Ladies' Night

I was able to catch one of the Shakespearean offerings of the 2017 Key Bank Rochester Fringe Festival.  The short play, When Shakespeare's Ladies Meet, was produced by Aspie Works and performed at MuCCC.  The show was an enjoyable "What if?" in the world created by Shakespeare.

The premise of the play is a meeting of six of Shakespeare's leading ladies:  Portia, Cleopatra, Juliet, Katharine, Ophelia, and Desdemona.  They meet in Juliet's garden, where the ladies try to give relationship advice to the star-struck Juliet.  They all have experience in that area, and not all of it pleasant, as any reader of Shakespeare's work would know.  They learn, however, that Juliet is not entirely naive and has some advice of her own to share.

The set consisted of several pieces of patio furniture to simulate Juliet's garden.  All greenery was left to the imagination of the audience member.  The costumes were modern and ranged from dresses to suits.  All of the ladies had one common apparel item.  Each was attired in Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers.  That was a conscious decision by the director, borrowed, as he mentioned in his statement in the playbill, from a production of The Taming of the Shrew.

The script included many lines from Shakespeare's works, as well as plenty of title dropping.  It was as if the playwright had proceeded with the object of including as much allusion as possible.  I caught many of the references, but I wondered how much someone less familiar with the Bard would  understand.  The play provided minimal background within and relied on audience members bringing a working knowledge with them.  Not knowing the ladies' back stories would have detracted from the experience.  Seeing their interactions as each questioned the behavior of the others did make for entertaining theatre.

The play was as a woman's love--brief.  In fact, the advertised 45-minute running time was overestimated by 15 minutes.  Aside from 30 minutes of allusions, there was not much of a plot.  The play was advertised as "a little homage and parody...all in the name of fun."  On that count, it succeeded.  Anyone looking for more than that might have been disappointed, but Juliet borrowed a portion of Puck's closing from A Midsummer Night's Dream to apologize and to send the audience home happy.  It was an enjoyable, albeit quick, night at the theatre.

An Enjoyable Scandal

The final play in this summer's Stratford visit was also my first trip to the Avon Theatre:  Sheridan's The School for Scandal.  Happy accident it was that I chose this one; it fit into my travel schedule and it starred Geraint Wyn Davies, another of my favorite Stratford actors.  It ended up third on the summer's list of four, behind Tartuffe and Timon of Athens and ahead of The Changeling.

The play began humorously, with Geraint Wyn Davies entering the stage chuckling about something dumb he had seen on his cell phone.  He delivered an introduction which ended with the usual admonitions to the audience about silencing their devices.  It was a clever way to convey the warnings in the guise of the script, and a sign that a play that premiered in 1777 could be kept modern.  A reference to Steve Bannon surfaced during the play, and the cell phone reappeared at the play's end.

All was not modern, however.  The set and costumes were lavishly in-period.  The clothing--powdered wigs, large dresses, formal coats and outfits--was beautiful, a perfect fit for this eighteenth-century piece.  The set was sumptuous and efficiently designed, allowing for easy transitions between home sitting room and tavern.  Bravo to the designers and crew for their masterful efforts!

The cast was top-notch, as I have come to expect of Stratford.  Geraint Wyn Davies was excellent as Sir Peter Teazle, displaying genuine emotion in his performance.  Whether it was sputtering speechlessness or red-faced laughter, he solidified his position as a certain Stratford draw.  Several members of the cast had appeared in the other plays I had seen on the trip.  Tom Rooney turned the comic double, as Tartuffe the night previous and Sir Benjamin Backbite in this work.  Joseph Ziegler, also Timon of Athens, was Sir Oliver Surface.  Both were tremendous in their roles, and they caused me again to tip my hat to actors who can keep multiple major roles straight from one day to the next--impressive indeed!

Two other actors deserve note.  Sebastien Heins as likeable lout Charles Surface and Johnathan Sousa as his drinking buddy Careless were excellent in their second year as members of the Stratford company.  I was able to see both in their debut performances in last year's Breath of Kings production.  It was great to see them this year, both in this work and in their other roles (Heins in Timon and Sousa in Tartuffe).  The tavern auction scene was a comedic highlight of TSFS.  Both have bright futures.  Here's to many more years on Stratford's stages!

