Oxford Playhouse, Oxford, 18 May 2024.
In the closing moments of the Oxford University Students’ production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, the play’s title is briefly but starkly projected above the stage. Below it, the two female love interests – Julia and Sylvia – pause and stare at one another, stunned and bemused. It’s a powerful reminder that this play – believed to be Shakespeare’s first – is very much centred on the choices, acts and emotions of the two male central characters. The women, meanwhile, are pursued, traded, threatened and – eventually – married. It’s the play’s dubious moral message and clumsier-than-usual literary handling that make it a rarely-performed work. The reason for this particular production appears to have been to some extent driven by ex-RSC director Gregory Doran’s desire to add this play to his directorial resume – it is the only of the 38 that he hadn’t yet directed. The good news is that he – and a superb cast – managed to turn this potential failure into a really enjoyable humdinger. But more of that in a moment – here’s the plot:
The plot
Valentine and Proteus are young Veronans (is that the right word?). They are bezza mates. I’m not being funny, but they seem to be more besotted with one another than Romeo and Juliet (fellow Veronans). Apparently it’s not like that. In any case, they are going to have to break up their bromance because Valentine is off to Milan to learn how to become a man of the world, or something. Proteus stays behind because he is absolutely heads over heels for a girl called Julia. Although, his dad tells him he really should head off to Milan too, which he promptly does, leaving Jules behind telling her that he’ll love her forever. Hmm. Not a good sign.
Cut to Milan. Valentine has already fallen in love with wealthy Milanese (is that the right word?) Sylvia, and she’s pretty keen to be with him too rather than the ridiculous chump Thurio her dad (the Duke) has chosen for her. Then Proteus shows up, spies the gorgeous Syvlia and it’s like “Julia, who?” So – two gentlemen, one woman. What could go wrong?
Proteus does a Bad Thing. He betrays his friend, telling the Duke that Valentine is planning to elope with Sylvia so he can get his love rival out of the picture. The Duke banishes Valentine to the forest where, Robin Hood style, he becomes leader of a band of outlaws.
Julia, meanwhile, has decided to also head to Milan, disguised as a boy. She witnesses Proteus, her one-time love, now fawning over Sylvia. Rather than giving him what for, she instead presents herself as a boy called “Sebastian” and becomes Proteus’ page. To add insult to injury, Proteus gives “Sebastian” a ring that Julia gave him, to pass on to Silvia as a love token. Sylvia is disgusted, knowing that it’s Julia’s ring. Julia is dejected, wondering what exactly it is about Sylvia that has got Proteus so hooked.
Silvia heads off to the forest where she’s promptly captured by the outlaws. As they take her to Valentine, Proteus and Julia/Sebastian appear and rescue her. It all goes a bit weird though when Proteus thinks this is the right time to push Sylvia once again to be with him, even to the extent of being about to force himself on her. At this most disturbing of moments, Valentine – who’s been secretly watching – intervenes. Proteus repents for his ungentlemanly behaviour, and Valentine forgives him. Julia’s true identity is revealed, and this apparently shakes Proteus into remembering his love for her. The play ends with a double wedding – Valentine with Sylvia, Proteus with Julia – and the Duke pardoning the outlaws. Everyone is happy!
Well, are they?
Well, are they? Clearly this play has a lot of elements that are really hard for a modern audience to stomach. In fact, it’s tricky to imagine that a contemporary theatregoer wouldn’t find them a bit queasy as well. Can we really believe that Proteus can be so two-faced and manipulative, and yet end up “getting the girl” without any real consequences? It’s possible to put this down to a youngish Will’s early writing which still has to find its groove, but that doesn’t really go far enough to justify the wobbly ethics.
And, of course, quite a number of the themes and motifs in this play recur throughout later works: love at first sight, rejection of a previous partner, cross-dressing, banishment to the forest, love tokens and sexual aggression. Romeo and Juliet, Measure for Measure, As You Like It, Twelfth Night, Much Ado About Nothing (I could name more) all revisit these elements, refining and reconfiguring them but not completely removing the messiness and ambiguity that we witness in this early work. Rather than seeing this as an early anomaly, it’s pretty clear that this play fits firmly, if awkwardly, in the canon.
There were some absolutely standout elements of this production that are worth highlighting. The Duke first appears as a bejewelled – and bearded – drag queen singing a foot-tapping South American cabaret number, before he settles into his “real” overbearing paternal role.
Proteus’s servant, Lance, was hilarious. His dog, Crab, was cute and scene-stealing. The acting was superb throughout, with the two “gentlemen” particularly displaying a mix of youthful awkwardness and nascent bravado that felt genuine. It was a testament to their acting, the production design and the directing that a play that could appear out of touch on paper actually felt pretty modern. We live in a world when young men are still encouraged to be rash, macho and stupid – and they quite often don’t need much encouragement at all – and rarely appear to face the consequences of how they treat others.
So – play number 34 for me (I have to go back and write up two from a while back – more on that soon) meaning only four left until I finish the quest. And this one, rather than being a disappointment, was a good surprise, like an extra caramel in the Quality Street box when you thought only toffee pennies were left. Let’s hope the final four are as good!
#shakespeare40 