Rambles Reviews

AYLI relies on its strong central lovers, and this show didn't disappoint.

Ramona Alexander's Rosalind was "more than common tall" and quite striking. Whether in a melancholy mood or girlishly giggly, she made the character believably human. As with most productions, the boyish disguise was more portrayal and plot than physical presentation -- but Alexander deserves credit for a most impressive swoon in V.1, collapsing into a full faint.

Playing Orlando, Anthony Mark Stockard hit all the right notes. Handsome, fierce, devoted, desperate...

Inexplicably, they rushed through some of the banter in III.2 (the divers paces of time), trampling the jokes in the process.

But in this production I was even more drawn to the usually-minor characters.

Sheldon Best made Oliver surprisingly sympathetic from the start. When Orlando says "Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up" (I.1) the little brat becomes deliberately provocative, showing a little brother's expertise at pushing his older sibling's buttons. Orlando's attack is so disproportionate that there's little wonder Oliver encourages Charles the wrestler to hold nothing back.

And though Celia is mostly played for humor, I was blown away by the spine of steel Sara Oliva showed when her father banishes Rosalind (I.3). According to the campus arts magazine (PDF), Oliva's dream roles are "Cleopatra, Medea, Electra..." and I could see that strength keep the character from becoming a one-note joke.

Even LeBeau, who is often overlooked, felt like a power to be reckoned with. Lindsey McWhorter imbued LeBeau with such a knowing air, that I wondered whether lines were reassigned to bulk up the part.

In the countryside, Dimitri Papadimitriou's Corin is quite the "natural philosopher." He's not the butt of Touchstone's jokes, but holds his own, playing along with the jester's banter.

As for Touchstone, like many modern-dress productions, the formal role of Fool was eliminated. Joshua Davis played the part more like an oversized goofball; the closest he comes to motley were some rather loud shirts.

As played by Hannah Wilson, I found Phebe totally endearing She didn't convey the typical Lucy van Pelt bossiness, either. Combining a grey cardigan, peach shirt, green skirt, and lavender knee-highs, she'd rather bury her bespectacled nose in Raising sheep the modern way than listen to Silvius' love prattle. But when she fell for Ganymede -- that pathetically hopeful hunch of her shoulders was something out of a comic strip.

Brian Weaver's Silvius reminded me a bit of Arnold Horshack in dress and and manner. Ilya Sobol played Charles as a boisterous Eastern European bear. Naya Chang imbued Audrey with such innocence that I thought she was a freshman. I was surprised to read she's a third year graduate student, who's co-directing BTC's next production. And Molly Haas-Hooven, who played Adam and the deer, seemed to be channelling Andrea Martin with a shuffling gait that could evoke laughter just by crossing the stage.

Professor Elizabeth Terry -- the oldest member of the cast -- was an adequate Jacques, but somehow her recitation of the Seven Ages managed to omit the schoolboy.

Director Adrianne Krstansky may be better-known locally for Actors' Shakespeare Project's recent all-female Macbeth. In this production, she added some touches that I'd never seen before in AYLI.

The initial forest scenes take place in the dead of winter. A much more desperate situation than normally portrayed.

Every other stage production I've seen (four others), broke for intermission in Act III, Scene 2: as Orlando began hanging poems from the trees. This version waited until after the scene concluded -- with Rosalind's contrivance to "cure" Orlando.

Returning from intermission, the stage was a verdant spring. The passage of time added depth to the Ganymede charade, spacing it out over several months, when it often seems to rush past in a matter of days.

Video screens above the stage were largely used as extensions to the scenery -- sparks rising from the bonfire, for example.

However, I'm still not quite sure what the Big-Brotherish eyes before the show were meant to symbolize. And displaying the full moon for Orlando's ode to Diana (III.2) almost felt condescending -- although overlaying Rosalind's face at the end of his soliloquy did evoke a laugh from the audience.

As You Like It is also a musical, and J Hagenbuckle's musical arrangements fit the tone and setting. [I'll confess, I want a recording of their rendition of Marlowe's "Come Live With Me"]

And I would be remiss if I didn't praise fight choreographer Ted Hewlett for the best wrestling match I've seen in any AYLI.

Into a thousand parts divide one man...

