'Take a letter, Miss Jones.' And so she does. Sixteen-year-old musician's daughter Luise Miller (Felicity Jones) is forced to take up a quill pen and take dictation from the aptly named Wurm (John Light), who is carrying out a plan to separate her from her admirer Ferdinand, the son of a powerful state official. Luise's letter, suggesting she really loves someone else and regards Ferdinand as a figure of fun, provides the key plot turning point in Schiller's dynamic 18th century melodrama.
Luise's motivation is clear enough -- writing the letter is her only way to get her father out of the prison cell where he has been flung on the orders of Ferdinand's father, the Chancellor. Wurm, the Chancellor's devious secretary, also has designs on Luise for himself; after she writes the letter, he makes the devout Luise swear an oath never to reveal the truth.
The play is a non-stop conflict between evil and innocence of the kind that we find hard to take seriously today, though the play's message about corruption, justice and abuse of power hasn't dated a bit. The problem of Sturm und Drang melodrama is that it has to be played with a degree of histrionic intensity, but it risks tipping over into unintentional comedy if it gets into the wrong hands. Schiller's characters may be a bit one-dimensional and his dialogue may seem to our ears heavily over-written, but if you can accept the conventions of melodrama (it's a genre like any other), this is a thrilling and deeply satisfying production.
Michael Grandage, in his pre-Donmar days in Sheffield, directed a stunning production of Schiller's Don Carlos with Derek Jacobi which came to the West End; at the Donmar he paired Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter in an equally good production of Maria Stuart, so it's no surprise that he hits the target again with Luise Miller (originally titled Kabale und Liebe). That not a single titter is heard from the audience, even at potentially laugh-inducing moments, is a tribute to Grandage's skill in getting the tone just right. The casting is excellent throughout; Felicity Jones shows a rare talent in the way she suggests authentic teenage innocence and a complete lack of cynicism. Her quiet moral certainty creates a zone of calm at the centre of the play. I would love to see her play Juliet, a part with which so many actresses in their 20s have struggled.
But the other actors -- Paul Higgins as her father, Finty Williams as her mother, John Light as Wurm, Max Bennett as Ferdinand, Ben Daniels as the Chancellor, David Dawson as the court marshal and Alex Kingston as Lady Milford -- are equally strong. Kingston as the ruling prince's English mistress only has two or three scenes, but they are really memorable, and her confrontation with Luise is one of the play's highlights. Dawson (last seen by me in Laura Wade's Posh at the Royal Court) only has a supporting role but he turns the sexually ambiguous, totally cynical court marshal into something to treasure. He strongly reminds me of Alan Cumming. For the twists and turns of the plot to be plausible, it's essential that the duped Ferdinand should not seem to be too intelligent, and Max Bennett plays him as a potentially violent young army officer a bit like Prince Harry, not too overburdened with grey matter between the ears but genuinely smitten with Luise.
Casting directors don't normally get much credit in the theatre, but I think Anne McNulty should take a bow for her work. The design by Peter McKintosh and the lighting by Paule Constable, both of whom have worked at the Donmar before, are both understated, and Adam Cork's sound design uses baroque music to great effect.
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