When Virginia Woolf published Orlando: A Biography almost a century ago, it would have been impossible to predict just how much society would have changed in the way it has, or that this story of a gender-fluid poet, travelling through the ages, would be even more relevant now than when it was written. This new version of Orlando by Neil Bartlett and directed by Michael Grandage has its premiere at the Garrick Theatre, but seems to miss the mark in more ways than one.
There have, of course, been many adaptations of the novel; Miranda Richardson starred in a one-person production at the Edinburgh Fringe in the mid-nineties, but Woolf’s satirical take on lover and friend Vita Sackville-West has been given perhaps it’s most radical makeover to date.
In the novel, Orlando is teenage boy in the court of Elizabeth I, when the Queen dies, he lands himself a post as Ambassador in Constantinople. Following a long dead sleep, Orlando awakes to find he has transformed, quite mysteriously from male to female. Barely aging, Orlando then lives for another 400 years, meeting great poets and writers, while observing the changing world around her. It’s a satire on sexism, for example exploring how a nobleman can no longer inherit property when he’s no longer a man.
This stage version of Orlando bears little resemblance to Woolf’s novel. The title role is there, and they do indeed live for four centuries, and our Orlando even meets a handful of the characters from the novel, such as Sasha and The Captain, but what little story there was, has evaporated.
There’s a certain wittiness to the script that gives the audience a few chuckles, but it’s not enough to keep anyone fully engaged. So much of Woolf’s intentions have been removed, yet Woolf plays a bigger role in this version, with almost the entire cast portraying Virginia at some point; a chorus of Woolf’s, displaying all the facets of the author, writing the novel as we watch it.
Peter McKintosh’s set is essentially a bare stage, with the occasional set piece coming in. An early scene in which Queen Elizabeth I arrives suggests we might see more adventurous staging as Orlando progresses, but it never really happens. The Great Frost scene does have a magical quality to it, but where Orlando’s arrival in the 19th century should have been accompanied by a huge thunder storm and perpetual rain, it’s left to the cast to tell us things are a bit dull.
Minimal set design can often be a blank canvas for great performances, but that’s also sadly lacking. The cast look bored, as if performing this play is some kind of penance to be paid. Every line delivered feels the same as the last, and in the absence of a convincing story arc, Orlando feels more like a ninety minute poetry recital than a stage adaptation of a literary classic. There’s an exception in Deborah Findlay as Mrs Grimsditch who attacks the role with a bit more teeth, and Emma Corrin, in the title role, sustain an exuberant approach.
Orlando opens with the line “Who am I?” It’s clear what the plays intentions are, but it never comes close to realising them. Too much of Woolf’s clever and innovative style is missing from Bartlett’s script and the cast are unable hide that fact. What was a ground-breaking novel in the early 20th century, is today a stage play that can’t make the same impact.
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