Sound and Fury

The key element of the next two plays I attended on my current trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival was power ... and how to hold onto it.

Shakespeare's King Henry IV, Part 1 was staged this season in the Elizabethan Theater and directed by Penny Metropulos. I was quite fond of the last OSF staging of this history play several years ago, which very successfully modernized the story and drew comparisons to recent wars and the spotlight that glory and fame throws on the men who fight them, especially fathers and sons.

This year's offering was a more traditional approach, relying on the text and the strength inherent in Shakespeare's poetic exploration of battle, honor, and family discord. Without all the bells and whistles of the previous production - and I seem to recall some significant cuts, as well - the show falls squarely on the shoulders of four key actors: Richard Howard's King Henry IV, Kevin Kenerly's Hostpur, John Tufts' Prince Hal, and David Kelly's Sir John Falstaff. That is quite an assemblage of acting skill, especially in Howard's case. Previous productions have thrown some pretty high-caliber performers at the roles of Hal (Marco Barricelli, Dan Donohue), Falstaff (John Pribyl, Cal Winn), and Hotspur (Barry Kraft, Michael Elich) - but I can't recall many of the actors called upon to play Henry Bolingbroke.

Having Howard take the stage as the King gives the part extra weight. He looked weary, guilt-ridden and ill at ease. He is a wonderfully flawed character who miscalculated his political and personal alliances and has to fight to retain his crown and perhaps, his son.

As Prince Hal, John Tufts displays his reliable physicality and strong command of the Bard's language while folding in a sly, comic sensibility and a sense of playfulness in his dissolute dealings with Falstaff and his cronies. (These were on display in recent seasons in which he played a cross-dressing Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream and King James in Equivocation). We see his simple joy at playing an elaborate trick on Sir John and then watch as he wrestles with letting that seductive life go and returning to his duty as heir apparent.

David Kelly's Falstaff is certainly the grimiest one I've ever seen. Life at the tavern is seen warts and all in this production, and the director lets you know from the get-go. I haven't heard so much belching on stage in my life ... or seen as many realistic uses of a chamber pot. He did particularly marvelous work with his elaborate description of just how many thieves accosted him after a recent bout of knavery - all set up by Hal to catch him in a lie. He also was delightfully eloquent on Sir John's warped conception of honor.

In other performances, Kevin Kenerly made for a charismatic Hotspur and Judith-Marie Bergan was very funny as Mistress Quickly.

Overall, I prefer more non-traditional productions that make judicious cuts to highlight the deeper, non-historical issues in this play, but in Ashland's 75th Anniversary season perhaps we should take a look at the whole and not its parts.

The next "power" play up for discussion is the festival's commissioned adaptation of Akira Kurosawa's acclaimed film Throne of Blood, in itself an adaptation of Shakespeare's Macbeth.

It was staged in the Angus Bowmer Theater and was directed by Ping Chong. The production incorporated Kabuki and Noh theater styles and employed many cinematic devices and perspectives including projected imagery and multi-layered vocal effects. The script dispensed with most of Shakespeare's language, except for the occasional reference, and also salted the dialogue with subtle references to Kurosawa's other films.

Kevin Kenerly played Washizu (Macbeth) with great energy and precision. He wasn't given the usual interior monologues to show his growing doubts. In its place he took advantage of the Japanese concept of inner stillness to physically show his struggles. And as for his physicality, the "death grip" with which he held his sword after murdering Lord Kuniharu (King Duncan) was nearly unbreakable ... until his wife Asaji (Lady Macbeth) expertly pried it from his hands.

Lady Asaji, played by Ako, a Kabuki-trained actress, brought specificity and strength to her role as she seeded her husband's mind with doubt and essentially did his thinking for him. The commitment to the Japanese traditional style was impressive and at times quite terrifying in its calm insistence.

