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Raymundos'
Epic a Trial to Sit Through
Despite
the lavish sets, sumptuous costumes and meticulous attention
to historical details, Raymundo's eagerly anticipated play
is the biggest letdown of this theatrical season. Judging
by the crowd's lackluster response, what was once proudly
proclaimed by its creator as "the most ambitious theatrical
production ever conceived" could well go down in the history
of the Royal Theatre as the biggest flop of all time.
For
Raymundo, this disaster of Hydra proportions should taste
even more bitter coming straight after the smashing success
of his electrifying micro-budget debut, "Three on a Codpiece",
which stunned Britain by daring to dissect the complex issues
of sadomasochism and nudity in a breathtakingly raw way that
was as shocking as it was audacious. Doubts were voiced whether
Raymundo could retain the same kind of artistic integrity
and novelty when tackling the more mainstream subject of Britannia's
greatest hero, the Avatar. Still, there was a hope that the
author of the revolutionary psycho-sexual masterpiece would
avoid the old stereotypes associated with the age-worn legends
and try to put a new, fresh and exciting spin on the familiar
themes; that, instead of the usual forgettable fluff, the
Avatar legend would finally get the mature, intelligent treatment
it deserves. Alas, our hopes were in vain, for while the sheer
scope of Raymundo's project is astounding, there is nothing
in its content that distinguishes it from hundreds of rotten
Avatar plays written before.
Making
her debut on stage in the role of Sherry the Mouse is Amber,
the young and vivacious actress whose compelling stage presence
and natural beauty are completely masked by her pancake-flat
character and the hideous costume she's forced to wear throughout
the production. Even more distressing is to watch Laurence,
arguably the finest character actor Britannia has ever seen,
wasted in the thankless role of Iolo Fitzowen, transformed
by Raymundo's inept script into a bumbling, senile idiot whose
only purpose, it seems, is to crack jokes so unfunny they
would make Chuckles cringe. The rest of the main cast fares
no better, stuck in the cardboard-cutout characters so buffoonish
and lame, one could be forgiven for doubting whether any hero
would want to be caught in the company of these so-called
Companions.
The
only saving grace of this snoozefest is the unknown actor
playing the main part of the Avatar, the role that originally
went to Jesse, the biggest star of the Royal Theatre. This
remarkable young man almost saves the wretched play single-handedly
with his passionate performance, transforming into Britannia's
greatest hero with the authenticity and ease that is almost
frightening. His startling physical resemblance to his character
is the big part of the spell he casts over the audience, yet
it is his majestic presence and grace that convinces even
the most jaded viewers that they are indeed watching the legend
come alive on stage. Unfortunately, his is the only bright
star that shines in this sea of mediocrity.
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