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King Richard
II
At Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre on the Thames,
audiences are cheering Mark Rylance as Richard II, the weak
king whose self-indulgence leads to his deposition.
The play well fits this wonderful, exact replica of the Elizabethan
stage, and it ushers in, chronologically, Shakespeare’s history
series. This play depicts Richard’s failure as a king, leading to
his deposition by Bolingbroke, who becomes, in the next play, the
troubled Henry IV, father of the hero of Agincourt (seen as an anti-hero
at the National Theatre.). However, the deposition also leads
to the Wars of the Roses, chronicled in three Henry VI plays by
Shakespeare, ending in the reign of the villainous Richard III.(On
stage both at the Globe and at Stratford). Henry VII defeats Richard,
and his son Henry VIII is the subject of the final chronicle play.
It ends with the christening of the baby who would become Queen
Elizabeth I, ushering in peace and prosperity for the nation.
Mr. Rylance creates a prancing dandy of a king
who holds a handkerchief to his nose to avoid germs from the dying
Gaunt (John McEnery) just after his “sceptered isle” speech, and
pummels the old man for chastising him. Richard giggles with
his cronies as he hears of his adversary Bolingbroke’s “courtship
of the common people” as he makes his way to banishment, while his
inheritance is grabbed by Richard, who sees himself gloriously leading
his troops against an Irish rebellion. In addition to Richard’s
outward behavior as dictated by the text, Mr. Rylance adds many
insightful touches to convince the audience that Richard is a shallow
person who values his appearance more than his responsibilities:
note his concern with his shoes. All the costumes, incidentally,
are a delight, for they, like the stage, are exact replicas of the
age -- the clothes we see in woodcuts, drawings, and portraits.
That his expedition to Ireland fails doesn’t
worry Richard, for as he returns to England, this playacting king
sees himself in a new role. Now he is a martyr whose troops
are deserting him, whose henchmen have been killed by Bolingbroke
for being “caterpillars of the commonwealth,” and whose recourse
is exaggerated self-pity, pleading for understanding. Mr.
Rylance’s Richard plays to the audience for their pity (as surely
Burbage did) as he asks the front-row groundlings to join the earth
in harming Bolingbroke with poisonous plants (which Richard doles
out to them). That Richard is not a logical thinker, who should
have been aware of consequences, the actor suggests by hesitation
and pauses in delivering the lines – wondering what to say next,
or repeating words and lines. Sometimes this brings
laughter, acceptable for this interpretation of Richard. Rylance
makes his slight build a virtue, especially in the second half of
the play, as Richard’s fortunes decline while the audience’s sympathy
grows.
The final soliloquy in which Richard attempts
to “people this little world” (his cell) with his thoughts, is extremely
well delivered, and by the time Richard grabs a stave from one of
the murderers and staunchly defends himself, Mr. Rylance has turned
a popinjay king into a tragic hero. Liam Brennan creates
a sturdy Bolingbroke, quietly maintaining patience as Richard acts
his big scene – the deposition – while he divests himself of his
properties, the crown and scepter, to the “silent king” Henry IV.
Bill Stewart is effective as the testy Duke of York, whose loyalty
to the new king is so great that he will even testify against his
own son.
Tim Carroll directs the all-male cast.
Surely research in Elizabethan stage practice (or even seeing “Shakespeare
in Love”) will reveal that young boys whose voices had not yet changed
played the women’s roles. To see a big, hulking, low-voiced
man in a wig and dress is not convincing (especially when Richard
has to stand on his toes to kiss his queen), and one begs that once,
just once, the casting of these roles at the Globe might match the
authenticity of the Globe’s Elizabethan stage and costumes. In repertory
through September 27. Performance schedule:
www.shakespeares-globe.org.
King Henry
V
As a Shakespeare play lends itself to a variety
of interpretations, why not an anti-heroic Henry V? This modern
dress production at the National Theatre by new artistic director
Nicholas Hytner emphasizes the seamy side of war as found in the
text, although Henry’s “star of England” quality seems lacking here
when he is cut down to size. Adrian Lester’s Henry goes from soft-spoken
and dubious of the arcane reasons for going to war (some will see
a parallel) to enraged shouting of the “once more into the breach”
passage, maybe with the idea that he must anger his unimpressed
soldiers to make them fight.