Other cast standouts included Jonathan Haugen as the sly and commanding Lord Kuniharu (fresh off his amazing work in Equivocation last year); Danforth Comins as Miki (Banquo), who developed a strong brotherly bond with Washizu that I have never noted in Macbeth; and Cristofer Jean as the Forest Spirit, who used both audio technology and his own vocal range to create a memorable prophetic witch. I also liked the comic relief provided by Washizu's men, especially Peter Macon and Greg Linington, and an Old General played by Michael Winters.

The original visual style was arresting and succeeded in bringing the film's vision to the stage. I have seen many Kurosawa films and have enjoyed listening to the expert commentaries on DVD. One scholar memorably noted that, "If you see wind in the shot, it's because Kurosawa put it there." I recalled that statement this afternoon as I noted the fluttering of the Lord's tent in the opening scene.

I eagerly await the chance to view the film again to compare experiences.

Pride & Prejudice ... No Zombies!

My second day at Ashland 2010 began with a matinee performance of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, adapted from the novel by Joseph Hanreddy and J.R. Sullivan. It was staged indoors at the Angus Bowmer Theater and was directed by former OSF artistic director Libby Appel.

First, a proviso: I am the only human on earth who has never read Pride & Prejudice. Well, not really. But it feels like it sometimes. In the weeks leading up to my Ashland trip, I told many people that I was looking forward to seeing this play in particular because I had never read the novel. There was almost universal surprise, since I am fairly well read. But I do have an excuse, of sorts. My sister read Jane Austen when I was young and I grew up under the impression that, like Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and Black Beauty, some books were simply the province of the female of the species. Fast-forward to my thirties: I joined a book group and was hoping to finally have a good reason to catch the literary classics I had missed in my misspent youth. Unfortunately, the members of the group had already read Jane Austen and wanted to explore new territory. But it turned out that they hadn't read one of her novels, Northanger Abbey, so it was selected. I loved it! I was surprised to discover how witty her stories were and I reveled in her love of irony and her clear-eyed view of society.

I started reading the novel last week in hopes I would finish it before I saw the play, but I didn't quite make it. However, I had the best of both worlds as I knew enough to judge how closely the play came to realizing the novel and yet preserved the ending as a surprise to be experienced in the theater.

Now to the play.

The problem with adapting novels to the stage (or to the silver screen, for that matter) is that they flow differently than an original work built for the medium. The action of this novel takes place over the span of a year and involves many turning points of great import to the major characters and their destiny. The adapter can choose to focus on a much smaller aspect of the novel (as the film version of E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime did) or somehow condense the action into a comprehensible whole by some storytelling device. Libby Appel researched the available adaptations and discovered that virtually all of them used a narrator to achieve this goal. However, the novel doesn't have a single narrator. Feeling that this would be untrue to Austen's intent, she turned to a version which instead utilised an almost whirlwind style of storytelling that moves from scene-to-scene and locale-to-locale at high speed, almost melting from one day to another in a moment. Through the use of creative lighting, music, dance, and deftly written dialogue the audience is taken on a yearlong journey in the span of a few hours traffic on the stage.

As Appel put it in her directors note: "We have envisioned this production as a grand party ... We are less interested in the literal plot chronology. Instead we invite you to engage in each moment of the story as if you were beautiful ball that teems with music and dancing and flirting and falling in love - and yes, irony as well."

From the outset, the cast established the setting and characters of the Bennet Family and the people they met in their journey beautifully. I could find no weak links in this cast at any point. Elizabeth was played by newcomer Kate Hurster, a very strong actress who carried a huge portion of the play on her shoulders. Her sisters were delightfully and distinctly drawn, with kudos especially to Nell Geisslinger (who has done some amazing work here in past seasons in Bus Stop, Tempest, and Winter's Tale) as the beauteous Jane, and Susannah Flood (who I felt was out of her element in Hamlet but who knocked this one out of the park) as the naive Lydia.

