Age before beauty

I completed my cycle of monthly Shakespearean plays with King Lear, produced by the Royal Shakespeare Company for the Courtyard Theatre and a subsequent world tour, which included my hometown's Guthrie Theater, and, fortunately for me, the New London Theatre, here in the West End. Tickets for the New York City and Los Angeles shows were reportedly selling for over a thousand dollars, but I had no trouble scooping up decent seats in the center of the dress circle for a very reasonable price.

Fortunately for me (and even more fortunate for those who bought their tickets at such exorbitant prices), the production delivered quite admirably. McKellen was excellent as the king, capturing both his foolishness and his sweetness, allowing us to both empathize with and pity the old man. He was strongly supported all around. Jonathan Hyde's performance as the Earl of Kent was particularly admirable, and Frances Barber and Monica Dolan made excellent villains of Goneril and Regan. In my mind there were no obvious weaknesses in the cast, and I noted that every scene was made clearer than I have ever witnessed in a Shakespearean tragedy. Scenes in both Othello and MacBeth managed to escape my understanding, but I was able to follow King Lear entirely, and I think credit goes to the talented supporting cast. My only great frustration with the production was the wretched soundtrack, which included both beautiful and clever organ pieces, and some cookie-cutter "dramatic music." The latter included clichéd horn and string pieces little better than the now facetious dun-dun-DAAA!. These often intruded on scenes so excellently constructed that no soundtrack would have been necessary at all (the sword fight between brothers Edmund and Edgar was easily the best fight I've seen staged). Thankfully, the excellent lighting, staging, acting, and (of course) script more than made up for the surprisingly amateurish score, and the evening was good.

Labours lost

Chris and I attended Love's Labours Lost at Shakespeare's Globe Theater on the south bank of the Thames. We both came away with mixed feelings about the play and a strong appreciation for the building.

Labours has a reputation for being a less accessible comedy. It's not as morally dated as Two Gentlemen from Verona (or even The Taming of the Shrew), but it's jokes are more focused on wordplay, and the language-base in which it works has evolved greatly. As Americans, I'm sure we were further disadvantaged, as the foreign accent still poses some challenge (although less as time passes). In spite of the limitations that have developed with time, I'm convinced that the play was never as impressive as Shakespeare's later comedies. Too little time and attention is given to the lovers, whom we'd much rather see than the clowns (of which there were two instead of one.) If anything the play seems like a test kitchen for later comedies from which the bard plucked the best elements. The production itself was lackluster, well acted but perhaps not well cast. The actor playing the King would have been more at home in a tragedy, never managing capture the humorous, indecisive side of the character. The highlight of the play was an accidental one; Longaville appeared on crutches, apparently due to a mishap during a previous performance, and the actor's ability and willingness to make it a source of humor saved the night.

The Globe, however—what a space it is! The wood created a feel of warmth, tempered by the cool night sky. As deep as it is wide, I can't but help feel the Globe to be the British answer to both the Colosseum and the Pantheon. That it lacks the comforts of a modern theatre is a small price to pay for it's intimacy, bring the audience members close to the stage and each other. From where Chris and I were sitting on the middle level, I had as much fun watching the groundlings as I did the actors on stage. Watching a clearly American man leap back from the stage in fright when the Spanish Don Armando brandished his javelin and pair of college girls wince in distress after being mooned by an aged fool during the play-within-a-play. I am wholly pleased that the once-burned Globe has been rebuilt. Many buildings would be less alive the second time, but Shakespeare's old haunt is lively and lovable.

The Scottish play

My foray into British theater commenced this evening in excellent style. The production of Macbeth, which was developed at the Chichester Festival Theatre, recently arrived in London at the Gielgud Theatre in the West End, and has been well advertised with posters in the Underground featuring the play's star, Partrick Stewart. Like many people, I know Mr. Stewart best as Star Trek's beloved Captain Picard, so I was delighted to find his stage presence to be equal to his screen presence. The cast was strong all around, but his performance was stellar. Macbeth's motives are complicated—murky even—but Mr. Stewart conveyed the conflicted character convincingly, and hit just the right notes as his character descends into madness.

