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Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Tuesday Night in Chelsea: The Beautiful Soup Theater Collective presents "A Midsummer Night's Dream" on Pier 64 at Hudson River Park

Tonight we went to the premiere of a charming production of a Woodstock-era A Midsummer Night's Dream imaginatively staged at a gorgeous space at the foot of Pier 64 by The Beautiful Soup Theater Collective under the direction of Steven Carl McCasland.
Actually, we think the space is part of Pier 63, and it was probably the most intimate setting we've ever seen for outdoor Shakespeare since a performance of Dream done by BACA (Brooklyn Arts and Cultural Association) in July 1970 in a corner of Prospect Park's Wollman Rink. Here the show was presented at Meg Webster's Stonefield, a sculpture installation of boulders selected for their special shapes and unusual sculptural qualities.
Some of the boulders are very colorful, some are concave, some craggy, one is very tall, another shaped somewhat like a boat, all are arranged to show their unique characteristics and individuality. Most of the audience sat on some of the large stones as the cast enacted the familiar story -- probably the classic summer outdoor Shakespeare show, which we've seen about eight times in various parks already -- around them.
We were close to the dreamy-at-dusk Hudson River, and sunset and the surroundings made the magic and theme of Midsummer Night's Dream come alive in a different way than we'd ever seen the play done before.
In addition to being intimate, the Beautiful Soup's Dream also moved quickly. At about 75 minutes, they'd obviously cut out decent chunks of Shakespeare's text, but we couldn't tell, despite what is (or should be) our familiarity with the text.
The cast is uniformly excellent, and the only difficulties we had were the times, not often, when a cast member was simply too far away from the boulder where we sat for the sound to carry clearly amid all the noise of the pier and Twelfth Avenue.
We'd seen other nontraditional gender casting in the past, as in the Pulse Ensemble's having Oberon and Titania as two powerful gay men earlier this summer, but we'd never seen Bottom played by a woman before watching Anne Richmond's very funny turn as the weaver-turned-donkey.
Aside from the slapstick, her befuddlement and naivete exude a sweetness, both in her rehearsals for and performances in the mechanicals' play within a play and Bottoms' scenes with the lovestruck Titania (a flighty, passionate Rebecca De Ornelas).
Isaiah Tanenbaum played a nicely hippie-ish droll Puck in a dungaree jacket over an I ♥ NEW YORK t-shirt (if we're talking Woodstock 1969, that mid-70s symbol's actually an anachronism),
and the four young lovers all had great comic timing and lots of passion, the two qualities they need most. Emily Floyd plays Helena as a young woman so used to being overlooked that she's most hilarious in her consternation at suddenly being the love object of two guys. Patrick Shane's Lysander is charismatic and edgily dynamic although the character is a bit more Grease than Hair).
Hermia (Mallory Berlin) is a bit haughty and humorously contrary, as when she can turn on a dime from expressing her extreme sexual longing for Lysander to practically ordering him to "to lie yet further off" when the runaway couple first sleep in the woods. As Demetrius, Jordan Tierney is winningly nerdy, petulant, and the kind of pain in the neck guy you end up liking; he's a good foil for the other three young people.
 
