This is a production by adventurers, for the adventurous, which takes us into some murky, thorny and sometimes ugly territory.  

Let me explain.

Double Falsehood is the latest production of the Lonely Shakespeare Collective, a local outfit whose aim is to honour the more outsider or forgotten plays in the canon. In selecting this play, they have set themselves a tough challenge.

First off, this particular piece of Shakespeare (and Fletcher: the authorship of this play is discussed below) is lonelier than most. Scholars and critics are still arguing whether it belongs in the company of the canon at all. It was first performed in 1727, as a work by English writer Lewis Theobald. Theobald claimed to have based it on manuscripts of a lost play by Shakespeare. This claim has been loudly and consistently rejected, but there’s been a slight shift in opinion in recent years.

A 2010 Arden Shakespeare edition made a “cautious case for Shakespeare’s participation in the genesis of the play” – cautious words indeed. The editor based this highly qualified claim on linguistics and style analysis. In 2015, psychologists with the University of Texas published an article suggesting that Shakespeare probably wrote the first three acts of the play, John Fletcher wrote the final two, and Theobald made minor contributions only.

What does this mean from the perspective of a theatregoer in 2019? Well, it means that they are seeing a play which might be co-authored by the Swan of Avon. This makes it a curiosity, and also applies a tentative stamp of quality. It also means that one of the incidental pleasures of watching the play is that you get to try and pick the bits by Shakespeare.

Still talking about the challenges presented by the play – now we come to the subject matter [Spoilers follow].

It’s a play about, mostly, sexual politics and sexual economics, with women getting very much the dirty end of the stick.

It starts off fairly lightly. Poor but honest Julio (Tom Kereama) and Leonora (Jane Paul) are in love. Their respective parents can’t quite make up their minds, but a happy ending is in prospect. Aristocratic roue Henrique (Charli Gartrell) lusts after poor but honest Violante (Jess Brownwell).

Shortly after all this has been established, everything goes smash. There’s a rape; Henrique turns his attention to Leonora. Leonora’s father approves of Henrique as a son-in-law; he’s an aristo, so a ‘good catch’. Leonora is desperate not to marry Henrique.

Julio flees civilisation in despair. Violante has already done so, finding company amongst some fairly comic yokels – I say fairly because one of them sexually assaults her and then beats her when she says no. Leonora turns up in the same vicinity. Those characters who have not fled civilisation experience different shades of regrets and remorse. [Spoilers end]

The stage is now set for a denouement which joins up the loose knots in a way that might have satisfied an 18^th-century audience but is unlikely to convince or please one today.

There’s a leavening of comedy but the comic situations reliably turn nasty – I’ve already mentioned one example, the head yokel’s assaults on Violante.

This is a play with a lot of strong action, involving frequent violent shifts in the characters’ fortunes and emotions. The stakes are high, particularly if the individual involved happens to be poor, female or both. As you’d expect, much of the interest of the play for the audience lies in how the script, the directors and the actors handle the action and the psychological twists and turns involved.

Overall, it’s a sombre piece about people who are forced into extreme circumstances by the cruel ambitions – mostly sexual – of the men who control their lives. Judging by its promotional material, the collective would mostly agree with that conclusion. Possibly they would find it a bit understated.

The current production embeds contemporary values in the presentation of an 18^th-century script, which isn’t always a comfortable fit.

One example comes at the very end, where the lighting and staging prompt the audience to doubt whether a) this could happen b) it’s okay. I find this a bit confusing.

Another example is seen in Gartrell’s reading of the character of Henrique, the sex rat whose impulses drive most of the play’s action. She (written as a man, represented here as a woman) is a nasty piece of work by the standards of any century, including the 18^th – dishonest, manipulative, an arrogant sexual exploiter.

There’s an interesting moment near the beginning of the play where Henrique questions her own behaviour and otherwise shows a flash of emotional complexity. For most of the play, however, Gartrell and, I presume, the director (Ivana Palezevic) choose to present Henrique as relentlessly rotten: a cynical predator who can’t keep the sneer out of her face and voice even when she’s talking to her next victim.

No doubt this highly unsympathetic reading can be supported by the text. However, the lack of variation means that when Henrique finally undertakes to mend her rotten ways, I simply don’t believe her (and if that’s the point, I’m still confused – see above).

The Collective has assembled an accomplished cast for this production. Gartrell’s performance is strong, consistent and confident. Kereama shows a wide range as Julio – I find him particularly convincing in the sequence where, drunk and unhinged by grief, he laments the state of the world and humankind. Paul and Brownwell display admirable depth of emotion in their taxing roles. They do an excellent job of representing their heroines as assertive and independent women who keep their wits about them in the face of their many trials. 

Hamish Boyle gives an understated and nuanced performance as Leonora’s father Don Bernard (he also appears as Shepherd 1). Boyle manages to pull off the difficult trick of portraying a paternalistic bully while also earning our sympathy when he realises the consequences of what he’s done. 

Charlotte Dodd (Camillo, Shepherd 2) and Ralph Johnson as Master of the Flock share a lot of the heavy lifting in the comedy department; these are proficient and self-confident performances. Johnson as the Duke and Annica Lewis as Roderick deliver handsomely on the less flashy but important roles of exposition and keeping the plot moving.

I find the production a bit flat visually but, overall, director Palezevic has pulled together a well-choreographed and smartly presented piece – the shepherds in particular work smoothly together.

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