Tamara Harvey has stated that she wants Theatr Clwyd to become a home for writers. But her first act as artistic director is extraordinarily divisive. The 40-year-old auditorium has been sliced into a traverse formation with members of the audience occupying garden furniture on stage. It seems we are in Clwyd, it says that we are in Clwyd, but it doesn’t look like Clwyd. So where are we?
The chequerboard lawn, bizarre topiary and Italianate follies of Janet Bird’s design evoke the surreal Welsh enclave of Portmeirion. Even the constellation of 1960s lampshades resembles the ominous bubble that used to persecute Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner.
The off-kilter atmosphere feels perfectly suited to the amorous pursuits of a jolly platoon returning from war with too much time on their hands. Steven Meo’s brooding Don John has a slightly malevolent edge, though you doubt that anyone can come to very much harm in a community policed by the toy-town force of Sion Pritchard’s Dogberry.
Beatrices tend to divide into those whose climactic instruction to “kill Claudio” evokes tumbleweed silence or embarrassed laughter. Lisa Palfrey is of the latter camp, though you sense that the fatwa is issued in deadly earnest. John Ramm’s Benedick is well beyond the second or even third flushes of youth; but there’s a great moment when he smears camouflage on his pate while hiding in the arbour. And by virtue of becoming lead vocalist in Richard Hammerton’s groovy musical interludes, Catherine Morris elevates Margaret from a supporting role to something of a star turn.
• At Theatr Clwyd, Mold, until 2 July. Box office: 01352 701521.
