of Arcadia

Science, Scholars & Sex: A Review of Arcadia

By Rose Dixon-Campbell

Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia is a scholastic behemoth of a play and, as director Caelan Kaluder acknowledges, a mighty undertaking. The story follows two sets of characters: one rooted in the modern day and the other in the 19th century; both separated by time but joined by their affinity for and occupation of Sidley Park, Derbyshire. The 19th century ensemble live their lives of more or less ‘blissful’ aristocratic frivolity while those residing in the present day, a collection of academics, attempt to document those fateful histories to varying degrees of accuracy.

This is not director Kaluder’s first rodeo and his expertise, along with an adoration for his cast, composed of members from the National University Theatre Society (NUTS) shines throughout the play. Kaluder’s vision for a blend of chaos and comedy with order and tragedy was realised, which is a testament to the cast’s versatility and commitment to their characters. The comedic and absurdist scenes, particularly those featuring Jacob Church and Nicholas Bermingham, were notably stronger than their ordered counterparts, although the compelling performances of Alana Grimley and Alastair Anderberg shone regardless of their context. Some inspired performances made this iteration of Arcadia a unique one. Lily McCarthy turned Lady Croom, a dictatorial matriarch, into a dictatorial matriarch who always draws a laugh from the audience and who is believably soft for Mischa Rippon’s Septimus Hodge, himself a more suave, flirty playboy than other renditions of the play have ever given him credit for. Difficult characters with few lines made way for memorable performances, such as that of Jamie Boyd as the silent Gus Coverly and Roz Hall as Jellaby (Hall also lent her expertise to set design/construction). The charming performance of Charlotte Raftesath brought precocious teenager Thomasina Coverly to life, although her relationship with Septimus Hodge, as well as Hannah Jarvis’ relationship with ‘fiancée’ Valentine Coverly, both needed some further character work. While these central actors (Raftesath, Rippon, Grimley and Anderberg respectively) certainly had complete visions of their characters as individuals, there was more to be done to fully realise and define their complicated and highly sensitive relationships.

The cast proved stronger as a united ensemble than divided duos, as scenes featuring only two actors seem to lose momentum and the audience’s attention. Perhaps the chemistry between actors was lacking, perhaps the cast was not properly supported by such modest set, lighting and sound design, or perhaps these were scenes predestined by Stoppard to lull. Certain artistic choices were strokes of genius, such as the use of candles as lighting and the utilisation of pianist Lucinda Antcliff. But there was more to be done to fully bring Sidley Park to life on stage and the humble set, a permanent fixture throughout, left much to be desired. The set design team did, however, make brilliant use of windows and sourced an elegant dining table and chairs, although I am sure the cast has a greater appreciation for this as a trip hazard than anything else. Furthermore, while the female characters of the 19th century were dressed beautifully and in period-appropriate attire, the costuming amongst the male characters of the same era was a mixed bag. The characters of Hannah Jarvis, Bernard Nightingale, Valentine Coverly and Gus Coverly were well represented in their costumes. The costume team should be applauded for their colour palette choices for the characters of Thomasina Coverly, Lady Croom, Ezra Chater and Ms Noakes. The lighting choices were realistic if not unambitious, although on those rare occasions when the play leaned into the absurdism and the lighting choices reflected and supported this, the comedic payoff was its own congratulations for such direction. The technical production of the play was modest and understated, and whilst there was room for Kaluder and his team to further stylise this and add their own flair beyond realism; the set, lighting and sound design were serviceable at least.

Spoilers ahead. On the whole, though I have besmirched the ‘tragic’ elements of Kaluder’s vision, it was indeed a touching story. By the play’s close, I did not mourn Thomasina (although her final scene was very well executed), however I did find myself concerned for Valentine Coverly and his insecurities, both professionally and romantically. What this goes to show is that those plot lines which were built up over the course of the two acts, though perhaps more mundane, were much more impactful than their extraordinary counterparts. The “chaos and comedy” was as well done as it could be – continuous laughter from the audience can attest to that. However, conveying “order and tragedy” simultaneously was a tall order and one which was not always fulfilled, despite the obvious best efforts of all involved.

The show was fundamentally enjoyable and heartfelt. The enthusiastic dedication of all the cast and crew to the story and its characters was evident. Kaluder should be applauded for tackling such an academic beast of a play with a stubborn determination and drive. The story was complex and this was compounded by the constant jumping between timelines. However Kaluder’s direction was neat, clear, and sincere and the final production is an achievement he and his cast and crew should be proud of.