EDFRINGE REVIEW: Sam Blythe: Method in My Madness
Sam Blythe: Method In My Madness - ★★★★★ – Exceptional
Guy Masterson – TTI presents Sam Blythe30 Jul-24 Aug
Review by Rebecca Mahar
Sam Blythe returns to the Fringe with Method in My Madness, a one-man Hamlet that winds one of Shakespeare’s most famous stories up into a single hour, focused through a framing device that pierces right to the heart of the Danish prince’s most incongruous statement: “now I am alone.” Directed by clowning stalwart Elf Lyons, this reworked production is a shining example of great Shakespeare adaptation and solo work.
I reviewed an earlier iteration of this show last year for All Edinburgh Theatre, which Blythe now describes, in a recent interview with Paul Levy of FringeReview, as “a very embryonic version,” having previously stated that the show has undergone a “radical transformation” since then. This assertion bears out beyond expectations, with Method in My Madness now a fully-grown piece of affecting monodrama, capturing the essentials of Shakespeare’s original, hand in hand with Blythe’s deeply personal exploration of humanity through this conduit.
Sam Blythe, promo image for Method in My Madness. Nux Photography.
The lights come up on Blythe, alone in a room, slowly working to pull on a grey jumper as a recitation of Dylan Thomas’s “Do not go gentle into that good night” plays over a portable radio on the table next to him. A pile of crumpled papers sits on the floor on one side of the stage, a large cardboard box on the other. As Blythe deals with the jumper, he finds a what seems to be an out of place object: a soft red clown nose.
With the catalyst of the nose, Blythe becomes aware of the stage lights, then the audience; he performs some feats of illusion with the nose, appearing, disappearing, duplicating it; he pulls a stack of letters from the cardboard box, finds the nose again, and finally pops it onto his nose. A stream of Shakespeare bursts forth, Hamlet’s “to be or not to be”soliloquy and, looking startled, he pulls the nose off again.
“Ah,” the clown realises, “okay. Hamlet.”
From the box he pulls more objects: a skull (with a knowing look to the audience), and a red book, a sticker of the Welsh flag in its corner, which when opened emits a strident chorus of Welsh voices. Within it Blythe finds what he’s looking for: the script to Hamlet.
We’re off into the story with the clown as he pops the nose back on, in a script originally derived from Andrew Cowie’s one-man Hamlet. But now, it has been pared back even further, alterations made to focus in primarily on Hamlet’s soliloquys and the psychological journey of the character through pivotal moments in his story. As these moments play out, they are interspersed with returns to the clown, the man, the room of his reality, which takes on the feeling of a care home, or perhaps a psychiatric facility, with occasional intrusions from the outside.
As Hamlet’s story progresses, so does the clown’s distress, flitting back and forth from play to reality, with some outstanding physical work from Blythe. By the time Hamlet speaks “it is not madness that I have uttr’d,” the two worlds have collapsed; Hamlet and the clown are one, the man behind them both searching for truth through the agonies of existence and the fear of whatever lies beyond his room. “Now I am alone,” Hamlet says in the midst of his play, alone onstage, but surrounded by his audience; perhaps the least alone Hamlet ever is, speaking to those who have come to listen. So Blythe’s Hamlet, and his clown, are alone— but more than that, they are made alone by something that keeps the man inside this room, with only this story repeating and the exhortation of the voice over radio.
Despite the itch to share in praise, it's difficult to give more detail about everything that has changed since the previous production without spoiling the many threads that go into making Method in My Madness such a brilliant show. The full story of Hamlet might be a little challenging to follow without prior knowledge, but the parts of it chosen for this piece are selected with care and performed with such command by Blythe that they are enough to do the job, and direct the audience to the existential stuff they ought to be paying attention to: in the world Hamlet, the world of the clown, and the spaces in between.
Method in My Madness is made to sing through Blythe’s personal connection to it and how that story is interwoven with Shakespeare’s. This show is intimate in the deepest sense, and is shared unselfishly, an offering of exceptional drama and of self, laid bare on the crowded solitude of the stage.
Running time: One hour with no interval
Time: 10:40am
Comments
Post a Comment