The Gaming Table at The Folger Shakespeare Library

I love Restoration comedy. Love it. My favorite show that I did in college was She Stoops to Conquer (I played Miss Neville). It's still one of my favorite plays. I love the costumes, the language, the mistaken identities, everything. While The Gaming Table is an enjoyable night of theatre, I felt it left something to be desired.

The story itself is really quite good - plenty of intrigue and lovers being kept apart until the very end. In fact, the women in this play are much more outspoken and independent than most written in the same time period. These ladies want it all - money, love, and the freedom to do as they see fit with both. The servants are adequately saucy and in everyone's business (especially Lady Reveller's maid, Alpiew (Emily Townley)). The father, Sir Richard Plainman (Michael Willis) is pompous and kind of a jerk to his daughter Valeria (Emily Trask), who prefers science and learning to men (which, to be fair, is pretty refreshing). She does end up marrying Ensign Lovely (Robbie Gay), but only after an elaborate trick is played on her father by two well-meaning men. There's Lady Reveller (Julie Jesneck) herself, who professes to prefer cards to men, though that doesn't seem to be the case when Lord Worthy (Marcus Kyd) is around. Then Mr and Mrs Sago show up (Darius Pierce and Tonya Beckman Ross, respectively) and have their story and finally Sir James Courtly (the phenomenal and beautiful Michael Milligan) who loves Lady Reveller's cousin Lady Lucy (Katie deBuys) but can't have her because she hates gaming and he loves it. Actually, there might be too many stories - none of them really get fleshed out enough to where you're comfortable with any of the characters. There's always someone popping in or out or down and you're never quite sure who they're related to or who they love and why or how they came to be in the house in the first place. At least, that's how I felt about it.

I want my house to look like Marion Williams' set. It's so beautiful and quirky and fun. In fact, my only issue with any of the designs was one tiny costume choice - the men's socks. They looked like they were all wearing these gorgeous period frock coats and beautiful shirts and then... gym socks that are far too long. It was so distracting to me! There was so much attention to detail throughout all the costumes, then those socks appeared and they just ruined the effect.

Overall, the show is rather charming. There's a good deal of excellent acting and some wonderful moments. 3 stars.

Antic Disposition

Young Vic Theatre

London 14 January 2012

Hamlet

I had never been to the Young Vic before and was delighted by how easy it was to find from Waterloo Station – a mere 3 minutes walk – and had a good look at the Old Vic too. Getting there in plenty of time before the performance started, we were treated to a ‘pre-performance journey’ by walking through the back stage area intriguingly decked out in the pale sage green of psychiatric Hospitals, complete with stains and shabby equipment. Faded signs adorned the wall and everywhere there were the indications of a decaying, underfunded, understaffed National Health Facility. Locks and doors and echoing corridors suggested a Psychiatric secure unit with the sense of quiet, musty despair that pervades such places, even in the face of the blinding fluorescent tube lighting. Having visited such environs before it was all strangely, unsettlingly familiar.

The buzz about this production has been floating about in the theatrical ether for quite some time. The coup de theatre of getting Michael Sheen – one of those actors who tends to garner universal praise – in one of theatres most iconic roles was pretty staggering. Tickets were sold out months and months ago and an almost frenetic energy seemed to pour out of the Young Vic Theatre as my friend and I rocked up stuffing down the last of our sarnies.

We hesitantly found a way through the winding corridors, past a gym where a couple of hostile looking guys were practicing their fencing, past the Doctors rota and through the secure doors into a rust carpeted arena and headed toward the seats. The whole experience was deftly unsettling and as such set me on edge before the action began.

It was this psychiatric setting which was simultaneously triumphant and yet not entirely successful. This setting , as the basic premise, gave an underling structure to Hamlet’s madness, but also raised questions about the way the characters related to each other. Hamlet’s mum – played by the terrible attractive Sally Dexter, all girlish flirtation and heavy sedation – was she a patient? Was she a staff member gone mad? How did Hamlet fit? He was clearly a patient but how did this fit his connection to Claudius? (Busily tranquilizing his mother) And who was Polonius in all this? Laertes was clearly released at the beginning of the play – so was Polonius a patient? Or a porter? Or....?

