Violation of mind and women is about the worst thing that can happen to someone in Jacobean theatre, and The Changeling gives us the double whammy. Poor Alsemero (Tom Attenborough) gives his betrothed a dodgy potion to check the old maidenhead’s intact. It isn’t, awkwardly, because Beatrice-Joanna (Sarah Lambie) has been having it off with the nasty and deformed De Flores (Merric Boyd). By mistake. Sort of.

Milly Greene’s production in the Round Church seems to be afraid of violating the serious action of Alsemero’s nuptial nightmare with the comic world of the madhouse of Dr Alibius (the splendid, splendid Thomas Yarrow). The tragedy and the comic relief feel truly divorced, especially given that the only real point of contact the two worlds have is a dance by the lunatics at the wedding. Humour is to be found in Beatrice-Joanna’s world: the virgo-intacta-tester makes a maid gape, sneeze and giggle.

Unfortunately, Lambie and Boyd find little chemistry in their machinations, with their po-facedness making it worse. The testing potion should be more comic (Alex Clatworthy, underused here), and the ghoulishness of De Flores’ disfingerment of his rival needs to be camped up. Boyd is less convincing than his make-up and the melodramatic ending made me want to gape, sneeze and giggle.

All this silliness means that the show is stolen by the madmen. Amy Gwilliam and Pablo Navarro Machlochlainn are perfect as Isabella and Lollio, the wife and assistant of the asylum keeper. Isabella is after sex, which the jealous Alibius is unable to provide. She chases some of the madmen, including two fakers (James Everest and Ed Martineau). Lollio uses what he knows of this to his advantage, and the two circle each other as Isabella attempts to escape her lovely golden cage.

Everest and Martineau show the audience through the novelties of a promenade performance. Both are strong, although their ad-libbed jokeries are less effective than their verse. The promenade is engaging, particularly in the space of the Church: it’s a shame that only two spaces are used, giving us a sense of inevitability as we alternate. This is presumably a technical restriction, but it’s a shame that lighting is poor throughout, illuminating the audience or boringly enforcing mood with a single colour.

Gwilliam and Navarro Machlochlainn lift much of this production and, in doing, so mark out two serious talents. But not even this strong sub-plot can totally redeem the dreary tragedy.

Two Stars

Jeff James