16 October 2005

Interview with Rachael Stirling

Rachael Stirling: Independent on Sunday

The actress is up to her neck in Nietzsche right now — but she likes to wind down with a spot of Gerald Durrell, a dash of Baaba Maal and a lot of Radio 4.

What are you currently reading in bed?
The truth is I'm reading Beyond Good and Evil — Nietzsche. I'm not showing off — the will to power is the prevalent theme in Tamburlaine, in which I'm appearing. And I thought it was about time I read some Nietzsche. Let's just hope I get through it.

Which book do you re-read most frequently?
Gerald Durrell's My Family and Other Animals. I adore the characters and the style, and it just brings back childhood holidays. It transports one to a zone of complete unadulterated comfort. I might turn to it after a particularly bad day's rehearsing. My favourite bit is the scorpions in the matchbox.

Which book have you been meaning to get around to reading since you bought it in a fit of misguided enthusiasm?
The Lord of the Rings. I've got it waiting at home but frankly, the films put me off. I can't think of Legolas without seeing Orlando bloody Bloom.

Is your mind an art gallery or a porn cinema? If neither, what kind of civic building is it?
My mind is like Piers Gough's public lavatory in Notting Hill. It's tiled, bright green and bright blue. The reason being that it's bright and curious on the outside, and private on the inside.

What are you currently listening to?
I'm a Radio 4 girl, really. In my car, which doesn't have an aerial, I listen to compilation tapes from my friends who are DJs. Mixtures of blues and hip-hop and soul. And lots of Baaba Maal, d'you know? The Senegalese musician. He's particularly good for de-stressing you in a traffic jam.

What is the least disposable pop song?
Either Bittersweet Symphony which I loved when I was 18, or something by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, because I'm a rock chick at heart. But not Under the Bridge.

And the most disposable piece of classical music?
Greensleeves. One was forced to play it on the piano from the age of seven. It reminds me of that deep, dark, sinking feeling, knowing you haven't done your homework and you don't know what you're meant to be doing with your fingers. I don't give a shit whether Henry VIII wrote it or not — though I very much doubt he did.

Who should play you in the Hollywood biopic Stirling?
Christina Ricci, when she was more voluptuous. Or Joan Crawford or Bette Davis would make me very happy. My nemesis would be Christopher Walken, because he's the best nemesis in the business. I could watch him for hours. How would I get done in at the end? I was hung in Poirot. I love a good hanging scene; they're deeply satisfying to do. And I died by stabbing and several bloodbags in Theatre of Blood. Jim Broadbent and I got to play the King Lear-Cordelia death scene and that was very fun.

What would your ideal alternative job be?
Jenni Murray's job, presenting Woman's Hour. Or The Culture Show. But I've got a good voice for radio. I'd just love being curious and asking questions and being able to meet the people you want to meet. I'm hot for Jenni's seat.

And what's the realistic alternative?
I've got a degree in History of Art from Edinburgh so I like to think I could do anything I put my mind to. It taught me not to be afraid of what I don't know. I can research anything I need to know about. And I'm quite determined.

What was your cultural passion at 14?
My cultural passion was artistic boys who played Bob Dylan on the guitar.

Would you sit at their feet?
Occasionally. I was at an all-girls school 'til I was 18 [Wycombe Abbey] and we didn't spend any time with boys. They were an evasive passion.

What is your secret cultural passion?
Reading Vogue cover to cover every month. Gives me that sick, hot, wanting feeling.

What painting most corresponds with your vision of yourself?
Lucian Freud's painting of a girl in a blue dressing gown, curled up with her back to the viewer. I remember seeing it for the first time. That girl looked exactly how I felt. I love his use of thick oil. I find it delicious to look at. Mesmerising and delicious. Portraits have always fascinated me, in a way that's quite allied with my job: as representation of character.

What would you save if your house were on fire?
I've cobbled together over the years an album of sepia photos from my ma and pa's trunks — and I'd like to save that. It's an album of my genetic make up, really. I find it fascinating looking at these photos and trying to work out what these people were like and where bits of me come from.

What's your most fashionable possession?
My H-reg Golf, my first and only car, the love of my life. H-reg means very, very old. H-reg means a miracle.

