What happened to the Rishi Sunak I knew at school?
The stories told by the beautiful Shahrazad to the King in hope of postponing her post-wedding-night execution are obscure in origin. But even the unexpurgated versions by Sir Richard (‘dirty dick’) Burton (16 volumes, 1885–88) run to no more than about 260 tales and not the thousand-and-one that legend would have us believe. Of these, Dominic Cooke has chosen six, inevitably including ‘Ali Baba’ and ‘Es-Sindibad the Sailor’ (but alas no ‘Aladdin’) and spicing up his selection with the naughty story of how Abu Hassan broke wind before his bride. The rudery of this was to the audible delight of every child in the Courtyard, as were a sorceress burping after feasting on body parts, indiscreet bottom-scratching and other mild transgressions of polite behaviour. Just wait till they discover Burton’s versions.
Cooke nicely links up his stories to show how the brave Shahrazad cures the King of his rage against women by first getting him to laugh and finally winning him round with the tale of how the Princess Parizade recovers not only her petrified brothers but also countless others destroyed by malign wizardry. Misogyny is magicked into universal benevolence and the happiest of marriages for Shahrazad to the King. The psychological interpretation of all this is happily left for another day.
Cooke keeps you in touch with the kaleidoscopic array of characters by having them tell you who they are and what they’re up to. The dialogue is kept to a crisp minimum and the stories unravel with fast-moving action and a wonderful variety of theatrical artifice. Es-Sindibad (Kevork Malikyan) uses a puppet of his younger self to help act out his story, which includes the company miming a giant predatory bird. More awesome puppet work by Michael Fowkes later shows us the richly coloured talking bird which unlocks the redemptive secrets of the final story and with them the heart of the King.
A first-rate company takes on multiple roles with energy and flair, not least in inspired impersonations of mules, horses, dogs and cats, and so on and so forth. Ayesha Dharker is a Shahrazad with the perfect blend of courage and mischievous resourcefulness. She’s perfectly in tune with Marina Warner’s percipient view of the character as an Arabian Penelope, ‘working against death at the tapestry of her story’. No less smart and delightful is Chetna Pandya as her sister Dinarzad, and later as Parizade, who escapes ‘the dreadful danger of the black stones and the threatening voices’ by the simple expedient (which had eluded her brothers) of putting cotton wool in her ears. There’s unalloyed pleasure from the hilarious physical antics and superb comic timing of Simon Trinder as the Little Beggar and in many other roles.
Dominic Cooke’s dramatisation is highly accomplished, but he didn’t make it easy for himself or for us by choosing some stories, notably ‘Ali Baba’ and ‘The Envious Sisters’, which envelop further stories within themselves. It’s sometimes hard to keep your bearings. No harm would have been done by allowing the helter-skelter pace to ease up from time to time. A good idea to pick up the published text (£5, RSC bookshop, 01789 748114) to read beforehand or later to catch up on anything you may have missed. Arabian Nights runs until 30 January.
Dune: Part Two is not a sequel but a continuation of Dune, so picks up exactly at the point you’d started to wonder if it would ever end. All I can remember from the first film is sand, sand, so much sand, and it must get everywhere, and into your sandwiches. But it is set
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