Scaramouche Jones
Note: The following review dates from April 2002 and an earlier tour date of this production.
Scaramouche Jones was born in the first seconds of the year 1900 and has lived through the whole century. Now, as the play opens, it is New Year’s Eve 1999 and, after 50 years of playing the silent clown, Scaramouche is hanging up his big feet. Leaving the Big Top for the last time, Scaramouche comes into his dressing room and, to us as an unseen audience, divests himself of his costume, his mask, his story and, at the last, his life.
Justin Butcher‘s one-man play takes us on a journey through the life of this not-so-merry prankster, from his birth in Trinidad, through North Africa, and across Europe; Italy, Poland, Yugoslavia and finally England. More important though is the journey through the turbulence of the 20th century looked at from the perspective of one small soul blown along in its wind. To outline the tale here may spoil it for people yet to see the play so suffice it to say that “The Seven White Masks” (the sub-title of the play) depict the seven ages of Scaramouche’s life and that, in this 90-minute monologue, we’re given reasons to laugh, cry and evaluate the cruelty and evil of ‘modern man’.
In the UK, we often associate clowns solely with slapstick and buffoonery. But there’s another side to them, the soulful white-faced clown, often silent, telling stories in mime and exaggerated gesture. The tales they relate, often simple, usually sad, seem to bypass our conscious minds and touch something deep in our souls, sometimes raising tears but rarely leaving us heavy-hearted.
Pete Postlethwaite‘s performance here is quite the best I have seen in a long long time. It is a pleasure to just sit and enjoy the performance without feeling for a moment that it was ‘just acting’; you can believe totally in the character as presented. Postlethwaite’s voice is quiet and controlled, forcing you to listen fully but never to strain. He brings colour, pace and pathos to the words, building humorous and tragic images for us to see in our own minds. The clowning sequences reminded me of Slava, tribute indeed to Postlethwaite’s skill and preparation.
The set (Ashley Martin-Davis), lighting (Mike Gunning) and sound (Adam Cork) form an integral part of the way Scaramouche’s story is realised, whilst never upstaging the performance on stage. Rupert Goold‘s direction is masterly, giving enough movement and change of pace to keep us involved but not too much to distract.
On the night I attended, the packed auditorium gave a fully deserved standing ovation, in recognition of a superb production, an exceptional performance and a wonderful shared theatrical experience. See Scaramouche Jones or you will regret it.
– Robert Iles (reviewed at the Oxford Playhouse)
