Has Star Casting Hit The Skids?
IF there’s one thing I hate, it’s star casting dressed up as a serious dramatic endeavour.
You know the type of show: it always involves someone from Hollywood who has never performed on stage before or is making their West End debut.
A show, in short, exactly like The Tempest starring Sigourney Weaver, Oedipus starring Rami Malek, and Elektra starring Brie Larson, where the starting point and ambition revolve solely around bums on seats and making money.
The Tempest was panned and papered for most of its run. And yes, Elektra has received such dismal reviews and continues to get such negative audience feedback that ticket sales are likely to collapse, despite the dozens of lamppost banners advertising the production in central London.
Good grief. What is there to be said about this particular crop of star vehicles?
At least there is some redeeming brilliance in Oedipus especially compared to the other two, as the muscular choreography of Hofesh Shechter’s chorus truly shines.
This week, Malek made his UK stage debut in Oedipus, stepping into one of the greatest roles in dramatic literature.
Sophocles’s original play, of course, provides a metaphor for one of the most influential ideas of the 20th century—Freud’s concept of the Oedipal complex, which the father of psychoanalysis deemed foundational to his theory of the unconscious.
Unfortunately, though, Oscar-winner Malek, who with his mumbling and gangly physicality resembles an awkward battery hen, occasionally lapses into his mannerism of sounding like Bond villain Lyutsifer Safin.
He simply isn’t up to the task: he has no range.
In this regard, the phrase “lowest common denominator” really doesn’t do this justice; there is a problem when the production’s greatest weakness is its star.
One common criticism of celebrity casting is that it shuts out qualified actors, depriving them of opportunities in an already competitive industry.
By prioritising star power over genuine talent, the situation only exacerbates the unemployment of skilled performers.
The celebrity tail is definitely wagging the West End dog now, and while I’d be quite happy to let them continue this painfully slow suicide pact, there’s one thing I can’t ignore: I still absolutely love theatre and want it to entertain audiences without shortchanging them in the process.
It’s now a grand tradition. But casting unsuitable celebrities in shows is no guarantee of success – the play is background and that is wrong.
Still, it takes energy to be a truly lousy theatre producer.
The West End makes everyone a gambler. Its spirit is speedy, obsessive, and immaterial. Pouring abuse on shows like these makes no more sense than kicking a hedgehog.
I’m not alone in my sentiments.
Earlier this year, an Observer op-ed led with: “Could this be the production that finally kills off our craze for celebrity Shakespeare?”
Critic Susannah Clapp recently insisted on banning adaptations of movies on stage, expressing particular ire for “jetting in celebrities to suck the energy out of a production.”
And critic Dominic Cavendish suggested this week that the take-home message must be: “don’t put your celebrity on the stage unless you’re convinced they can cut it.”
Watch this space…
