Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Hamlet (w/o the Cha-Cha-Cha!)

One week after the last Hamlet adventure, another return trip led to another performance.  This time it was a visit to the Central NY Playhouse, the location of Hamlet Cha-Cha-Cha! in 2013.  (See 8/19/13 post.)  Even without the Durante-esque excitement, the new production yielded a solid and entertaining performance.

First, a note about the venue.  The Playhouse is located in what once was Shoppingtown Mall.  As I arrived, it was to the sight and sound of a patron lying in the parking lot moaning.  Thankfully, security was on the scene.  The interior of the mall is largely vacant space; even the public library has moved out.  The Playhouse and the Regal Cinema were seemingly the only tenants that were open during my visit.  One of the few signs of life was the bird droppings on the railings near the Playhouse, left by the birds who have taken up indoor residence.  Later in the evening, the theatre manager directed patrons to restrooms, located in what used to be the food court.  The vacant, hulking setting made the entire performance feel like a play-within-a-play.

So much for that.  On to the production.  The stage set consisted of two levels--the upper level was four steps above the lower, which was on the stage.  Seating for audience members is all on one level at tables, which led to views obstructed by other patrons' heads, especially during Hamlet's death scene.  There were a few red cloth backdrops to give the hint of a castle interior.  A bench downstage was the sole piece of stationary furniture, with other pieces moved onstage as needed.  Stage left contained a tomb within ivy-covered iron gates, adding a funereal tone to the set.  Costumes were modern dress, with dark colored clothing contrasting with bright red armbands and sashes.  There was a feel of Nazi Germany in colors and mood, lack of swastikas notwithstanding.  Claudius had the unmistakable bearing of Reinhard Heydrich, down to the blond hair, and he had his own sneering SS officer at his side for much of the action.  The director played up this idea of a violent military state, at times going overboard with it.

The play opened as the play should open, namely with Francisco and his mates on the watch.  The ghost appeared as an apparition; in this case it was an image of a man in a white suit projected on a screen.  From there we moved to the court interior where Claudius addressed his subjects.  Polonius, bald and with goatee, was clad in a curious suit which was half-grey and half-black, hinting at a half-neutral, half-enemy character.  Laertes was given a definite family resemblance, also bald and with a goatee.  Upon news that Hamlet would not be returning to Wittenberg, clear distress on the faces of Laertes and Ophelia was evident.

Hamlet's first soliloquy belied something that would be apparent all evening.  As part of this performance, some of the original Shakespearean language was re-translated into a modern feel.  It was unclear if this was a conscious decision on the part of the director or if it was a sign of lines not having been memorized fully, but these textual differences were notable.  While they did alter the meter, they did not alter the feel of the play.  In fact, they likely were only apparent to one who is intimately familiar with the source text.

Laertes and Ophelia entered the stage from the rear of the theatre as brother instructed sister prior to his departure.  The subsequent interaction between Polonius and Laertes was played for humor, leading this audience member to laugh aloud.  It was a well done scene, showing Polonius for a caring, foppish, disciplinarian father and Laertes for a long-suffering son.

The meeting between Hamlet and the ghost included some peculiarities.  The ghost transitioned from apparition to actual actor with a jump and loud landing on stage, something a ghost would not have done.  The entrance should have been muted a bit.  Hamlet came to the meeting carrying a rifle, not a sword.  That alteration fit the context of the play, but leaving in the line about swearing "on my sword" did not.

As with the recent Lyric Theatre production (see 5/13/18 post), an invented interlude between Hamlet and Ophelia took place.  The scene, with no trace of madness, made obvious the romantic relationship between them.  Following Polonius' conversation with Reynaldo--cleverly staged as a phone call!--Ophelia burst in "affrighted."  Hamlet stood upstage left, mouthing the words that Ophelia spoke as if the two had planned the entire script together.  Ophelia became a conspirator with Hamlet, creating a story of antic disposition.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern came on the scene and, as at the Lyric Theatre, one was male and one was female.  Unlike that staging, though, the female role was not played as a floozy.  Instead, both were played as legitimate characters.  It was odd, though, when they were called "good gentlemen."  Was the role male or female?  No matter.  It was not an egregious fault.

Polonius' description of Hamlet's apparent madness was played for humor, with Polonius every bit the verbose fop.  Claudius and Gertrude drank wine to help them get through his monologue, and even the servant who brought the wine got into the act.  His dozing off was an added humorous touch for a scene very well done.

The entrance of the players was altered from Shakespeare's original.  Polonius did not introduce them.  There was no speech about Priam.  This made the "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy awkward as there was no basis at all for it.  The soliloquy itself was heavily edited to mitigate the confusion.