Also notable in the family were OSF vets Mark Murphey and Judith-Marie Bergan as Mr. & Mrs. Bennet. Bergan brought out the foibles of her almost Dickensian comic character without going overboard into caricature. You could see her love for her daughters mixed in with her overblown sense of societal and financial necessity. And Murphey stood out for his befuddled yet ultimately sweet and caring father figure.

Other notable performances were given by Christian Barillas and Brooke Parks as the enthusiastic Mr. Bingley and his caustic sister Caroline; returning OSF veteran James Newcomb as the annoyingly self-important Mr. Collins, who almost stole the show with his smarmy attempts to capture the heart of Elizabeth; and Elijah Alexander as the inscrutable Mr. Darcy, who used his natural height and sharp features to great effect in assaying the character's well-known aloofness and hidden nobility.

Alexander is apparently a polarizing figure for longtime fans of the novel and Darcy, in particular. I have a few friends who have seen this production who feel that his interpretation is lacking in that he played the role for laughs. I must admit that I did see some evidence of that in a few places but they seemed subtle to me and didn't detract from my rooting interest in seeing Elizabeth find her great love. I am eager to review the much-praised television and film adaptations to see some different approaches to the character.

The director did a marvelous job of using social dance choreography to move the action forward - especially in Darcy & Elizabeth's awkward first dance. The lighting was also extremely effective, almost obviating the need for a set of any kind. It could have been done on a bare stage.

A word here on something that Ashland does marvelously with every production: A pet peeve of mine is how a theater company handles the transition from the world the audience has just come from and the world you want to introduce them to. I've seen shows on Broadway and in regional and community theaters all over the U.S. but OSF does it best: They control the moment between the two worlds with amazing dexterity. On Broadway I've seen ushers with flashlights seating late patrons and their bags of souvenirs as the action is already underway. At OSF, they get the cell phone admonitions out of the way (usually in a fashion that is linked to the show) then the music begins to rise and the lights begin to fall and you feel transported. It's the equivalent of an overture. In this production, as the audience is still filing in the players begin to assemble for a vocal recital on stage. We get a glimpse of the characters and their relationships. In a very effective and comic moment, the usual recorded OSF admonitions regarding cell phones and cameras begins to play and surprises the two youngest Bennet daughters, who vainly search for the source of the mysterious voice. Then the characters take their seats and the "concert" begins - tellingly with a song from Twelfth Night. Then the lights dim to black, the scene changes, and we're off and running.

All in all, a really charming production. No deeper meaning is imparted, but we do get a lovely afternoon's entertainment: a window into the world of manners Jane Austen style, a captivating love story, and an invitation to a great party. I have great respect for Libby Appel's directing, especially of the Festival's non-Shakespeare offerings. Her Bus Stop, Three Sisters, and Paradise Lost were fascinating shows, and this adds to her laudable canon. I measure my admiration for the show by my desire as the lights went up that my wife Vicky had been here to see it with me. Great fun!

And I can't wait to finish the book!

Oh what a rogue and peasant slave ... am I?

It seems only fitting that my first attempt at blogging should start with some "words, words, words" about the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, where I am currently on a very delayed summer vacation.

Some perspective: I first attended OSF in 1975 as an impressionable teenager, fresh off a month-long camping trip in the Pacific Northwest and eager to meet up with my family again, albeit in a small town in Southern Oregon that I had never heard of before but which apparently had an annual theater fest of some kind. My father had been an expert witness in a trial in nearby Medford earlier that year and had been urged by his hosts that he just had to bring his family up to experience the wonder of Shakespeare in Ashland. It should be noted that my dad, a noted ophthalmologist, was an expert witness in exactly ONE trial during his career, and it was here. The Fates definitely wanted my family to make this journey.

