CYMBELINE
Regent’s Park

IN 2001, South African researchers uncovered evidence that Shakespeare might have used cannabis as a source of inspiration.
Some 16th-century pipes containing traces of the drug were found underneath the bard’s Stratford home.
The mischievous scholars cited Sonnet 76, which refers to “invention in a noted weed”.
Undergraduates rejoiced. Academics despaired and I had my doubts until I saw the last act of Cymbeline.
After plumbing the depths of Anglo-Roman history, Shakespeare found a second century battle in which to set his play. Three cavemen, who turn out to be noblemen, see off the advances of the Roman Empire – returning victorious to the King’s palace in Colchester.
Written in a hurry and with mo ney in mind, the play feels like a cynical bombardment of tried and tested formulas. We have women dressed up as men, a tragedy of cross class love, a blood curdling execution, a ghost scene, magic potions and music to drive the confusing plot. There is a Machiavellian schemer, some aristocratic fools, a Falstaff-type character and a soothsayer, thrown in for good measure.
The impressive Simon Day prowled about the stage, embodying the villain Iachimo with particular glee. The scene where he creeps out of a box inside Imogen’s chamber was head and shoulders above the rest. But James Loye, as the harebrained Cloten, was also terrific. He was surely modelled on Alan Partridge. It was sad to see him decapitated so early on.
The first half of the play is excellent – and at the interval I was busily thinking of superlatives to mark the night.
But as soon as Cloten loses his head, the play does too, nose-diving into a relentless splurge of sensationalism topped off with a queasy moral lesson.
There was a hint of irony in the King’s last word: “When shall I hear this all through?”
The bewildered audience snorted – they probably wanted an explanation for the ludicrous chain of events too. Perhaps, they should look to South Africa.

Until September 1
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