To be honest the setting whilst powerful in places, also raised more questions than it answered. Nonetheless, negatives aside, there was so much about this production that was outstanding. Sheen was fabulous as our eponymous anti-hero. Manic, fragile, frighteningly powerful with all the strength and terror of a man losing his mind. Indeed when he donned his dead father’s coat –left across a coffin at the beginning lowered into a grave (question, who was the father in all this? Another Doctor? A Patient? An actual relative? Gar! Too many questions!) - inhabiting the ‘ghost’ role as well as the son, he became frighteningly dramatic, an almost meta-theatrical Revenger in the tale – much more effective in the role than the ‘son’ figure.

His setting up of the Mousetrap was another theatrical coup - with Roy Orbison’s ‘Crying’ playing loudly throughout, building to a crescendo as the chaos mounts and our Hamlet takes a fevered bow to the audience. It was majestic. The lights cut out and cheers erupted usually reserved for the final call.

There were some simple techniques which built the tension exquisitely. The darkness for the ‘ghosts’ appearance’ was marked by a flickering of the overhead lights then plunging the whole theatre into complete darkness. Simple but highly effective. Claudius’ soliloquy was spoken behind the glass observation door, and overheard on the CCTV.

Apart from the doubling of the ghost and Hamlet, there was also some interesting cross gender casting. Both Rosencrantz and Horatio were played by women - in the case of Rosencrantz there seemed the suggestion she was in love with the Dane and all his mental scars. Meanwhile Horatio seemed to act in a motherly sort of way to him.

Ophelia seemed to be a childhood sweetheart to his mild side - who was fiercely kissed and rejected in one fell swoop, and thus turned into her own fragile mind, singing PJ Harvey Shakespeare, wheeled around in the obligatory chair then being lowered into a sandy grave as the stage is pulled out to reveal a little patch of earth. Into this Ophelia is buried, Polonius emerges as Ophelia’s ‘churlish’ priest, then Ophelia too emerges as Osric. It is only Hamlet that sees these otherworldly figures. Unlike the Boydian universe where the dead do not stay dead, here we get the impression that the dead only stay alive in the turbulent mind of Hamlet.

To add finally to the sense of chaos that envelopes the world the bodies of all the Danish ‘court’ are placed under a tarpaulin of black plastic as Fortinbras walks in, masked in black, and watched in silence, a malignant figure. As the tarpaulin finally covered everyone , the poignant piano music quietly echoing through the theatre, Fortinbras pulls off his mask to reveal : What?? Michael Sheen???? He is Hamlet and Old Hamlet and young Fortinbras. Why? What’s going on? Then is chaos come!

And with that bombshell the lights go down. Riotous applause- standing ovation - three curtain calls- not bad for a Saturday matinee.

It was a suitably complex production in many ways wonderful and frustratingly close to magnificent. Sheen’s performance was a masterpiece, only just occasionally hindered by the pretext of the production. Still. Regardless of that I stood and cheered loudly as the lights went down on Elsinore.

"The Two Gentlemen of Verona," Shakespeare Theatre Center

I'm of two minds about The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Shakespeare Theatre Company's latest offering, driected by PJ Paparelli. On the one hand, there's a hell of a lot to love in this production, from the cast to its energetic staging and some of the best character-centric costume design I've seen in a while. On the other hand, remember that oft-quoted Coco Chanel directive about always taking off one accessory before you leave the house? I could have happile axed some of the extra-textual additions to this production and never felt their loss, except by the overall improvement of the piece.

First, the good. Paparelli's direction emphasizes the youth of Shakespeare's characters, setting them in a world of modern day of stagnated suburbs and urban excitement. The incredible rashness of the titular gentlemen, Proteus (Nick Dillenburg) and Valentine (Andrew Veenstra), seems to make a lot more sense through this lens than in any other production I've seen in the past. Miriam Silverman is excellent as Proteus' spurned first love, Julia, and it's nice to Natalie Mitchell return, once again, as her romantic competition as Silvia (last season, Mitchell played Diana to Silverman's Helena in All's Well). Adam Green and Euan Morton are genuinely funny as Shakespeare's clowns, Speed and Launce, which is no small feat (sweet heaven, there are SO MANY UNFUNNY CLOWNS in Shakespeare productions).


Euan Morton as Launce, Oliver the dog as Crab and Adam Green as Speed in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by PJ Paparelli. Photo by Scott Suchman.