As a young man, I was aware of Shakespeare through school - we had read Julius Caesar and Measure for Measure. And I had memorably fallen asleep on the couch during a PBS broadcast of Laurence Olivier's Richard III, although it was probably the Contac allergy pill I had taken that afternoon that was the culprit. (Those insidious tiny time pills, you know!) What I was expecting, good or ill, I don't recall. That weekend we saw three plays: Henry VI, Part One; Charley's Aunt; and Long Day's Journey Into Night. All I can say is, I was hooked. A heavy drama with one of the most talented casts I have ever seen (including William Hurt and Jean Smart, among others), a lighthearted farce, and a history play full of spectacle under the stars.

My parents brought us back every summer after that, and when my sister moved back east and my parents' attendance became less frequent, I struck out on my own. Now here I am 35 years later - having never missing a season since 1975 - sitting at my laptop striving to assess this afternoon's performance of Hamlet.

I feel quite at home!

I have seen several iterations of Hamlet here - some more successful than others - and my first comment would be that of all those productions this has to be the most creative of the lot. The pacing was excellent and the designers of the sets, lighting, costuming, and sound outdid themselves. That being said, I do have quibbles about certain directoral and acting choices.

First, an overview: This production was staged indoors at the Angus Bowmer Theater. It was directed by Bill Rauch, the festival's new artistic director, and was built around a very accomplished OSF actor named Dan Donohue. It also featured a hearing-impaired actor named Howie Seago in the role of the Ghost of Hamlet's Father who had a significant impact on the play's action by his presence in the cast. (More on that later.)

It was also heavily influenced by the festival's ongoing commitment to developing young audiences by setting Shakespeare's plays in contemporary surrounds and utilizing constructs that resonate with today's youth. OSF's attempts in these areas have been mixed in the past. A recent production of Romeo & Juliet with a similar approach didn't suit my tastes at all. The approach to the language seemed casual and the lead characters seemed unready for taking on such nuanced roles, but when I looked around and saw a house full of young people thrilled beyond measure I reassessed my opinion. I was in my mid-40s and for the past few years I had been among the youngest in the audience. I said to myself that this evening was worth it if it helped to create the audiences of tomorrow and preserve the legacy I have come to treasure.

Today's production incorporated a contemporary setting, modern dress, hip-hop music, electronic surveillance, and the use of American Sign Language. The stage was set for a similar reaction to R&J. However, I have to say it was for the most part quite successful. The key was Donohue, who I have never seen give a bad performance. (His Mark Antony in Julius Casear a few years back was revelatory.) The direction was crisp and the show's vision was clear and compelling. Even the best Hamlets I have seen had me looking at my watch a few times; not in this case. Notable performances included Donohue as the melancholy Dane, Richard Elmore as Polonius, Greta Oglesby as Gertrude, Armando Duran as Horatio, Bill Geisslinger as the Gravedigger, and Vilma Silva and Jeany Park as Rosencrantz and Guldenstern, respectively.

I didn't care as much for Jeffrey King's interpretation of Claudius, but then it's an unlikable character ... and the hardest role in the show to bring forward believably into the modern world. I've always liked King in contemporary plays (especially Bus Stop a few years back), so my reaction is most likely just one of personal preference. More problematic was Susannah Flood's Ophelia, who started off quite well in the early scenes with Elmore and David DeSantos' Laertes but whose mad scene seemed to defeat her somewhat. Although she had a marvelous dreamlike physicality, she seemed out of her element dramatically. They played her very young, which worked initially, but when it came time for some gravitas it simply wasn't there.

