A rare beast in the West End; a clever play for clever, curious audiences. Rating
Good
Born With Teeth is a scholarly literary work, clearly heroically researched and uncompromisingly produced by the Royal Shakespeare Company, no less. It’s been a long time since I was a student, but I can imagine keen undergraduates flocking to it. It offers an alternative, almost certainly untrue but thrillingly just-maybe-possible, take on the relationship between our favourite Elizabethan playwrights, Christopher ‘Kit’ Marlowe and, you guessed it, William Shakespeare. Liz Duffy Adams’ dense but not unenjoyable writing picks at strands of the two writers’ shared history until they fray. It doesn’t answer many questions, but, by gosh, it poses plenty.
There’s the glorious work, obviously. Witnessing its creation and hearing passages quoted from plays we know while the ink is still wet is one of the play’s great pleasures. The two poets explicitly compete. Marlowe is streets ahead initially, then our boy Will catches up. There’s religion, too. Marlowe is an atheist, we’re told, at a time when blasphemy could get you killed. Will denies he’s a Catholic, another crime, but believes, unsurprisingly perhaps, that there are more things in Heaven and Earth than we’ll ever dream of.
The most thrilling strand is the notion that Marlowe is a spy in Queen Elizabeth’s court. Treating it as a sport, he plays dangerous games playing powerful sects led by Walter Raleigh, Robert Cecil and the Earl of Essex against each other. The threat of betrayal hangs over all the writers’ conversations. Can they trust each other? No is the loud, recurring answer.
The final strand is romance, or at least sexual tension. The two flirt, tease and kiss between fights. Despite getting a lot of stage time, the will-they-won’t-they game is the least interesting aspect of the play. It’s widely acknowledged that Shakespeare wrote one of his sonnets to a man. We know less about Marlowe’s tastes, but it’s easy to imagine he happily bedded both genders. It’s difficult to know, then, exactly what we gain from all the homo-erotic yearning on display. It can’t just be an excuse for Ncuti Gatwa to take his top off, surely.
Gatwa has a challenge as Marlowe. It’s a rockstar performance, but he’s also not particularly likeable. He undoubtedly bullies Edward Bluemel’s raggedy, nerdy Shakespeare. Is this a slightly bigger TV name enjoying his moment in the spotlight? I hope not. Bleumel is a fine actor. In fact, if you view two-handers as a competition, as reviewers have an unhealthy habit of doing, he probably shaves a win thanks to his underplayed technique and clearer diction.
Daniel Evans’ direction isn’t limited by the setup of, essentially, two actors trapped around a table. The action never stops. Design-wise, the show is as far from naturalism as it’s possible to get. Joanna Scotcher’s set gives us big screens, projection, and banks of blinding lights. We are constantly reminded we’re watching a play in a theatre in 2025. As a result, we never lose the feeling that Born With Teeth is, ultimately, merely an academic exercise. What if? Maybe? Just imagine?
Did I care? No. Was I moved? No. My tip is to book a ticket if you’re fascinated by the past. Don’t book a ticket expecting to discover the truth.
Written by: Liz Duffy Adams
Directed by: Daniel Evans
Set & Costume Design by: Joanna Scotcher
Lighting Design by: Neil Austin
Sound Design by: George Dennis
Video Design by: Andrzej Goulding
Movement Director: Ira Mandela Siobhan
Executive Producer for Playful Productions: Jack Lea
Executive Producer for RSC: Despina Tsatsas
Our tickets for this review were gifted from London Box Office.
Born With Teeth Plays at Wyndham’s Theatre Until Saturday 1 November.