The working class actors who perform the unintentionally laughable melodrama Pyramus and Thisbe to celebrate the multiple weddings at Dream's end are, in addition to Bottom, a colorful bunch of burnouts and freaks. Led by the most staid of the bunch, Peter Quince (Charles Baker, who exuded shabby dignity in last year's Hudson Warehouse production of Taming of the Shrew, the amateur thespians include David Marx as Tom Snout, appropriately blockheaded as he plays a wall; an adorably shy but game Salvatore Casto as a Snug the Joiner managing to eke out his roars as the play's supposedly fearsome lion;
Leslie Crincoli as the flustered good trouper Robin Starveling, holding her lantern to be the moonshine; and the winning Dom Crincoli, who moves from his female impersonation as Francis Flute playing Thisbe to strap on his guitar and serve as the play's balladeer.
We actually didn't realize until we saw the credits that Samantha Mercado-Tudda and Dennis Del Bene who exuded such dignity and sophistication as the regal Hippolyte and Theseus were the same actors playing the flighty (literally) fairies Mustardseed and Cobweb.
Dennis Del Bene, in his no-nonsense business suit, played Egeus as a petty tyrant who's smart enough to know when to bend. And we liked Frank Ugochukwu's thoughtful and sexy interpretation of Oberon, king of the fairies, both matched his queen Titania's less cerebral and more impulsive passions but who managed to step back, and along with Puck, seemed to join the audience -- an enthusiastic group who just about fit in the "theater" of the Stonefield space (though clearly some enchanted passersby on foot and bike stop and stood on the periphery to stay to the end).
Director Steven Carl McCasland, artistic director of the Beautiful Soup Theater Collective, managed to create an economical, warm Midsummer Night's Dream whose virtues were evident on the first night of performances. The next show is on Thursday at 7 p.m., and then at the same time on Tuesday, August 21; Thursday, August 23; Friday, August 24; and finally, on Saturday August 25 at both 1 p.m. and 7 p.m.
As the troupe's website notes,
Exploring classics and re-visiting musicals that never reached their pinnacle, The Soup chooses a charitable organization whose mission matches the themes of the show at end. The profits made at the box office, along with donations collected by actors after each performance, are donated to that charity. With four to five shows a year, The Beautiful Soup Theater Collective continues to be an active force in community growth.
We're very grateful we got to see tonight's show.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Friday Night on the Upper West Side: Hudson Warehouse presents "Richard III" at the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument in Riverside Park

We waited too long, until the last performance last Sunday night, to see the Hudson Warehouse's production of The Rover, so we made certain to be at opening night for the company's spectacular debut of a stirring, bloody Richard III, directed by Nicholas Martin-Smith, whose coherent, seamless melding of character and action give the complex historical drama a stunning depth of meaning.
Having seen a number of excellent Hudson Workshop shows over the last few years, we're always amazed at the high consistency maintained by producing artistic director Martin-Smith (who also played the blithely deluded Hastings tonight), assistant artistic director Susane Lee (who seems to be a master of details), and all the cast and crew, but Richard III is one of the best productions we've been privileged to enjoy.  This is Hudson Warehouse's ninth season, and they've been staging three shows each summer -- two Shakespeare plays in June and August, and another classic play in July -- more than any other of the many fine summer free outdoors troupes out there, and they're always a pleasure to watch.
One of those pleasures is repeatedly seeing the same talented actors in a variety of disparate roles, as in the kind of old-fashioned repertory company that we used to hear about when we were kids in the 60s.  To watch performers like Amanda Renee Baker, Nick DeVita, David Allison DeWitt, Valerie O'Hara and Margaret Catov in different plays makes one appreciate more how demanding the craft of the actor is.
Vince Phillip, so good as Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew, here gives a controlled, subtle and chilling performance as Richard III.  It's interesting to see his Katherine from Shrew, Amanda Renee Baker, interact with him here as Lady Anne; the scene where Richard, ahem, woos her over her late husband's corpse is usually a highlight of this play, and it's done with style, wit and pathos in this production.
The first and only other time we've seen Richard III was on August 8, 1990.  We know that from our book Summer in New York, in which this diary entry appears:

Thursday, August 9, 1990
10 PM.  Yesterday at 5:30 PM, I decided to walk over to Central Park and see if I could get tickets for Richard III.  As it turned out, I could have arrived just before the show, but I didn’t mind waiting; instead of standing at the end of the line, I just sat on a bench finishing the Times and got up when they started giving out tickets.

I walked back home via Central Park West and 85th Street, and after a quick dinner, I returned, walking just as briskly. 

Shakespeare in the Park is always a treat, but after seeing Denzel Washington in Mo’ Better Blues and now Richard III, I think he’s an overrated actor.  He played Richard in a very traditional way – a hunchback, limp and all – and though the play’s performances were good (especially Mary Alice as old Queen Margaret), the staging wasn’t that interesting.