The discussion between Claudius and Polonius about Hamlet was a key piece of the development of Ophelia's character.  She discovers that her lie of Hamlet's madness is leading to their investigation of her boyfriend.  She has become trapped in the plot.  The nunnery scene, then, gained an entirely new dimension.  The whole interaction was staged for the benefit of Claudius and Polonius' spying ears.  Ophelia gestured throughout the interaction to alert Hamlet that the spies were present, ratting them out as it were.  It backfired, though.  Hearing that Hamlet would be sent to England caused an emotional response.  Her conspiring was the cause of her boyfriend's expulsion.  She was hoist with her own petard, to borrow a phrase.

"The Mousetrap" took place after edited directions from Hamlet to the players.  The dumb show was removed, and the murder was transplanted from Vienna to Venice.  The scene itself was relatively mild, although Ophelia's emotion at the pending departure of her boyfriend was apparent.  It gave a different dimension to her outburst.  Following the call for lights, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appeared clad in red armbands, a sign that they had become allies of Claudius.  Hamlet went off to his mother's chamber, and the first part ended with a dreadful addition to the text.  The players were brought back on stage and executed for their disrespect of Claudius.  It was a violent and entirely unnecessary invention.  Eighty minutes after the play had begun, we went to intermission.

The second part began with Claudius and Hamlet's soliloquies.  They were oddly blocked, with the usual question present of how one cannot hear the other considering their physical proximity.  Guns were substituted for swords.  Hamlet carried a pistol, which he brought with him to Gertrude's chamber.  He brought it out to shoot Polonius, a modern and not unique alteration.  The subsequent search for Polonius was needlessly violent, with Hamlet being savaged by Claudius' SS man.  Perhaps it was the overplayed violence that caused Hamlet to flub the line about finding Polonius--If your messenger find him not within two weeks, seek him in the other place yourself.  Oops.  Fortinbras and Norway were left in this production, so the retention of the "How all occasions" soliloquy made sense.  Hamlet went off for England.

Ophelia was a mess in the madness scene, and that is a compliment.  She was suitably emotionally distressed.  An oft-posed question is the cause of her unhappiness.  The relationship between Polonius and Ophelia seems not to be an overly loving one.  Hamlet has shunned her, but the depth of their relationship is not clear.  Polonius dies, but he and his daughter seemed not to be close.  Why such a momentous emotional break?  In this production, the question was answered interestingly and well.  Ophelia and Hamlet were co-conspirators in his antic disposition.  Her lies to Polonius and her scheming with Hamlet led to Hamlet's expulsion and subsequently to Polonius' death.  How could she not feel responsible?  The madness was given cause.  Later, her suicide was displayed vividly.  As Gertrude delivered the account of Ophelia's death, a flashback was shown on the video screen depicting quite clearly that her death was suicide and not accident.  It was good for those who like resolution, but it also removed the doubtful nature of her death that Shakespeare had written.

Laertes and Claudius plotted Hamlet's death.  As a sign that Laertes would be ruled by Claudius, the former received a red armband from the latter.  Gertrude entered upstage during the conversation, and thus she heard the entire plot of the poisoned chalice.  She delivered the aforementioned account of Ophelia's death.

The gravedigger scene was left nearly intact, although an above ground tomb was a bit confusing.  The churlish priest entered in a lab coat, a very odd costume choice.  The altercation between Laertes and Hamlet was as violent as one might imagine given the director's predilection for violence.  Hamlet's subsequent account of the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was much edited.  Osric was annoyingly fun, a well portrayed character in a well portrayed scene.

The duel was relatively straightforward, ironic considering the violence that had surrounded previous scenes.  Following a tearful moment with her son, Gertrude drank the chalice which she knew to be poisoned, thereby committing suicide.  The usual characters died, and the rest was silence.  Fortinbras entered to see much amiss, and he was notably very excited at the sight.  The lights faded and nearly three hours after it had begun, the play was over.

Overall, I found this to be a very creditable production.  The acting was on all counts quite good.  The actors were believable in their roles and played them well.  While some directorial decisions were questionable, none of them were severe enough to sink the production.  I applaud the entire company for an interesting and enjoyable evening!

Sunday, May 13, 2018

A Lyric Hamlet

Hamlet returned to Rochester and to the Lyric Theatre.  While the last appearance was a tribute of sorts (see 10/2/16 post), this was a full-fledged production courtesy of Screen Plays.  It was an uneven production, characterized by performances both good and bad and some questionable direction.

The setting for the performance was the Lyric's Cabaret Hall, the smaller of their two venues I have visited (and the same one that held the aforementioned tribute).  Most of the action occurred on a thrust stage with a tiled floor, while some of the action moved offstage or onto the upper balcony around the seating bowl.  The set, described vaguely in the playbill as Elsinore in "The Present and The Past," consisted of some chairs, a small table, and a chaise longue.  Audience seating was on uncomfortable, plastic folding chairs.  Seat cushions were offered to those who chose to alert via smart phone the usual social media platforms of their attendance.  I saw no seat cushions among the audience, a sign that the enticement was not enough.  Costumes were modern dress, formal or casual depending on context.

