Is there a way to resolve a dispute without revenge? Or does all resolution in Shakespeare have to conform strictly to either comedy or tragedy? Is the only way out of a vengeful finale to set the characters dancing sillily round a maypole?
In the Hudson Guild Theater's Hamlet and the Red Monkey Theater Group's Romeo and Juliet that we saw this weekend, the only way to solve a quarrel seems to be in death. Everyone is out for vengeance. Hamlet, Laertes, Romeo, Paris, Tybalt... and in the latter production, the choice of setting, the Wild West of the American 1870s, accentuates the bloodthirsty underpinnings of a play remembered mostly for being about love.
Yes, Shakespeare's plots might feel like rickety old scaffolding for marvelous language, but if Shakespeare is so adept at spanning the entirety of human emotions with his words, why are his stories so predictable?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Secret Shakespeare
The Secret Theatre is so-named because it sits on an unremarkable stretch of Long Island City, underneath the 7 train and far far removed from the Great White Way. Theatregoers sip on bottles of Yuengling at a tables set up by the entrance while a few hardy souls (from an in-rehearsal troupe practicing nearby, I surmise) grill on a barbecue.
The real delights though happen inside the stage. BOTH saw their production of The Tempest on closing night, and there was a palpable energy in the audience. The production feels like a piece of modern dance as much as it does a play. Ariel is played by not one not two not three but four young women, who speak in unison but move not, and who lend a spritely air to the production. the primary prop is a long purple rope which hangs from a pipe, and which the Ariels use to flip around in, much as a gymnast would.
If there is a false note here, it's Richard Mazda, who plays Prospero. He is angry Prospero rather than a wise one, and Mazda sped through his lines so quickly you would have thought he was anxious for this delightful little run to be over
The real delights though happen inside the stage. BOTH saw their production of The Tempest on closing night, and there was a palpable energy in the audience. The production feels like a piece of modern dance as much as it does a play. Ariel is played by not one not two not three but four young women, who speak in unison but move not, and who lend a spritely air to the production. the primary prop is a long purple rope which hangs from a pipe, and which the Ariels use to flip around in, much as a gymnast would.
If there is a false note here, it's Richard Mazda, who plays Prospero. He is angry Prospero rather than a wise one, and Mazda sped through his lines so quickly you would have thought he was anxious for this delightful little run to be over
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Propping up Shakespeare
We haven't written much about props here, however the American Bard Theater Company made me realize how important they can be to a successful play. Like the secondary plots in many Shakespearean comedies, props, though only playing supporting roles, can still make or break a show (see my comment on BAM's "Tempest"). Since "Much Ado About Nothing" is filled with light flirtation, it was apt that the moon appeared via a small pulley which cranked a flimsy but gorgeous cardboard globe into the sky. Like a paper lantern on a spring evening, it swayed, fragile above the stage, honestly confessing to the improvisational nature of off-off broadway theater. Rather than hiding the artifice of theatrical dressings, actors decorated the arbors with swathes of material at different moments in the play to convey the changes in scene and occasion. Sometimes it is precisely this amateur quality of theater that brings its freshness and joy, and of particular note was Andrew Eisenman in the role of Benedick who brought just the right amount of levity to the role to keep us gently amused.
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