I'm also not ashamed to say that I have a giant crush on Paul Spadone's costumes for this show. They're a GLORIOUS contemporary spin on Elizabethan costumes that manage to perfectly evoke period while coeexisting in a contemporary setting. Just take a look at Julia's first costume:


Miriam Silverman as Julia in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by PJ Paparelli. Photo by Scott Suchman.

The silhouette is pure period while the print looks exactly like something you'd find in a dELiA*S catalogue, a teenage fanatsy of an Elizabethan pattern. Or take any of the men's costumes in the first scene- we see jeans and trainers, but paired with doublets in a modern cut. It's a brilliant way of bridging the gaps between our world and Shakespeare's, a visual guide to Paparelli's entire thematic thrust for the production. If this were less of a review and more of a note passed in middle school, this is where I'd just cut to the chase and write:

Dear Paul,
I like you. Do you like me? Check one:
_ Yes
_ No
_ Maybe

XOXOXO, Emily

But it's not all roses and costume crushes, sadly. Paparelli is so taken with his concept of a teenage world run on hormones and passion that things get a little away from him. Supertitles appear above the stage before every scene, eliciting laughs from the audience by snarkily telling us when and where we are each time. Except, shouldn't I be able to figure that out by the acting? The opening sequence is done in a series of quick scenes of Valentine and Proteus drinking and partying with their friends, on and on into the night. Do I really also need an outside voice telling me that it's getting later and later if I can see that in how the actors are playing each subsequent moment? In addition, Shakespeare didn't much care about time and specific location as he wrote- his plays are a hot mess if you're trying to pin down timelines and settings for each moment. We don't normally notice and/or care overmuch if the play is allowed to just progress on its own terms, but when we're told "A week later!" "The next night!" "A week earlier!"... it's a bit much.

Music plays a huge role in this production, more so than I really expected. Normally, this is a huge plus for me, and the plays themselves are so often filled with music as it is. But in a production that places so much value on being modern! contemporary!... and then has a soundtrack that's 10-20 years out of date, the effect is pretty noticeable. When the characters themselves break into song and we have to accept the juxtaposition of Shakespeare's poetry and Bono's lyrics, well, one of those boys is going to come out the clear loser in THAT contest, kids. It's a lot to ask of the audience, and I just wasn't willing to follow there, no matter how earnestly Paparelli wanted me to go, or how talented the actors are.


Nick Dillenburg as Proteus, Andrew Veenstra as Valentine, Miriam Silverman as Julia and Natalie Mitchell as Silvia in the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by PJ Paparelli. Photo by Scott Suchman.



If I sound like a party pooper, I don't really blame you. I wouldn't mind these issues so much if I didn't feel cheated by the final scene of this production. Shakespeare takes his characters to a dark and dangerous place, and for contemporary audiences, we have to question the resolution the characters ultimately find. Paparelli, on the other hand, doesn't take us to the places that the text promises. I didn't feel the danger posed to Silvia and I didn't buy the happy ending we're forcibly serenaded with.

There's a lot to love in this Two Gents. I love the energy, passion, and use of space in Paparelli's staging (and hey, set designer Walt Spangler! That sexy little catwalk can stay in the Lansburgh FOREVER, it was so brilliantly used by the director). I think that a lot of folks who normally feel cut off from Shakespeare are going to be surprised by this production, and I certainly hope that holds true for the high school students coming to the SHAKESPEARIENCE matinees for this show. If I gripe, it's because I care. As a Shakespeare (and Shakespeare Theatre Company) fan, it's not that I'm angry- it's just that I'm disappointed. There's so much good, so much promise in this production that I feel cheated by its easy resolution. I recommend this production to a lot of folks, but if you come out of the night and need to take a long break from Bono, know that you're not alone.

"Hedda Gabler," Scena Theatre

Ibsen's "Hedda Gabler" is a play that can be hotly debated amongst his fans and detractors, and has in fact been done so since its premiere at the end of the nineteenth century. It's a brilliant examination of a fascinating character, held up for the scrutiny of an audience as she twists and turns as circumstances contrive to compel her toward that inevitable ending.


