I love hate to lapse into the New Year's spirit of golden nostalgia, but my memories of 2014 are ones that really do excite me. Why? 2014 was an exceptional year for theatre.

Pictured (L-R) Hadley Fraser as Aufidius and Tom Hiddleston as Coriolanus in Coriolanus. Directed by Josie Rourke, Coriolanus enjoyed a sell-out run at the intimate Donmar Warehouse before being screened to cinemas early last year. Photo by Johan Persson, courtesy of National Theatre Live.

In recent years, film adaptations of Shakespeare's plays which are bare-facedly Shakespearean have been scarce. Like, painfully scarce. The general formula for adaptations that pop up in cinemas follows along the lines of "Take the plot, lose that awfully archaic sounding title." 

This golden rule has resulted in films ranging from exceptionally cult teen flicks (anyone for 10 Things I Hate About You?) to unexpectedly flopping comedies (I'm looking at you, That Awkward Moment).

Pictured (L-R) Miles Teller, Zac Efron and Michael B. Jordan in That Awkward Moment (2014) which borrows loosely from the plot of Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost. Photo courtesy of Treehouse Pictures.

But last year was different. The Globe launched its Globe Player, branded the Netflix of live theatre. Digital Theatre exploded with sold-out West End shows such as the Tennant-Tate Much Ado to boast of. You now have just as much chance of seeing 'National Theatre Live' whilst browsing through your local Odeon screenings as you do of seeing Jennifer Aniston peddling another chick-flick. Cinemas, and even local venues (I was lucky enough to catch The Donmar's Coriolanus in a church hall) worldwide began to embrace and enjoy broadcasting  live theatre. 

Live! The night it is performed! All over the world! 

Pictured: Simon Russell Beale as the eponymous monarch in King Lear. Directed by Sam Mendes,
Lear played at the National Theatre early last year and was screened to cinemas nationwide from May. Photo courtesy of National Theatre Live.

The effect of live screenings is a whole new breed of theatre. And when I say breed, get ready to hear me crack the wind of this poor phrase. Picture if big-balls-out-box-office cinema and the intimate theatre had a baby. This wonderful child is blessed with the artistry, the ambition and the enticing trailers (as well as a few DVD extras thrown in) you might expect from the silver screen. Endowed also with the capacity for creating theatrical intimacy and the patience to indulge in truly beautiful language, this kid is going to be a shoo-in for high school prom queen.

Pictured (L-R) Edward Bennett as Benedick and Michelle Terry as Beatrice in Love's Labour's Won, or Much Ado About Nothing live from the RST which will both be showing live in cinemas this year. Cinematic release poster courtesy of Cineworld and the RSC.

It doesn't seem as if we still soon be reverting back to the kind of theatrical atmosphere that Shakespeare wrote for, one of cheers, jeers and groundling endurance (although you only need search 'The Globe Titus Andronicus 2014' to see some outrageously dramatic articles on how Shakespeare in  theatres is, in  fact, one big faint-inducing conspiracy. Shout out to Flora Spencer-Longhurst for her formidably writhing Lavinia). But 2014 definitely saw a move towards recapturing that communal spirit by bringing a true range of plays in fantastic productions to much wider audiences. The reception has been hugely enthusiastic and cinema screenings are catching that happy sell-out fever that plagues great theatre. 

2014 introduced us to real, raw theatre accessible to almost everyone and gently ushered out the shame-faced adaptations. We're living in an age where theatre is becoming a truly expansive experience and never has Shakespeare's timeless endurance (*pops a penny in the cliché jar*) felt more true. The buzz of sitting in a real theatre and watching the lights go down, knowing that an incredible group exercise of human imagination is about to unfold in front of you is undeniably a butterfly inducing excitement. But what is perhaps even more exciting is knowing that 2014 was the year theatre evolved, capturing just a touch of this magic and allowing the whole world a glimpse. 

      

To see what's coming up live from theatres in 2015, here's some links...

Digital Theatre

Live from the Royal Shakespeare Company

National Theatre Live 

The RSC has mastered in Love’s Labour’s Lost a play which unapologetically mocks people in love. To their faces. Were Shakespeare alive today, his problematic, comedic masterpiece may have been encapsulated within an ironic ‘like’ for one of those detestably cringeworthy “Me and My Girl #theone #loveher” updates.

The cast of Love's Labour's Lost in rehearsal and production. Photos by Manuel Harlan. Courtesy of the RSC. 

