Bartender Geek

Crossposted to bard_in_boston and weirdjews

An interesting thing I learned at the Actors' Shakespeare Project Conversations about the play:

There are good things and bad things about having a Jew playing Shylock in Merchant of Venice. The bad thing is that religious Jews read texts that they care about with the same care and introspection that they bring to the Torah, which, I believe, is entirely inappropriate for Shakespeare, which was written by a human.

The good thing . . . Jeremiah Kissel is a ba'al koreh for his shul . . . and, a couple weeks ago, found the name "Shylock" in the Torah.

See, we've all assumed that "Shylock" was just a name that Shakespeare made up out of whole cloth. But Kissel was reading Parshat Noach . . . and found, in Genesis 11:12, "When Arpachshad had lived 35 years, he begot Shelah".

In Hebrew, that name is שָׁלַח -- a better transliteration would be "Shelakh". Which would go into English as "Shylock".

Jeremiah Kissel solved one of the ongoing niggling mysteries of Shakesperian scholarship -- where the hell the name "Shylock" comes from. Of course, it raises a NEW niggling mystery, of how the heck Shakespeare was AWARE of this name -- in English translations of the time, the closest I can find is the spelling "Shelah" in the Geniva Bible -- the other translations put it "Sale", which is even farther away.

One mystery potentially solved, an even more interesting mystery opened. That's the way it goes, right?

Lis and I just got back from seeing the premiere of Cardenio, by Stephen Greenblatt and Charles L. Mee, loosely based on what we know of the play by the same name by Shakespeare. Greenblatt is a well-known Shakespeare scholar, and so we were interested to see what they did with this.

I'll write more later, but I wanted to get a couple things down while I remembered them.

There are three questions to ask about a production like this:
1. Is it fun to watch?
2. Is it a good play?
3. Is it a good pastiche of Shakespeare?

The answers, in this case, are "yes", "meh", and "no".

One thing Lis said on the way home: "I was hoping to see something like Shakespeare's Cardenio, not an episode of Friends."

Although, to be fair, if this HAD been an episode of Friends, it would have been a two-hour season finale special, not just a regular episode.

As far as, "was it good Shakespeare fanfic"? Let's put it this way. On the drive home, Lis was shocked to realize that the play we'd seen observed the Aristotelian unities . . . .

(See, in the Middle Ages, the idea was that all plays should be set in a single location, that the action should take place over the course of no more than a day, and that there should be only one main action with few or no subplots. Shakespeare blew this concept to smithereens, writing plays that sprawled over continents and decades, with two or three intertwining but more-or-less independent subplots, so much so that he entirely re-wrote the rules of what drama could be. So Lis was genuinely disturbed to realize that the entire action we'd seen took place on one terrace, over the course of one day, with really only one main action.)

The first question about any production of Henry V -- any production going back to the first time that Shakespeare's company put it on after he wrote it -- is "how do you deal with the audacity of trying to put an empire-spanning war, including one of the most dramatic battles in English history, on a stage?"

Shakespeare's answer was to, in effect, "hang a lampshade on it". Do you know that phrase? It means to call attention to the ridiculousness of a concept, to encourage the audience to go along with it. Actually, the time Shakespeare REALLY did this was in Twelfth Night, when, after the "big reveal" of everybody disguised as everybody else and all the other wackiness, one of the characters says, "If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction." In Henry V, he uses a slightly different tack. He simply tells the audience that the task of representing what he's representing is impossible. So we, the audience, will have to fill the rest of it in.

I assume most of you know the speech that opens the play. If you're not familiar with it, you may want to take a quick look at it before I go on.

Now, there are two ways you can go with this: you can take this as a challenge to fight against, and prove that you CAN do more to represent reality, or you can embrace it, and trust your audience to fill in the gaps. Of course, one can debate about what Shakespeare would have done if he could -- if he could, would Shakespeare have done a Cecil B DeMille "cast of thousands"? Would he have preferred to do a Battle of Agincourt with seventy thousand CGI warriors fighting?