I liked the battle scenes, and of course, Richard’s seduction of Lady Anne over her father-in-law’s coffin, but my remembered knowledge of the War of the Roses is sketchy enough so that it took me too long to catch onto the dynastic maneuverings.
At this point we're a lot more savvy, having read the play several times more, so part of our enjoyment here came from that better understanding of the plot.  But we appreciated Vince Phillip's interpretation of the protagonist: Richard comes on as suave and all smiles, and they manage to appear sincere at first, and he remains amiable and ingratiating for a surprisingly long time before darkening, and with each triumph, becoming more and more sinister.
This is the bloodiest production we've seen from Hudson Warehouse, and the blood may be a little thin but it spurts out shockingly and forcefully enough that it made us cringe.  The machinations of the royals and nobles and their minions here play out like a good Sopranos episode.  Margaret Catov plays a sprightly Queen Margaret, whose craziness and revenge fantasies (or prophecies) seem to make her more agile and energetic than anyone else, and a nice contrast to the physically slow-moving Richard III.
The other women in the cast also give standout performances.  As Queen Elizabeth, Roxann Kraemer, who we saw as Arkadina in last season's The Seagull, maintains a core of dignity and strength even in her plotting, rage, and terrible grief.  Valerie O'Hara is a doughty Duchess of York, never letting go of her usual grip of her handbag, very reminiscent of the late Queen Mother Elizabeth in her later years.
The scene where she gives her youngest grandson, the Duke of York (played by a bratty, charming Matt Ebling) two lollipops to suck on is priceless.  And when a lollipop appears late in the play, sucked on by the psychotic James Tyrrel (a terrifying, charismatic Myles Kenyon Rowland) after he's delighted in the murder of the boy and his brother, who  stand in their uncle Richard's way towards the throne, the result is devastating.
There are too many wonderful performances to name, but we especially liked R. Scott Williams' bewildered Duke of Clarence, and even more, his flouncy Lord Mayor of London); Nick DeVita as the accommodating Catesby, who seems to know that with a boss like Richard, it's best to look busy and keep moving fast at all times; the pedantic, fussy Lord Rivers played by Jonathan William Minton;
Thomas J. Kane as the rather enigmatic King Edward IV, who has a wonderful turn in his wheelchair; Bruce Barton as an unctuous Archbishop; David Allison DeWitt, as the bland, not-so-loyal commanding general Stanley; and George K. Wells, who emerges from the margins to become a forceful, charismatic and powerful Earl of Richmond, who will dispatch the ultimately undone Richard ("My kingdom for a horse!" is pathetically hollow indeed), and end the play as King Henry VII, who unites the Houses of Lancaster and York, ends the long War of the Roses and begins the Tudor dynasty.
The play must have been satisfying to Queen Elizabeth and her supporters, of course, in making her family's rise to the throne both legitimate and necessary as Shakespeare hinted that the Tudors were divinely sanctioned to rid England of Richard's evil and all the scheming and killing (which, in historical truth, he was just but another player in).
But it can be read in a variety of ways, and the current Hudson Warehouse production, playing this weekend for the next three weeks, provides a lot of food for thought -- on such subjects as the abuse of powerless women, the sanctimony behind establishment religion, the kind of political schemer who will say and do anything to achieve power -- and generally, about the meaning and relevance of Richard III.  We're grateful we were first-nighters.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Sunday Afternoon in Prospect Park: EBE Ensemble presents "The Comedy of Errors" at the Music Pagoda

This afternoon the sun came out and the rains held off, and we got the fun of seeing this season's Shakespeare at the Pagoda in Prospect Park, with the talented EBE Ensemble presenting another terrifically entertaining show, a cleverly staged, laugh-filled production of The Comedy of Errors, directed by Elyzabeth Gorman.
We came slightly late -- after all these years, finding the Music Pagoda is still a bit challenging to us -- and didn't get a program, but we know from the EBE Ensemble website that the cast included Whit Leyenberger, Dylan C. Digel, David Jenkins, Thomas Muccioli, Josephine Ganner, KC Wright, Jordan Douglas Smith, Jessica Loudon, Noam Tomaschoff, Eric Alba, Olivia Hayes, Allyson Boate and Andrews Landsman.
So the only cast member we recognized was the company's artistic director, Eric Alba, whom we'd seen before as Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet and Brutus in Julius Caesar. Here he was one of two comic cops in a Sun Belt police officer's uniform playing one of Officers, Jailers, and Headsman.
Gorman's production uses informal contemporary costumes, nothing truly out of place in contemporary Brooklyn, and the more tedious parts of the text are thankfully dispensed with so that the comedy moves very fast and with a lot of laughs.
The two sets of twins -- the Antiphilos of Syracuse and Antiphilos of Ephesus and their slave Dromios -- are dressed almost alike and look pretty similar, but the actors taking the roles managed to imbue each character with a distinctive personality and particular comic tics.