It is hard to say this but the main drawback to the show was the aforementioned Mr. Seago, a noted deaf actor. He has been here two seasons now and the attempt to recognize hearing-impaired actors has been a laudable experiment ... but I must say that for me it just isn't working. The scene between Hamlet and his spectral father normally has great visual and aural impact ... a ghost story revealed by fleeting glimpses of a wandering spirit and hushed, raspy sounds from beyond the pale. It charges the early action of the play and sets our protagonist on a perilous path. It should leave you drained. Though Donohue gave it his all, expertly signing his fellow actor's lines and communicating the thoughts, fears and entreaties of two distinct characters, the end result is still a stretch of dead silence and a very real-looking, far-from-ghostly performer. To achieve the task related above, it was necessary to draw the Ghost from his perch high above in the castle's battlements onto the stage level next to Hamlet, where he seemed all too corporeal. And when he was directed to utter some lines verbally, their obscured cadences proved to be distracting and took me out of the play. Also, later on during Act II an entire exchange of lines between father and son appeared to be signed without translation of any kind for the audience to hear. A choice, yes ... but an effective one?

It must be said, however, that the sign-language conceit did open the door for a very well-executed final scene. Hamlet lies dying, poisoned by his uncle's treachery, and utters his final speech, ending with: "The rest is ..." and he signs but does not speak the final word, "silence." Then his father's ghost appears and wordlessly cradles his dead son's body in his arms as Hamlet's friend Horatio cowers in the shadows and the spotlight surrounding the pair tightens to a blackout. It sent chills down my spine.

So, as is often true in theater, it's a double-edged sword. The jury is still out on this subject.

Other notables: Speaking of swords, there was a marvelous choice made regarding the usual omnipresence of pointy objects necessary for the killing of various characters in a period production. Modern characters don't carry daggers anymore. To get past this roadblock, Rauch inserted a large pair of household scissors early in the play that Hamlet took a fancy to and frequently utilised to illustrate his feigned madness by "customizing" his clothing. Later on they became the instrument by which Hamlet stabbed poor Polonius. The best surprise use of a pair of scissors since Alfred Hitchcock's "Dial M for Murder."

Favorite moments:

* Bill Geisslinger has been with the company on and off for almost as many years as I have been coming here and in both large and small roles he is always a delight. His turn as the Gravedigger in Act II was quite wonderful. He let fly with a bluesy rendition of the short work song Shakespeare wrote for him to accompany his grave task and summed up his character in a perfect and joyful moment.

* Richard Elmore is my favorite actor at OSF, bar none, and his Polonius is flawless. He is mesmerizing to watch. The lights go up, he makes his entrance, and then he starts playing with the text - as well as pauses, his greatest weapon - until the audience is totally in the palm of his hand. He can make you weep, as evidenced in last season's unforgettable Equivocation, or laugh with abandon, witnessed today in his senile yet sweet ditherings as Polonius. (I will have to do a blog entry on his body of work at some future date.)

* As mentioned above, Dan Donohue is the glue that holds this concept together. He is a very fluid and versatile actor who can play tragedy and comedy with equal expertise. He has the physicality, he has the gravitas, and he has a way of speaking that draws your attention without seeming mannered. You can hear every word he speaks and see every emotion playing across his face ... when he wants you to see it. His soliloquies were performed very naturally, as interior monologues unheard by those around him. There were no long solo speeches by Hamlet in an empty chamber. These were words in his head alone, and they felt that way ... not like your father's Shakespeare monologues! An effortless and moving performance.

* And finally, a word on hip-hop: The Player King and his compatriots did an absolutely amazing job rapping to Shakespeare's poetry. Over the years I have seen many attempts to adapt the Bard's songs to other musical genres and it struck me after the play at a post-show discussion with Christopher Livingston, who played one of the rappers as well as Osric, that hip-hop is decidedly suited for Shakespeare. The words seemed to flow naturally and quite beautifully to this musical form. The harmonies were rich and the energy was high. The amplification was a bit jarring at first but I quickly got used to it. And whether a newcomer to the play could glean the import of the players' recreation of the murder of Hamlet's father by Claudius - which was set up in the troublesome first scene between the Ghost and Hamlet - is debatable. But overall it worked for me.

So all in all a very interesting and entertaining production with a few minor flaws. I've seen some productions of this work that failed top to bottom. This was a far cry from that and a worthy opening salvo for my first play of the 2010 season.