My last nodding acquaintance with King Arthur and his knights came at around the age of nine (my age, not Arthur's). My wife, normally unshockable, seemed perturbed by my confession of ignorance as we walked across the River Avon in the direction of the Courtyard Theatre. If I hadn't read Malory, then surely I must at least have seen Camelot or read The Sword In The Stone? Unfortunately not. I think I may have written essays on the art of courtly love as a student 40 years ago, but I can't remember for the life of me what they said.
This adaptation of Malory's sprawling 15th century book is by Mike Poulton, who has worked on it for a decade at the invitation of the RSC's Gregory Doran. Poulton brought Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to life on stage for the RSC a few years ago, and uses the same blend of narrative and action here. So why was I overcome by a strong desire to leave the theatre and spend the evening somewhere else -- even a pub showing the World Cup semifinals?
Leave aside the unfortunate memories of Monty Python and Spamalot; Poulton's version is far from solemn and doesn't take it all too seriously. There are quite a few jokes, but it takes until the final act of an evening that lasts almost three and a half hours before the real drama kicks in. The language is flat and repetitive, though it follows Malory closely (my wife assures me it does, and she knows). But it's hard to engage with the endless procession of knights waving their swords at each other. I found myself caring very little which knight came out on top. The overwhelming story is that of the love affair between Lancelot and Arthur's queen Guenever, but its early development is for some reason left out.
At the end the audience's patience is rewarded as Arthur's kingdom and his knightly fellowship both crumble. Suddenly it feels like a prequel to the RSC's Histories cycle, and it's clear that Malory was writing under the impact of the wars of the Roses, which he lived through. The cast do their best under the direction of Doran, who knows exactly how to bring out the Shakespearean elements. But the first two sections are woefully long and repetitive. There are no swords and shields for Debbie Korley, Mariah Gale, Simone Saunders, Noma Dumezweni, Simone Saunders and Kirsty Woodward, but despite this handicap they all give excellent performances. In the words of Poulton/Malory, the damozels are all passing fair. This is storytelling, not drama, however, and I feel a decision to skip some of the peripheral stories early on would have paid dividends.
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