The play was enjoyable, although I will admit that it seemed to drag a bit in the first half.  The story, with its numerous sub-plots and intrigues, does get convoluted, and some of it was lost in translation.  The comedy was unmistakable, however, and the dramatic irony was humorous.  For a play set in the eighteenth century, a story about gossip and scandal is every bit relevant today and allowed the play to keep the audience engaged.

And so concludes 2017's Stratford excursion.  Hopefully 2018 will prove to be as enjoyable an experience!

Tartuffe

OK.  There is no connection to Shakespeare in this post.  It's neither Hamlet nor a different Shakespearean play nor a Shakespearean co-author.  Again, my blog, my rules.  (I did change the blog subtitle to something more inclusive.)

The highlight of my trip to Stratford was the presentation of Moliere's Tartuffe.  Last season I was able to see The Hypochondriac at Stratford.  It was terrific and terrifically entertaining, and I jumped at the chance to see Tartuffe this year.  When purchasing tickets and keeping all performances within my trip window, it turned out that I would be there for opening night.  Tickets were scarce and I was farther back than I would have chosen otherwise (and seated behind a large head, as it turned out), but no matter.  Sometimes one has to make sacrifices!

The stage set in the Festival Theatre was not overly lavish, but it fit the production well.  Moliere was transported into a modern setting, and so the set included a furnished bar area upstage and a furnished den area downstage.  Multiple doors led offstage, and the stairs upstage led to the second floor of the family home.

The entire cast for this production was tremendous.  Tom Rooney in the title role and Graham Abbey as Orgon were notables.  Tartuffe was particularly slimy and conniving.  Clad in black cassock (except for a brief disrobing scene that included a moonshot for part of the audience) with long hair and an Eastern European accent, Rooney's portrayal was hilarious.  Abbey as the paterfamilias was the perfect foil for Tartuffe.  Torn between his family and his religious mentor, his fits of stuttering comic bluster were well-played indeed!  Also noteworthy was Anusree Roy as Dorine.  She stole nearly every scene in which she was present, displaying a sensible attitude that contrasted beautifully with Orgon and Tartuffe.

The script for the play was a modern translation by Ranjit Bolt.  I was struck immediately by the rhyme scheme.  Though it is a French play, the rhyming was maintained in translation, which seems to me to be quite an achievement.  At times it felt forced, but that added to the humor.  For this particular production, Moliere's text was modernized even further.  Several contemporary references to the current political climate in the United States appeared.  Here were characters speaking of "fake news," "alternative facts," and even "covfefe," all the while keeping them in rhyme and meter.

The action of the play was hilarious and kept me laughing throughout the evening.  Sight gags were aplenty.  A large, hollow divan and a bean bag chair were used to conceal a spying Orgon, the latter less stealthy but funnier.  A facial moisturizer mask was laughably disturbing (or disturbingly laughable).  One memorable scene was likely unplanned.  As Tartuffe's manservant exited through the bar, he clinked together the bottles of wine he carried.  Two of the bottles hit a bit too hard and broken glass and wine ended up on the stage.  Dorine and Elmire entered and reacted to the mess, using it for comedy while managing to clean it up and not break character or the play's flow.

Bravo to Chris Abraham and the cast for a wonderful evening of theatre!  Tartuffe sits firmly atop this year's four-pack of plays.

TV Star Will

Summer 2017 brought the story of William Shakespeare to TV, courtesy of TNT.  The TV series Will told the story of a young William Shakespeare and his journey to dramatic prominence.  The ten-episode run provided much enjoyment for this Shakespeare fan.

The series was an historical fiction telling the story of young Will's early years.  As one of the on-demand additional features notes, Shakespeare may be the most famous person about whom we know the least.  The story, while including numerous real-life characters, is largely invented in the specifics.

The story opens as Will leaves Stratford and his family and heads to London to find fame and fortune through work.  He ends up joining James Burbage's company as a playwright and actor.  During the course of the series, he pens several plays that a Shakespearean fan may recognize:  one about King Edward, Two Gentlemen of Verona, a mash-up of Midsummer Night's Dream and Romeo and Juliet, and Richard III.

