Coriolanus
Olivier Theatre, London

 
THERE are two stars of this Lyndsey Turner directed interpretation of Shakespeare’s explosive tragedy – the volcanic lead, David Oyelowo, and the sumptuous, constantly evolving set by Es Devlin.
 
Oyelowo is magnificent as a smouldering Coriolanus, straining to keep himself in check for the first three acts until bursting into flames as he seeks terrible revenge against those who have denied him his “rightful” position of power.
 
In the second half in particular it’s difficult to take your eyes off Oyelowo, and yet the elegant beauty and museum-like precision of Devlin’s sets lay an even stronger claim to the attention.
 
Devlin uses a series of hollow pillars to reveal new scenes as they descend and ascend at regular intervals, rather like the table-top cups of a magician revealing fresh treasures.
 
The clean-lined sets are exquisitely presented and, despite the modern context of the action, are able to convey the feeling of ancient Rome via strategically placed vases, statues and objets d’art.
 
The costumes too, though firmly placed in the here and now, hark back to Rome in ways that keep us in two war-torn worlds, with swords unsheathed from modern military uniforms and tunics worn among the lounge suits.
 
Turner and Oyelowo present Coriolanus as a man of seething emotion yet with almost no fellow human feeling – so much so that he barely even makes eye contact with his wife and son during their various stiff encounters.
 
He’s not just a despot in the making but a dysfunctional car crash of an individual, a man whose virtues – integrity, honesty and great courage – become his faults, turning him from “man to dragon” and preventing him from making the most of what he has to offer.
 
All of this renders it slightly difficult, though not impossible, to understand how Coriolanus is so moved by the pleas of his mother – played with great force by Pamela Nomvete – when she sues for peace near the end. It does, though, provide a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a complex, troubled individual.
 
In many ways this version of Coriolanus brings to mind the marvellous production of Antony & Cleopatra at this venue in 2018, when Sophie Okenedo put in a similarly charged lead performance as an unhinged and unpredictable Cleopatra and Hildegard Bechtler’s ingeniously intertwined and opulent sets provided the same sense of money and power at the centre of the story.
 
That there’s no overlap here in terms of personnel reveals the great corporate strength of the National Theatre, which maintains its thread of excellence across almost everything it does. This is another fine offering from an entirely worthy institution.
 
Runs until November 9 2024. Box Office: 020 3989 5455, nationaltheatre.org.uk