Review: METAMORPHOSES, Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

Things are jolly and conversational in the beautiful Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, Charlie Josephine immediately breaking the fourth wall, inviting us into the storytelling world. Soon, Irfan Shamji is clowning a little and Steffan Donnelly and Fiona Hampton are no less affable company. It's a vibe that reminded me of Brian Cant and co on the BBC's much loved Playaway.

Except we're not told stories of tigers coming to tea or mice pulling thorns from the paws of lions, but of rape, of torture, of murder. The source is Ovid's epic poem, Metamorphoses, interpreted by the Globe's writers-in-residence, Sami Ibrahim, Laura Lomas and Sabrina Mahfouz. If that sounds like a clash in tone to you, material and performance misaligned, you would be right - for all the technical skills of the actors and the gorgeous use of candles, directors, Sean Holmes and Holly Race Roughan never quite settle on a resolution between the subject matter and its delivery.

The tales are so embedded in Western culture that, though some names may be unfamiliar (and there are a lot of them to navigate) few of the stories will be entirely new. Most involve the gods meddling in the affairs of men; cruel, unforgiving gods, capricious in their bestowal of favours, quick to take offence and exact revenge - the foibles of human nature play a big role in life on Mount Olympus.

Family too is important, how it sticks together, how it can be shattered (Medea turns up) and how love can survive, if not solve, the impact of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

It's not all grim. There's a splendid singalong enthusiastically embraced by the house, but one or two other attempts to involve the audience fall flat - it's a deceptively tricky move to pull off, the best panto practitioners making it look easy! That said, it's always fun to watch a company enjoy each others' work, leavening the script with a few ad libs and witty asides.

But for all the grandeur of the Playhouse, almost 90 minutes of story after story filled with medieval, macabre mutilations and very few happy endings is a relentless watch and, though there's a lovely coda to send us happy out into the night, the feeling persists that the play never quite settles, never quite melds its light and shade into a coherent whole, never quite allows one story to find its place in our hearts and minds before the next is piled on top of it. There's a more relaxed, more nuanced show struggling for air here, one with fewer tales spread over a longer running time with an interval to stretch the legs and consider Ovid's lessons, no less relevant now, two millennia on from their first telling.

Metamorphoses is at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse until 30 October

Photo Helen Murray

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