Other aspects of the production are equally worthy of mention. The setting of the play was transformed into the Soviet Union of the late 1940s. Using the costly victory in World War II and Stalin's cruel reign as a softly-referenced historical background made the play significantly more accessible, and allowed clever use of film footage taken from that era. The set itself was brutally utilitarian, with dingy tile walls, a boxy fiberglass sink upstage, and a old TV and an accordion-gated elevator downstage. This room easily became the hospital in the opening scene, the "hall" of Act II (re-imagined as a kitchen), and at times, with the use of digital projectors, a forest and the frightening otherworld of the Weird Sisters. Perhaps most impressive of all was the perfect use of the intermission, wedged into the middle of a slightly modified act III, scene iv, which burns the image of Banquo's apparition into the minds of the audience and delays the resolution of the moment.

If the other plays on my list for the semester are half so good, I'll be in for a very good time.

First Rush

Claire and I celebrated our one-year anniversary this evening with a trip to the new Guthrie, which had its grand opening last weekend. The first official production, The Great Gatsby doesn't open until 21 July, and previews don't even begin until the fifteenth, but a touring production by the Druid Theatre Company of Galway, Ireland, is breaking in the McGuire Proscenium Stage this week. The rather complicated run of DruidSynge involves the presentation of some combination of plays, varying nightly, by writer John Millington Synge. Claire and I saw one-act The Shadow of the Glen followed by the more famous The Playboy of the Western World. Claire and I both struggled to follow Shadow on account of the actors' thick brogue but enjoyed Playboy, which offered more meat to the plot, more time for adjustment to the accents, and more cushion for those lines that were lost upon us.

If the show itself lacked accessibility, the overall experience in the new Guthrie made up for it with a vengeance. The new building was both gorgeous and functional [I'd like to address the architecture in a separate post], and the enthusiasm among the other attendees was noticeable. Claire and I, being on a tight budget arrived without tickets and instead took our chances with the rush line, which sells all tickets at $15 a piece starting 30 minutes before the start of the show. I made certain we arrived early, and we claimed the first spot in line, making us the first Friday night rushers for the new theater. The manœuvre paid off: we snagged sixth-row center-section seats (valued at $55 a piece). After the show Claire and I enjoyed magnificent deserts at the Level 5 Café and enjoyed each others company at the end of the endless bridge, overlooking the Mississippi river.

I'm looking forward to returning to the new Guthrie. And, of course, I'm looking forward to spending another year with Claire.

For Hitler...And Germany!

Sarah and I just returned from a highly enjoyable evening of singing, dancing, and swastikas, which is to say that we just returned from a production of Mel Brooks's Broadway hit The Producers. We were in row N of the third balcony, our backs to the wall and our eyes cast rather far downward. No, our seats weren't the best, but for the ten dollars I paid for each ticket, I can't complain. (The Honors Student Organization picked up the other 23.50 that comprised the group-rate price.) The musical isn't really my format, but this one was funny enough for me to forgive the long stretches of singing and dancing.

This week reminds me of the first week of May 2003, when I saw Ballet Hispanico on Friday 2 and Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds on Monday 5. Hopefully this week's second musical event, Nine Inch Nails and the Dresden Dolls, will be as enjoyable.

The Sound Of Milwaukee

I spent today in the Cream City with my friend Vladislav Ivankovich; I met Vlad when we were living on the seventh floor of the Langdon last year, and I tutored him in mathematics this past fall. He picked me up from my bus stop, bought me lunch, and then we stopped at his aunt and uncle's house, where I met his maternal grandparents and his two cousins Kat and Tina, who I must say were two of the most quickwitted high school students I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Both of the girls were busy, so Vlad and I headed downtown by ourselves. Our first stop was the Milwaukee Public Museum. It was a mixed bag; the place was clearly intended for much younger visitors, but I had a great time in the butterfly room. I had insects swirling about me almost constantly, and I got to watch some of them feed from up close. Afterwards we stopped at a huge (but somewhat smelly) used book store and a Starbucks, where I had a Chocofino and the necessary accompanying glass of water.

We proceeded to the main event of the day, which was the play Bach at Leipzig by Itamar Moses at Milwaukee Repertory Theater. This new play proved to be quite hilarious, and I'm looking forward to seeing another work from this young playwrite. The play is set in Leipzig in 1722, and features a cast of seven organist/composers, all of whom are named either Johann or Georg. I was particularly delighted to find actor Mark Corkins playing the role of Georg Friedrich Kaufmann, for I had seen and enjoyed him in the role of Sir Andrew Aguechee in Twelfth Night last October.