Kerry Waters and Lee Ordeman in Hedda Gabler. Photo: Mason Summers

Scena's production, directed by Robert McNamara and which opened last weekend, uses a translation by Brian Friel to great effect. Audiences familiar with Hedda's story will no doubt examine her and her fellow characters in a new light, and newcomers will see why she has captivated imaginations for over 100 years. In the title role, Kerry Waters manages to walk the tightrope of conveying Hedda's inscrutability while leading the audience to see the utter inevitability of her actions. We can never understand how she could do such a thing... but of course that's what she needs to do, can't you see? It's a wonderfully nuanced performance- just watch her face as the other characters speak and you'll see that she's actually speaking volumes.


Waters's isn't the only excellent performance on the Scene stage. Lee Ordeman is brilliant as Hedda's professorial and aunt-loving husband, George Tesman. Every second you see him onstage, your skin prickles with the certainty that he's a perfect storm of The Worst Possible Husband for Hedda Gabler, and it's wonderful. I've never seen the role played this way and it's a performance that's going to stay in my memory for a long time- who goes to see "Hedda" and gets blown away by George Tesman??


I was also impressed by Danielle Davy's Thea. Davy creates a perfect contrast to Hedda's cruelty- a shining angel of goodness, saving fallen men and inspiring genius within them... except that's not all. Davy's Thea has an unexpected steeliness within her that matches Hedda's, one that will not be swayed from her chosen prizes and intents. Watching her performance, something clicked and I saw Thea in a new light, one I'd never considered before. It's a wonderfully realized interpretation of a character that can be easily dismissed- not so in McNamara's production.


Eric Lucas and Danielle Davy in Hedda Gabler. Photo: Mason Summers


It's a captivating evening of theatre, but I would be lying if I didn't confess that I have a bone to pick with the production design. McNamara has chosen to set the play in the Norway of 1938, and in the production's attempts to match Ibsen's meticulous instructions for realism, design elements fall flat again and again. The set is decorated in a hodgepodge of mismatched Ikea furniture, lighting cues were distracting, and several costumes end up looking like they came from a costume rack in a community theatre (not to mention, oh lord, the WIGS). I don't think it's necessary to create a meticulously crafted period world for the characters to inhabit, but if you want to try, the devil is in the details and here, the details just don't add up.


It's a pity that the design doesn't equal the quality of the performances on display. This an excellent, exciting production that makes me want to dive back into Ibsen all over again. Come for the Hedda, stay for the rest of the ensemble, and don't pay too much attention to my griping about the design- I recommend this production heartily.

‘A roving a, a roving, a roving I’ll go’.

Henry V. Propeller. Brighton Theatre Royal. Directed Edward Hall. 11 November 2011.

Propeller are one of those companies I had never got round to seeing, despite their international reputation as a talented and thought- provoking all male ensemble. Every now and again I would have a look at their website and say to myself ‘I really must go and see these guys’. Then I would absentmindedly forget to buy tickets resulting in theatre envy when people would tell me about another of their impressive productions.

So, after six years or so, I finally got some tickets sorted. It was to be a day of firsts –my first time seeing Propeller and my first Shakespeare production featuring the music of The Pogues and The Clash. For several of my friends who came with me this would be their first Shakespearean History and their first time not only in Brighton’s sweet Theatre Royal, but in Brighton itself. This being the case I really wanted it to be a good production of much loved Henry V, so they would come away as arm-wavingly enthusiastic about this anthemic piece of theatre as I am.

After what has become, for many of my dear friends and family, an obligatory ‘Julia recreates Shakespeare with pub utensils’ run down of Henry V, we headed through the crowded Lanes, tearing ourselves away from the ditsy vintage shops, comic book stores and bric-a-brac havens toward the Regency gem (For more thoughts on the theatre itself see this reviewer’s previous post on Hedda Gabbler.).

Emerging from the rear of the stalls came a rag tag bunch of modern dressed soldiers, marching in time to their song of ‘A Pair of Brown Eyes’. The stage was barely set with little more than a few chairs and a scaffold. The company then presented the Chorus, an interesting little touch highlighting the ensemble nature of the company.

Gradually in their meta-theatrical troupe, this cast of squaddies became Kings and Princesses, heroes and rogues. The ladies' presence was particularly entertaining – the French princess being wolf-whistled whilst wiggling ‘her’ petite derrière en route to the bath. The Sergeant Major’s only nod to femininity was a skirt. Resplendent in military mustachios it was a deft comic touch.

