Review: INFAMOUS, Jermyn Street Theatre

From mistress to muse, Emma Hamilton had quite the colourful life in the late 18th century. Her likeness was immortalised by the likes of George Romney and her “Attitudes” (tableaux vivants meant to reproduce classical art in living form) inspired a whole generation of artists and authors. April De Angelis presents a cryptic, vain figure who thinks outside the box and refuses to be restrained by the confines of Georgian society. Caroline Quentin and her daughter Rose Quentin star side by side, portraying the socialite at different points in time directed by Michael Oakley and joined on stage by Riad Richie.

The performances are easily the best element of the project, but it’s a bit disappointing to leave this world premiere knowing nearly as much as if we’d only read the starting paragraphs of Hamilton’s Wikipedia page.

Quentin and Quentin share a boundless connection, riffing off one another’s energy; they’re definitely entertaining, but there’s a sense of uncharted potential in the material they’re given. Their takes are complementary and brilliantly correlative, yet they display a personal approach to Hamilton’s temperament. Rose goes first, introducing a vain and careless woman whose haughtiness comes to a brief pause only when her child is briefly mentioned.

Quentin toys with the notion of feminine power, while her magnetic mother makes her way through in subtly captivating strides as Emma’s own parent-turned-maid. The scandals and sensuality of the start become delusions of grandeur and soot in the second. Caroline takes over the tale, and Emma becomes a ragged hasbeen who can’t accept her position in society. Dialogue laden with exposition guides the audience through the events while backhandedly raunchy humour peppers the narrative and gives it pace.

Richie’s presence is fodder to the two, going from Italian manservant to French peasant and butchering both Italian and French tout de suite. The main problem is that the characters tend to dwindle down to two-dimensional figurines. We’re met by a garish personality and extravagant attitude, but we’re never offered enough reason and rationale to support them. There’s a bountiful of themes buried inside - from the more evident dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship to bare resentment, political strategy, and class restraints in it - but De Angelis skims through for the benefit of cheap laughs and funky sarcasm.

Oakley's directive angle can get quite static, visually, with long, dark scene changes and deep silences, but focuses the attention on their temper, making it pop even more while Fotini Dimou’s set shapeshifts alongside the protagonist’s riches-to-rags journey, enveloping the actors in a sad grey after the faded bronze splendour of the first act. Panels shift and we go from 1798 to 1815 after an absolutely unnecessary interval.

Unfortunately, while attractive in many aspects, Infamous is a trivial comic tragedy (or tragic comedy, depending on the moment) about very little. The production is pleasant, but it doesn’t do justice to an interesting woman such as the real Emma Hamilton.

Infamous runs at Jermyn Street theatre until 7 October.

Photo credit: Steve Gregson

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