Will meets Christopher Marlowe, another famous playwright about whom we know relatively little.  Marlowe's struggle to break writer's block is detailed as he works on, and eventually completes, Doctor Faustus.  Was Marlowe homosexual?  Was he a spy for the Queen?  Did he make a pact with the devil?  All of these questions arise as we learn more about his character.

Much time is given to the conflict between the Catholic Church and Queen Elizabeth.  Richard Topcliffe, an actual historical figure, plays a major role in the series, as does Fr. Robert Southwell, S.J.  Will and Southwell, related as cousins in the series, compete for Alice Burbage, daughter of James.  The early career of Richard Burbage is detailed as he hones his craft on stage, working to become the famous actor we know through history.

While critical response to the show has been mixed, I enjoyed the ten-episode season.  I found the acting to be quite good, especially Laurie Davidson as Will and Jamie Campbell Bower as Marlowe.  (I did not recognize Bower, not having seen any of his previous work.  I discovered in one of the on-demand additional features that he fronts a rock band, Counterfeit.  They're on YouTube, and they're pretty solid!)   The plot was a creative attempt to elucidate history.  It held my interest and led me to try to learn more about the historical characters presented.  The action is very graphic, with violence as a constant presence.  Death and disembowelment are presented in full view of the audience; not for the faint of heart (or stomach).  The script, while adeptly written, did seem a bit forced at times, especially in some of the numerous attempts to include famous Shakespearean lines in normal dialogue.

As I type this, the fate of Will is unresolved.  Due to high production costs and low ratings, it seems unlikely that it will receive a second season.  It was an enjoyable summertime TV diversion and a good attempt to bring Shakespeare and his world to a wider audience.  Hopefully next summer will provide a return to London to see what Will writes next.

A Stratford Changeling

The first of the four plays on my Stratford schedule this year was The Changeling by Thomas Middleton (a reputed Shakespearean co-author) and William Rowley.  Of all of the plays I have seen at the festival, this was the first that left me disappointed.  It sits firmly in the fourth spot for 2017's trip.

I knew nothing of the play prior to seeing it, other than a friend's description of it as interesting and creepy.  The brief description of it in the Stratford Festival guide sounded interesting indeed.  When tickets became available late last year, it fit into the time frame with the other plays that I wished to see.  Plus, the cast included Ben Carlson, one of my favorite Stratford actors.  I decided to give it a shot.

Like many offerings at the Tom Patterson Theatre, there was not much of a set.  The action took place in Spain at the end of the Spanish Civil War.  To illustrate the setting, there were four large arches decorated in a Moorish Alhambra-type pattern.  So as not to hinder sight lines, the sides of the arches consisted of only the exposed steel beams.  There was still some interference, but it was not much.  (The head of the gentleman seated in front of me was about as much of an impediment.)  The other noteworthy set piece was a giant puppet of Francisco Franco that appeared during a parade sequence.  It fit (just barely) beneath the arches.

The story consisted of two plots.  The main plot revolved around a love triangle and an arranged marriage.  The female lead, played by Mikaela Davies, hires her father's servant, played by Ben Carlson, to take care of her fiance so that she may be wed to another.  The arrangement is ended, but the resolution leads to further difficulties.  The secondary plot had something to do with seduction in an asylum for mental patients.  Neither story worked.  The main plot was bland, and I found myself not caring at all about any of the characters.  Carlson's role was supposed to be a villain, but he was too boring for that.  Davies' lead was the second most annoying of the characters.  I didn't find her to be believable at all.  The secondary plot was entirely irrelevant and could have been excised without missing a beat.  It did, however, yield the most annoying character of the evening:  Antonio, the servant pretending to be a mental patient, played by Gareth Potter.  His manner of speech while pretending to be disturbed was incredibly grating.  I could not tell if the portrayal was intended to be serious or slapstick; either way, it failed badly.

According to the Director's Notes in the playbill, the action propels the characters "to a devastating conclusion."  Hardly.  It was more a whimper than a bang.  When the play was over, I was just glad to be rid of it.

Every member of the cast of The Changeling also performed in Timon of Athens, which I saw the next day.  The contrast was staggering.  The latter work, which may have been co-written by Middleton, was considerably better; the performances were believable and sympathetic.  The actors seemed to care about their roles, and this sincerity was evident in their work.  It was a complete change from the previous day, and it was proof that even a great cast cannot save a poor, poorly-directed story.