As to be expected , the French court were suitably vain and swaggering, signalling their presence with the sudden putting on of shades and nonchalance – Gallic shrugs abounded as did the odd chanson d’amour, accordion and Edith Piaf melody. It added a light touch to the play which neatly elevated the mood from the more serious, physically threatening scenes.

This was a visceral production, with men running toward the audience at times in full attack mode (rather disconcerting for those of us in the front row) and with violence staged effectively and hard hittingly by the attacking of punch bags – each blow to the bag then being acted out by the unwitting recipient of the savage treatment.

During the interval we were treated to a few more stirring songs – raising money for charity – in which our enthusiasm bubbled over into whooping and cheering. It was one of the liveliest intervals I have ever been at.

As we shuffled back into the auditorium we had a little natter with the ‘French’ courtiers as they got back on stage, preening and singing. (For any RSC Histories Die Hards you will be pleased to know Mr Nick Asbury was one such, still in fine friendly form as ever – I believe he has a blog running for his time with Propeller too. I could not help but wonder of course if he desperately wanted to be playing Pistol. http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/series/on-tour-with-propeller)

This did feel like a real ensemble piece –which is unusual for Henry V as old Hal is the focus for so much of the play. Tony Bell played Fluellen with great comic timing, yet with a tremendous poignancy when he discovers the boys’ dead in the luggage. Gunnar Cauthery was a delightfully arrogant Dauphin, resplendent in his arch petulance and sneering disregard. Karl Davies packed an emotional punch as the spindly boy in dodgy seventies NHS specs whilst also being entertainingly alluring as the silkenly adorned Katherine of France. Dugald Bruce-Lockart as Henry was softly spoken yet with an underlying current of icy fire which was utterly believable in a military leader.

Masterfully executed, powerful and full of piquant muscularity Propeller created a magnificent piece of ensemble theatre. As l had hoped for, we all left the theatre waving our arms enthusiastically and wanting more.

Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare Theatre Company

True confessions of a theatre blogger: I found myself walking through my apartment this afternoon, proclaiming to the empty rooms, 'O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease...God help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.' It's one of Beatrice's first jests in the play, one that sets the tone for the evening to come. I'm not sure why exactly it was fixed in my brain with all the force of a particularly good Rick Rolling, but there it is. I love Much Ado About Nothing and have done so for years and years.

It's a love that I share with a good many people- evidenced by the fact that in the six years I've lived in DC, this is my third production I've seen without trying particularly hard (you can find a review of the Folger's most recent production here in the archives). With this sort of popularity, I imagine that there's a pressure for directors to come up with singular spins on Shakespeare's text.

Ethan McSweeny's production for STC is no exception- he's set the play in 1930s Cuba. There's a gorgeous set design by Lee Savage, costumes to match from Clint Ramos, and music from composer and Sound Designer Stven Cahill that all do their part to surround the audience and refashion the characters into this world. McSweeny has spoken about his interest in this time and place and the ways in which placing the play in this context supports its atmosphere (you can read his thoughts here). I can see the parallels that McSweeny wanted to draw between Shakespeare's Sicily and 30s Cuba; I'm afraid that I'm a bit jaded when it comes to these sort of settings and didn't really find that it added very much to the play itself. I don't deny that the Cuban setting provides some great fun in the music and the dancing (choreographed by Marcos Santana, with some standout work by Rachel Spencer Hewitt and Mark Hairston), but for me, this didn't extend as far as illuminating the story and the characters in any new way.

The production does hold on to a great sense of fun, and no one is having more fun onstage than Derek Smith as Benedick. His relish for the character is evident and his enjoyment is infectious. Kathryn Meisle is an excellent match as Beatrice, and their comic skills are excellently well served by the twin gulling scenes. It's an evening with a host of clever staging moments, and some great humor.

If I seem a little underwhelmed, it's perhaps that for all that this production gets right, I wish that it spent a little more time addressing some of the play's more problematic issues. Most of us tend to focus on the Beatrice/Benedick side of the play when we think of Much Ado, and forget about the more troubling aspects of the Hero/Claudio story. When I was thirteen years old and swooning over Robert Sean Leonard in Branagh's film adaptation of the play, all I wanted was a happy ending and I didn't particularly care how we got there. Mumblemumble years later, however, I'm not so anxious to rush into that happy ending, nor am I convinced that being a Shakespeare purist means that I have to because that's 'what the text says.' My favorite productions of this play in recent years have been those that showed me why I should forgive Leonato for his condemnation of Hero, and why Hero can forgive Claudio for destroying her reputation and hope of happiness in one very public swoop. I didn't see any of these moments in McSweeny's production, and I surprised at how accutely I missed them.

