Oedipus
Olivier
La Clique
Hippodrome
Here it is. The National’s autumn blockbuster, Oedipus. Of all the plays of classical antiquity this is the best, the most accessible, the least tedious, and Jonathan Kent’s impressive production allows the beautiful and awful symmetry of the storyline to work its magic. Yet Kent and his designer Paul Brown aren’t quite immune to the tempting follies of conceptualism. The set has big ideas. It’s a convex platform, a sort of upside-down wok, with a steep gradient which makes the actors stand at a tilt, like Charlie Brown and chums on their pitcher’s mound. And it revolves with painful and inexorable slowness, completing a full cycle during the course of the play. One can imagine the peals of ‘genius!’ that tolled around the rehearsal room when this breakthrough was first unleashed. The decision to put the male actors in dark suits and white shirts looks like a helpless shrug rather than a design idea, and though it works well enough for the principals it makes the chorus look like a convention of Jewish tailors.
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