Tamburlaine, Old Vic, Bristol
Cahal Milmo is the chief reporter of The Independent and has been with the paper since 2000. He was born in London and previously worked at the Press Association news agency. He has reported on assignment at home and abroad, including Rwanda, Sudan and Burkina Faso, the phone hacking scandal and the London Olympics. In his spare time he is a keen runner and cyclist, and keeps an allotment.
Monday 24 October 2005
It's an evening of mighty verse, glittering imagery and compulsive violence. The two-part play (the sequel is shoehorned into a single three-hour show) sees Tamburlaine hack his way through ancient Persia, Turkey and Egypt.
The evening's trump card is Hicks, exuding Olympian disdain, a sardonic touch and a Bond villain's obsession with global domination. As the atrocities pile up like a pyramid of skulls, Tamburlaine's barbarity has a certain razzle-dazzle about it. Whether using a captive king as a foot stool or having civilians drowned en masse, no one can accuse him of a lack of style.
There's not a lot of fun for his captives. King Bajazeth (the superb Jeffery Kissoon) beats his own brains out rather than suffer the indignities of his cage. And Tamburlaine is quite prepared to kill one of his own sons - "an effeminate brat" - with the same contempt he reserves for his foes.
Zenocrate (played by a dignified Rachael Stirling) provides a note of romance and some rare diplomacy. The grieving Tamburlaine, at her wasting death scene, conjures up an echo of his own eventual demise.
Tamburlaine calls, as he dies, for a world map to see how much territory "the great Tartaric thief" has pinched. King Lear wanted to give all his away. Tamburlaine, mortally ill, has still got places to go.
The mixed-race cast and ethnic string music seem appropriate considering the global nature of the military project. The staging isn't inspirational; but with the bombast and savagery intact, it makes the point that war crimes and the cult of personality are nothing new.
It is above all a rare treat to be exposed to Marlowe, Shakespeare's equal, in full flight. Hicks, with his vinegary voice and sinuous presence, certainly leaves the play's soaring poetry and bloodthirsty blasphemies ringing in the ears.
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