All in all, I enjoyed many things about McSweeny's production for the Shakespeare Theatre. It was a fun night and while it reminded me of the many things that I enjoy about this play, it also reminded me of the dangers of producing this play. This was not my perfect Much Ado, but I think that it's going to be a welcome, warm respite for audiences during this winter.

To Undo Things Done. A Woman Killed With Kindness. National Theatre, London. September 10th.

Some afternoons are grey, misty, cold and dingy and as such require bolting oneself away into a warm, dark corner with tea and comfort. It was one of those afternoons along the South Bank as I headed to the National Theatre to see Heywood’s Jacobean Domestic Drama A Woman Killed With Kindness. Written in 1603, Heywood’s drama explores two female protagonists, both -in their own way –trapped within their own version of domesticity.

Directed by current British wunderkind Katie Mitchell, the play was reset into Edwardian middle class England. The stage was split into two halves, on each side the action of one woman being echoed by the other – even both trilling plaintive chords on the piano together as their stores interweave.

Now being a good hefty slice of Jacobean Drama this was not a happy families scenario, although it at first appeared so in one case. We began with the gilded wedding of Anne (Liz White) to John Frankfurt (Paul Ready ), a smugly, gloriously happy middle class pairing. Not so happy at the wedding is the increasingly drunken Sir Charles Mountford (Leo Bill) – who had clearly been in love with Anne himself.

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the stage in a darkened house sits Charles’ put-upon sister, Susan Mountford (Sandy McDade), quiet, solitary and alone. It was a haunting opening image.

As the play speedily progressed, Charles’ increasingly erratic behaviour leads to debt, murder, imprisonment, impoverishment and disgrace –all of which are faced and lovingly supported by his long suffering sister. Meanwhile, Anne is overcome with passion not for her self satisfied husband, but for their house guest, the dashing Master Wendoll. (Sebastian Armesto)

Further drama ensues as Anne’s infidelity is shockingly exposed and Susan is married to a man she detests in order for her brother to discharge a debt of honour. Anne is punished with a ‘kind’ act and sent to a neighbouring estate with her belongings, but barred from ever returning home, seeing her husband or her children again. It is this ‘kind’ act that leads to her death, as overcome with guilt she refuses to eat. Susan, speaking out finally, makes a final chilling declamation, that Anne was a ‘woman killed with kindness’.

A powerful story then and Mitchells’ direction showed the ways in which both women were simply pawns in the power struggles and web of control of the variety of men that surrounded them. This was perhaps most graphically shown when Susan, dressed in bridal gown and veil, attempted to flee the house before her ill fated wedding, and was grabbed and held back two or three times before emitting a banshee wail of grief and rage. After this sudden outburst she returns to the still doll-like frozen posture; not quite defeated but knowing her fight will never win. Hers was a masterful performance, showing adroitly the ennui, the frustrations and the difficulties of her situation.

Mitchell used some interesting choices to show the ebb and flow of time, with characters walking backwards up stairs, or being lifted and twirled from one spot to another, highlighting the flux- like state of the world in which the two protagonists were fairly sedentary. They often moved in slow motion in these sequences. This gave the piece a fluidity and natural rhythm which pulsed like a heartbeat through the production – sometimes gently, sometimes erratically, but always full of life –until the final tragic denouement. Time itself seemed to feature as a character, synchronizing with the lives of those on stage yet beyond their control – as Anne said at one point:

‘That it were possible

To undo things done, to call back yesterday,

That Time could turn up his swift sandy glass

To untell the days, and to redeem these hours.’

Of course for its time a domestic tragedy was quite groundbreaking, let alone having an unfaithful wife as a potential heroine. Mitchell’s direction allowed us to feel the full force of this impact.

