In the performing arts, there is often a distinction made between creative artists and interpretive artists. In the theatre, the creative artist is the playwright who created the original work. Interpretive artists include actors, directors, designers etc. who take these creative works and interpret them for the stage. The word “creative” here is used in its narrowest sense; clearly a great deal of creativity is needed to be an interpretive artist.

How wonderful, then, to encounter a company like Propeller, that under the direction of Edward Hall is able to stage vibrant, original works that not only remain faithful to the original texts, but illuminate them. Their brilliance is not only that they go beyond the play, but also that they bring the play along with them. They are interpretive artists and creative artists at the same time. I had the opportunity to see their productions of The Taming of the Shrew and Twelfth Night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music two years ago, so when I heard that they were returning to BAM with their production of The Merchant of Venice I knew not to miss it. I went in with high expectations, and they were well exceeded.

The entire production is set inside a prison. Two levels of prison cells loom large as they stretch around the perimeter of the stage. The all-male cast is in drab uniforms and prison tats. The Christians and Jews congregate in different cliques in the yard. And when Antonio crosses that line to borrow money from Shylock because of his love for Bassanio, the concept is so strong that you might as well be watching an episode of HBO’s Oz. But these elements are in the play already; the concept brings them to the fore.

The prison connection is a bit more abstract in the Belmont scenes where Bassanio and his rivals must choose their caskets, though these scenes are the comic highlight of the production. Portia is a prisoner in a different sense, in that she is not free to marry who she chooses, and so the setting for these scenes works more on the symbolic level. But Shakespeare’s play does contain a sharp contrast between the realistic world of commerce in Venice and the fairy tale world of Belmont, a contrast that the production concept, once again, illuminates. Once Bassanio chooses the correct casket, Portia removes her artificial feminized clothing, and joins the rest of the prisoners in the yard.

Men play female roles in female clothing, but with no wigs. This was also true of the earlier two productions I saw, but in this case there was an extra layer to the choice, as it left the impression that all of the characters were biologically male while some had female gender identities. Not a word of the original Shakespeare is changed to accommodate the sex of the characters nor the prison setting, so the audience is left to absorb these elements conceptually while listening to the dialogue. When Portia and Nerissa arrive dressed as young men, the conceit of a man playing a woman playing a man requires a bit of extra audience attentiveness, but it works well.

The cruelty of the prison setting allowed the production to explore what the play has to say about the cruelty of society and man’s inhumanity to man, and it did so by playing with our sympathies. When Antonio asks for money from Shylock in this production, he is an uncouth thug trying to bully the prison loanshark. But as sympathetic of a character as the original Antonio is, that’s an undercurrent of the original play. When Shylock delivers his most humanizing speech in this production, he does so while committing a violent prison atrocity. But if you read the whole scene, that’s faithful to the original play as well. In the end, Antonio wins his case in this production, not just because the judge is really Portia in disguise, but also because he is able to rile up an angry mob against the Jew.

And, in a very real sense, that’s part of the original play, too.

One of the wonderful benefits of living in New York is the wide availability of theatre and other cultural events. Of course, my particular interest being Shakespeare, I have easy access to live productions of his work, and if I decide to see a play on a particular evening, I often have my choice of Shakespearean fare. On rare occasions, I have the opportunity to see two different productions of the same play on the same day. This is a special treat, because watching two different interpretations of the same text back-to-back illuminates the choices made by each individual production, and draws out the essentials of the play itself.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to see two productions of one of my favorite plays, Measure for Measure, both in the East Village. I saw a production staged by the Guerrilla Shakespeare Project at the Under St. Marks theatre at 2pm, and a second production staged by the New York Neo-Classical Ensemble at the La Plaza Cultural park at 7:30. Both shows were effective at reaching a small audience who might not be familiar with the play, though they did so in very different ways.

Jacques Roy, directing the Guerrilla Shakespeare Project production, masterfully stripped the play down to its barest elements. The space was a tiny Black Box set-up, and the set consisted only of a few vertical bars that looked like they belonged there, a spool-shaped stool, and about twenty feet of rope that was used in a variety of inventive ways, from defining the space to threatening a hanging. The script was also stripped down so only the main storyline was depicted. Only seven characters survived the cut. As it turned out, that was all that was needed to really tell the story. Gone were Mistress Overdone, Barnardine, Juliet, and Elbow the Constable. The role of Escalus was expanded slightly to absorb the Provost and a few other functional roles, but otherwise only Claudio, Lucio, Mariana, Angelo, Isabella, and the Duke were needed. The cast was fantastic across the board. Kelby T. Akin and Diana Buirski were outstanding in those all-important scenes between Angelo and Isabella, and Tom Schwans absolutely stole the show as Lucio. For me, though, the real stand-out was Kimiye Corwin as Mariana. For me to watch a show I’ve seen a dozen times and feel like I’m watching it for the first time is the greatest compliment I can give, and her performance did that for me. Unfortunately, I saw the final performance, so I’m unable to send you to see it, but this is a company I’d like to keep an eye on in the future.