Timon of Stratford

This year's trip to the Stratford Festival included a four-pack of plays.  One of those, Timon of Athens, was a Shakespearean offering.  Granted, it's not Hamlet, but that won't stop me from writing a bit about it.  My blog, my rules.

The play, performed at the Patterson Theatre, was excellent in all aspects, finishing second among the four productions that I saw.  (The full list will be revealed eventually.)  It was a large cast, and all performed exceedingly well.  Joseph Ziegler as Timon was truly wonderful.  His portrayal was sympathetic and believable.  Ben Carlson, one of my favorites of the Stratford company, was a perfect foil as Apemantus, sharp in his delivery of Shakespeare's witty dialogue.  While the two actors were stand-outs, each member of the cast deserves recognition; all ably suited action to word and word to action.

The set was minimal.  There were no permanent fixtures.  Tables, chairs, and benches were brought on stage as needed.  The theme was modern and elegant, fitting for a nobleman.  Dinner banquets seemed appetizing enough to want to join.  Much of the scenery was left to the viewer's imagination, and Stephen Ouimette's direction made that an easy prospect.  Costumes also fit the modern mode and ranged from business suit to dirty sleeveless T-shirt.

I was unfamiliar with this work prior to seeing the performance.  As the story unfolded with Timon's abandonment by his so-called friends, I could not help but to feel sorry for him.  The transition from generous and friendly to bitter and betrayed was harsh.  Yes, Timon may have been a heedless profligate, but Joseph Ziegler's portrayal as Timon collapsed into bitterness was genuine and striking.  The dinner party ended the first part of the play, and it made for a rather stark intermission.

The second part of the play felt (and was) much shorter than the first.  Timon's misery and misanthropy were on full display right to the bitter end.  The scenes in the woods ranged from humorous (more repartee with Apemantus) to difficult (interactions with bandits and soldiers).  The climax did feel rather abrupt.  Timon leaves stage, we are told that he is dead, and the play is over.

The lesson of the play, that one takes his misery to the grave, hit home.  In my own life, persistent unhappiness led me to undertake a change in employment.  It's nowhere near a perfect parallel, but I could relate to the idea that misery can lead one to an unpleasant end.  Timon was urged to make a change, did not, and was left to face the consequences.  Fortunately I was able to rectify my situation before a similar end (if only in a figurative sense).   Shakespeare's words may be over 400 years old, but the story is every bit as relevant today.

As a post-script to attending the performance, I wandered the next day into Fanfare Books, an independent bookseller in town.  On a shelf of Shakespearean books was one entitled Notes on William Shakespeare's Timon of Athens by Elgiva Adamson.  It is a small (43 pages) summary of the play.  I look forward to perusing it, and perhaps even to reading the entire play.  Thanks to the cast and director for making this one a success!

 

Public Theater Hamlet

I forget exactly when I learned that Hamlet was making an appearance off Broadway at the Public Theater.  As soon as I heard, though, I made a calendar note to buy tickets when they went on sale.  That day arrived, and I discovered that there were not many available seats.  Wondering what was going on, I settled (not entirely begrudgingly) for a seat in the front row, stage left.

Researching the cast led me to an answer as to the relative unavailability of tickets.  Hamlet was played by Oscar Isaac.  While many of the audience likely knew him from his turns in Star Wars and X-Men, I recognized him from his early role in Pu-239, an excellent film about a radioactive element.  He was only one noteworthy cast member, however.  Keegan-Michael Key (Horatio) was familiar from his Key and Peele days.  Anatol Yusef (Laertes) appeared in AMC TV show Preacher, another favorite.  To top all of that off, though, I recognized two cast members from their turns on Law & Order:  Peter Friedman (Polonius) and Ritchie Coster (Claudius).  With a cast like that, how could I possibly miss it?

I took an overview of the Anspacher Theater upon entering.  Where was the stage?  There is none per se, although a raised portion of the floor upstage could serve as one.  The lack of a true stage, though, meant that the action would be on my level (literally) and only a few feet in front of me.  Given that, there was not much of a set--a rectangular table, some chairs, and a few props.  There were several pillars which, unfortunately, blocked patrons' view of portions of the action.  As they appeared to be supporting the building, though, they were not movable.  Those of us seated in our location were warned by an usher of three things.  First, the outlet upstage was not for charging cell phones.  (Apparently someone had done this the previous night.  Stupid.)  Second, the closed door was not an exit.  Third, the garbage can was not a garbage can; it was a prop.  Informed, we were ready for the evening.

