Review: 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, Liverpool Everyman
‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore – well, you’re never going to beat around the bush with a title like that, and this daring take on the John Ford work,considered one of the most controversial plays of all time since its first performance in 1633, isn’t going to let an audience get comfortable before racking things up a notch. Starting at the very beginning, one can never underestimate the sheer thrill of walking into this theatre and every single time seeing it turned into somewhere and something completely different. The wonderful set by Splinter is another testament to that sense of absolute wonder only the Everyman can provide. The pace of this terrible tale of doomed fates is full-on from the get go. A dramatic story of incest and murder, this isn’t coy glances or ambiguous, unfulfilled longing – in no time at all Giovianni (a frenzied Hugh Skinner) and Annabella (pitch-perfectly portrayed by Matti Houghton), brother and sister, have crossed that unspeakable line and, even worse, steadfastly refuse to believe that their passion is anything less that legitimate. Purer, and more damn right in the eyes of God, Giovanni desperately reasons, than ordinary love could ever be. Innocent allies are drawn into this unfortunate scenario – and will pay for their knowledge. In theatre and film, this kind of incest storyline can be made to seem somewhat sympathetic, erotic, even. In reality, and on the likes of the pages of Take a Break magazine, it is most definitely not. So, the Everyman is up against this here, making it believable, moving, not too icky, not too sexy, and tragic all at the same time. A superb ensemble cast manages this. The siblings have the dire warnings of the Friar (Kevin Harvey). The unconditional love of the nanny (a beautiful performance from veteran Eileen O’Brien). The possible quick fix of the handsome, wealthy suitor (Nicholas Shaw). The very genuine affection of their stoic, widower father (Paul McCleary). But it’s not enough. The clandestine couple cannot count on the loyalty of manservant Vasquez (the captivatingly menacing Ken Bradshaw) and bitter, spurned Hippolita (played with strength and confidence by Emily Pithon). These characters’ own individual agendas ensure that what is to come will never remain secret. The production is at its most truly mesmerising and intense at the close of act one – a crescendo of spooky high drama and ill will as the stars align to seal everyone’s fate. The play’s themes still fascinate – the dynamic between the sexes painted as clear as can be (turns out life in the 1600s wasn’t so great even for those women who didn’t get up the duff by their own brothers), and Man’s complex relationship with the Church demonstrated through the polar opposites of the kindly Friar and the ornate grotesque of the Cardinal. And in the end, you’ve got to laugh in the face of such a crazy world. When the first review of this show got up and out on this there internet last night, the link had been forwarded to a message board site. The original review was earnest enough – “What does a 300 year old play have to teach us about our world view?”, it asked, GCSE-style. The website that re-ran it called the play ‘Tis Pity She’s a *****. Which kind of answers the question. Perhaps unfortunately in a way, this play very much still matters. * There will be more on the second part of Unbound, Anthology, on Made Up next week. Picture by Sam Heath.