Masterfully done this was a powerful and compelling piece of stage work with bravura acting from the two lead women and making the Jacobean contemporary.

http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/64483/productions/a-woman-killed-with-kindness.html

Greek, Scena Theatre

How on earth can you tell the story of Oedipus in the modern day? We're not talking a modern-dress version of Sophocles, mind you- that's easy peasy and has been done many, many times. No, what Steven Berkoff's version of the Oedipus legend sets out to do is to actually create a version of the story in the modern day. Or, sort of the modern day- Berkoff wrote the play in 1980, and it's his version of London's East End, seen through the lens of white makeup, black costumes, and decaying tile walls, that we see in Robert McNamara's production of "Greek" at Scene Theatre.


Nanna Ingvarsson and Eric Lucas in GREEK.
Photo: Mason Summers

One of the reasons why the great stories stay with us for millenia is that we never stop seeing reflections of ourselves within them. The story should ring as true in 1980 as it did two thousand years ago for the Athenians seeing a new stage version of a tale that was old even then. That being said, it should work to put Oedipus in the East End, rechristen him "Eddy," and see what happens, right? Does it follow that a play that teems with the East End of 1980 will likewise translate for audiences in Washington DC in 2011?

These are a lot of questions to hang on one play, but you can't deny that Berkoff engages them head-on, and that McNamara works hard to give audiences a production that offers its own argument. His cast does excellent work with a fiendishly difficult text- the ladies in particular. Nanna Invargsson and Danielle Davy are each mesmerizing in their own ways; Berkoff's script is rife with monologues that require herculean strength and command of phrasing from the actor, and both women offer up showstoppers by the end of the night. Eric Lucas has the heaviest burden as Eddy, and isn't quite able to shoulder it as effortlessly as the women, but I think his performance is likely to settle in and become more assured as the run progresses.


Danielle Davy and David Bryan Jackson in GREEK.
Photo: Mason Summers

I just wish I were more enamored of the play itself. My problem isn't with the constant sexual and scatalogical language and imagery (although, really, please be aware- this show is filthy), although I can't help but feel that its overall effect seems more immature than daring, despite Berkoff's probable intentions. No, my problem is that Berkoff missed the point of the Oedipus story, or perhaps the point behind the story. "Oedipus" focuses on the fateful two hours when a man's desire to save his city brought his personal world crashing down around him. "Greek" spends two hours telling the back story to that terrible moment. Sophocles knew that the back story was ridiculous and improbable and entirely beside the point; by focusing on the other 95% of Eddy's life to date, Berkoff seems waylaid by the more salacious story, the one that will let him revel in naughty words to his heart's content.

I don't like giving away the ending, even with a show like "Greek" that relies on our familiarity with its story. That being said, the most truly interesting and exciting moment of the entire show is in Eddy's final monologue that crashes into the blackout. I don't want to dwell too much on something I won't describe, but for me, that moment was the best in the entire evening. I'm just not sure how much I can recommend a show on the strength of its last ten minutes. It may that "Greek" just wasn't the show for me- and that's fine! Not every show can be. There's some good work being done here, but you can see that I take some umbrage with the play itself, which makes it hard to see through to the strengths of this production.

For those who see the play, let us know what you think. It's been too long since we've had a good dialogue in the comments, so chime in and have a party, commentariat!

Parade at Ford's Theatre

Every now and then a musical comes along that is at once beautifully entertaining, heart-breaking, and thought-provoking. Jason Robert Brown (music and lyrics) and Alfred Uhry (book)'s Parade is one of those rare gems, and Ford's (along with Theatre J) does a brilliant job with it.

Going in, I knew little about the actual story. I have the soundtrack and think it's utterly beautiful - particularly "This is Not Over Yet" - but wasn't sure what to expect, plot-wise. The fantastically amazing cast, led by Tony-nominee Euan Morton and Jenny Fellner, swept me into the world so deftly, I barely felt the 2 hours and 45 minutes go by. Stirring ensemble songs and heartfelt solos brought me to tears, not to mention the end of the show. Seriously. I won't go into much of the story, since I hope you'll see it for yourself, but besides being an exquisite production, it also raised some interesting questions for me.