After a brief prologue by Keegan-Michael Key, the action began.  Claudius (actually it was Hamlet's father portrayed by the same actor) entered, shirtless and with IV ports in his arm.  It was the first of several oddities of the evening.  Costumes were modern dress--Hamlet in black sweats, Polonius in a smart business suit, Claudius in a henley shirt and slacks.  While the atmosphere was modern, the dialogue was original Shakespeare, and it fit perfectly.

One additional facet of this production was live music.  Instrumentalist Ernst Reijseger was upstage, playing the cello and pump organ.  The music, while at times distracting, did create a great atmosphere for the play.  The performance was captivating; at times, I found myself watching the musician instead of the actors.

How does one stage a castle exterior without a castle exterior?  One turns out the lights and has actors speak lines in the dark.  Novel, interesting, weird.  This opening was the first clue that each of the seven actors would be performing multiple parts, something that would cause difficulties later in the evening.  It became apparent early on how the director, Sam Gold, would shorten his production.  All traces of the Fortinbras sub-plot were removed.

Ophelia's first appearance set the tone for her character.  This was not a wishy-washy character, but rather a female with a presence and an attitude.  Gayle Rankin was unknown to me prior to the play, but certainly was not by its finish.  Her performance was one of many highlights.

Claudius seemed appropriately slimy upon his arrival.  While this may have been intended, my previous experience with Ritchie Coster probably helped matters.  In Law & Order he had been cast as a serial killer, a corrupt cop, and a porn film producer.  I won't say he was typecast from the outset, but he was perfectly fit for the role of Claudius.

The secret of the non-exit door upstage was revealed when Polonius delivered his remarks to the courier sent to spy on Laertes.  The door swung open and, a la LBJ, Polonius did business while sitting on a toilet doing business.  The door concealed a bathroom and utility closet, and this set piece would get considerable use during the evening.  It was a unique addition to the play, and it provided considerable humor.  Hamlet's antic disposition was displayed by his emergence from the bathroom, clad only in black T-shirt and briefs, with a paper toilet seat cover around his neck.

When the players arrived at the castle, confusion reared its head.  Cast members in dual roles took up the spots as players, switching back and forth between roles with no costume changes.  Laertes became the Player-King, delivering the speech about Priam.  When Polonius delivered his line about the player turning red and crying, the actor literally had done so.  It was striking to say the least.  This was a cast that were serious about their roles and cared about their characters.

The first of two intermissions occurred after "The play's the thing...."  It was the first time I have seen Hamlet with multiple intermissions.  The break was nice for the audience, and it was necessary for the MVP of the night, the theatre carpet!  Hamlet's second soliloquy involved, in part, him stabbing a lasagna to death.  (Ophelia had brought it to stage earlier, eating away her distress over Hamlet's lunacy.)  Portions of the lasagna ended up on the carpet, as had flower petals and stems that had begun the evening on the table on stage.  A carpet sweeper took care of the issues and we were ready for the second part.

The action opened with Hamlet supine on the table, much as his father had been at the start of the first part.  His interaction with Ophelia was graphic, and it led her to tears, which from my vantage point were real.  It was striking to see an actress so believably into her role.  Eventually, she ended up in the bathroom, head over the toilet.

The play within a play showed both directorial positives and negatives.  All of Hamlet's instruction to the players were intact.  The dumb show, much to his chagrin, was hilariously overdone, with Keegan-Michael Key as the King.  His death scene was truly ridiculous.  How could Claudius have missed it?  Easy; he was in the bathroom.  (Cue toilet flush.)  This was a great way to deal with a sticky situation.  The remainder of "The Mousetrap" was a muddled mess, though.  Claudius and Gertrude played the roles of the king and queen within the play.  Coster with shirt--Claudius; Coster without shirt--Hamlet's father/player king.  How could they watch a play while they were in it?  (I doth protest too much methinks?)  Hamlet played the role of Lucianus.  He delivered the poison via syringe, which he had received from the ghost (?) at their earlier meeting.  Claudius' call for lights made no sense.  What was the cue, the fact that he was being murdered?  The interrelationship among characters was displayed, but the production would have been better served with a few more cast members to eliminate the confusion.

