In today's Guardian, Robert Shaw strikes back at his critics.
Defending his production of Sylvia Plath's Three Women, Shaw picks apart Lyn Gardner's 9 January review. Not having seen the production leaves this blogger at a loss to comment further.
Also on the Guardian's website, Shaw discusses his production in a video feed.
Defending his production of Sylvia Plath's Three Women, Shaw picks apart Lyn Gardner's 9 January review. Not having seen the production leaves this blogger at a loss to comment further.
Also on the Guardian's website, Shaw discusses his production in a video feed.
I have to say that I found Shaw's defense a bit weak, though I can understand the impulse behind wanting to defend his work. I saw the play in London last week, and while Plath's verses were as potent as ever (and damn, was it ever great to hear them read aloud!), the execution of the play itself felt more like a borderline-cheesy art school production. I could definitely sympathize with the difficulties of translating a voice play to a visual one, but choosing to put white abstract art of baby clothes on the walls and then to have his actresses dress in dowdy clothes and sit on and flip about chairs was not particularly successful, I'm afraid. Why not put the play in a hospital? Why not bring some red into the play--how about the red tulips or some actual blood stained clothing? Or take things even further, go freakish a la Johnny Panic and elctroshock chambers and the devil? Or, to do something entirely new, remove the thing from Plath's familiar visual territories and set the play in a contemporary setting--anything, really, except relying on cliched theater props.
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