Early in the show, a young girl is murdered in the building where Leo Frank works. Several people are considered suspects, though Frank is the main one. Bear in mind that Leo is a college-educated Jewish man from Brooklyn, New York, living in Atlanta, Georgia. I don't know how much you know about Southerners, but we are not always the most welcoming people - especially of Yankees, and that bias was particularly prevalent during the 20s, when this show takes place. From the events shown, I wonder how many of the police officers on the case actually believed that Leo was guilty, and how many wanted him to be guilty because he was an outsider. There was nothing but circumstantial evidence surrounding the case, but that didn't stop anyone in the town from making Leo into the villain. If and when you see the show, let me know what your thoughts are - I'd be really interested to see if it raises the same questions for anyone else.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention a couple of utterly outstanding performances. Kevin McAllister, who plays several parts, was extraordinary. Each of his three different characters was well thought-out and completely separate from the others. He's also got an incredible voice which I very much hope to hear more of. If he doesn't get some kind of award for this show, that's literally going to be a crime. Also, Euan Morton as Leo Frank. You may or may not know that Euan is originally from Scotland and he's got the accent to prove it. While his Russian accent in Signature Theatre's production of Chess last year wasn't particularly up to snuff, you might be fooled into believing that he's actually a Jewish New Yorker with the accent he's got this time. It's also rather incredible to watch his character's journey through the length of the show. He starts in a very different place than where he ends up, particularly in his relationship with his wife, Lucille.

Overall, I am ecstatic that this show has come to DC, and Ford's does a very commendable job with a tough subject matter. 4.5 stars

Parade
book by Alfred Uhly
music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown
directed by Stephen Rayne
Ford's Theatre
511 10th Street NW
Washington, DC 20004
September 23 - October 30

DISCOUNTS!
Ford's Theatre offers a limited number of discounts for patrons age 35 and under. Tickets are $15 for Parade. Patrons may use the promo code UNDER35 when purchasing in advance through Ticketmaster at 800.982.2787 or www.fords.org. Limit of six per person.

Patrons must show ID at the Ford's Theatre box office. Ticketmaster orders will incur Ticketmaster order charges. Discounts are not available on previously purchased tickets, and are not available for groups of 20 or more.

Available dates for discounted tickets are:
October 2, 2pm and 730pm
October 4, 730pm
October 9, 2pm and 730pm
October 11, 730pm
October 16, 2pm and 730pm
October 23, 2pm and 730pm
October 25, 730pm
October 30, 2pm

The Heir Apparent, Shakespeare Theatre Company

There's something awfully satisfying about kicking off a new season of theatregoing at the Shakespeare Theatre. After a long and stultifyingly dull summer, at last!- back to what I love. And what better way to start their 25th Anniversary Season of comedies than with a new David Ives transladaptation (his term, not mine) of a classic French comedy?

"The Heir Apparent" is an evening of great fun. I've spoken here on several occasions about the perils of modern verse adaptations- it's a delicate and tricky balance between making clever rhymes and falling into the overly self-consciousness. By and large, Ives succeeds in finding the balance between having fun and keeping the sense of things. He's also been very wise in how he's adapted events in the plot, particularly as he finds wonderful new moments for the talented cast assembled by director Michael Kahn.

Let's do speak of that cast. Floyd King's marvelously contorted face on the cover of the playbill is a glorious preview of what's to come. As ever, King has superb comic timing and displays masterly ability to raise a laugh with one long look or twitch of his face. He's well matched with Nancy Robinette; the only flaw in her performance is that there isn't more of it to enjoy.

There are also a trio of newcomers that deserve special attention in their STC debuts. Carson Elrod is, as they say, a hoot and a half (or do only I say that anymore?) as the witty and wily servant Crispin. Elrod is able to boom across the stage in larger than life disguises just as easily as he can dial his performance back down to normality and still hold the audience's attention. Andrew Veenstra as Crispin's employer, Eraste, more than holds his own in a role that might otherwise be overwhelmed by the size of the other comic performances on stage, and Kelly Hutchinson provides the necessary grounding in reality as the servant Lisette. If I had my druthers, I'd love to see these actors return to the STC stages in future productions.

For those familiar with their work, it should come as no surprise that the design of the show is fantastic, from Alexander Dodge's sets to Murell Horton's costumes. Michael Kahn's direction shows why he's earned his reputation in American theatre, and why his classical theatre company has thrived for twenty-five seasons. Well done, Mr. Kahn, and I can't wait to see what comes next. For all of our readers searching for a fun night out that combines high art and scatalogical jokes (and who ISN'T in the mood for that?), "The Heir Apparent" is just what you've been looking for.