It was clearly meant from its inception to be a blockbuster to lure audiences to London's newest venue. The cast is particularly starry. Ben Whishaw is a wistful, scholarly Brutus pushed against his will into doing the right thing. David Calder gives us an aging dictator in leather bomber jacket and red baseball cap emblazoned with "Caesar" in bold white letters; a none-to-subtle channelling of Donald Trump mobilising the mob. David Morrissey, fresh from playing the creepy, manipulative Roman commander in Britannia, gives a compellingly manipulative Marc Antony. And Michelle Fairley (most recognisable as Catelyn Stark in Game of Thrones) is brilliantly cast as Cassius. The gender bending ... Casca and Decius Brutus also appear as women ... gives a whole new and topical angle to the frustration of the conspirators as outsiders; you can interpret their frustration as that of intelligent women trying to crack through the glass ceiling of Caesar's inner circle.
The powerful performances from all of these familiar faces would have been enough to make this memorable. The creative staging made it remarkable.
The Roman mob is oft referred to in Shakespeare's text. Here, it's a very tangible additional character. This production is staged as theatre in the round, with 150 or 200 audience members standing on the floor. They're encouraged to play their part by theatre staffers mixed amongst them. We enter the theatre to a political rally in full swing. A band is playing hard-driving rally standards: Eye of the Tiger, We're Not Gonna Take It. Red flags with Ceasar's logo fly, vendors sell Caesar hats, the audience dances. Above, three circles of seats look down on the crowd; merely by our seats and our separation, we've become part of Brutus and Cassius' liberal elite, looking down on a populist uprising with vague discomfort.
It's brilliant theatre. And by plugging into current fears it has a visceral relevance. Later on, those same audience members are given Caesar posters to hold up at his funeral. We watch the tide turn on their faces as Brutus' carefully reasoned, fact-based, confident but uninspired address at first has them on side. Then their mood flips completely as Mark Antony's emotional appeal whips them into a fury. The Roman elite stand by in bewilderment, unable to understand how the people have been lured to support something so obviously against their own best interests. It's Brexit all over again.
The stage itself plays as much of a role as the crowd. It's comprised of big rectangles that can lift from slightly elevated to towering over the crowds' heads. The ground beneath us is shifting constantly, a metaphor for the politics on stage. It's particularly effective in Caesar's assassination scene, when levels ascend to him on a king-like throne, and in the final battle when the two sides are separated by a physical chasm between them.
Nicholas Hytner, the director of this production and one of the people behind The Bridge's creation, argued passionately that London didn't have a truly modern theatre space. This staging certainly validates his point. I was less enthused about the Bridge's public spaces. Considering that it's purpose-built and that pre-visit emails entice you to come early for an exiting variety of food and drink, I was shocked at some of the basic issues. There's just not enough room.
There's one main public space that functions as dining area, lounge, bar, box office and coat check area. It certainly looks cool and trendy: one long bar, a constellation of interesting light fixtures, a collection of small tables and breakfast-bar style perches. Arriving two full hours before the play, all available seats were already gone. By half an hour before curtain the pile-up at the bar was challenging. Exiting was a shoulder-to-shoulder scrum, as all members of the ground-floor mob were waiting in two sluggish queues that stretched all the way to the doors (they'd been forced to check everything before getting in). And this wasn't even a sell-out performance.
It's possible that these are just early teething pains, and the situation will certainly improve in the summer. There's a wide lawn in front of the theatre with a sweeping view of The Tower and Tower bridge; it's clear they plan for crowds to spill out here in good weather. But in the winter, it certainly seems like the facilities are inadequate for the performance space.
I'd definitely recommend seeing performances here, but go elsewhere for your pre-theatre libations. There's a new branch of The Ivy directly next door, which definitely requires advance booking but would certainly be the logical choice for dining. And, whatever you do, avoid checking anything.
Julius Caesar runs until 15 October. Can't get to London? There's a live broadcast to cinemas on 22 March. You won't see a better transposition of Shakespeare to the modern world. Book it!
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