The many imaginative and effective touches in
this updated version include a television crew on hand in the battle
scenes. A CNN-type large-screen closeup of Henry warning the citizens
of Harfleur has subtitles in French, as it is watched by the French
king. A tape played on the same screen shows Falstaff playacting
the king in the tavern scene from “Henry IV Part 1,” a reminder
of Henry’s earlier wild days. The battles are impressively
staged, although it is jarring to see Henry himself shoot his old
follower Nym in the head instead of giving the order for his death
for church robbing. With the soldiers and Henry wearing the
battle dress of the Iraq war seen daily on television, the play’s
relevancy hits home.
To sound colloquial, the spoken verse too often
sacrifices rhythm, so that the scenes in prose come off best.
The three rogue soldiers, Pistol (Jude Akuwudike) Nym (Robert Horwell)
and Bardolph (David Kennedy) convincingly present the seamy side
of war, and Cecilia Noble as Mistress Quickly combines sympathy
with unintentional comic interpolations as she reports the sad news
of Falstaff’s death. Likewise, in another prose scene, Mr.
Lester is at his best in wooing the disdainful French Princess Catherine
(Felicite du Jeu). Chorus and two of the French characters
give the verse its due, and the rhythm and clarity of their speeches
make them a pleasure to hear – cardiganed Penny Downie as Chorus,
Rohan Siva as Montjoy, the French Herald, and William Gaunt as the
Duke of Burgundy, with a moving lament about the state of the war-torn
French landscape and its people. Olivier Theatre, through August
20. Performance schedule and tickets:
www.nationaltheatre.org.uk.
While Mr. Hytner demonstrates how to approach
a modern dress “Henry V,” the New York Shakespeare Festival in Central
Park illustrates the pitfalls. In the title role, Liev Schreiber
again reveals his talent at interpreting the Bard and his understanding
of the verse and how it should be spoken. This portrayal adds to
his impressive gallery, which includes Hamlet, Iachimo, and
Iago. However, as directed by Mark Wing-Davey, the production
is overladen with gimmicks. The opening scene, also in business
suits like the London production, uses a metal ladder for the corporate
table, with accompanying charts and maps to explain convoluted laws
of succession as justification for going to war. When the French
officers brag about their horses, which Shakespeare describes, Chorus
having asked us to “think… that you see them,” Mr. Wing-Davey, not
trusting our imaginations, presents bare-chested, snorting young
men imitating steeds. Evidently equating nudity with modern
times, the director also places the French courtiers around a swimming
pool, and the French princess in a shower, naked. Mark Wendland’s
set incorporates gilt chairs, piles of old newspapers, and a metal
catwalk, while Gabriel Berry’s costumes are a hodgepodge of periods.
Coriolanus
The Royal Shakespeare Company production
of Coriolanus at London’s Old Vic is dominated by the magnificent
performance of Greg Hicks in the title role. 
A great Roman general and proud patrician, he must sue to the citizens
for the elected office of consul, but his arrogance and hot temper
lead to his banishment. In revenge, he joins Rome’s enemies, the
Volsces. Director David Farr imaginatively sets the play in a Japanese
Samurai society, familiar to viewers of the films of Akira Kurosawa
like “Throne of Blood,” a version of “Macbeth.” Mr.. Hicks
brings to the role a new dimension of humanity, that of conflicting
emotions. Using Pinter-like pauses, the actor facially and
bodily demonstrates attempts at control before exploding in invective
under the insults from the Tribunes and enemy Aufidius. He
also reveals his inner struggles as he reacts to the nagging of
his mother, the cheers of the crowd who later turn on him, and the
blandishments of fatherly senator Menenius.