Mistress Quickly (Paula Langton) and Pistol (Ken Cheeseman) say farewell.

King Henry (Seth Powers) and Princess Katherine (Molly Schreiber) decide to wed.

In college, I saw Actors from the London Stage perform Midsummer Night's Dream with five actors and minimal sets. I was utterly blown away by the experience. Eliminating all the stagecraft intensifies your focus on the acting and dialog. Shakespeare's language can hold up to the scrutiny, leaving it all up to the cast. Impressively enough, even when AFTLS actors played multiple roles in a single scene, I never had any confusion about which character was which.

That's what Actors Shakespeare Project accomplished with Henry V.

Last season, ASP put on a six-person Love's Labour's Lost, but I found the experience a bit too gimmicky for my tastes. They played Henry V straight, and it was everything I remembered so fondly about AFTLS.

The doubling and tripling of parts does not interfere with comprehension. They definitely edited the text, reassigning lines and possibly conflating characters. Shakespeare helps keep the audience keep track of who's who, with dialog clearly introducing newcomers by name.

In fact, doubling of roles can actually reveal subtle resonances. For example, I never before noticed how many characters lecture Henry in the guise of giving advice: the Archbishop of Canterbury in Act I, Lord Scroop (briefly) in Act II, Michael Williams in Act IV... But with Ken Cheeseman playing all three, the repetition becomes more obvious.

Although allocation of roles is tricky in a production like this -- everything hinging on which characters appear in scenes together -- I did notice that the male characters who came closest to crying (Exeter in IV.6 followed by Fluellen in IV.7) were both played by Paula Langton. Given all the discussion the previous week regarding gender issues in the presidential race, I wondered how the crosscasting influenced the emotional reactions.

Of course, the only way to carry off a production like this is with a strong and talented cast. And, though I noticed a handful of flubbed lines here and there, they were all seasoned pros.

               Why, how now, gentlemen!
What see you in those papers that you lose
So much complexion? — Act II, Scene 2

I recently read an essay (which I've been trying fruitlessly to find for this review) which compared stage Shakespeare to film Shakespeare. The author discussed soliloquys as a device for revealing characters' innermost thoughts -- but a well-shot close-up can be equally effective in a way rarely possible onstage, given audience distance. [I believe the example chosen was Marlon Brando in Julius Caesar.]

ASP arranged the room so that no seat is more than three rows from the stage. During the scene quoted above, I was startled by the intimacy in watching Molly Schreiber's face fall.

Unfortunately, center stage is dominated by a massive support beam. David Evett, the company dramaturg, blogged about the challenges this presented. And by using a circle-in-the-round arrangement, every seat will have at least some obstructed views. Most of Henry's wooing of Kate (V.2), one actor or the other had their back to me. Later that scene, I didn't even realize the King of France had returned until he spoke, the pillar so effectively blocked my view.

[Also, although not personally affected, I should point out that the venue is handicapped accessible by appointment (call to arrange access) and you have to go outside for the nearest bathroom. This play had been scheduled for Jimmy Tingle's theater in Davis Square, and relocated here when that establishment closed.]

Their current touring production, The Winter's Tale is the second of their shows I've seen (the first being their 2003 Dream) and in both they supplemented their small cast with puppetry.

This was the second production of The Winter's Tale I've seen, the first back in January by ASP. Fortunately, CAST's interpretation was sufficiently different that I didn't have my usual second-time troubles. [Upon first encountering a play, everything is fresh and new, making a review relatively easy to write. The second production one sees, it can be difficult determining which similarities might result from the later production inspired by the former and which are just common interpretations. Third viewing and beyond, provides enough datapoints to separate the general trends from individual innovations. But I digress...]

CAST is a touring production of Cambridge students (how do they balance this with classes?): eight actors with minimal costumes and sets.

The director's notes in the program describe the play as "a bit like Othello with As You Like It in the middle." And the production follows this interpretation by taking a drastic change in tone with the change in scenery.

The initial scenes in Sicilia evoke an Edwardian atmosphere. The pastoral Bohemia is a wonderland -- as envisioned by Lewis Carroll. The Shephard is the Mad Hatter, his son, the March Hare, and when Time enters after the intermission as Chorus, he's dressed as the White Rabbit. [At "Now take upon me, in the name of Time, To use my wings," he brushes his long white ears.]

