Some people seem to have an innate understanding of Shakespeare. They laugh in all the right places and smile knowingly at witty turns of phrase; they effortlessly follow the dense language and looping plotlines, the compulsory disguises, cross-dressings and multiple identities. Two Gentlemen of Verona isn't renowned as Shakespeare at the height of his intricacy - it is one of his earlier and less mature plays - but all of the above are present and correct, ready to confound anyone in the audience who isn't suitably schooled in high culture. So far so Shakespeare. Except in this new production at Lambeth's Oval House, the play has been renamed Vakomana Vaviri Ve Zimbabwe, and all fifteen parts are played solely by two young Zimbabweans in South African township style. The set is a small, sparse black-painted room with just an oversized suitcase and a few items of clothing as props. No ruffs or elaborate backdrops here.
At first glance this hardly seems likely to enhance comprehension of the play. The fact that the scenery occasionally changes in conventional theatre has always been a useful hint to the audience that the actors are now performing in a new location. And it is surely only sensible to have one actor playing one role at a time. Unexcitingly traditional it may be, but theatrical convention does at least give audiences some threads to follow through all the gender-swapping wordplay.
Sure enough, director Arne Pohlmeier's township-style production must have had some confusing moments even for aficionados. Characters sprang in and out of the action with no more than the change of a jacket or the addition of a headscarf. But I've always found that mild confusion is part of the appeal of Shakespeare, whose plays are so tightly packed with poetic wit that they warrant seeing many times over until they reveal all their workings.
And any difficulty in following the details of the plot here are swept aside by the sheer vitality of the performance. The production's self-imposed limitations have catalysed the creativity of the director and the two actors Denton Chikura and Tonderai Munyevu, who pull off their role-metamorphoses with energy and insight. To transform themselves every few minutes they use a combination of simple, well-chosen props and pure acting - fluid swapping of accents, expressions and mannerisms that are by and large spot-on.
In the tiny upstairs theatre at the Oval House there is no separation between actors and audience, and seeing Chikura and Munyevi's interpretations of character at close range is one of the greatest pleasures of the evening. With nowhere to hide, they pour themselves into every subtlety of expression. Soft-spoken Munyevu is mercurial and at times slightly menacing, while the more blokeish Chikura is a skillful clown and slips with surprising ease into his female persona as Julia.
It is clearly hard work keeping up this fast-paced performance, but it is never less than captivatingly enjoyable - the audience are in on the pantomime as well, exchanging glances with the actors and occasionally recruited as extra cast members. No doubt there are parts of Pohlmeier's Two Gents that don't quite hit the right note, and many that might raise eyebrows amongst Shakesperian purists, but here is a young team whose self-imposed minimalism has produced raw and enlivening theatre.
