ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE
Created and Performed by Patrick Page
Directed by Simon Godwin
DR2 Theatre
Official Website
Reviewed by David Spencer
Patrick Page’s All the Devils are Here: How Shakespeare Invented the Villain is, say I, one of the last half-century or so’s great one actor shows. There aren’t many. And at least in my personal history, if you reduce the list to shows in which the structure is anthological—in which the actor as himself presents selections from the given author’s work, rather than actually playing the author of said work—the list is down to one and a half. In the late, great William Windom’s A James Thurber Evening, he was only an anthologist for the first act, expounding upon Thurber and delivering excerpts. He was Thurber for the second. (Windom would retroactively rechristen it Thurber I, after devising a second evening, Thurber II.)
At the beginning of Page’s evening, the houselights are down, then rise to a tight spotlight on him, in squat position, pounding the floor with a great staff, intoning an incantation of Prospero from The Tempest, its fury rising with his voice (by now easily one of the deepest, most resonant and recognizable in contemporary American theatre), he himself rising to full height as he nears its thunderous conclusion—taking the requisite pause for effect—then looking out at us…and breaking into a wide beaming smile. It’s the moment in which the audience takes Page to its heart and never lets go.
The expected display of versatility, of course, occurs: portrayals of Richard III, Iago, Malvolio, et al, each one precise, distinct and finely crafted. The semi-unexpected—by which I mean you kind of know it’s in the cards but don’t foresee the artistry that will equal the portrayals—is how well and entertainingly Page educates along the way. That’s where the evening takes its biggest risks.
As a veteran composer-lyricist of two Theatreworks/USA musicals for young audiences, I can tell you from unequivocal experience that the moment children even smell hat you mean to educate them, they conspicuously withdraw their concentration. And what TYA shows teach you about children holds precisely true for adults too; it just manifests differently. Adults may be too polite to fidget and murmur, but they’re not cool with being instructed. Unless they’re also being charmed.
And Page, despite being an authority, never comes on like one, but rather like a friend who just happens to want to share something very cool. His enthusiasm is so disarming that you never feel the knowledge being mainlined into your system. And that makes the intermissionless 90 minutes sail by.
As well-structured as acted, as finely-tuned as any pitchfork, All the Devils are Here, despite its title, is a heavenly evening. And Mr. Page is as angelic a guide through the darkness as one could desire.