Yesterday was a Stratford day, out earlier than usual for a matinee because I went in time to plant the geraniums on my husband's grave before the picnic and the performance. King John was marvellous, starring Tom McCamus and directed by Tim Carroll, the British director who spent six years at the new Old Globe theatre in London and who is known for his method of Original Practices. He brought an all-male company to the Belasco Theatre in New York with award-winning productions of Twelfth Night and Richard III. I noticed his work last year at Stratford when he directed Romeo and Juliet as if it were staged in the open-air, natural light at the Globe. The house lights didn't go down when the show began and I realized what was happening. It can be very exciting.
King John is fascinating to stage because it is not an interior play, that is, we are never given an inkling of what King John is thinking or planning. What we get is what we see and nothing from what he tells us because he doesn't tell us anything, no asides, no soliloquies, no private agenda. He grins at some things that might shock another man. Perhaps he starts to tell someone something but then passes it off. Oh, never mind. Carroll allows him enough time on the stage alone at the end of a scene when we think now, now John is going to tell us what's going on...but then, he doesn't. He is silent, and exits. it's fascinating and the man is scary. I must re-read the play.
Anyway, that's why I didn't blog yesterday. I wasn't here. Where were you?