The New York Neo-Classical production was a free outdoor performance, and it was a beautiful night for it. Under the direction of Steven Stout, the production was very broad and presentational. It felt like it was staged for a much larger arena than the four-leveled stone steps where we were sitting. It occurred to me that this style must have been very much like the original staging of the play in Shakespeare’s time. The production played up the slapstick elements of the play, and the audience was well-entertained. Even the small children who were playing on the steps throughout the performance would pay attention to the action from time to time. Richard Douglass and Ariana Venturi as Angelo and Isabella were able to sustain the more serious moments of the play. She seemed very young, and he looked like he had a good ten years on her, but that just highlighted her innocence and made his advances all the creepier. Also worth mentioning are Michael Bartelle as a more proactive Escalus than I’ve seen before, and Danielle Levanas, who played a number of minor roles (such as Juliet, Froth, and the Servant) but never let you forget she was on stage.

I love this play, but there are certainly problems with it, and one of the really fun things about yesterday was watching how each production dealt with a particular problem in keeping with its own production concept. One good example is the scene where the Duke (disguised as a friar) tries to convince the Provost to postpone Claudio’s execution. After an extended debate, the Duke realizes he’s not getting anywhere and says “Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir; here is the hand and seal of the duke: you know the character, I doubt not, and the signet is not strange to you.” So where did the letter come from? Obviously he wrote it, but if he had it all this time, why go through all of the debate? Roy handled this by eliminating the letter. When the Duke said “Look you, sir; here is the hand and seal of the duke,” he removed his cowl, revealing his identity and creating a very entertaining theatrical moment. In Stout’s much sillier production, the Duke actually turns his back to the Provost and writes the letter in full view of the audience. He then turns back to the Provost, who hasn’t noticed the long pause, and presents the letter.

Another troubling moment of the play is at the very end. After everything has been resolved, the Duke propositions Isabella, which to a modern audience is completely inappropriate after all that she’s been through. I expressed the same problem with the ending in my lipogram summary. In Stout’s production, the Duke delivers these lines quite cavalierly, and scampers off, leaving the rest of the cast on stage slackjawed and dumbfounded by the suggestion. Roy’s solution was simple: he just cut the lines.

As I said, the Guerilla Shakespeare Project production is over, but the New York Neo-Classical production is just getting started. If you like your Shakespearean comedy writ large, it’s well worth checking out.

I just got back from seeing Oliver Stone’s W and, since I’m writing again, I wanted to share my thoughts about it with you. But since it’s Saturday, I thought I’d do it as an anagram.

I chose a speech where Shakespeare apologizes for the inadequacies of the stage to depict the lives of kings. Perhaps it will mitigate the anagrammed review to follow.

From Henry V:

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention;
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene.
Then should the war-like Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that hath dar’d
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin’d two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i’ the receiving earth;
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there, jumping o’er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

After seeing Oliver Stone’s W, I don’t know what I’m supposed to make of it.

A humdrum bio-pic? How do you paint an intimate portrait of a person who isn’t reflective?

A thorough historical piece? No. They skip the key moments of his presidency and hop through the punchlines and nicknames (Guru, Genius, etc.). And his happy-hour past? Chugs, not drugs.

A dark comedy? Man, it’s too soon for humor. The joke’s on us.

A peek at the decision to take out Iraq? Hardly. Those scenes were as fluffy as my popcorn. I was hungry for more.

A high political drama? Primary Colors offers insight into Clinton. This limited film provides only a caricature of W.

Furthermore, I thought Newton and even Brolin got lost in the karaoke impressions they used. On the other hand, Scott Glenn as grumpy thug Rumsfeld and Jeffrey Wright as thoughtful gent Powell were not credible in their characters.

Mr. Dreyfuss as warmonger Cheney and Ms. Banks as earthier Laura threaded that tough needle handily; they brought forth people in accordance with their characters.