While reading the playbill, my optimism at the evening's show was put on guard.  It began with the title of the dramaturg's essay, "On Gender, Hamlet, and Theatre in the 21st Century."  This production included a "woman playing the role of Hamlet," a phrase the dramaturg quoted and then denounced as "troublesome in a variety of ways."  Having seen numerous productions with female leads, the essay struck me as defensive protesting.  If the play is done well, the gender of the actor is irrelevant.  It's when the director starts to reinvent Shakespeare that problems arise....

The play opened in the light; upper windows and early evening sunlight prevented the room from being put into darkness.  While the room was not put into darkness, the play was with an invented scene to begin.  Horatio opened with his speech from the end of the play, that of recounting accidental judgments, casual slaughters, and the like.  Meanwhile, an entire cast of ghosts emerged to frighten Horatio.  That oddity concluded, we dove into action as Claudius addressed the royal court about green memory.  Shakespeare's entire castle sequence opening was omitted.  Sorry, honest Francisco!

The initial appearance of Horatio (another female cast as a male) alerted the audience to a directorial gimmick that was to drag down the performance throughout.  As discussed in the director's essay in the playbill, the entire play was taking place in Horatio's mind as he read about the action from records that Hamlet had kept in life, his "tables."  Thus, the "recounting" that Horatio mentioned in the invented prologue was given literal meaning.  The directorial decision necessitated Horatio's presence on or about stage almost the entire evening, standing back as an observer, reading the action we were seeing.  (Could Hamlet have recorded events he never saw?  Best not to ask.)  This upstaging was distracting.  To worsen matters, the portrayal of Horatio was a maudlin disaster.  The character spent most of the evening looking as if he was about to burst into tears. While an interesting idea in theory, in practice such nonsense cast a pall on the rest of the action.

Back to the royal court.  Claudius spoke in an even, emotionless, understated tone, much as he spoke all of his lines.  There was no mention of Norway or Fortinbras, highlighting one way in which the play would be edited.  (Thankfully, the "How all occasions" soliloquy was removed accordingly and not forced as in the recent UB production.  See 3/14/18 post.)  Polonius sought leave for his son.  The portrayal of Polonius was one of the evening's highlights--subtle, scheming yet not overly foppish.  The handlebar mustache (a la Snidely Whiplash) and goatee gave his costume a bit of unstated duplicity.

Hamlet entered, clad all in black.  With close-cropped hair and unisex clothing, the gender of the role was not nearly as distracting as the dramaturg's essay had anticipated.  In fact, the gender issue was a non-issue.  M.J. Savastano did a very creditable job in the title role.  Her Hamlet was Hamlet.  He was well-performed and generally believable.  While at times the delivery of lines seemed a bit forced, the role itself was unmarred by casting decisions.  The histrionic car wreck that was Horatio was far more of a problem.

The action proceeded generally according to Shakespeare until an invented scene depicting an interlude between Hamlet and Ophelia.  Polonius observed the interaction from the upper level.  When he approached Ophelia, she realized she had been caught.  To cover the brief liaison, she claimed to be "affrighted."  The speech that followed then became a lie to cover her actions.  This unfortunate decision turned Ophelia into a deceiver, no better or more sympathetic than the other characters.  It also eliminated Hamlet's early displays of antic disposition.

The appearance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was enough to turn this audience member's stomach.  Both characters were portrayed by women; not an issue in itself.  One of them was dressed as a man, in a not-terribly-modern suit.  The other was dressed as some sort of, to be polite, floozy.  What exactly was the point?  I have no idea.  It is one thing to cast a female in a male role.  It is quite another to change the role entirely.  If the thought was to generate comic relief, it failed completely.  Fortunately, the two characters are minor enough roles that they were not on stage much.  It's a shame they had to be on stage at all.

Another questionable directorial decision involved the reordering of scenes from Shakespeare's Acts II and III.  Polonius hid behind an arras.  Hamlet delivered the "To be" soliloquy.  The nunnery scene followed.  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern entered (ugh).  The "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy came next.  Claudius urged vigilance for "madness in great ones."  Cut to Hamlet, urging the player to "speak the speech...trippingly."  Time was out of joint, literally.

The progression was a mess.  Consider.  This Hamlet believes Polonius to be behind Ophelia's returning of favors.  Hamlet is angry, as evidenced by the nunnery scene (which Horatio watched from the balcony!).  Then we cut to "words, words, words," and see Hamlet interact with Polonius in a playful fashion.  The "To be" soliloquy's placement as the centerpiece of the play was gone.  The juxtaposition simply did not work. 

