What, and give up show business???
Aug. 10th, 2004 03:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
djonnAs is usual for the annual pilgrimage to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, we saw five plays in three days. Capsule comments follow, behind cutlines:
Lovely production -- good, crisp execution of the language with a strong overlay of physical comedy; some of Benedick's stage business in particular is highly amusing. Literary purists might object to the degree of sheer physical chemistry between Benedick and Beatrice as antithetical to the spirit of Shakespeare's text -- and the degree to which the production plays it up in the late going. They've got a point, but the players are clearly having enough fun that it's hard not to go along for the ride.
It's a very bad sign at OSF when the best thing you can mention about one of the outdoor shows is the set. Unfortunately, that is the best thing about this summer's Lear. We begin with a huge proto-Celtic stone calendar-disk as backdrop, and all through the first half of the play it separates and breaks apart in stages, until at intermission it's finally disassembled completely and lugged out the side exits. It's clearly symbolic of Britain falling to pieces around Lear and his daughters, and works admirably well on that level.
But it's also the best thing in the show. The performances are uniformly aimless and one-dimensional, with just about the entire cast circling Chicken-Little like and wailing that the sky is falling (in normally impressive Shakespearean blank verse). It's wildly atypical of an OSF production -- and it's clearly not the fault of the actors, many of whom are outstanding in other roles this season. Director James Edmondson is usually better than this, too, but something has clearly gone wrong here. There's no energy anywhere near this production, and it shows.
Much smaller crowd for this than for either of the other Elizabethan-stage shows -- which is a shame. Not only does the adaptation do an astonishing job of conflating two plays into one, but the staging is among the most accessible executions of a Shakespearean history in recent memory. The costume design gives most characters a shoulder patch bearing a red or white rose -- loosely indicating a character's political allegiances, making it easier for the audience to keep track of who's who -- and the sets and props also make very good use of the rose motif to help keep things clear. The pacing is also quite brisk, and the adaptation concentrates helpfully on "people stories" that are fairly easy to track over the course of the play.
Two acting performances stand out. As Margaret of Anjou, Robin Goodrin Nordli essentially controls the show (legitimiately, and to good effect), and is strong in all the right ways for her character. Meanwhile, James Newcomb -- whom I've often found less than stellar in prior years -- comes into his own as a brash, ruthless Richard of Gloucester (he'll return next year to headline Richard III) who errs just on the right side of chewing scenery.
If you go, you can afford to skip Lear. You shouldn't skip this.
In a word: WOW.
These people are nuts. They are also geniuses. Or genii.
As you know, Horatio, the Comedy of Errors is about twins: two guys named Anthpholus, and two guys named Dromio. This production casts one, count him, one actor as both Antipholuses (Antipholi?). It also casts one, count him, one actor as both Dromios. This is a recipe for disaster if not brought off perfectly, as the actors chosen spend nearly the whole play onstage, yet must successfully distinguish their characters for the audience (not to mention keeping them straight in their own heads). But Ray Porter and Christopher DuVal pull it off in spades. And hearts, and diamonds, and clubs.
Which is the kicker. This production is set in Brat-Pack Las Vegas, with the locals portrayed as Hardboiled Mobster Types -- complete with accents. The visiting characters are Southen Good Ol' Boys -- also complete with accents. And the set is a wonder and a miracle of revolving 24-hour neon niftiness. And there are all manner of Vegas and pop-culture sight gags and interpolations, including an ingeniously inserted Sultry Torch Singer.
By any rational standard, all this ought to fall flatter on its face than a row of dominoes pancaked by a passing steamroller. But it works, and it works insanely, brilliantly, extravagantly well, right up to the ending in which yes, they do manage to deal with the problem of putting two Dromios and two Antipholi on stage at once. And, accents or not, it manages to keep to its Shakespearean roots in the process.
Like it says in the program, Viva Las Ephesus. OSF theater-goers are going to be talking about this one for simply years, and for good reason. Bravo!
Like Errors, this play is often very silly, being in substantial part a satirical riff on the Barrymore acting family as it existed in the late 1920s. And it's very good comedy at that, with swordplay rehearsals upstairs and down, a fourth-wall joke or two, and all the extravagance you'd expect of characters who order caviar as casually as they change their socks. But there's a degree of heart in the script as well, and it's brought to life just as effectively in the present production.
