Meet the Bard’s young lovers – two pensioners at a commune! PATRICK MARMION reviews As You Like It 

HOW YOU WANT IT (Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon)

Judgement:

Verdict: vintage romp

ACCIDENTS OF AN ANARCHIST (Theater Royal, Haymarket)

Judgement:

Verdict: Comical mayhem

What an inspired idea from the RSC to pair Geraldine James (72) and Malcolm Sinclair (73) as ‘young’ lovers Rosalind and Orlando in Shakespeare’s woodland romance.

The duo appear in a cast of golden old actors, mostly over the age of 70 – even though stories about old people falling in love can feel a little sickening (not least to the oldies themselves).

But romance doesn’t have to be just Romeo and Juliet to work. After a lifetime of heartbreak, old people have just as much to lose as younger lovers – and they certainly have more to endure.

Best of all, it brings an unexpected playfulness back to the story – ironically thanks to our pack of retirees having to move more carefully around the stage and take it easy in the fight scenes (including a wrestling match at the start).

So when our retired Rosalind and Orlando escape from court to the forest of Arden, they stumble upon a group of outlaws banished from court who have started a 1960s-style hippie commune.

And while an elderly rock band comes out of the rigging before intermission, we could be back in Glastonbury, with portly Elton rolling up his pants, as he did on Sunday.

Wisely, Omar Elerian’s production is staged as a gentle rehearsal, with the senior citzs clad in jeans and beanies recreating a fictional 1978 production from memory.

And Elerian also makes sure they are supported by four youths, who serve as students, prompts and unofficial caretakers. The seniors don’t exactly leave scorch marks on the podium, but what they lack in spunk they make up for in experience.

James in particular is a revelation as ‘young’ Rosalind. The RSC should be kicking themselves that this is (incredibly) their debut with the company. Supple of joints and loose of limbs, she is everything you could want from a Rosalind 50 years her junior: girlish, charming, cunning, caring and in love. Despite exuding the air of a high official, Sinclair is also on top form. His solemn features make the years weigh heavier on him, but his Orlando also exudes the joy of a man amazed to see his love reciprocated.

And James Hayes makes light work of the often laborious fool, Touchstone. He could pick up the pace a bit, but he craftily tailors the role to his talents, with his own cuts and jokes.

The only thing missing from Press Night was Jaques from the leonine Oliver Cotton (the acerbic woodsman who gives the “All the world’s a stage” speech). Cotton had its period this week (a problem this production can be unusually sensitive to). He was bravely substituted by a barely rehearsed Christopher Saul.

But can we please ask that actors stepping into the breach be allowed to stick to a script rather than take a noble jab at lines from memory? We, the audience, really don’t mind.

Who has thought Unintentional death of an anarchist, a 50-year-old comedy by an Italian socialist, rooted in the turbulent politics of the 1970s, could become a West End hit? Not me. Three reasons why it is. . . First, Tom Basden’s script updates Dario Fo and Franca Rame’s original to make a riotous parody of a doomed cover-up by the Metropolitan Police of a fatal defenestration in their custody. It’s a two-hour blizzard (paused only for intermission) of very high-quality jokes that leave no time to think.

Second, it shows off a phenomenal performance from Daniel Rigby as the “Maniac” showman who has infiltrated police headquarters to wreak surreal havoc by posing as an investigating judge. Rigby performs with hyperactivity like a rocket, reminiscent of Eric Morecambe on amphetamines in the hospital.

Third, Daniel Raggett’s ingenious production on Anna Reid’s set of a grim office with surface wiring, marker board, carpet tiles and UPVC sash window is its own infernal death plunge into comic obscurity.

Yes, there are one or two hackneyed jokes that meet PC standards. But beyond that, this is a sensational vision of ultrasonic chaos.

Cheerful men? Not likely in this straightforward Robin Hood

ROBIN HOOD, THE LEGEND REWRITTEN (Open Air Theatre, Regent’s Park)

Judgement:

Verdict: out of range

Next in line for historical correction is Robin Hood. If you were hoping for a fun night out with the family in leafy Regent’s Park, forget it.

This “new story” is not recommended for children under ten, and children under four are not even allowed. There’s nothing quite as on-PC as a cheerful Friar Tuck.

Despite the title, Robin is literally replaced by Marian (a haughty Ellen Robertson), whom we first meet and complain about the smell of men. She is the wife of the evil sheriff who helps a consortium of warlords build a highway through the woods. But she hides her loyalty to the farmers by pretending to be an alcoholic. If you do.

But the really unfortunate thing about the supposed greatness of Carl Grose’s script and Melly Still’s production is that it turns the Robin Hood legend into a boring PSHE (Personal, Social, Health And Economic Education) lesson.

Ironically, most of the fun is made by Alex Mugnaioni’s mean sheriff. He is like a very tense deputy director who maintains order with hangings and finger amputations. Unfortunately, he also uses potions to subdue Paul Hunter’s foolish king.

What did poor old Robin Hood do to deserve this?

Two titans from the stage talk a good game

STUMPED (Hampstead Theater Downstairs, London)

Judgement:

Verdict: Enter playwrights

Samuel Beckett and Harold Pinter had more in common than a Nobel Prize in Literature (in 1969 and 2005 respectively) — they were both ardent cricket fans. Indeed, Beckett appears in Wisden for his first-class performances for Dublin University, playing a decent left-handed batsman.

The cricket connection is the inspiration for Shomit Dutta’s new play (first seen at Lord’s thanks to hybrid live/live streaming company Original Theatre), a tender two-hander directed by Guy Unsworth that depicts an encounter between the titans of the 20th century literature in a 1964 competition for the Gaieties cricket club, a team for people associated with the theatre.

The two men admired each other’s work and corresponded regularly, but never hung out together. Dutta places the men on a bench in a pavilion, waiting to bat, in a clever echo of Beckett’s Waiting For Godot and Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter. They chat, bicker, exchange epigrammatic witticisms and philosophical points. It is played – unlike the current men’s and women’s Ashes series – at a slow to medium pace.

Andrew Lancel’s Pinter is the nervous fanboy of Stephen Tompkinson’s bone-dry Beckett, 24 years his senior and much more acclaimed at the moment – though just as nervous about his first hit in decades.

Mr. Lancel captures Pinter’s increasing irritability as his day starts with a backlog and goes downhill from there, while Mr. Tompkinson – recently cleared of causing grievous bodily harm – gives a touchingly witty performance as the Irishman.

You don’t have to be a cricket fan to enjoy the show, but it helps if you know the works of both writers – and Shakespeare and ancient Greek playwrights, as the references to their works are frequent (and often amusing).

It’s a gentle village knock rather than an action-packed Bazball, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Until July 22 (hampsteadtheatre.com)

VERONICA LEE