Claudius' soliloquy and Hamlet's "Now might I do it" soliloquy were delivered with the two actors immediately next to each other, separated only by the rectangular table turned on its side.  How does one not hear the other?  Best not to ask.  This is a consistent problem among productions I have seen, and the problem was not resolved this evening.

Poor Polonius met his end shortly thereafter, and Peter Friedman demonstrated an excellent ability to portray a corpse.  (That's a compliment!)  After spilling stage blood on the carpet, he was dragged about the stage area by Hamlet and then hidden in plain sight--in the audience in a vacated chair with Playbill in hand.  Not once did he break character.  The second part of the play drew to a close with Claudius urging England to "Do it" and then discovering the body in the audience.

The third part opened with a dead Polonius lying supine on the stage floor.  Ophelia's mad scene was among the best I have seen.  She was in all parts believable; her song (with live accompaniment) was well-played, her tears were real, her emotion seemingly so.  It was a credit to Gayle Rankin's abilities.  The carpet took the brunt of her madness.  Two potted plants were emptied of their soil on the floor and on Polonius' legs.  (He never broke character.)  Flowers ended up on his legs.  A drink offered by Claudius and swatted by Ophelia ended up on Polonius' crotch (and in the audience).  Then, in a directorial gem, Ophelia emerged from the bathroom carrying a garden hose attached to the utility sink.  She doused herself and lied down next to her father while the hose continued to soak his suit, her costume, and the carpet.  Alas, she had drowned.

A fantastic transition followed.  The lights came up, Polonius and Ophelia sat up and voila!  They were the gravediggers.  Part of the action involved them shoveling up the mess Ophelia had made on the carpet.  The gravedigger scene was humorous and well-played.  Hamlet and Horatio watched the action from the audience, Hamlet in the very seat Polonius had occupied previously, leaving that audience member quite the story to tell.  (Oscar Isaac took my seat!)  The quarrel between Hamlet and Laertes left both emotional, as well as wet and muddied.  The climactic duel was mediocre, and the dagger was a syringe.  (Why?)  Claudius died and somehow turned into Hamlet's father (the shirt came off) and hugged him.  It was wondrous strange.  Horatio's final speech, normally delivered to Fortinbras, was instead delivered to the audience.  It was not really necessary, as ending on "The rest is silence" would have been sufficient.

A friend and I were discussing recent performances of Hamlet that we had seen--he in London, I in NYC.  His trip was as poor as mine was excellent, and he hit upon something as we chatted.  When the cast members care about the play and show it, that can excuse considerable ills.  The cast I saw were excellent.  All played their roles well, with kudos to Anatol Yusef and Gayle Rankin for their realistic portrayals of emotions.  Oscar Isaac was believable and did not resort to slapstick madness.  It was great to see Ritchie Coster and Peter Friedman live and in person, and both were impressive in their performances.  The actors made up for the few directorial oddities, although Sam Gold also deserves considerable credit for an excellent show.  For being three and one half hours long, it did not feel it.  The action flowed and kept my interest right to the end.

I ended my previous review questioning my degree of Hamlet criticism as too severe.  After seeing this performance, I realized that it's not expecting too much for a production that is done right.  This one was.

 

Hamlet On The Cuyahoga

The beginning of Spring Break found me in Cleveland to see the Great Lakes Theater production of Hamlet.  It was my first trip to see a production by the company and to visit their home, the Hanna Theatre.  Overall, it was a mixed bag.

When I learned about the production, many months ago, I made sure to purchase a ticket on the day that they became available for general sale.  I went online and selected "Best Available."  What came up was a box seat that appeared to be far away from the stage.  Never having visited the theatre, I looked at a seating chart.  It was (and still is) confusing, so I called and spoke to a ticket agent.  I was told that the seat was a very good one and that I should order it while it was available.  I did.  Fast forward to the night of the performance.  I discovered that the seat that had been represented by the ticket agent was not what I was sold.  In fact, a "very good" seat was such a bad seat that the usher would not even sit me there.  Instead, she moved me to a different box seat.  It was a comfortable spot (I had a box all to myself), but the view was iffy.  I could see most of the stage, but the aisles, used by the actors, were completely hidden.  Plus, there was a balcony railing in front of me that hindered view of the front edge of the stage.  Further, there were two seats in the second row on the floor that were open the entire evening.  How my original seat was the "Best Available" was beyond me.  It was not a good start to the evening.