The arrival of the players injected more confusion into the proceedings.  For some reason, it took three players to deliver the speech about Priam.  It was delivered as comedy, destroying the idea of red face and tears.  This then muddies the rationale for the "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy.  If the actor does not deliver a believable, emotional speech, then how would Hamlet have a suitable contrast to describe?  No matter, as the speech was edited heavily.

The blocking for "The Mousetrap" had Claudius, Gertrude, and Polonius on one side of the stage and Hamlet, Ophelia, and Horatio on the opposite side, a great way to display the two factions.  There was no dumb show for Claudius to miss.  The play-within-the-play was well acted.  Claudius' degree of displeasure was not evident as the tone of his lines was unwavering throughout.  His soliloquy was bland, and Hamlet's response was delivered on stage level instead of using the balcony.  Hamlet went to visit his mother, Polonius was stabbed, the son wished Gertrude good night, and, roughly ninety minutes after they went up, the lights faded.

During the short intermission that followed, a fellow audience member asked if I was a critic reviewing the play.  (The notepad and pen gave me away, I guess.)  After I replied that I was taking notes for myself, she asked me a question:  "Who was the woman hanging around the king?"  Happy that someone else had noticed that oddity, I replied that it must have been an awkwardly placed, unnamed attendant.  The character had no lines and just stood around looking out of place.  I suggested that it might have been the original's Cornelius or Voltemand, who were not named in the character list.  She asked if it was Osric, and I said that it probably was not as he appeared much later.  Little did I know...

Meanwhile, Horatio reappeared.  In character.  During the intermission.  Sitting off to the side, reading from Hamlet's tables.  So does that mean that Hamlet wrote about an intermission in his book and we were all part of the play in Horatio's mind?  Again, best not to ask.

The second act began with another invented scene.  We saw Horatio deliver to Ophelia the news that Polonius had died.  Terrific.  Another reason to see Horatio get teary-eyed.  Simultaneously, on the upper level, Hamlet read the letter calling for his death while Laertes read a letter, likely recounting the death of Polonius.  Why create new scenes?

Ophelia's subsequent madness scene was one of the mildest I have seen.  It was not overdone emotionally; in fact, quite the opposite.  She was very well-groomed for being mad.  Her songs were plentiful, and her flowers were pages torn from a diary.  There was no screaming or sobbing.  Considering the well of water that was Horatio, Ophelia's understated performance was a welcome relief.

A sailor appeared on stage to deliver letters from Hamlet.  It was a very poor attempt at comic relief.  The letter to Claudius was delivered.  He and Laertes hatched their plot, while the awkward attendant stood behind and listened to the entire discussion.  A third conspirator!

The gravedigger scene, Shakespeare's intended comic relief, was terribly unfunny.  There was no grave; there was a table covered in a black cloth and placed atop another black cloth.  Some "digging" occurred, which involved removing physical remains from under the stage and placing them into a wooden crate.  The curious aspect of the scene was one of casting--the actress who played Ophelia was one of the gravediggers.  It worked for the Public Theater (see 8/21/17 post).  How would her body be placed into the grave this time?  The laughable answer--she was cremated!  Her ashes were brought out in a urn.  (Historical and Christian discussions of this nonsensical plot twist must be put aside.)  The irony of the gravedigger who once was Ophelia carrying the ashes that once were Ophelia was not lost on this audience member.

The appearance of Osric added another new directorial dimension.  Osric was the awkward attendant who had been present throughout the evening, including during the discussion of the conspiracy.  (That audience member had been right!)  Osric's entrance was marked by confusion when the hat, which should have been off his (her) head, was on it.  The duel that followed was straightforward if unimaginative.  Somehow Laertes was stabbed through his protective vest and died.  Osric ran out a side door to director knows where.  The king showed no emotion when his plot was discovered.  The usual players died, and the rest was silent (silence?).

Or was it?  We were dragged back to the beginning of the evening as the prologue was re-staged.  Horatio delivered the lines with which he had opened the play and the ghosts reappeared.  Things were brought full circle.  Then the 45-minute second act was over.

This Hamlet had a bit of a red herring aspect.  The supposed major point of controversy, having a "woman playing the role of Hamlet," was not contentious at all.  It was not the gender of Hamlet that caused this critic difficulty.  That non-issue merely distracted from the more serious problem, namely the substitution of the director's judgment for that of the playwright.  Inventing scenes, rearranging the order of others, changing characters--these are the true difficulties here, the true flaw of this tragedy.  The effort was muddled by these non-accidental judgments, which ultimately left this production "fall'n on th' inventors' heads."