The standout of the group was patriarchal James Cromwell as Bush Sr., his dad. The tricky father/son relationship (fights, in lieu of hugs) is the human heart of the film. But nothing is ever resolved.

The film W tried to eke out too many things without doing any of them particularly well. It had many inaccurate facts, had no clear direction, and lasted too long. In short, it was W.

When director Kenneth Branagh set the opening speech of Henry V in a movie lot, he was announcing a new philosophy for putting Shakespeare on film. This philosophy is well explored in his latest film, As You Like It. It’s not a perfect film, but I greatly enjoyed watching it, and I expect to give it many more viewings in the near future and likely for years to come.

Shakespeare was writing for the stage, but Branagh has the ability to show with vivid action events that Shakespeare could only describe. In some cases, that worked well, like in the exciting palace coup in the beginning. In other cases, I missed Shakespeare’s language. Believe it or not, actually seeing Orlando wrestle with the lion was far less satisfying than those times when I’ve heard Oliver describe it.

Branagh set his film in Japan, a bold choice that is supported by an on-screen description of 19th century British enclaves in Japan. This had the potential to draw a much sharper distinction between those fleeing the court and the rustics of the forest. However, Branagh contrived to allow Corin and Audrey to remain English. Both actors did a fine job, but an opportunity was lost. Phoebe and Silvius seemed to be English actors of Asian descent. Only the character of William truly embodied the potential of setting the play in a 19th century Japanese forest. I was left wondering why the film was set in Japan at all. Still, the external trappings of the Japanese setting were visually impressive. I enjoyed the ninja soldiers and Charles as sumo wrestler, the Japanese characters and kimonos, but in the end, there seemed to be very little actual consequence to choosing Japan as a setting.

I enjoyed most of the performances, but I feel that Phoebe and Silvus were botched, in that their relationship was not well articulated. I would not have minded if the issue was simply that they didn’t remain faithful to the play, but I didn’t know what they were supposed to be. Most troublingly, the lines explaining the “bargain” between Phoebe and “Ganymede” in the end were cut, and so we don’t even know why Phoebe is marrying Silvius. In general, there were more script cuts than I generally like to see, but again, Branagh is adapting for another medium and we must allow for the conventions of film.

I’ve always felt that Rosalind carries this play on force of personality, and Branagh found a wonderful Rosalind in Bryce Dallas Howard. Adrian Lester is brilliant in everything he does, and this is no exception. But the real standout for me was Brian Blessed in the double role of Duke Senior and Duke Frederick. As the former, he is able to set one of the main themes of the play – the contrast between the false court and the natural world of Arden. As the latter, he movingly demonstrates the transformation and ultimate redemption of the evil Duke in a way that I’ve never seen before, nor found more satisfying.

As You Like It continues to run on HBO. I highly recommend checking it out!

I had the pleasure of seeing Richard III at Nicu’s Spoon Theatre. I had a wonderful experience, and I would recommend it to any fan of the play (it’s my favorite) who is in the New York City area.

The title role was played by Henry Holden, who has an artificial leg and used crutches to get around the stage. This was presented as Richard’s deformity. However, the actor skillfully embodied such a deformity of spirit in the role that the artificial leg was quickly overshadowed. This physicality was especially important, since Holden only spoke the lines that Richard speaks to the audience. When Richard was in public, his lines were spoken by a second actor, Andrew Hutcheson, who was positioned upstage left with a lectern and a reading light, while Holden remained as the physical Richard.

Typically, such production concepts turn me off immediately, but it worked particularly well here, in no small part due to the richly resonant voice of Hutcheson who overflowed the small house with Shakespeare the way it was meant to be performed. (His bio says he toured as the Beast in Beauty and, so that should give you a sense of the instrument at work here.) Also, having two actors playing Richard highlighted the contrast between Public Richard and Private Richard. The director (Heidi Lauren Duke) also had the freedom to underscore the more poignant moments by having a character deliver a line addressed to Richard to Hutcheson instead of Holden, or to have both actors speak a line in unison. And Hutcheson turning off his reading lamp to signify Richard’s death was a nice touch.

It would be difficult to review this show without mentioning the performance of Wynne Anders in the role of Queen Margaret. That’s a fantastic role, and she was absolutely riveting every moment she was on stage. But for me, the standout performance of the show was in the role of Queen Elizabeth, played by Rebecca Challis. In the scene with Richard, after he has killed her children, I could really feel her pain and hatred. That’s a tough scene (my favorite), and she nailed it.