Very clever, and it did work.

What I found particularly nice is that they don't force the metaphor too far. Perdita's dress is reminiscent of Alice's... but then, so is Florizel's hair. Polixines' suit is adorned with hearts -- initially, I thought them a token of Leontes' love, but is he intended to evoke Carroll's Queen of Hearts? Possible, but subtle enough to be seen either way.

I take pains in my reviews to distinguish between professional and college/amateur productions. But paradoxically, I think I preferred Ed Martineau's Leontes to the one by the ASP. With a younger actor, the king's insecurities became more plausible.

Leontes was doubled with the Shepherd -- shuffling, stooped and just plain silly to see. Quite the opposite from his portrayal of Leontes, and thus all the more impressive. I wish I could describe Martineau's facial expression during "receives not thy nose court-odor from me?" Suffice it to say, he's got a great comedic talent.

Autolycus has joined the ranks of my favorite characters to watch. He's such a delightful rogue -- in one scene, he literally scams the pants off another character. As played by Owen Holland, he smirks at the other characters... and at the audience. He's a dab hand at the banjo, and a bit of added banter at the end of Act IV provided a deft distraction while the doubled castmembers changed costumes for the return to Sicilia. He definitely put hs stamp on the role in a way that didn't leave me comparing him to previous portrayals.

Most of my negatives were matters of interpretation. I didn't much care for how they staged Exit, pursued by a bear, and by the end, I was tiring of the puppets and would've preferred some other means of handling minor roles. But the puppets worked for Ian, so I'm expressing a matter of taste rather than finding a flaw.

One actual problem to report: In Act III, Scene 3 the Clown delivers a humorously jumbled account of a bear attack and shipwreck. Shakespeare wants us to laugh at the Clown's confusion, but instead it left the audience befuddled. At intermission (which followed that scene) I heard several people trying to puzzle out what had just happened in the plot -- and we ended up having to explain that plot-point for them.
I don't know if the cast has time (or inclination) to work on the delivery of that scene, but it could use some clarification.

But these off-notes were minor quibbles in an overall entertaining evening.

The dance at the sheep-shearing feast was a particular high point. What starts as a somewhat typical English country dance turns into a work of choreographed slapstick that had the audience roaring.

The cast also used their youth as fodder for interpretation. Leontes assertion that his daughter "'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's grey," gains new irony when he's pinching a black-whiskered chin.

Redfeather Theatre Program must have been reading my mind.

At the box office for Richard III, they have a handout diagramming the family tree and political alliances among the characters: including names of those deceased before the play's start, and actors' photos beside those that appear in the play.

I've always wanted this kind of resource when attending the history plays. So my hearty thanks, with hopes that more companies will adopt this practice. And, because it's staged in an outside ampitheatre, it's actually light enough before intermission to make it a useful reference.

The show opened on a high note.

Although "curtain" is officially at 7, try to arrive by 6:45 to hear a lovely pair of chanteuses sing tunes from the 1920s and 30s.

Over the quarter-hour, observant audience members can watch the cast file in, each presence announced by a servant (further assistance in identifying who's who!) The cast then mingled in cocktail-party fashion until it was time for the show to start.

Then, Redfeather threw me for a loop. I'd thought Shakespeare's opening was sacrosanct. (I'd said as much to Ian, while discussing how Shakespeare & Company edited out the first 18 lines of Antony and Cleopatra).

But instead, they began with the final scene of Henry VI, Part 3, which nicely sets the stage and flows directly into Richard's (in)famous "Now is the winter of our discontent"

Timothy John Smith plays Richard with an eyepatch and a cane. The cane makes a most useful prop. While addressing the audience in the first scene, he points with it to indicate who he's discussing -- a third reinforcement for pinning names to faces!

It seems ironic to describe Richard III as friendly, but that's certainly true of the production as a whole, even though the character himself remains typically villainous.

Costumes gave the setting a mid-twentieth century feel, and helped differentiate the factions. The Woodvilles (family and friend of the queen) had a nouveau riche air about them, in contrast to the traditional nobility who were more formally-dressed.

