“Questions of power, loyalty, and leadership cut deeply. Can power blind those who wield it? In this production, the answer is a resounding yes.”
Fiona Hallenan-Barker
4 Stars
Venue: Bell Shakespeare
Sydney Opera House
Dates: Until April 5th
A 400-year-old play about events over 2,000 years ago shouldn’t feel this immediate, and yet Julius Caesar lands with startling relevance. Questions of power, loyalty, and leadership cut deeply. Can power blind those who wield it? In this production, the answer is a resounding yes.
At its core is Brutus, played with remarkable emotional intelligence by Brigid Zengeni. Her performance anchors the production, capturing the unbearable tension between civic duty and personal loyalty. This conflict is made all the more affecting through her relationship with Portia (Jules Billington), which is rendered with nuance and tenderness. Their marriage feels vivid and contemporary, so much so that Caesar and Calpurnia pale in comparison, resembling distant public figures detached from their people. The emotional stakes of Brutus’s decision, and Portia’s tragic trajectory, are heightened beautifully through this connection. Billington demonstrates impressive range in playing multiple roles within the production.
Septimus Caton delivers a solid and commanding Julius Caesar, but it is Mark Leonard Winter’s Mark Antony who electrifies the stage. Initially disarming, in an odd red tracksuit, Winter gradually reveals a savvy and emotionally raw Antony. His journey from shock and grief to calculated political operator is gripping. The famous “Friends, Romans, countrymen” speech becomes a masterclass in vocal dexterity and audience manipulation, drawing the audience into the world of the forum. It’s a performance that leaves the crowd wanting more, and it is easy to imagine Winter relishing a role like Richard III.
Leon Ford’s Cassius is sharp and mercurial, slicing cleanly through Shakespeare’s dense language with urgency and clarity. He renders complex political arguments immediate and lucid, cutting a compelling and dangerously persuasive figure. Peter Carroll, as Casca, is equally compelling, balancing humour and menace with expert precision. His recounting of Caesar’s refusal of the crown is a delightful masterclass in comedy, while his slow intense action as the first assassin is chilling in its quiet determination.
Ava Madon doubles as both the regal Calpurnia and the comic servant Lucius, complete with a luminous singing voice. Ray Chong Nee lends a wonderfully smooth gravitas to Metellus, while James Lugton’s Decius is enjoyably slippery. Understudy Olivia Ayoub stepped into the role of Cinna with bright energy.
Director Peter Evans shows a deep understanding of the text, allowing iconic lines space to resonate without sacrificing pace. There are thoughtful touches throughout, including moments of stillness and the subtle use of back to the audience staging, though the frequent scene changes and projected titles in the second half disrupt the dramatic tension. As the narrative descends into a cascade of deaths, the production struggles to maintain the momentum of the first half and could and would benefit from tighter editing and a more fluid approach to its stagecraft, with less overt signposting of each shift.
Visually, the production symbolic and slick. Simone Romanuik’s costume design is a standout, particularly the pristine white tailored suits that gradually give way to disorder and gore, mirroring the characters’ moral decay. The backless dresses for Portia and Calpurnia cleverly echo the production’s motif. Lighting (Amelia Lever-Davidson) and sound (Madeleine Picard) effectively support the world of the play, while a grunge-infused pre-show playlist, featuring artists like Nirvana and Fiona Apple, adds an unexpected but fitting old school edge.
In a thoughtful touch, printed programs are gifted to the audience. A small but meaningful gesture in an increasingly digital age.
This Julius Caesar reminds us that power, honour, loyalty and betrayal remain timeless forces. Beware the Ideas of March…
4 gaping wounds
Fiona Hallenan-Barker, Theatre Now