It's an interesting question, but "what Shakespeare would have done" is not terribly relevant to the question of how a director wants to present the play.

The Actors' Shakespeare Project, under the direction of Normi Noel, has chosen to embrace the "trust the imagination" school of thought. They present a lean, spare production, in which the forty-some-odd characters in the play are portrayed by five actors: Ken Cheeseman, Paula Langton, Doug Lockwood, Seth Powers, and Molly Schreiber.

The space they use is the basement of the Garage in Harvard Square, the same space they played Titus Andronicus and Love's Labours Lost last season. Those of you who have seen those productions can remember the . . . challenges . . . of the space, not least of which is the big freakin' support post smack dab in the middle of the room.

This production uses a similar layout as they did in Titus, making the support post the center point of the stage, with seating on all four sides around it. This, naturally, means that, no matter where you sit, there WILL be times where you can't see exactly what is happening, or, at least, you can't see the facial expression of characters. Of course, the blocking they use attempts to minimize these problems, but it nonetheless can be frustrating. I know that some people I've talked to were annoyed by this when ASP put on Titus in this space, so be aware that many of the same issues exist.

But they also use this. It is a small space, and an awkward one, and they use that as part of the energy in the play. When Ken Cheeseman asked, ". . . can this cockpit hold/The vasty fields of France?", a ripple of laughter went through the room, as we recognized the simple truth of that. The Prologue worked in a way I've never seen it work before -- because the space was so small, the task of bringing forth this tale so impossible, the idea of presenting the scope of the story so ridiculous, that we, the audience, accepted the task of filling in the gaps with our imaginations.

Who remembers Infocom text adventures? Like Zork and the rest? There was a way in which the best-written ones were more immersive than games written today with photo-realistic graphics and all the rest. There are ways that radio plays are more immersive than television, and books are more immersive than radio.

And storytelling can be the most immersive of all.

That, at least, is the goal of this presentation of Henry V. The role of "Chorus" -- aka, the narrator -- is taken by different cast members at different times. And, for me, those were some of my favorite moments in the play -- when one of the members of the cast comes out, and talks to us, filling in bits of the story that just can't be staged.

Because of the space, because of the energy of the production, I, at least, felt comfortable allowing my mind's eye to fill in all the action sequences. This goes for the fight scenes, too. In previous productions, I've seen the fights done (in movies) with special effects and realism, I've seen impressive fight choreography, and once, I saw the fights done as interpretive dance. That last one was kind of embarrassing to watch.

In this production, the fighting happens offstage. We see people running in, exhausted, wounded, and sick, or victorious and bold, or disheartened, and from that, we know what happened. There is one exception: just before the "Once more into the breach" speech, they use a rather symbolic piece to show the English onstage attacking and being thrown back -- and, to me, that was one of the weakest moments in the play.

One final bit that I want to mention is the final scene, where Henry woos Katherine, the Princess of France, as part of the treaty to make a lasting peace between England and France. In order to have a happy ending (or, rather, as happy an ending as you can honestly have in a history), the play ends with a romance, to end the violence. The concept is that this marriage is, or at least, can be, a marriage of love, as well as one of political expedience, and Molly Schreiber and Seth Powers get only one scene in which to attempt to have two people meet and fall in love.

They nail it. The scene is just adorable. I don't know what else I can say about it. Maybe "KAWAII!!!"

Henry V
Directed by Normi Noel
January 10 – February 3
Downstairs at The Garage
38 JFK Street, Harvard Square

If you've seen Shakespeare's Richard II, and you're watching Marlowe's Edward II, it's kind of weird, because Shakespeare's play is running through your mind while you're watching Marlowe's play, and it's like having double vision, so you get dizzy.

