When one goes to see a play written in the late sixteenth century about a murder which occurred even earlier, one might not expect to see damning critiques of contemporary capitalistic culture, but Polly Findlay’s Arden of Faversham nonetheless contains some surprisingly intelligent subversive commentary. Smart, visually arresting, and bleakly humorous, Findlay’s production refuses to wait until the play officially begins to start taking pot-shots at industry and consumerism. Audiences who entered the theater before the 7:30 start time were greeted by the sight of various background actors shuffling around the stage in factory jumpsuits, packaging various novelty items (Neko cats, bobble heads, and mugs in the shape of breasts) into packages emblazoned with a logo proclaiming “Arden of Faversham—Buy it!—Love it!” while Arden himself shuffles papers behind his desk. It’s a brilliant way to introduce this interpretation of the play, and serves to introduce Arden as an out-of-touch modern aristocrat without having anyone speak a single word.
Even after the production proper begins, the motif of “kitsch” remains a prominent visual element of almost of every scene. Interestingly, many costuming choices in the performance continue this trend, as the play repeatedly uses the garish clothing of different characters to wordlessly convey aspects of their personality or the world in which they live. Alice only wears one dress throughout the entire play, an odd piece covered with what appears to be a pixelated picture of flowers, subtly hinting that while she may seem agreeable, her cheery demeanor is every bit as artificial as a computerized re-creation of a rose. Mosby wears a retina-searing purple suit and tie, fitting in with his characterization as a butcher’s boy trying too hard to pass himself as upper-class. Perhaps most memorable, however, is Greene’s jacket, which consisted entirely of endlessly repeated Adidas logos. This conspicuous clothing choice reveals more about the world that Findlay is trying to evoke than about Greene’s character in particular, as it reinforces the themes of corporate dominance and the ubiquity of consumerist trash introduced in the pre-opening scene of factory drudgery.
Especially intriguing, however, are the choices made in regards to the character of Susan and her appearance. Reading the play’s script, Susan is practically a non-entity: she exists mainly to be bartered off to Clarke and Michael, and her only on-stage actions are her futile attempts to scrub away Arden’s blood and her equally-fruitless pleas for leniency. Susan’s role has been greatly expanded for this production, even if she doesn’t actually get any more lines—Findlay places her in the background of several scenes, silently cleaning up after the activities of the more major characters. Findlay also goes out of her way to emphasize that Susan is being treated like a commodity by her brother and his lover. She is inserted into the play’s opening scene so that when Mosby callously sells her off to Clarke, the audience can see her shock and terror at the prospect. By showing that Susan is a human being with feelings and fears rather than an off-screen abstraction, Findlay adds a greater sense of poignancy and tragedy to the character, and highlights the horrific nature of Mosby’s treatment of her.
Susan’s make-up, of all things, also serves to reinforce to the audience that she is being reduced to an object to be bargained and sold. Even at the beginning of the play, Susan’s make-up is prominent, but as the play wears on, she becomes caked with blush and gaudy green eye-shadow, so that in the play’s final scenes, her face is disturbingly reminiscent of a china doll. It is unclear is she is doing this to herself or if her betrothed Clarke is treating her like one of his paintings. In either case, her increasingly artificial-looking appearance forces the audience to consider how she is being treated and underlines the general atmosphere of capitalistic commodification that hangs over the play.
From a staging stand-point, figuring out how to dress the sets in Arden of Faversham must be a nightmare, since the play jumps from the inside of Arden’s house to the outside to the streets of London to a fog-choked riverside and more. Not only does Findlay handle the disparate settings of the various scenes masterfully, but she even uses the set to further the motifs of kitsch and consumerism. For most of the play, the entire back wall is covered by a giant set of blinds with an ugly print of a badly-rendered forest scene painted on. This is kitschy enough in and of itself, but after the protracted death of Arden, the blinds pull up to reveal receding rows of Neko cats, all swinging their paws down in sync. Juxtaposing this nightmarish representation of the junk peddled by Arden with his wife’s description of his death serves the director’s critical views toward capitalism, as it makes sure that the audience continues to connect Arden’s identity with his status as a businessman even after he has died.
A play published in 1592 might not seem to be the best platform through which to convey criticisms of modern-day commercialism and industry, but Findlay pulls off the difficult task in a way that is both entertaining and thought-provoking. By playing up the images of kitsch, Findlay evokes a sense of a world dominated by corporations and brands without adding a single line to the script. Even the character’s dress reinforces their commodification, whether it be at the hands of Adidas or Mosby. Though the vast majority of the cast is dead by the end of the play, I predict Findlay’s subversive critique of modern capitalism will live in the audience’s minds long after they’ve left the theater.