Bold direction struggles to straddle the mediums of both theatre and film
Sex and subterfuge are the weapons of the conniving Marquise de Merteuil and Vicomte de Valmont in Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Christopher Hampton’s 1985 adaptation of Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’s 1792 novel of the same name. Scheming their way through the nobility of a pre-revolution France, the Marquise and Vicomte play Cupid, luring lovers into dangerous liaisons (see what I did there?), pulling the wool over their eyes before the rug out from under them. Among their victims are the young ingénue Cécile de Volanges, and Madame de Tourvel — the latter of whom proves the Vicomte’s downfall, as one can only play so long with the flames of passion before they too get burned.
Entering the Oxford Playhouse’s theatre, the stage was bare, save for a few items of furniture — and curiously, multiple studio cameras on tripods. Where one would expect pastel painted sets, instead the black backstage of the theatre was exposed; pulleys, prop tables, and lighting rigs could be seen at the fringes of the stage, and techies in black mingled with the actors in their full costumes — just a taste of the meta-theatrics to come.
Over the next two and a half hours, theatre met film as the actors performed their scenes for the cameras, the feed from which was then projected onto a screen above, taking clear inspiration from Jamie Lloyd’s Romeo & Juliet. It felt as though every generation of cinema was present, as the live orchestra underscored projections with the same quality of an old tube TV — and indeed, the action was being shot in front of a live studio audience: us.
The boundary between theatre and film — performance and experience — was further blurred with moments of acknowledging not only the artifice of theatre, but the very artifice of the actor themself. At the start of the second half, the Vicomte was sat onstage, headphones on, and entered a dialogue with one of the “technical crew”, before plunging back into the action.
As bold as the direction was, the concept was sometimes leaned on too heavily; the decision to set the majority of the action on the mid-stage, with the cameras and crew between it and the audience felt isolating, and obstructed sight-lines necessitated watching the action via the screen above — the audio for which was unfortunately delayed. It felt less like watching a play, and more like watching the production of a film which, while making it easy to appreciate as a unique live experience, made it harder to appreciate as a theatrical one. Indeed, the stage was lit for the cameras, which didn’t always share the audience’s perspective — and with the actors having been directed to play to them, rather than the audience, it was hard to see the action on stage.
The performances themselves were of varying depth, with some actors demonstrating an excellent grasp of the language, allowing them to find dexterity and dynamism in performance; others felt stuck in playing the state of their trickery, rather than the tactics thereof. It felt sometimes as though some of the actors had committed to an idea of the style of the piece, rather than the truth of it.
While a live orchestra is always welcome and was a real treat, it did at times drown out the performance, and at others told the audience how to feel before the story did. Coupled with some technical difficulties from the actors’ mics, some of the text was unfortunately inaudible.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses at the Oxford Playhouse is a brave feat of live cinematic composition that places its audience as voyeurs to the tricks and tragedy of its antihero protagonists through its meta-theatrical treatment — but it’s bent towards the meta sometimes left audiences wondering what was and wasn’t intentional. Did that microphone really not work, or was it a comment on the women of the time not having a voice? Was the chain rattling because someone had knocked it backstage, or did it serve to highlight how the Marquise and Vicomte capitalised on their targets’ repression? In the web of speculation these questions weave, the intention behind the meta-theatricality is lost, and the audience comes away having watched something undoubtedly ambitious, but unclear in its message.