Coriolanus is an expert on the field of battle,
whether in single combat, thrillingly staged as a Samurai clash,
or taking on the whole city of Corioli, entering its walls alone
– here simply but effectively demonstrated by a line of enemy soldiers
– and emerging victorious, covered in blood. But in peacetime,
like many trained in war, he cannot find a place. He hates
politics and doesn’t want the office of consul, with which his mother
decides he should be rewarded for his bravery in battle. He is uncomfortable
when hailed as a triumphant hero, cheered by the populace. Is his
dominating mother Volumnia (Alison Fiske) to blame? She has
raised him, she tells us, to be a warrior, glorying in his victories,
and proudly counting up his wounds. In the scene where she
badgers him to return to the marketplace to ask the crowd for votes,
after one failure to be “humble” enough, both Ms. Fiske and Mr.
Hicks are in top form. When he gives in: “Mother, I am going to
the market-place;/ Chide me no more,” the cost of this defeat is
told in Hicks’ despairing voice and crumbling stance.
This scene presages the climax, where his mother,
wife, and son visit Coriolanus on the enemy side, to persuade him
not to attack Rome. Again the mother will prevail, but this time
with a difference. She argues for peace, not war, while Coriolanus
remains silent. Then, as she threatens to leave, he, following
the original stage direction, “holds her by the hand, silent.”
For the first time, Coriolanus, with his family, finds the love
and humanity that his egocentricity has blinded him to. As
he weeps in his mother’s arms, he is aware that her victory will
mean his death. Volumnia, who has lived vicariously in her
son’s victories, returns to Rome in a triumphal procession of her
own. Coriolanus goes down fighting, not in combat against
envious, plotting Aufidius, but killed by a troop of Volscians.
The Japanese-style music, played mostly by percussion
instruments, flutes, fifes, and recorders, underlines or announces
important actions, and the postures of the actors create a setting
that is distant and picturesque though not slavishly period. (Old
Vic Theatre, Waterloo Road, London SE1, phone: 020 7369 1722.
Performance schedule through August 23: www.rsc.org.uk.
)
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
At the Open-Air Theatre in Regent’s Park this
play provides an enchanting evening or afternoon, the leafy setting
perfect for Shakespeare’s comedy of love and magic.  The
quartet of young lovers are enacted with high spirits by Nick Fletcher,
a casually-dressed Lysander vying with pin-stripe-suited Nicholas
Burns as Demetrius for the love of Claire Redcliffe as Hermia.
Victoria Woodward is suitably lovelorn as Helena, spurned by Demetrius
and suspicious when magic juice causes both men to dote upon her.
She and Hermia fall out and verbal accusations mount, while the
men war over Helena’s affections. The mature engaged couple,
Duke Theseus (John Hodgkinson) and Amazon Hippolyta (Phillipa
Peak) seem bored and ill-matched as the play opens, and the married
couple fare even worse, Queen of the Fairies Titania (Issy van Randwyck)
eloquently blaming her husband for the topsy-turvy weather, and
King Oberon (Dale Rapley) vowing revenge by using magic juice to
make her fall in love with a “monster.”
Director Michael Pennington does an excellent
job, keeping the action moving, the characters diversified, and,
above all, the language clear and well spoken. Cleverly, he
devises movement for each of the four groups, with Theseus and Hippolyta
stiff and apart, the four young people leaping or clinging, Titania
and Oberon graceful in their stance and gestures, the workers earthbound.
The brilliantly colored, flowing costumes Paul Farnsworth has created
for the fairy rulers greatly contribute to their other-worldliness,
fantastical modern interpretations owing more to Jacobean masques
than to Arthur Rackham. Their makeup, and that of the four fairies
in costumes that are equally fantastic, contribute to the aura of
fairyland that surrounds these six. Joseph Alessi as Puck
provides an original interpretation of Robin Goodfellow, as a near-savage
cousin to Caliban.
In addition to these disparate groups are city
workers who gather in the forest to rehearse a play they will offer
in the nuptial celebration for Theseus and Hippolyta. Their
“star” is weaver Nick Bottom (Peter Forbes), a type familiar in
amateur dramatics, the confident one who wishes to play all the
parts. Their director is carpenter Peter Quince, who fancies himself
Noel Coward, head-tossing and wearing a silk dressing gown. For
their “lamentable comedy” of Pyramus and Thisbe designer Farnsworth
provides them with costumes that manage to be imaginative and look
homemade at the same time. Bottom’s histrionic Pyramus is
attired as a Roman warrior whose helmet snaps shut on him, and his
drawn-out death – sword under arm – is reminiscent of opera.