On the page, Shakespeare’s lesser performed comedy reads like the Bard’s sonneteering run-through. No less than five lovers in the plays pen odes to their mistresses, which makes the play read more like an anthology than a piece of drama. And indeed, the lover’s action shows itself as much on paper as it does between people.

The power of the penned verse in this play is, like forerunner to Malvolio’s blundering interpretation skills, the production’s biggest gag. Picture this; four young academic Edwardian gentlemen reclining in their library walled parlour, vowing to sign their lives and desires in favour of strict study. Food, sleep, and most importantly – women – are all forsworn by the gallants for three years. 

Tunji Kasim as Dumaine, Sam Alexander as King of Navarre, William Belchambers as Longaville. Photo by Manuel Harlan. Courtesy of the RSC.

Now picture these litigiously bound men in their dressing gowns, weeping and pining and waxing positively rhetorical for four beautiful strangers who have taken their fortified court, and even more impregnable vows, by storm. What’s more? In what feels like an unspoken jeer of “Berowne and Rosaline sitting-in-a-tree”, their odes of painful love are all overheard by each other. What’s even more? The scene stealing comedy is provided by Luscombe in the form of a teddy bear.

that's right, a teddy bear. 

"For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,

Hath much deform'd us"
Berowne, V.ii

The sonnet scene is one which threatens to be a laborious wade through the mud of the inaccessible, superfluous, verbose, grandiloquent sophistry (see where I’m going with this?) that has built itself into a harmful skeleton in the closet of ‘Shakespearephobia’. This production side steps this landmine as smoothly as an Edwardian slick comb ‘do. Our love sick brotherhood have just as great a laugh at each other’s attempts at poetry as we do, with their awkward half rhymes and (more than slightly) tearful deliveries.

William Belchambers as Longaville. Photo by Manuel Harlan. Courtesy of the RSC.

The relationship between the forsworn men is beautifully crafted by Sam Alexander (King of Navarre), William Belchambers (Longaville), Edward Bennett (Berowne) and Tunji Kasim (Dumaine). The group so naturally navigate a convincing, if not naive, devotion to learning astray into the murkier waters of unrequited love; which is so artfully acted that one truly believes the feeling is a new, and threatening, experience. Bennett courts Berowne’s monologues with all the joyful angst of a reluctant lover. Perhaps even more skilful is the group’s tackling of one of Shakespeare’s greatest unwritten scenes – an all-singing, all-dancing, all-bearded Muscovite serenade. 

"We are wise girls to mock our lovers so."
Princess, V.iii.

The play’s female temptations are played with a measure of flirtation, modesty and downright girlish giggles by Frances McNee (Maria), Flora Spencer-Longhurst (Katharine), Michelle Terry (Rosaline) and Leah Whitaker (the confident Princess of France). The Princess and her women are a perfectly choreographed, commanding hand to mould the putty mess of unrequited lovers. Measured touches of a more paternal relationship are embraced beautifully by the baby-faced Peter McGovern (Moth) and John Hodgkinson (Don Armado). 

Peter McGovern as Moth. Photo by Manuel Harlan. Courtesy of the RSC.

These stunning performances are not without an original score by Nigel Hess so powerful and emotive it seems to inhabit the stage like an extra character. A funny, sad, reflective one. Think Shakespeare’s perfect wise fool expressed in strains of violin.

Frances McNamee as Maria, Leah Whitaker as Princess of France, Michelle Terry as Rosaline and Flora Spencer-Longhurst as Katherine. Photo by Manuel Harlan. Courtesy of the RSC.

"Our wooing doth not end like an old play"
Berowne, V.ii

The beauty of this play is in its promises. Or rather, it’s broken ones. The stunning Edwardian interiors and idyllic rural exteriors promise us blossoming romance. The strength and conviction with which our lovers spar, as only Shakespearean ones can, with wits and disguise and each other’s pride promises an amorous resolution. The farcically bombastic play-within-a-play promises a parade of heroes who will be uninterruptedly hilarious. What we see in the play’s concluding scenes is our own hopeful optimism interrupted with a French messenger ringing the death of a beloved father, who also happens to be the King of France, with this news the play’s vows begin to tragically unravel. Gregory Doran and Christopher Luscombe’s choice to stage this scene as a precedent to the Great War is an insightful and painful light thrown upon some of our own broken promises to each other as nations and as people. Glimmering performances, artfully playful direction by Luscombe and an aesthetic itself to fall head over heels for promise a display of how Shakespeare’s comedy should be executed.
On this, it delivers. 

Love's Labour's Lost is showing at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon until the 14th of March.
All opinions, as ever, are my own.