I loved many of the minor directorial touches, such as the continuing reappearance of Clarence's murderers as Richard's henchmen. Likewise, the way Ann Marie Shea's Queen Margaret hovered around the edge of scenes seemed to reinforce Buckingham's final realization: “Remember Margaret was a prophetess!”

On the other hand, Ian was uncomfortable with the Bishop of Ely being treated as comic relief.

Unfortunately, our enjoyment was marred by environmental noise. The night we attended, some other event was going on in the park. Loud salsa music distracted from the atmosphere, and sometimes even drowned out the actors' voices. Not the company's fault, but an annoyance nonetheless.

The problem was mitigated during times when the production used its own background music, so I would recommend future productions consider (a) miking the actors on such nights and/or (b) using more incidental music throughout the performance.

Until then, I suggest checking with local event calendars in planning your visit, to avoid other such conflicts.

Tits and Asp: Tina Packer as Cleopatra

As written by Shakespeare, Cleopatra is an exaggerated parody of the worst slanders against Elizabeth. She's dangerously capricious, weakens her generals by toying with their affections, even boxes a messenger's ears for delivering bad tidings then cozens him back with promises of riches if he pleases her by speaking ill of her rivals...

When Cleopatra insisted on “being in” the naval battles, I half expected some rude parody of the Tilbury speech.

After fifty years of queenly rule, Jacobean England really had a lot invested in promoting their manliness. [For more on this, see my longtime favorite: King James and the history of homosexuality; this play isn't mentioned, but it fits in that analysis.]

Historical context aside, it's a magnificent role.

Tina Packer's Cleopatra rides a dizzying emotional see-saw. But while this inconstancy is first played for amusement, it becomes terrifying as one realizes how much power can be brought to bear on one of her whims.

Her performance also reminded me of Diane D'Aquila in ART's 2005 production of Dido (review). Both played aging queens revitalized by love and facing devastation at its loss. [I'm sure some academics have researched Marlowe's influence, so I won't dwell on it in further detail.]

The production was anchored by solid acting all around, especially from the supporting cast.

Walton Wilson as Enobarbus, Tony Molina as Menas

As the soldier Enobarbus, Walton Wilson provided a steady source of plain-talking common-sense. A refreshing contrast to other characters' flowery (and often false) speech. Pompey tells him to "Enjoy thy plainness; it nothing ill becomes thee." I couldn't put it better. His description of Cleopatra's arrival was wonderfully evocative.

I've delighted in Tony Molina's comic characters in past productions, but I think this was the first time I've seen him in the more serious roles. Here he played the Soothsayer, Menas the warrior, and the serpent-bearing Clown, providing a dark and sometimes menacing presence to his scenes.

The only off note came from Robert Biggs' Lepidus. His vocal style seemed too affected in otherwise serious scenes (although it worked marvelously playing drunk in Act II, Scene 7). But that was a minor distraction.

Like the cast, the crew also did an outstanding job.

From the very beginning, they made versatile use of the minimalist set.

“If it be love indeed... tell me how much.” Antony (Nigel Gore) and Cleopatra (Tina Packer) enjoy a tender moment.

A rug transforms to a curtain and then a blanket as the story opens on a playful bedroom scene (right).

Lighting effects reinforced the sense of place. Egypt was lit in soft blues, while Roman scenes were predominantly yellow, giving them a sharper feel.

Arthur Oliver's costumes were spectacular. I wish I had bandwidth to include more images, but consider it an incentive to see the show.

Suffice it to say, all the women looked fabulous. [Tina Packer has a great figure, which her costumes really showed off!] The men wore relatively similar tunics, with rank indicated by color (Caesar in purple, others in reds or browns) and other accoutrements. I was particularly captivated by Caesar's shiny gold breastplate.

Be sure to look around the lobby during intermission. The gift shop has several costume sketches on display.

Battle scenes were represented through stylized choreography. It's a valid artistic choice (common to S&Co productions), though I tend to prefer more realistic stage combat.

Unfortunately, the story does drag a bit in the second half. It's pretty clear where the unlucky couple's tragic flaws will lead them, and there just came a point where I wished they'd get a move on.

David Collings' Cymbeline:

Gwendoline Christie as Queen

For those unfamiliar with the story (which is most people), here's the setup:

The title character was king of England during the reign of Augustus Caesar.