The stage was altered for this production.  The thrust was enlarged (asymmetrically so), and the action was moved onto it.  An impressive, beautifully-designed multi-level back wall was constructed to complete the round.  (See below.)  Additional seating was added on the stage level of the back wall, and two rows were added at the edges of the thrust to bring patrons into the action.  While an interesting idea in theory, it struck me as silly in practice.  The patrons behind the stage appeared to spend much of the evening watching the actors' backs.  The seats on the sides of the stage were added in front of and on the same level as what had been sold as "front-row," undoubtedly impairing the view of those audience members.  Had I chosen a front-row seat, only to discover that someone would be seated in front of me...  You get the idea.  Audience comfort seemed not to be of paramount importance to this company.

On to the play itself.  The production was staged in an Elizabethan setting and with period costume.  This fit the idea of recreating a Globe-style performance.  To shorten the play to a reasonable running time, all references to Norway and Fortinbras were removed.  According to the director, "the parallel revenge plots of Hamlet and Laertes give the audience the deepest experience, and contrast, of the themes of justice and revenge."  I do not disagree entirely, and in terms of editing it is a very sensible alternative.  One oddity was the playbill's refusal to call Claudius by name; instead he was "King of Denmark."

The next, and major, oddity was a decision to double-cast the role of Hamlet.  Two actors, one male and one female, alternated the role each evening.  The one that did not take the lead became Rosencrantz for the night.  I learned about this two days before the trip.  Fortunately, I attended on a male Hamlet night.  Having to sit through another trouser job might have caused me to scrap the entire venture before it began.  The director attempted to justify this casting in the playbill, but I did not buy it.  I've seen it done before, and it has yet to prove effective.  Thankfully, it was not an issue in the performance that I saw.

The acting was adequate if unremarkable.  The lines were delivered, the action progressed, but it did not feel natural.  The lines were not pronounced trippingly on the tongue.  The soliloquies were labored and uninteresting.  Hamlet was mad, but thankfully not overdone.  Laertes especially seemed to have trouble injecting any rhythm into his performance.  Polonius was the best of the bunch--foppish without being slapstick, meddling without being malignant.  When he delivered his going away speech to Laertes, the son double-tracked part of the speech, a sign that Dad had told him thus a few times before.  It was a clever if non-textual insertion.

When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appeared, there seemed to be some confusion.  Recall that the former was played that night by a female actor.  Hamlet gave her a kiss, seemingly knowing that she was a she.  It was a much different welcome than that given to Guildenstern.  Shortly thereafter, though, the tandem were called "good lads."  So what exactly was Rosencrantz?

In the nunnery scene, Ophelia tipped Hamlet to the presence of Polonius behind the arras.  As Hamlet moved upstage toward it to exit, Ophelia gasped.  Hamlet recognized that there were spies afoot and questioned, "Where's your father?"  The scene concluded, and so did the first part of the play, just as Claudius spoke of "Madness in great ones."

The second part of the play opened with "The Mousetrap."  There was no "inexplicable" dumb show.  Hamlet paced about the stage during the performance instead of staying with Ophelia.  What finally caused Claudius to demand light was not clear.  There was too much movement to focus clearly on Claudius, and I knew what was coming.

Ophelia's madness scene injected a new question into the proceedings.  Was she pregnant a la Stratford 2015?  There was no obvious bulge, yet when Ophelia delivered the line "We must be patient," she struck herself in the lower abdomen.  Was this a sign?  It was too obvious to be a throwaway gesture.  What was the meaning?  No directorial statement was noted in the program; it was left to the individual audience member to decide.

Claudius (a.k.a. King of Denmark) delivered his soliloquy downstage, with no chapel in sight.  He knelt to pray on the bare floor.  Hamlet entered upstage, underneath the back wall.  He moved toward Claudius as he delivered his "Now might I do it" soliloquy.  I wondered why he did not go to an upper level of the set in order to make more believable the idea that he could speak without being heard.  The level was used several times over, including the "Where's Polonius?" scene.  Here, though, when it might have been used to good effect, the opportunity passed.  Alas.