Also, Lis and I were talking about how Marlowe sometimes has problems with the payoffs of scenes he sets up -- he'll hang a gun on the wall in Act I, have people refer to it as they're favorite gun in Act II, in Act IV, have someone tell stories about how that was the gun that was used to kill traitors by his father and his father's father, and how an old gypsy had given a prophesy about how it would someday be used to save the country but bring ruin on the person doing it . . . and then never do anything with the gun.

And then there's Doctor Faustus:

"Aha! I have harnessed the very power of Satan! I control the WORLD! They called me MAD at university -- MAD, the called me -- but I will show them all -- I WILL SHOW THEM ALL! I CONTROL THE VERY POWER OF HELL! And NOW I SHALL USE IT to PROVE that they SHOULD HAVE LISTENED to me. Yes. . . yes. . . Mephistopheles: listen to my command: GIVE ME TENURE!!! And maybe a stipend. Um. And can you help me maybe look up some references for my latest paper, and get it in shape to submit it to a journal?"

Actually, knowing some grad students, I'm no longer convinced that that's unrealistic. . . .

This is probably one of the most intimidating reviews I've ever attempted to write. Robert Brustein is perhaps the most significant name in
American theater criticism in the past several decades. He is the person who, in many ways, codified and defined what a competent theater critic
should know and be, and what a competently-written theater review should include. Lis and I are trying to write things that fit in with some of
his ideas of criticism.

He is also the author of the new play The English Channel, which just had its world premiere at the newly-refurbished and gorgeous C.
Walsh theater at Suffolk University -- and therefore, there is a chance that he'll read this thing.

Um, Prof. Brustein, if you read this, please feel free to criticise our criticism -- we'd actually be very glad of your opinion of our opinions.

The English Channel is an example of the developing subgenre of "Will&Kit" fiction. There are enough examples out there of stories which imagine the relationships between Shakespeare and Marlowe, and their contemporaries, that one can start to notice themes and tropes among them. The stories range from the highfalutin' literary to porn, and even a few which are both.

Brustein's play isn't either extreme, but has elements that would appeal to fans of both types.
( Read more... )
In general, The English Channel has a decent but unoriginal plot, four fascinating characters, and amazing language. It very much works as a play, and deserves to be played regularly. And this is a worthy first production of a worthy play.

There are four more productions, next week:

Thursday, September 13: 7:30 pm
Friday, September 14: 7:30 pm
Saturday, September 15 3:00 pm & 7:30 pm

All seats are General Admission. Please note that the content of this play is not recommended for children.
Tickets for the general public are $30 and $15 for students with ID.
Box office: Theatre Mania, 866-811-4111

How did I like the play? It was really great seeing adrian_turtle, felis_sidus, rebmommy and Dad, and temima. That's how I liked the play.

I dunno. I thought this play would work for them, but I felt that the wordplay just fell flat, because of their lack-of-rehearsal style. The verbal volleys actually DO need practice to work well.

And the audience for free Shakespeare in the park usually includes enough kids that they don't seem comfortable delivering most of the dirty jokes well.

And that's most of the jokes.

One of the Dromeos was pretty good.

On the other hand, Lis came up with an idea -- what about doing Comedy of Errors with Groucho as both of the Antipholiuses, and Chico as both of the Dromeos. We haven't figured out what Harpo would do.

So, Lis and I saw the Industrial Theatre's production of Henry IV today. It'll be playing again tomorrow at 2, next weekend on Saturday and Sunday at 2, where we saw it, on the lawn of the First Parish Church in Taunton Center, then it will be at the Sanders Theater at Harvard on the 27th, and in the state park in Easton on the 28th and 29th.

All shows are free -- just show up.

So, is it worth showing up?

Short answer: sure! It's free!
( Read more... )

The Actors' Shakespeare Project is finishing off their third season with
an extra, bonus play, a six-person Love's Labour's Lost, a
light, fluffy, and funny play to balance out a season which would
otherwise be entirely about psychotic princes killing their families.

If you include the 2000 Kenneth Branagh movie version, Lis and I have now
seen LLL four times. In those four times, we've seen it done
more-or-less straight once.

This wasn't that time.

