A man of many faces: Adrian Lester as Ira Aldridge in Red Velvet Photo by Tristram Kenton.
Play: Red Velvet
Theatre: Tricycle Theatre
Playwright: Lolita Chakrabarti
Director: Indhu Rubasingham
Review by Joy Francis
If Lolita Chakrabarti hadn’t stumbled upon the incredible story of the African-American, British-based actor Ira Aldridge in 1998, his eventful life would have remained a hidden gem of British theatre history.
Much like Aldridge’s tortuous but ultimately successful acting career, Red Velvet went through many years of rejection before its triumphant debut at the Tricycle Theatre in 2012.
Due to transfer to New York (the city of Aldridge’s birth) after its Tricycle run, the play has garnered numerous awards with tickets selling out like a Rolling Stones concert. As with its debut, this trend has left many people unable to see what all the fuss is about.
Red Velvet opens in 1867. A tetchy and demanding Aldridge (the always watchable Adrian Lester) is in Lodz, Poland, preparing to play King Lear. He is clearly unwell and unsteady on his feet. His longsuffering man servant Bernard (Simon Chandler) has failed to stop aspiring journalist Halina (an engaging Rachel Finnegan) sneaking into Aldridge’s dressing room to secure a major scoop. She has done her homework and opens up old wounds about his aborted run in Othello at the prestigious Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, 34 years earlier.
The imagined story of what happened to Aldridge in 1833 in central London takes up much of the two hour 15 minute play. Tragedian theatre legend Edmund Kean has collapsed on stage at Covent Garden while playing Othello. With funds tight, French theatre manager Pierre Laporte (a fiery Eugene O’Hare) takes a risk and invites his old friend Aldridge to step into Kean’s lofty shoes.
Having a black man take over such a classic role from a white acting titan ruffles many feathers. Before the cast meet Aldridge, some claim to have heard of him. Only one knows he is black but avoids mentioning it, as does Laporte. “This is terribly awkward,” says Edmund Kean’s son Charles (played with fervour by Oliver Ryan) when Aldridge makes an appearance.
That awkwardness turns into a full blown racially charged rift as Charles expected to step out of his father’s shadow as Iago (in the play-within-the-play) and straight into the lead role. Leading lady Ellen Tree (the charming Charlotte Lucas) isn’t too thrilled at playing Aldridge’s Desdemona. She balks at his preference for the domestic style of acting and prickles at his constant tips, including that she look at him, and not the audience, during their love scenes.
Despite winning over most of the cast and securing a receptive audience for his debut as the great Moor, Aldridge is sacked after just two shows. Scathing and racist newspaper reviews of his performance (“African” appearance, “thick lips” and “vulgarity”) threaten the theatre’s future and seal his fate.
Chakrabarti’s writing sings in its attention to historical detail, from the hierarchical nature of theatre and racial stereotypes of the time, to the unsettled political landscape in Britain and Europe and the role of colonial slavery. She doesn’t shy away from highlighting Aldridge’s flaws as well as strengths. Reputation is everything to him. Arrogant and grand, Aldridge is an acting pioneer who lives, breathes and nurtures his craft.
Also insecure amid racial intolerance, he wields his CV around like a battering ram – “I was the highest paid artist ever in Russia” – just in case anyone doubts his acting pedigree. Feted in countries such Poland and Switzerland, there is a sense that he never truly recovered from his ungracious exit at Covent Garden.
Although a depressing story, director Indhu Rubasingham creates an atmospheric and engaging production, moving through hilarity, tension and drama with ease. The solid ensemble cast is at home with the text. During the rehearsal scenes for Othello, hammy acting (in keeping with the time) is out in full force. The bickering and banter, fuelled by insecurities about age, gender and stage placement, are played with great enthusiasm.
Adrian Lester takes no prisoners as Aldridge. A deep well of emotion, ambition, and self doubt, he demands our attention. With red velvet drapes, containing “the sweat of others”, hanging in the background, we are constantly reminded that Aldridge lived for the stage and suffered its indignities.
Simon Chandler is very funny as the old stock actor Terence and self appointed man of reason: “The thing about being English is that you open up – to a point.” Rachel Finnegan, who also plays Aldridge’s put upon wife, is one to watch, while Oliver Ryan is a walking boil self righteous rage and racism. “Our theatre needs to reflect our people.” A special mention has to go to Natasha Gordon whose Connie, the theatre company’s Jamaican maid, almost steals her scene with Lester, when she gives her verdict of his performance, and white society, in patois.
Red Velvet is a well written, self assured and important play. It captures your attention, from its atmospheric beginning to its semi-tragic end where, in a mournful, drawn out scene, we see Aldridge emerge in white face. A great actor forced to hide his blackness. Thankfully the play elevates Aldridge to his rightful status as one of this country’s greatest theatre actors.
If you are one of the many people who didn’t secure a ticket to the production, it is worth making a trip to New York to see what all the fuss is about.
Red Velvet is at the Tricycle Theatre until March 23 2014 and then transfers to New York.