Review: CORIOLANUS, Barbican

Set in a city where the gap between the rich and poor widens every day, Coriolanus opens the RSC's Rome season in London. He is as much a myth as he is a man, and if he did live, he would have been around at the start of the 5th Century BCE - when Rome was building itself into a republic.

A soldier, not a leader, Coriolanus's path seems to have already been laid out for him by his controlling mother, who desires her son to achieve great power. But when he resists this path, and struggles to change his mindset from warrior to ruler, he must then find a new way to achieve this greatness.

Angus Jackson's production takes us back to this foundation of the Roman Empire. Robin Innes Hopkins' design practically navigates its way around the difference in class - the costume being the greatest signifier. His modern dress sees the riotous protester in hoodies and beanies, whereas the upper class wears glorious dresses and suits, with shiny expensive shoes.

Jackson says that "this play about city-state wars and class divide is a story from 2,500 years ago, played out essentially now". The modern dress encapsulates the clear social inequality present in the city, making parallels to the cultural divide in contemporary Britain.

Sope Dirisu is the production's lead, a role in which he excels. Dirisu has a strong grasp of the text, and expertly plays with pace and rhythm to really make the character his own. He works hard to exhaust himself, which allows new forms of physical exploration to occur.

His relationship with his mother is incredibly psychologically complex. Coriolanus is very much an entity that Volumnia has created for her own personal use. Because of the era she cannot lead Rome for herself, so transmits all of her energy into her son. Whilst being consistently pushy, Haydn Gwynne manages to also portray an empathetic, kinder side, making the character less distant from us.

However, it's shame to see some cheap tricks used to draw audience laughs, like the deliberate over-exaggeration of a waiter's femininity. Playing him in this specific way doesn't further the plot, and instead feels distasteful.

The production is competent, however you sit waiting for something to happen, and when it is does, it's too tame. The fight sequences should evoke real danger, but it unfortunately looks instead like clever stage trickery.

The stakes seem to sit at a constant low level, and this lack of spark makes for a trying three hours. The text is respected, but doesn't fully come to life.

Coriolanus at Barbican until 18 November

Photo credit: Helen Maybank

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