(For the record, it was the 2006 Huntington Theater production, reviewed
by Lis
and by me. The
other one was the 2005 ART student-troupe production, which I also reviewed.)

As pure entertainment, it works very well. If you want to laugh and enjoy
yourself for two and a half hours, this is an extremely good way to go
about it. The belly-laughs started within thirty seconds of the actors'
first appearance on the stage. They use physical comedy, including
slapstick, and very clearly let you know what you're in for -- and they
deliver handsomely on that promise of entertainment and humor.

So it works as entertainment. Which makes it worth watching. But how
does it work as a production of Love's Labour's Lost?
( More discussion within -- spoilers will abound; if you're planning on seeing it, you may want to wait to read this until after you do. )

About the venue: imaginary_love_ mentioned that she
had problems with the venue as it was set for Titus. I'd
like to reassure her that the venue is entirely re-arranged for this
performance, and that I don't think she'd have the same obstructed-view
problems that she had then. The production has very simple set dressing,
and the stage is placed against a wall. While, for Titus,
they used the support pillars of the building as part of the stage (or, at
least, that's how I recall it), in this case, those pillars are simply
things that the risers for seating are built around. Titus
used a very creative and evocative set-dressing, but, as imaginary_love_ discovered, no matter how good that is, it rarely
comes without some sort of cost; this is much less experimental, a much
more typical setup, with seating on three sides of the stage. It's one of
the ways to set up a room that I consider typical, and consider a
generally solid choice for performing Shakespeare.

We didn't notice any of the problems with heat that she'd had, but, then,
this WAS an evening performance on a pretty nice night.

So, to summarize: first, it's a heck of a lot of fun. Second, doing it
with a six-person cast is not simply a gimmick, but it strengthens the
play by allowing everybody to concentrate on one or two of the stronger
roles in the play, while de-emphasizing the weaker ones. Third, after a
season of murder, psychosis, paranoia, and treachery, the ASP really
deserves to get to do a fun, light play. And finally, you
deserve to see it.

Prices and schedule are available at http://actorsshakespeareproject.org/

In response to my Wellesley review of Much Ado, vvalkyri linked to the Rude Mechanicals' recent Much Ado, also all-female, and also set post-WWII.

Which is a somewhat interesting synchronicity . What is it about World War II that matches with Much Ado? I'm ignoring the coincidence of both being all-female casts, since that's only a choice for the Rude Mechanicals; Wellesley is obviously always single-sex.

For Much Ado to work, you have to have returning soldiers. And you have to have soldiers returning from a heroic, popular, and obviously just war. In American culture, we've really only had one of those in living memory. There have been times since then where our troops have been used in necessary and just causes, but none of them were both large-scale and popular. We haven't had ticker-tape parades for returning troops since the Forties.

People are posting favorite lines and scenes from Shakespeare. Dunno why, but, okay.

So, the background here

Titus Andronicus, Act 4, Scene 2, the second half of it.

Background: the characters are Aaron the Moor, who is Evil But So Damn Cool, and ought to be played by Samuel L Jackson, Chiron and Demetrius, Queen Tamora's more-or-less interchangeable sons, who are also evil but nowhere near as cool, and a nurse carrying a baby.

Queen Tamora was Queen of the Goths, which is when she had these two sons, and, more recently, remarried to the Emperor of Rome, making her the Empress. And, as the scene starts, people have been waiting for her to give birth to the brand new heir to Rome.

Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms

Nurse
Good morrow, lords:
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?

AARON
Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now?

Nurse
O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!

AARON
Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?

Nurse
O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace!
She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd.

AARON
To whom?

Nurse
I mean, she is brought a-bed.

AARON
Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her?

Nurse
A devil.

AARON
Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue.

Nurse
A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime:
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.

AARON
'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue?
Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.

DEMETRIUS
Villain, what hast thou done?

AARON
That which thou canst not undo.

CHIRON
Thou hast undone our mother.

AARON
Villain, I have done thy mother.