End result: four strong winners and one rather startling clunker. But the four good shows were extremely good, and the weekend was very well spent indeed. Didn't get to the Black Sheep, however (darnit).
Lovely production -- good, crisp execution of the language with a strong overlay of physical comedy; some of Benedick's stage business in particular is highly amusing. Literary purists might object to the degree of sheer physical chemistry between Benedick and Beatrice as antithetical to the spirit of Shakespeare's text -- and the degree to which the production plays it up in the late going. They've got a point, but the players are clearly having enough fun that it's hard not to go along for the ride.
It's a very bad sign at OSF when the best thing you can mention about one of the outdoor shows is the set. Unfortunately, that is the best thing about this summer's Lear. We begin with a huge proto-Celtic stone calendar-disk as backdrop, and all through the first half of the play it separates and breaks apart in stages, until at intermission it's finally disassembled completely and lugged out the side exits. It's clearly symbolic of Britain falling to pieces around Lear and his daughters, and works admirably well on that level.
But it's also the best thing in the show. The performances are uniformly aimless and one-dimensional, with just about the entire cast circling Chicken-Little like and wailing that the sky is falling (in normally impressive Shakespearean blank verse). It's wildly atypical of an OSF production -- and it's clearly not the fault of the actors, many of whom are outstanding in other roles this season. Director James Edmondson is usually better than this, too, but something has clearly gone wrong here. There's no energy anywhere near this production, and it shows.
Much smaller crowd for this than for either of the other Elizabethan-stage shows -- which is a shame. Not only does the adaptation do an astonishing job of conflating two plays into one, but the staging is among the most accessible executions of a Shakespearean history in recent memory. The costume design gives most characters a shoulder patch bearing a red or white rose -- loosely indicating a character's political allegiances, making it easier for the audience to keep track of who's who -- and the sets and props also make very good use of the rose motif to help keep things clear. The pacing is also quite brisk, and the adaptation concentrates helpfully on "people stories" that are fairly easy to track over the course of the play.
Two acting performances stand out. As Margaret of Anjou, Robin Goodrin Nordli essentially controls the show (legitimiately, and to good effect), and is strong in all the right ways for her character. Meanwhile, James Newcomb -- whom I've often found less than stellar in prior years -- comes into his own as a brash, ruthless Richard of Gloucester (he'll return next year to headline Richard III) who errs just on the right side of chewing scenery.
If you go, you can afford to skip Lear. You shouldn't skip this.
In a word: WOW.
These people are nuts. They are also geniuses. Or genii.
As you know, Horatio, the Comedy of Errors is about twins: two guys named Anthpholus, and two guys named Dromio. This production casts one, count him, one actor as both Antipholuses (Antipholi?). It also casts one, count him, one actor as both Dromios. This is a recipe for disaster if not brought off perfectly, as the actors chosen spend nearly the whole play onstage, yet must successfully distinguish their characters for the audience (not to mention keeping them straight in their own heads). But Ray Porter and Christopher DuVal pull it off in spades. And hearts, and diamonds, and clubs.
Which is the kicker. This production is set in Brat-Pack Las Vegas, with the locals portrayed as Hardboiled Mobster Types -- complete with accents. The visiting characters are Southen Good Ol' Boys -- also complete with accents. And the set is a wonder and a miracle of revolving 24-hour neon niftiness. And there are all manner of Vegas and pop-culture sight gags and interpolations, including an ingeniously inserted Sultry Torch Singer.
By any rational standard, all this ought to fall flatter on its face than a row of dominoes pancaked by a passing steamroller. But it works, and it works insanely, brilliantly, extravagantly well, right up to the ending in which yes, they do manage to deal with the problem of putting two Dromios and two Antipholi on stage at once. And, accents or not, it manages to keep to its Shakespearean roots in the process.
Like it says in the program, Viva Las Ephesus. OSF theater-goers are going to be talking about this one for simply years, and for good reason. Bravo!
Like Errors, this play is often very silly, being in substantial part a satirical riff on the Barrymore acting family as it existed in the late 1920s. And it's very good comedy at that, with swordplay rehearsals upstairs and down, a fourth-wall joke or two, and all the extravagance you'd expect of characters who order caviar as casually as they change their socks. But there's a degree of heart in the script as well, and it's brought to life just as effectively in the present production.
End result: four strong winners and one rather startling clunker. But the four good shows were extremely good, and the weekend was very well spent indeed. Didn't get to the Black Sheep, however (darnit).
