrambles for a match to ignite his lantern, then holds its faint light up to the gurney, only to see that the sheet is pushed back, and the body underneath is gone. The gasps become words, as the monster fumbles for speech. Here, the scene got even more chilling for the audience, as the excellent surround sound had even us on the upper gallery looking over our shoulders. It really did sound like the monster could be stalking amongst us. Occasionally movement could be seen in the gloom of the stage. The scene came to a terrifying climax as Victor cast his light upon the far table, where the monster was stood, bare and grotesque, before leaping down and out of the auditorium.
But the monster wasn't a 'creature in the shadows' for long. Indeed, he featured heavily in the scenes to follow: returning to Victor's life to prey on his loved ones, to demand the creation of a companion, and then to pursue his maker into the Arctic wastes. By far the most startling appearance was in the final scenes, where the monster loses the ragged cloak he has donned, and bares his true shape. Actor Harry Attwell is a shocking sight, with his white eyes, rot-blackened lips, a crude patchwork of skin across his lopsided back, and his right leg buckled together with leather straps. But at the same time, this is when he appears his most pitiful. To see his lacerated flesh, his hastily constructed and deformed leg, is to see the tormented life of a creature who never asked to be made, yet having been so, is never taught why.
This was a superb production, and a great introduction for me to the story of Frankenstein. It runs at the Royal Exchange Theatre until 14 April 2018.
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