As the play opens, two suitors vie for his daughter's affections. Imogen is expected to marry Cloten, her stepmother's son, but she prefers the lowborn Posthumus.

And from that simple start, Shakespeare pulls out all the stops.

The play includes:

rustics, royalty, royalty raised by rustics, Britains, Romans, Britains in Rome, Romans in Britain, evil queens, foolish kings, loyal servants, suspicious husbands, wronged wives, unreasonable fathers, headstrong daughters, wicked stepmothers, ambitious cads, malicious gossip, falsified evidence, imagined cuckoldry, divine visitations, magic poisons, false identities, faked deaths, failed diplomacy, crossdressing, estrangement, banishment, decapitation, ghosts and apparitions, jealousy, romance, ambition, deception, warfare... and a song.

In other words, everything but the kitchen sink.

Truly a magnificent tour de force.

Ian and I gaped in awe, marvelling as each new device was revealed. [The closest analogy to the experience would be watching a plate spinner or juggler, wondering how many items they could keep in the air, holding one's breath in awe.]

On our way home, we tried to think of any tropes Shakespeare left out, and finally came up with one: Cymbeline lacks a malaprop-spouting clown (a common omission in later plays, after Will Kemp left the company). Indeed, there are no fools at all in the story. Then again, it really doesn't need one.

Flipping through a copy of the play afterwards, they definitely streamlined certain aspects.

I don't know how much of the play was cut, but most of the edits I noticed would belong in a DVD's deleted scenes -- generally additional exposition that didn't advance the plot.

We don't need 20 lines in the first scene explaining Posthumus' upbringing (I.1.34-60), particularly since the relevant information is revealed elsewhere (I.1.185). Details about Imogen's assumed identity were snipped, as were Posthumus' dream sequence. Nothing which really impacted the plot.

And, the story flowed. A brief dumb show added some color and interest to the introductory exposition. And as I said above, we were delighted by the twists and turns Shakespeare threw into it.

Tom Hiddleston as Cloten

Tom Hiddleston as Posthumus

Despite the title, the true star of the show was Tom Hiddleston, playing a double role as the cad Cloten and gentle Posthumus.

He was astonishingly good.

Costume-wise, the only difference between the roles two were a trenchcoat and a pair of glasses. All the rest he managed with voice and body language alone.

And yet, whether he played Posthumus, Cloten, or Cloten disguised as Posthumus, we didn't experience the slightest confusion over which character was onstage at any particular moment.

As a matter of fact, the characters were so distinct that it took several scenes before Ian or I realized they were played by the same actor -- and Hiddleston changed outfits onstage! That's talent.

Superman's Clark Kent disguise doesn't seem so implausible anymore.

Hiddleston plays Posthumus as a sweet and stammering innocent, who toughens up over the course of the play. I can see why Imogen fell for him. Cloten is smarmy and polished -- an arrogant rich snot who can't handle having his desires thwarted.

While no other actors played quite as ambitious a role (Hiddleston was the only actor playing doubles, aside from some of the minor servants/lords), the whole cast was solid.

Jodie McNee was a passionate Imogen. Like Cloten, she started as a rather demanding child of privilege, but her tribulations through the play mature her.

Gwendoline Christie made a fine fairy-tale villain as Queen. She's appropriately beautiful and polished -- you can see how she won the king -- but it's a brittle shell over a heart of pure ambition.

Guy Flanagan's Iachimo stood out as a suave seductive Italian. While in the role of Pisanio, Richard Cant embodied the perfect valet while avoiding the trap of imitating Jeeves.

Geek aside: When I saw Richard Cant's biography in the program, I immediately noticed his appearance in Doctor Who and filled with curiousity to know when and where. [He'll be in a forthcoming episode.] But looking up the rest of the cast in IMDB, my jaw dropped at David Collings' credentials, which include three episodes of Dr. Who (including the titular undead Mawdryn), Blake's 7 and (I know at least one reader who may find this interesting) Sapphire and Steel. Kyool!

In an odd directorial decision, the lost princes were portrayed less like the rustics Shakespeare described and more like noble savages.

Also, I noticed no gender or racial cross-casting in the company -- which is getting rare enough to be worthy of comment.

But the plot was engaging enough to overlook any such lapses.