The play ran longer than Vlad expected, and we most unfortunately had to forgo dinner with the family so that I could catch my bus back to Madison.

The Week In Review

It was a rather leisurely spring break. I didn't accomplish quite as much as I wanted, but probably as much as I expected. Unlike last year's Spring Break, I didn't make a single trip to the cinema, and watched only a few movies at home. I enjoyed Finding Neverland and the French film Bon Voyage greatly, and I found Fahrenheit 9/11 to be well made, but aimed at a significantly less-informed audience than myself. I enjoyed Garden State, but it didn't live up to the hype that it's generated among college students. I did attend the theatre, however: my family, Claire, and myself visited the Guthrie for a rather energetic performance of Shakespeare's As You Like It. The production had a strong flavor of the late 1960s. Jaques had a bandana 'round his head and Touchstone wore patchwork trousers with suede jacket. I enjoyed it, although I thought some of the songs (most notably "It was a lover and his lass...") were lost in the rock 'n' roll.

After the play we visited Solera, a tapas bar in Minneapolis that has been earning quite a bit of attention in the food world. It was, in fact, the finest meal of the week. As a group we tried roast rabbit, dates stuffed with sausage, kikos is Moorish spices, fried goat cheese, and numerous other dishes. And when I say that this was the finest meal of the week, I'm comparing it to several other very good meals from P.F. Chang's, California Pizza Kitchen, Green Mill, and, of course, the wonders my dad makes in our own kitchen.

What You Will

I attended an absolutely marvelous performance of Twelfth Night this evening with Jen, a friend with whom I've shared a couple of classes during my time here at Madison. The production was originally playing at the venue where I saw Othello last month, and the American Players Theatre has been touring since their outdoor venue closed for the season. The final showing was this one in Memorial Union, which apparently contains a rather impressive little theatre. I was surprised by the muted ending to an otherwise uproarious comedy (a choice by Shakespeare, not the directors), but it didn't feel out of place. My only quarrel with the entire to-do was that we were stuck indoors on such a fine night as tonight.

The Moore of Venice

I just returned from The American Players Theatre where I saw a production of William Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Othello, Moore of Venice. I thought it was a good performance, and the theater was lovely, but I'm not sure if I'm a fan of the play. I have a harder time sympathizing with protagonists who are foolish or easily duped. I prefer the likes of prince Hamlet, who was quite intelligent and kept his wits about him through his tragedy.

My ticket, bus fare, and dinner were subsidized by the Honors Student Organization, so I paid only twelve dollars for the whole excursion - quite the bargain. I met a couple of very nice first-years and ended up walking them home after we returned so that they wouldn't need to wait for campus escorts. The entire way turned out to be fairly well lit and active, though, as our route was also that of the Ironman competition, which, to our amazement was still in progress. I'm truly impressed by those people who are going twelve hours after beginning.

I ran back to the dorm so that I'd be able to place an order with the PRH pizza delivery service only to find that the service isn't yet operational. I'm frustrated, but I had a Steaz Key Lime soda to hold me over to the morning. On a final note for the evening, I finally got a chance to introduce myself to a Highlander resident with whom I've been exchanging smiles on the street for almost a year now. Her name is Sarah, and she lives a floor above me. I might have been frustrated to meet someone looking like the mess that I do, but I've seen her so many times that I guess I don't exactly consider tonight to be a first impression.

A romp in the park

Sameer and I partook of an exciting theatrical experience this evening (my last in this wonderful city for quite some time). We literally chased a production of Aphra Behn's The Feigned Cortesans through Central Park, stopping for each scene, and taking flight to arrive at the next one. The company's mission statement can explain it better than I can.

5

Things seem to be running it sets of five right now:

Last night Sameer and I went to see this year's Shakespeare In Central Park, Much Ado About Nothing, which is a play in five acts. The Public Theater puts on such a show each summer. Tickets are free of charge, but the line is unbelievable. Sameer waited for over 4 hours (perhaps about five?) to get our Row V seats. The theater is fairly small (about 2,000 we estimated), so that was just fine, but there must have been many people who waited without getting in. The show was terrific. It was the funniest play I've seen since the Guithrie's 2001 touring production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

After the play we returned to Broadway, and I slept for five hours, then went to work in the studio for five hours. I came home to shower and eat lunch. After that I'll go back because I have five drawings to complete for tomorrow.