This dark, brooding and utterly compelling telling of the tale of Salomé and her self destructive dance of death is slickly handled by Headlong productions who provocatively offer up a modern retelling of Wilde’s most scandalous of plays.

Banned in it’s day and left, like John the Baptist, to rot in a miasma of metaphor, Rupert Goold (director) raises this savage, shocking and menacing story into the modern day gloom of a post apocalyptic, booty-ghetto, multi-cultural mania that has all the threat and menace of broken Britain but shot through with an unadulterated and stunning beautiful original Wildean text.

This juxtaposition, whist terribly modern and thrilling can lead to some unfortunate giggles from the audience, but to the credit of this cast they manage to carry the ornate prose and also wring a surprising amount of laughs out of this horror story of a play.

I was astounded I laughed so much but Con O’Neill’s Herod is so monstrously camp and unhinged that you have to laugh, or else. This is a genuinely scary Herod, caught up in his own delusions of power, thrilled by his autocracy, gleefully rampant in his polysexual lusts, and terribly, fatally seduced by the precocious petulant passions of Salomé herself.

Zawe Ashton’s Salomé is a sexualised monster, all licky fingers, booty stroking and breathy husky little-girly voice, she’s the New Testaments best lap dancer and knows it.

The pivotal scene of her dance, combined with the demented pornographic delight of Herod is worthy of a play of it’s own, part pole dance, part ghetto porn, with a few tongue in cheek camp laughs thrown in for fun it’s an astonishing and compelling piece of acting.

My companion was shifting around in his seat, one suspects he was sporting a semi. However, I did snap out of my appreciation to notice that I was watching a naked lady fantastically shimming on the Theatre Royal stage and wondering how the Hassocks crowd were taking it, like me, they were transfixed.

"She is monstrous thy daughter. I tell thee she is monstrous." Herod’s realisation of the cost of this dance, - the head of John the Baptist - is a wonderful piece of intensity.  Jaye Griffiths cynical Herodias cackles and laughs in the background and we watch as Herod first cajoles, bribes, pleads, rants and then pathetically realises he’s been trapped and gives in to Salome’s revolting demands. Griffiths Herodias is given a warmth and humanity here that I’ve not seen before and it brought the complexities of this character out into the fore. Hers is a fantastic performance.

The set is bleak, stark and hints of northern playhouses and Mad Max but this doesn’t detract from the play, the cast are all superb, all getting an opportunity to shine and each of them teasing the religious, social, and racial tensions that weave their strands together to form Wildes highly strung story.

It’s on tenterhooks from the off and the cast throw their all into Wildes wilder prose and make it feel modern, relevant and almost normal. Quite a feat in itself.

Did I enjoy it? Hmmmm, I don’t know anyone who’s not a dangerous sexual psychotic who could really enjoy Salomé, but I left thrilled, disturbed and feeling like I’d had a very good night out with some very dodgy folk.

This is a short play, and more punchy for it. As we left the Theatre Royal, blinking into the late June crepuscular light, I felt a sense of release from the intensely dark, claustrophobic visions of self destructive madness and sexual debauchery this production presents.

Like Oscar himself this play is lush and dangerous.  Headlong and the Theatre Royal should be congratulated for presenting this vivid contemporary production of a rarely-seen masterpiece.



On Until June 19, Theatre Royal, Brighton (over 16’s only). More info here:

www.ambassadortickets.com/358/664/Brighton/Theatre-Royal-Brighton/Salome

Tickets 0844 871 7627