Directed by Jennifer Dick

Written by William Shakespeare

A touch of rowdiness in the gardens isn’t anything entirely new. Still, as audiences begin to spot the balaclava-wearing mob with their Pro-Caesar flags, well, things heat up quickly for Bard in the Botanics’ al-fresco performance of Shakespeare’s tale of ultimate betrayal and power dynamic: Julius Caesar.

There is no need for a dribble of build-up or suspension here, the blood is already coursing, and the scent of deceit lingers in the fresh post-rain Glasgow air. One couldn’t ask for a more perfect evening to stage Shakespeare’s tragedy: the epitome of the political play, which follows the fall of Caesar and the scramble for power, control, and retribution from his killers and followers.

It’s remarkable how effortlessly Jennifer Dick transforms a four-hundred-year-old text, staged in the brightness of the Glasgow Botanics. It drives us right into the underhanded heart and envious sycophancies of a Downing Street cabinet meeting. The suited and tight-tied aesthetic to Shakespeare’s classic is nothing new, nor is the militaristic second half, but here it all comes together much tighter than other attempts. Heather Grace Currie’s design is clean, charcoal greys and fuchsia-tinted power suits all offer a unique sense of command to each player on the board.

And honestly, with the suave and disgustingly smooth air of confidence, James Boal carries the vainglorious and charismatic Caesar in a pristine navy suit, that crimson-red tie striking out, one doesn’t blame certain co-conspirators for being envious. Their poise is undoubtedly benefitting from EmmaClaire Brightlyn’s movement direction, as Boal holds themselves with reserve to the bitter end before a rather visceral assassination.

There’s a stark difference from Adam Donaldson’s Leader of the Opposition, by way of Brutus, a man seemingly in it for the right (at least in their mind) reasons, away from the thirst and covetousness of others they surround themselves with. Save for moments of outburst, where the emotions beneath the apprehension offer a vision of the man behind the suit. Donaldson’s reserved character still stands out, even when placed alongside the more outraged and incensed Cassia, played with wonderful élan by Claire Macallister.

But pitting themselves up to the more archaic and raw appeal of victorious legacy and the stern loyalty of those surrounding Caesar – namely that of Antonia, played with an incredible depth and fascinating twitching energy from Stephanie McGregor. Who seek to ally themselves with Caesar’s niece Octavia, carried with a richly earthen authority by Éimi Quinn, who though exudes respect for the language, isn’t here for the games which others are playing – they see opportunity, and they shall have it. Quinn’s cutthroat bluntness makes a nice contrast to the guile of slithery nature of McGregor.

While Dick’s initial pacing of the (often too-long) first act feels balanced, concluding with Antonia’s revered funeral speech, by contrast, the show’s forty-minute second half abridges itself too heavily to enable the sorrow of deeds to carry significant weight. Action is pushed towards a finishing line – but where this suffers, it is a flourishing act for McGregor’s Antonia, who truly pitches the contemporary laceration of politicians with a clean blade. Their impassioned fervour speaks the bard’s language but feels almost spun by the best of PR spin doctors, so much so that you do truly buy into it all before recognising the firebranding fanaticism.

And from Stephen Arden’s conspiring and conniving Casca to the unfortunate Cinna the Poet, played with gentility by Jordan Monks, Dick is benefiting from a terrific ensemble. It’s a large ensemble, and nearly all of whom have a tight grasp of the speech and projection – though one or two struggle to get their diction out as clearly as others, only brought into highlight when performing next to some terrifically eloquent and well-constructed characters.

With echoes of those January 6th riots, and the hollow words of podium-hopping speakers, the braying mobs and crowds may swing from one populist to another’s sweet words of comfort, but one thing remains no matter who says it: Bard in the Botanics Julius Caesar is a triumph.