As it is promised that ”Jack shall have Jill”
and “nought shall go ill,” the four young lovers are rightly
matched, Titania and Oberon resolve their quarrel, Theseus and Hippolyta
warm up, and the “mechanicals” get through their play without too
many physical or verbal mishaps. The celebration concludes with
a delightful “Bergomask,” here interpreted as a Greek folk dance
by the six workers, in which the three married pairs join. Finally,
the fairies bless the marriages and prophesy healthy children in
this outstanding presentation of one of Shakespeare’s most endearing
comedies. (Open Air Theatre Regent’s Park London, phone: 020
7935 5756) Performance schedule, in repertory with “Two Gentlemen
of Verona”: www.openairtheatre.org.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
The second offering of the Open Air Theatre in
London’s Regent’s Park is a delightful  rendering
of Shakespeare’s early comedy “The Two Gentlemen of Verona.”
Director Rachel Kavanaugh sets the play in the late eighteenth century
Regency period and brings a light touch overall to the giddy goings
on, which concern two couples in love and their adventures once
forcibly parted. Friendship vs. love is a theme that will turn up
again in “The Merchant of Venice,” and elements of the plot like
the woman disguised as a man will appear in “Twelfth Night” and
“As You Like It,” along with the clever servant.
While the four lovers themselves are fairly stereotypical,
like the pair in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” (in repertory at the
Open Air Theatre), the most interestingly drawn is the inconstant
Proteus, named for the shape-changing sea god, well played by Nick
Fletcher. Once he sees Sylvia (Issy van Randwyck), his fidelity
vanishes, both to his love Julia (Phillipa Peak) and to his friend
Valentine (Nicholas Burns). Manipulative and plotting, he bustles
about, almost like an embryo Richard III (suitably booed by the
audience) betraying Valentine and arranging his banishment, replacing
him in wooing Sylvia, and nearly raping her when she spurns him.
Ms. Kavanaugh’s direction maintains throughout
the soufflé plot; avoiding any heavy-handed touch that would deflate
it. What to do with the band of outlaws banished Valentine
joins? Turn him into a swashbuckler defending himself in a
fast-moving, expert dueling scene in which he defeats some five
or six outlaws, themselves an inept band out of The Pirates of Penzance.
(One even stabs himself by mistake in this scene). Place the characters
in Paul Farnsworth’s appealing, romantic costumes of the period,
the men in ankle-length, side pleated coats and boots, the women
like china shepherdesses. The handsome men’s attire helps Julia’s
disguise, and a nice touch is that her costume echoes Proteus’s
cream-colored one.
Add many inventive touches that support
the text but never overwhelm it, like Julia’s letter-tearing scene
early in the play. To impress her down-to-earth maidservant
Lucetta (Victoria Woodward), she has torn up Proteus’s love letter,
but once alone, addressing the words in pieces, she chastises herself
as “unkind,” kicking away and stamping on his words “kind Julia.”
And very important: cast two experts as the men’s
servants, Speed (John Hodgkinson) and Launce (Ian Talbot), who carry
the comedy. The former is the witty servant, describing the
way a traditional lover looks – sighing and fasting and lonely and
disheveled – a reference that Rosalind uses in “As You Like It”
to disparage Orlando – that is seen in Hamlet as well. Launce
is the slower witted, and his catalog of virtues of his beloved
parallels the men’s flowery outbursts of love to their ladies.
Most important: Have a good dog play the role
of Launce’s companion, Crabbe. Ms. Kavanaugh’s own dog Josie
shines in this part, as well trained as the other actors.
She sits on cue, looks at the speakers in turn, accepts Launce’s
chiding meekly, and wears her ribbon jauntily when she becomes a
substitute gift to Sylvia.
This is as fine a production of “The Two Gentlemen
of Verona” as you will ever hope to see, and it provides a thoroughly
enjoyable evening or afternoon out among the trees and flowers of
Regent’s Park at their most beautiful. Repertory performance
schedule to September 4: www.openairtheatre.org.
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