ABSTRACT
… The last production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona at Stratford, ten years ago, sounded a very squeaky overture to the reign of the Royal Shakespeare Company; and there was every excuse for seeing whether sheer, irreverent inventiveness could not do for The Two Gentlemen what Clifford Williams had done so successfully for The Comedy of Errors. There was also the risk that in bringing the play theatrically to life its deeper qualities might be obscured. If one has to apologize for a play, it is much better not to produce it at all—and The Two Gentlemen of Verona needs no apology. Mr. Phillips deserved our applause for rescuing it from neglect and for proving its power to entertain—although I can imagine a production equally satisfying, if hardly as amusing as this one, where the emphasis would be romantic, in the neo-Platonic vein, rather than satirical. For what interests us here is the adumbration of future themes, and Shakespeare’s skilful interweaving of them—with Julia looking forward to Rosalind, and forgiving the most unforgivable of Shakespearian juveniles, as, in a very different context, Helena forgives Bertram and Isabella Angelo. Mr. Phillips’ production, with its flower children, its Turkish baths, and its highly contemporary costumes, was not so fantastic that Julia’s heartbreak became inaudible; and indeed, if it had been less fantasticated, her magnanimity might have seemed incredible. It is a question of balance, and at the critical moment the balance held. The Two Gentlemen of Verona may be never so light at comedy—but like all the best comedies it is about serious matters, reminding us that in nothing are people more serious or more silly than in love.