Who would you most like to meet in heaven, and what would you ask them?
Wallis Simpson. I'd like to ask her about the Shanghai technique. It was some sexual hold she had over Edward for years and years and took with her to the grave. So Wallis, tell me about it!


15 October 2005

Tamburlaine review and photo

Tamburlaine

I have just uploaded the first review of Tamburlaine I've come across. I don't really know why the national newspapers haven't written reviews of it yet, but it may have something to do with the fact that it has not yet reached London! A rather sweet photo (above) also accompanied the review, and I have added it to the Tamburlaine gallery.

I'm not quite sure what to make of the review, but at least it seems fairly positive! Well, we'll find out for ourselves next Saturday. (Yay!)


Tamburlaine

Written when he was just 23, Christopher Marlowe's Tamburlaine is a problem play. The work, about an ambitious shepherd with a will to power who wins himself an empire that stretches across the length and breadth of Asia, is high on the English language and on fire with poetry, but one battle follows another and there is not enough psychological complexity to suit 21st-century tastes. I've never seen a production that wasn't the tiniest bit tedious.

However, David Farr's quietly thrilling effort, part of the Young Genius season, is spare and clear, and makes a superb case for the play as a study of Tamburlaine as Nietzchean superman. There is something, too, of Dr Faustus in this Tamburlaine — although this anti-hero makes no pact with the devil, only with himself. Believing it is better to be a king than a god, he sticks two fingers up at the heavens and looks for a long time as if he will get away with it.

Greg Hicks's Tamburlaine is like an icy wind that sweeps across Asia, gathering power and growing in violence as it goes. Like all dictators, in destroying all before him — including the son he brands a coward — he unwittingly destroys himself. The doctors would probably put his demise down to a bad case of projectile vomiting, but we know it is because this man, who casts himself as "general of the world" and wants all or nothing at all, has spilt so much blood and won so many battles that in the end he simply blows himself out. Hicks, with his mobile puritan features, makes this blankness — the void at Tamburlaine's heart — totally compelling.

The rest of the cast are impressive, too. Rachael Stirling manages to imbue the passive role of Zenocrate, the captured princess who falls victim to Stockholm syndrome, with a steeliness that matches Tamburlaine's unexpected tenderness. There is a tiny moment when, as she finally yields to him, he suddenly looks beaten, as if realising that loving her is his one great weakness. There is something incandescent about Katy Stephens's brave, tragic Olympia, too; when Marlowe offers a tiny glimpse of humanity, Farr magnifies it. He even finds an ingenious way — a short burst of sound — to get through the battles with minimum fuss and maximum impact. It is a restrained evening of tremendous power.


12 October 2005

Tamburlaine

In the Tom Stoppard-scripted film Shakespeare in Love, our William and Christopher Marlowe engage in mutual luvvie admiration of their individual merits as playwrights. Marlowe praises just about everything Shakespeare has written, but in reply receives the Bard's nod of approval for just one great work. It is, of course, Tamburlaine, and some of its majesty, although by no means all, is on display in David Farr's gripping production for the Bristol Old Vic.

The play lasts six hours in full so it is inevitable that in Farr's truncated adaptation many of Tamburlaine's bloody campaigns of conquest are reduced to soundbites. This allows little scope for Greg Hicks, in the title role, to establish any sense of charismatic leadership that might explain his rise from humble shepherd to brutal ruler of most of the known world.

Both Hicks and the narrative line are better served when Farr slows the pace and introduces more revealing and intimate scenes. Jeffery Kissoon and Ann Ogbomo make the humiliation and eventually suicide of the Emperor of Turkey and his wife both moving and cruel in the extreme, while the first time Hicks is seen as more than just a blasphemous tyrant with a lust for power is at the death of his wife Zenocrate, portrayed as a slightly ambiguous figure in the loyalty stakes by Rachael Stirling, and then his own unexplained demise.

Altogether an impressive fresh look at an epic work that whets the appetite for the full version, perhaps staged in two parts.


11 October 2005

Press night and email issues

Tonight is the press night for Tamburlaine, so we should be seeing some reviews in the national papers tomorrow! I'm really looking forward to reading them. :)

Also, this is a quick note to let people know that for some reason, I'm unable to receive or respond to any email at the moment. If anyone has contacted me in the past 24 hours, chances are I won't have received it. I'll post again when it's fixed!

Email is working again. :)