Written by Francis Beaumont

With Additional Text by Ben Jonson, El Josar and Matthew Schwarz

Adapted and Directed by Marc Silberschatz

Tickets from £10.80

Chivalry is dead. Isn’t it?

At least, that’s what we’ve all been claiming for decades now. Well, centuries. But what chivalry truly is, and when it found itself dead and buried, is something we’ve never quite been able to stick a pin in.

Maybe we noticed it when men stopped holding open doors. Or when we stopped complimenting one another without motive. Or it may have been around the time Dragons which could be slain became less common. Or maybe it has always been a bit of a farce. That’s where Francis Beaumont’s early-17th century The Knight of the Burning Pestle – an episodic, five-act juggernaut of satire and parody comes into things – aiming for the (then) merchant class, the middle class, prose and theatre, and the very audience itself. It’s a complicated, chaotic, and comedic extravaganza that is seldom performed, which makes it an ideal candidate for the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.

There’s a place for the narrative even now, where an authoritarian class of people, those with wealth, scream of being ‘unseen’ and denied their stories – altered and misappropriated. But it principally follows a stage production of The London Merchant, introduced to us by Matthew Schwarz, before being brutally cut off, and the play thrown off tracks by the Grocer and his wife, two audience members perturbed by the show lampooning nature: it’s too romanticised. The pair then take up residence on the stage, as much players as the audience, as they ‘alter’ the flow of the story with their tale: The Knight of the Burning Pestle.

While it initially seems that the Grocer will be the crux of the narrative, it is instead Elizabeth Robbins’ role as the Grocer’s Wife, Nell, which firmly carves out the causeway in the narrative division between the two principal stories. Pushing for their apprentice, Rafe (an energetic Kyu Sim) have a starring role in this production – to have his own merry and chivalric adventure of daring feats, Nell and her Husband gerrymander the show. Initially, this crass determination to have their own chivalric, story pushed onto the audience is abrasive – seemingly a dissatisfied life and a chance to watch a dream unfold meaning more to the pair than the audience’s enjoyment. Robbins’ performance is of high quality, dedicated to characterisation. Intelligent, determined, but unsatisfied and traumatised (dare we suggest, the original ‘Book-Toker’) they make for a powerful presence and pair well alongside Emre Arslanbek’s (too) agreeable Grocer/George. There’s an agony underneath in the pair, one which reveals itself, but staggeringly avoids the extremes of the melodramatic.

The principal advantage Beaumont’s text has for the production is the ability to demonstrate how the performers pick and take and adapt the script to a more contemporary audience – though it is still very much played as one of the Conservatoire’s classical pieces. It’s a chunky production to digest, one which might leave some audience members a touch bloated. Knights and deaths and lying lovers, vaudeville acts and sailor costumes are all held together by some excellent staging in the Chandler Studio Theatre from Cal Owens, while Marc Silberschatz’s direction makes use of the entire theatrical space.

Bandaging some of the more intense or complex moments, musical director Sam K leads a superb live band of Milosz Czarniecki (piano), Charlotte Devlin (percussion), and Peter Rowan(electric guitar). Additionally, Alistair Robertson’s lyrically gifted performance as Merrythought utilises the band further, often incorporating them directly onto the stage for some more Variety elements of movement and song. The Merrythoughts (nearly conjuring a third break-away narrative in some respects) narrative sticks closer to the original production (The London Merchant) and is one of melodrama and (some form) of romanticism. Robertson is often the ire of a brilliantly snide, and tired Poppy Hope Smith as Mistress Merrythought, partnered with Chris Edward Neal’s dry-delivery and visual gags-a-plenty as the pair’s other son Michael.

The trio often get the largest laugh of the night with the production’s clever use of the entire theatre space, offering a quick glimpse into the sordid details and goings on of the cast behind the curtains. But the real comedic gold comes from Ashlyn Bourelle’s various ensemble or Amber Frances performances which make the best use of staging, dialect, physical comedy, and a distinctly ‘vignette’ of performance. While, filling a more traditional role of what the initial Merchant of London may have looked like, El Josar’s leading role cut short as Jasper is a heartfelt one, using bursting with a fire, coupled with a truly understated (tremendously impressive in this show) performance from Camille Corinne, who leaves a lasting impression.

In the fast-paced nature of delivery, diction becomes an issue with the staging, with some lines being thinned when projected away from the audience, lost in the clatter of footsteps, props, or the band. Chaos is a nightmarish fiend for any play; it’s a necessity for bombastic energy and a tremendously effective tool. But there’s a fine balance in harnessing chaos while ensuring it appears natural. Parts of The Knight of the Burning Pestle’s direction lose grip and allow the cacophonous wave of the loud, brash, and over-the-top to run riot a bit too often.

Though this is nothing short of ambitious, tremendously so. Its staging, choreography, performances, and complexity are all tackled head-on by the entire repertoire with fervour and gusto. The prominent issue lies in the fact that Beamount’s satire wasn’t a triumphant success at the time and while new avenues have been found, it’s still a messy meta-narrative jaunt. The Knight of the Burning Pestle has shards of enormous talent protruding, however. Clever humour and meta-theatrical reveal; some bloody-impressive movement direction; copious amounts of bodily fluids; and a collection of resoundingly talented performances – ready to take the world stage, make for an engaging, decisively sharp, and thought-provoking take on one of history’s less successful satires.

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