THEATRE

A Tale of Two Cities

King's Theatre Edinburgh

Mark Smith

***

MIKE Poulton’s stage adaptation of A Tale of Two Cities starts in the only way it could really, with some of the most famous words in literature: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. The staging and even the arrangements of the cast also look like they have been inspired directly by the illustrations by Phiz in Dickens' original story of love in the French revolution. In other words, don’t panic: this stage version is close enough to the original book not to scare admirers of Dickens but is far enough away to work as a play.

The most effective element is the stage design, which is based around one great wall that chops back and forth threateningly like the blade of the guillotine. The only time the staging trips is the sequence in the second half when the cast are left to act for far too long in front of a drape and wander aimlessly down into the audience.

By contrast, the scene in which the Marquis St Evremonde is murdered is extraordinary. For a while he angrily denounces everything that has gone wrong with his country – and on the night Trump was elected, the modern echoes could not have been lost on the audience. Then the blood vessels of the country burst and the light turns red and the relatively small cast feels like a crowd. We know this has been coming - the music by Rachel Portman has been threatening it for ages - and now here it is.

The power of that one scene is partly down to the staging – the ghostly table that floats through the aristocrat’s house – but mostly it is the performance of Christopher Hunter as the Marquis – fey and furious and sure to linger. But what about Sydney Carton? His death is as moving as it always is – of course it is, it was written by Dickens – but his life is more confusing in this version – he looks like the singer of a minor rock band but lacks the muscle, wit and glitter of the man in the book.

Perhaps a more experienced cast might have helped – these characters deserve the best – but with Dickens, the words will always win. Which is probably why the play ends like it started, with some of the most famous words in English literature: It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.