An entire theatre, dark. Even with my glasses perched upon my nose, I could see so little as the performance began with the strike of a drum; an elimination of every source of light within the room. Slowly, a floodlight begins to illuminate an aisle to reveal the powerful, feminine figure of the Duchess.
Immediately noticeable was the half hanging limp, a gray body of a bull. Feet severed, its lifeless form hung from a chain being cautiously approached by the Duchess. With struggle, she begins to pull the bull upright with the chain so it is now hanging completely off the ground, in full view. This slaughtered animal will stay hanging. The. Entire. Time. The lighting and music used for this introductory scene strategically allowed the audience to anticipate the chilling mood. After she has pulled up the bull, the lighting lets up to reveal the stage and the brothers to the Duchess. This opening conversation didn't follow the original play line for line but instead began with Act 1 Scene 2 rather than Scene 1. This intentional manipulation of the structure of the play continues throughout the production; to their advantage in my opinion.
Contrasting between the masculinity of the bull and the femininity of the white bed center stage allowed an emphasis of the strikingly masculine set that provided a resemblance to a fitness training or boxing studio. Like the bull, the Duchesses' bed remains on stage for the entire production; a private space of intimacy that is constantly violated through death, assault, and despair. Even though the bull was a more masculine associated set piece, I believe it to be representative of the Duchess. The bull is a creature of power and strength, much like the Duchess, that is slaughtered and abused; an animal, symbolically remaining on the stage. This interpretation of the production does a proficiently fascinating job exploring the balance between genders and what could happen when masculinity becomes too powerful.
A male-dominated cast, the men of the ensemble cast often dressed in clothing reminiscent of sports training or military uniforms; two male-dominated fields, often associated with masculinity. And then there's the two ladies of the hour: the Duchess and Cariola. This was a relationship that was further explored by providing new moments that aren't within the text. Together until the bitter end, I viewed these two as best friends and not just women with class differences. For example, a creative scene was introduced to insinuate the Duchesses' consummation with her husband and pregnancy. Foreboding music engulfing the silence within the space, the Duchess steps out of her dress, wearing a nude-colored body suit, and slowly puts on a pregnant belly with the help of Cariola. Cariola is one of the few characters aware of the Duchesses' secret marriage to Antonio, and in that moment, also entrusted with the secrets of her future children.
Clearly a masterful actress, Joan Iyiola, as the Duchess provided an assertive, confident, and heartfelt portrayal. Possibly one of the strongest female characters I have ever seen represented (as well as the strongest in Renaissance literature), she remains distinctly memorable. After being shown the gut-wrenching hanging skins of her husband and oldest son (who are later revealed to be still living), the intimacy between the Duchess, her absolute decrepitude, and the audience is practically unbearable. Her cries of mourning were very beautifully rendered through song; a humming. This scene was challenging. Ardently heartbreaking to witness and a phenomenal performance from Iyiola. Only once she has reached her "breaking point" does she walk barefooted into the massive blood pool, amassing across the stage, now leaking from the pig after being symbolically stabbed by Ferdinand at the opening of Act 4. Alexander Cobb, playing Ferdinand, gave an equally furious performance alongside Iyiola. A truly stunning debut, he was a disturbing evil just festering and waiting to boil and spill over the audience.
Very few times have I found myself in tears from watching a live performance or movie, but the Duchesses' painful expression of emotion was difficult to watch. Enhancing the power of the scene, men appeared in the shadows behind the Duchess to accompany her singing and begin to move more erratically as she loses all emotional control.
If the stark intensity of this play is not yet obvious, I'll indulge further: a girl, probably around my age, literally passed out during the performance and had to be carried out of the theatre by employees and a guy who was with her. My only assumption is that it was from seeing the insurmountable amount of blood slowly congealing onstage. In fact, she missed some of the most disturbing scenes yet to come.
Soon comes the Duchesses' execution. Differently from Shakespeare, this play written by John Webster, has the main protagonist killed quite early on in the play. This is structurally different than essentially all other tragedies written at the time. While the Duchess is rightfully against her execution, she proclaims her fearlessness against death. A strong character until the end. With two ropes tied around her neck, two burly men pull each end of the rope to strangle her to death. She displayed an intense struggle for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, sliding all over the stage from the blood pooling everywhere. Abruptly, she releases her neck from the ropes and stands center stage. The two men are still pulling but the focus is on the Duchess. She stands atop of the bed, blood-soaked yet calm. She is ascending heaven...then shows movements of slowly choking until she collapses and dies on the bed. The final violation of her intimate bedroom space.
Just behind the dead body of the Duchess, Cariola is brutally strangled in the blood pool by the same two men. At this point, blood is flying off of the stage. She, respectfully, puts up a lot of fight but eventually goes limp and has her body carelessly pushed away by one of the executioners. One of the few things my brain could process at the time was that there was blood everywhere. It had now covered the stage almost completely, casting an eerie reflection of the actors when they would stand in the blood. Almost every character was covered in blood; those who were already murdered and those who were killing directly. Keeping with the definitive undertone of the play revolving around masculinity, this bloody pool seeps overall; a representation of the destruction overpowering masculinity can produce. The last character to be covered with blood was Bosola. Incidentally, he was the last character to murder someone directly and then die himself.
This is one of the only plays I've ever witnessed where every main character dies. There is literally no one left at the end of this play. A true tragedy. In nature of complete bluntness, there was very little that could have prepared me for the deep-seated brutality this production presented. I'm still sort of in shock that I witnessed that much blood. While it was poignant and demanding of the audience's senses, I feel it was necessary and none of it distracting. The play is dark. A disheartening story of tragedy... and this production, these performers, creatively and profoundly exemplified this.