The return of Laertes was unwelcome.  As he stated that he would "forbid his tears," he broke down crying.  Huh?  Did you hear what you just said?  The conspiracy was discussed as in the text, with no relocations of dialogue.  The gravediggers were enjoyable.  The funeral scene with Laertes and Ophelia was a visual rhyme to the play's opening, when Hamlet was seen placing a kiss on the corpse of his father (another non-textual addition). 

The climax was upon us.  The role of Osric was excised entirely, and his lines were handed to a court attendant.  The duel itself was clumsy.  Claudius handed Laertes the unbated foil, an overt sign of their conspiracy.  There were passes, hits, poisonings, death, and the rest was silence.  The lights faded to black, and the evening was over.

I wonder if, having seen Hamlet so many times, I have reached the point of asking too much from the play.  Am I being unfairly critical?  I don't think so.  A solid performance is still recognizable, as is one that is less so.  While this was a valiant attempt with some nice touches, it was an uneven production marked by questionable directorial decisions.  As Fortinbras might have said, "Such a sight as this...shows much amiss."

Teachable Moment(s)

It's hard to believe that this is the first post of calendar year 2017!  One gets sidetracked with the inevitability of work and all of a sudden four months have elapsed.  As it so happens, though, work is precisely what led me to this entry...and even to rekindling a spark that had all but disappeared through the winter.

At the school where I work, we do not use substitute teachers.  When faculty members are absent for whatever reason, teachers who do not have classroom responsibilities are assigned to proctor their classes:  the dreaded "Please Preside" (although I doubt many beyond this veteran know why they have that odd name).  On Thursday of last week, your humble narrator, a math and science teacher by training, was sent off to proctor a section of English III.  I had learned on the day prior of the pending responsibility and also of the assignment.  The students were to begin reading Act II of Macbeth.  I decided immediately to change things.  Call it arrogance, call it sensibility, call it nostalgia of seeing the Stratford production last summer, call it a desire to educate.  Whatever you call it, they would read the play as a group.

I opened class with their assignment and then told them directly what I believe to be true:  Shakespeare cannot be appreciated with a solo, silent reading.  We cast scene 1 and off they went.  They concluded and then there was a brief summary.  "What just happened?  What did you read?"  Then we moved on to the floating dagger of scene 2, with the same pattern.  "What do you think?  Is there really a dagger?  Can the audience see it, too?"  We got through scene 3 as well, and I indulged a bit with an explanation of the porter's speech.  "Why is this here?  Why do we need a drunken doorman?"  One student nailed the idea of comic relief, and then we looked at the text and what was really being said.  Being relatively new to the language, they missed a lot of the innuendo.  (Those who brought a book to class--sadly not all of them--were using the Folger edition, which does a great job with the explanatory notes.)  By the time the period ended, I hope they had a reasonable grasp of Act 2, and perhaps even an interest in seeing a performance of the play.

This morning, I discovered in my mailbox yet another proctoring assignment for yet another absent teacher.  (That makes 22 for the school year to date.)  Today it was English IV.  The assignment:  to continue watching Branagh's Hamlet.  I wondered if seniors would be able to tell me where they left off.  I asked and the response, after some whining, was, "He was talking with the gravedigger."  "Oh, you mean Act I, scene 5," I replied.  As I rattled off the plot, they were surprised that a math and science guy knew something about Shakespeare.  Fortunately, the VHS tape (technology!) was right at the correct spot.  We fired it up and played it through until Hamlet died.  I did stop it a few times to spot check.  "What's going on?  How did Hamlet avoid being killed in England?"  Again, I noticed that there were difficulties with the language comprehension, but with a little bit of explanation the students were able to figure it out.

I noticed something else surprising about the film.  Ugh.  Give me a live performance without the schmaltzy background score any day!  How could there be any sort of tension with that elevator drudge?  And what was with Branagh's slow, monotone recital of the dialogue?  How awfully boring!  Why had I never noticed this before?  It left me wishing that the students could see a real live performance of Hamlet with some honest emotion.

After two English classes in three school days, I wonder where next I will be assigned.  I asked the assigner to throw me into an English II class next time.  After Macbeth and Hamlet, Othello would be perfectly logical.