Tickets are a steal at $18, and the theatre is conveniently located at 38 W 38th Street, between 5th and 6th Avenues. Hurry if you want to see it; the play is only running one more week. It closes on July 29.

If you do see the show, you can discuss it in the comments section of this post. If you really like the show, you can give them some good buzz at the New York Innovative Theatre Awards website.

WARNING: Comments may contain further discussion of the show, including potential spoilers.

If you’re in the New York City area, you should check out A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Theater Ten Ten. I don’t want to give too much away, but let me tell you a little about the production I saw on Friday night.

It’s difficult to do something original, and yet supported, with this play, but director Judith Jarosz manages to pull more than a few surprises out of her bag of tricks that even a wary Shakespeare snob would have trouble nitpicking. Anticipate standout performances in the roles of Puck (Annalisa Loeffler), Hermia (Tatiana Gomberg), and Helena (Lynn Marie Macy), that not only challenge traditional interpretations of these characters, but also find new interpretations that really do work. And musical director/composer Jason Wynn deserves a special mention for some of the most memorable moments of the production.

Tickets are a bargain at $20, and the theatre is conveniently located on the upper east side of Manhattan, 1010 Park Ave., between 84th Street and 85th Street. The play runs through March 11. You can find more information on their website, including information on how to reserve tickets.

If you do see the show, you can discuss it in the comments section of this post. If you really like the show, you can give them some good buzz at the New York Innovative Theatre Awards website and help them get some additional funding. They’re a small theatre that does strong work, and can use all the support they can get. You can start by treating yourself to this wonderful show.

WARNING: Comments may contain further discussion of the show, including potential spoilers.

Now, the gloves come off.

I’ve blogged about gay muppets, the Iraq War, and the sexual proclivities of a certain 13th century Mongolian conqueror who shall remain nameless, but now I’m ready to tackle some real controversy. Read on, but please use discretion.

I have a group that meets once a month to do readings of Shakespeare’s plays. This past weekend, we read The Winter’s Tale.

Now, I’ve never been a big fan of The Winter’s Tale. But a lot of serious Shakespeare fans list it among their favorites, which leads me to believe there’s more there than I’m seeing, and perhaps I will like it more when I’ve given it more attention. I don’t know. Events seem to happen haphazardly and without cause. The characters give me no reason to want to wish them well. And I feel kind of cheated that the reunion of the king with his daughter is presented second-hand in an exposition scene, rather than the brilliant dialogue Shakespeare could have chosen to write.

The play is usually classified as a “Romance” which is a lesser-known Shakespearean genre (compared to Comedy, Tragedy, and History) that Shakespeare experimented with late in his career. It is believed that he started with Pericles and Cymbeline (not usually considered among his best works), gradually improved the form in The Winter’s Tale, and finally created The Tempest, which is usually considered to be the finest of his works in the genre. Romances (as they are found in Shakespeare) are generally characterized by fairy tale elements such as long-lost relatives; gods, spirits, and other supernatural elements; and exploring a relationship with nature. Intrestingly enough, the Comedy As You Like It, written much earlier, contains all of these elements, but is never classified as a Romance (though it is sometimes classified, by itself, as a Pastoral). But the Romances Cymbeline and The Winter’s Tale in particular are very closely connected by their treatment of these elements.

Which leads me to my point. I think that Cymbeline is a much better play than The Winter’s Tale, but doesn’t get nearly the respect. Cymbeline has a beautiful fairy-tale quality, better poetic language, more human characters, a logical (albeit far-fetched) structured motivated plot, a clear moral code of values, and a satisfying ending. Imogen is one of the great female roles in Shakespeare, and — I know this is heresy — Hermione is not.

Oh, yeah. I went there.

Most memorable moment of Cymbeline? The funeral dirge:

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Most memorable moment of The Winter’s Tale? A stage direction:

Exit, pursued by a bear.

Look, I don’t hate The Winter’s Tale. I just don’t understand why it holds a special place in the hearts of so many, when Cymbeline doesn’t. The plays are closely connected, so I think it’s fair to compare the two. I wouldn’t try to compare, say, Othello with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but I can say this:

Cymbeline is a much better play than The Winter’s Tale.

Does anybody have a problem with that?

All visitors to the blog who are familiar with both plays are welcome to debate the issue in the comments section of this post. If a lively discussion ensues (and how could it possibly not?), I will jump in and defend my position.