It is hard to find a British literature student who doesn’t know everything there is to know about Tom Stoppard. He is the figurehead of modern British theatre: they can list his plays in order to publication, by popularity, or the order they studied them at A-Level.
Or maybe that’s just my impression from hanging around too many theatre fans. Anyhow, it’s clear that Brits love Tom Stoppard. So it was with some trepidation that I made my way to the Byre Theatre to try and wrap my head around Mermaids’ production of Arcadia.
Make no mistake: Arcadia is a difficult play. An attempt to sum it up might see me saying that it’s about chaos theory, as characters from the present try and piece together the lives of their predecessors through seemingly insignificant scraps of paper and throwaway comments. These hints are couched in loquacity: it's challenging to get a grip on everything, and if you're not careful you'll feel of subpar intelligence come play's end. Thankfully, whispered conversations at intermission reassured me I was not the only poor soul rendered over-reliant on Wikipedia summaries.
The cast is huge—there are a whopping twelve people, a massive number for a student play. Happily, they all maintain a distinct sense of character, even as we ricochet back and forth through time. Margo Anderson is particularly bright and lively as Thomasina, and Dylan Swain charming as her tutor Septimus, attempting to stumble his way through the Coverly household without grievously insulting everyone in his path.
In the present, our central trio is author Hannah Jarvis, played wry and long-suffering by Lexie Dykes, excitable mathematician Valentine (Freddie Coughlin), and the haughty Bernard Nightingale (Aubrey McCance). The latter deserves special note: this production’s version of Nightingale makes him as airy as he is arrogant, demonstrating his presumptuousness with flamboyant gestures and a drawling accent.
The play’s other acquiescence towards a lurid, less naturalistic style of theatre comes in the character of Ezra Chater (Geordie Coes) who spends the play in clown makeup as he pontificates around the stage. It feels incongruous at first, but the spectator’s mind quickly becomes so dizzy with hermits and game books and botany that the get-up becomes just another oddity.
It is difficult to say any more about Arcadia without delving into a dazzling web of complexities that somehow fail to be described through words. Props jump back and forth between time periods—or perhaps they’re one concurrent whole existing in both eras at once. There’s a tortoise (sadly not a real one) that plays a key role. Some details magnify and others fade to nothing. Above the characters’ heads hang a collection of chalkboards filled with mathematical equations and a collection of paintings, including Bronzino’s famous allegory. It’s advertised with a charming sketch by the titular tortoise. Whatever the case, it’s a fabulous achievement by co-directors Aiden Monks and Millie Chew, along with the rest of the production team.
Should you see Arcadia? I’ll say it again, it’s a difficult play. It’s clearly clever, but in a manner that feels at once simple yet ungraspable. But if you would like to sit and think for three hours, and watch a group of very talented actors tackle a very challenging piece, it’s well worth a look.
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