Measure for Measure at the RSC’s Royal Shakespeare Theatre – review

In a world where powerful men seem free to behave corruptly, hypocritically, and with almost complete sexual incontinence, a Shakespearean play in which powerful men behave corruptly, hypocritically, and with almost complete sexual incontinence seems, shall we say, a little on the nose.

To be fair to Emily Burns’s adaptation of this so-called “problem play”, she has rather sharpened its narrative edges and lopped out almost everything that doesn’t serve that linear storyline, presumably with the aim of clarifying the inequalities of a patriarchal system of government and pointing out just how rotten a lot of states are.

So the first images, projected onto a giant steel back wall (design by Frankie Bradshaw), are of Bill Clinton, Donald Trump, Matt Hancock and Boris Johnson. Subtlety is not the order of the day. And the lack of nuance extends to lines, speeches and images being repeated throughout the play, as if the audience can’t be trusted to draw its own inferences from the morality tale that unfolds about novice nun Isabella’s impossible dilemma in which the only way to save her condemned brother Claudio is to surrender her virginity to his oppressor Angelo.

Director Burns tries to carve a polemic out of Shakespeare’s raw material but is ultimately confounded by the bizarre motives and contemporary misogyny of the play, which leave Isabella stranded in a modern interpretation that offers her nowhere to go. In the end, her apparent way out (no spoilers) turns out to be just as unsatisfying as giving in to the male order.

Among the difficulties the production wrestles with, there’s much to enjoy. Bradshaw’s effective set is a giant metal box, with Perspex sheets flying in to convey prison cells, and Asaf Zohar’s majestic score, foregrounding a beautifully atmospheric 16-piece choir, would only be bettered if it were sung live, rather than recorded.

Adam James – unaccountably making his RSC debut – is magnificent as Duke Vincentio, balancing his benign tyranny with a nicely-judged alter ego as a visiting vicar manipulating proceedings in a bid to save Claudio. Tom Mothersdale’s Angelo is weaselly and sinister, just like the real-life politicians we’re encouraged to revile, while Isis Hainsworth brings both brittleness and rage to her portrayal of the wronged Isabella, even if she can’t quite claim the play for herself.

There’s strong support in several smaller roles too, including Natasha Jayetileke’s clearly spoken Provost, Oli Higginson’s desperate Claudio and Valentine Hanson’s rather bewildered Friar Peter. It’s worth noting that the vast majority of the cast are debutants with the company, which suggests either an open-minded approach to casting under the current management in only their second season, or a wholesale rejection of the old order.

Other elements work less well – the gimmicky on-stage video cameras in the final act, for instance, are too distracting, too deliberately televisual – but it’s a decent attempt at making sense of a play that often refuses to be wrangled intelligibly for modern audiences. I just wish it didn’t labour its point quite so heavily.