Coriolanus
(2011)
I’ll readily admit that I don’t know my Coriolanus from my elbow but I suspect I
have a glimmer of why it is one of Shakespeare’s less-staged tragedies.
As proficiently mounted as Ralph Fiennes
adaptation is, the problem could be down
to the title character himself. On some level we need to be able to empathise
with Coriolanus (played by Fiennes) in order to be involved with the fate he
drives himself towards but, unlike certain of the Bard’s better-known tragic
heroes, we are allowed little insight into his psyche. He’s a born and bred
warmonger, with no sympathy for the masses (they only deserve grain if they’ve
fought for their country) and a level of bravery that borders on sheer
bloodthirstiness. His disinterest in courting public approval might be seen as
a better side to his nature (an unwillingness to prostitute his beliefs to
curry favour) but it could just reflect a prideful temperament; he considers
himself better than those he would not condescend towards.
Without soliloquies to expose a more
complicated nature, we feel little for him even when those around him conspire
to bring about his downfall. Led by a militaristic nature, he is content to
remove civil liberties and, provoked to ire, condemn popular rule. It seems the
play has been a popular choice during periods of political strife, and
certainly one can see the undercurrent of opposing positions (freedom versus
restriction) that informs it. The
Plebeians propose a more democratic Republic, Coriolanus (a ruling Patrician) a
more prescribed one, and Menenius (also a Patrician) sits somewhere in the
middle (the status quo).
For the most part, Fiennes decision to
furnish his adaptation with a contemporary setting is a successful one. I tend
to be slightly dubious of such gimmickry, but ultimately what counts is whether
it enhances the telling. As a director, Fiennes’ choices are muscular and
cogent. His choice to rely on handheld camera is easy to appreciate, as it
lends immediacy and energy to the proceedings.
The problem comes with the
self-consciousness of the trappings; the choice of restaging dialogue and
commentary as TV coverage (complete with Jon Snow) feels like an over-familiar
crutch. Fiennes makes it coherent, but it is the most obvious of possible
choices. And that’s my general take-away; he works hard to make his film gritty
and powerful and he largely succeeds, but his decisions are never truly
inspired ones. I would like to see him take on other directing projects,
however. There’s a confidence here that deserves to be unleashed on l formal
material, where he feels less responsibility to the text.
I’m uncertain if Fiennes directorial
choices are to blame, John Logan’s adaptation, or the Shakey himself, but
certain crucial moments lack sufficient weight to convey the choices that characters
reach. In particular, I had problems buying into Tullus Aufidius’ (Gerard
Butler) embrace of his arch blood enemy Coriolanus out of sympathy with his
plight. As Fiennes shoots it, Aufidius makes the choice virtually on a whim;
maybe this is a point where the modern setting works against timeworn honour
codes. Additionally, I was unconvinced by the decisive plea-bargaining of
Coriolanus’ mother. Even given the Oedipal undercurrents between the two of
them, building to Coriolanus’ change of mind through long, stony silences only
underlines the impenetrability of the character.
Fiennes has filled out his cast with some
interesting players. Butler makes a believably rough and ready Aufidius, while
Vanessa Redgrave, as ever, is peerless as Coriolanus’ mother, Volumnia. Jessica
Chastain doesn’t make an enormous impression as his wife Virgilia, but the main
plaudits go to Cox as smooth peacemaker Menenius and James Nesbitt as slippery
provocateur Tribune Brutus. Fiennes is a rock-solid centre but, as noted, it is
not the most accessible of roles.
Updating the setting of Shakespeare’s plays
may work to the advantage of the text, bringing out timeless relevance in the
material, or become a distraction, with the danger that the trappings run the engine
(of course, you could say the same of revelling in period costumes). Fiennes
certainly avoids the latter, but I don’t think he is always able to make the
workings of the Roman state sufficiently clear; one might argue that is an
acceptable sacrifice as long as one gets the gist, which one does.
In addition, for a play of explicitly
political discourse, he seems curiously uninterested in attaching specific
meaning to its retelling. The location filming in Serbia may invoke superficial
commentary on events there. Yet Fiennes’ only statement appears to be how best
to “perform” the play, rather than to overlay /recent current world events over
its content. Some reviewers have cited the Arab Spring but this suggests
casting about for the kind of markers that have informed past revivals, rather
than reflecting the director’s intent.
***1/2