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Review: Cymbeline at Chicago Shakespeare
Sep. 22nd, 2007 09:03 amThis morning I was thinking to myself, me, actually thinking to myself, Maybe Shakespeare just isn't for me. Maybe I don't enjoy Shakespeare in performance, and maybe I just need to be content with reading it, because I do love the plays.
But there have been three plays I've seen, in an entire life in the theatre, that actually touched me to the core. One one of them was Commonwealth Theatre Company's Julius Caesar. So maybe, really, the problem isn't with me -- or at least, the problem isn't one of general art but one of personal aesthetics.
Cymbeline is one of the "Problem Plays", along with Pericles and a few others. It's suspected that Shakespeare wrote them later in life, either for his own amusement or because he was "whoring himself" as one of my comrades put it -- writing poor quality scripts because he was famous and under deadline and wanted to be able to toss something off and go back to whatever it was William did in his off-time, like wooing young boys or poaching or something. Unlike Pericles, it's established that Shakespeare probably wrote the whole of Cymbeline, and certainly I can't think of many people who could pull off an ending like that play has.
I saw the play at Chicago Shakespeare Theatre last night, which is an incredibly swanky place, all carpeting and wood-paneling and cocktails at the concessions stand. Apparently it used to be a parking garage; it's located on Navy Pier and the juxtaposition is startling, like walking out of a carnival and into the Athenian Amphitheatre. I will say that the theatre space itself is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen -- accoustically excellent, aesthetically pleasing, and shockingly intimate for a 500-seat theatre (It's modeled after the Swan).
The play was not at all badly done; the acting was top-notch and, for what they're worth, the costumes and set were well-constructed, though I didn't agree with a lot of the artistic choices. I'm pretty sure I know what religion the actor playing Iachimo is, his vinyl trousers didn't leave much to the imagination. Nor did the rest of the costumes, in an artistic sense; I really do think that anyone coming to see Shakespeare probably gets, after ten minutes, that the Italians are the bad guys and the Britons are the good guys. We didn't need a melodrama colour-code (black for the baddies, red and yellow for the good guys) to figure that out. And for god's sake, someone please put some black ink on the trademark yellow stitching on one actor's knee-high Doc Martens, so that they don't shatter the illusion of the play quite so completely.
The reason Cymbeline is such a tough play is that it's really, when you get down to it, not a Comedy or a Tragedy or a History or a Romance, as they like to slot Shakespeare's plays into; it's a black farce. Which is fine, but you have to be a very special kind of director to pull it off and I don't think it quite achieved what it could in the right hands. It felt more like each scene had been examined to see if it was Comic or Tragic and then played as such, independent of the rest. There were magical elements, which I understand was part of the director's vision, but what I wanted to see was a total spectacle -- if you're going to play it magical, why not go all the way, especially since at one point Jupiter descends from the grid and throws lightning bolts.
Who needs Iachimo undressing Imogen with his teeth when you can have him steal her bracelet with magic? And, considering it is so dark sometimes, why not have Imogen's brothers actively pursuing her sexually? Their professions of love for her, in disguise as a Young Boy, were momentarily funny, but they could have been really disturbing and interesting if they were taken as literal homoerotic love. Imogen's been outcast by her father, stalked by her stepbrother, thrust from court into the wilderness, and eventually wakes up next to what she assumes is the beheaded corpse of her husband; come on, guys, let's really fuck with her head, let's get her so turned around that by the time that brilliant commedia-style ending starts to slot into place it looks like her own world reassembling itself. George Lucas wasn't afraid of a little incest, why should Chicago Shakespeare be?
I enjoyed Cymbeline -- I laughed at several parts and really loved the way the complicated ending played out -- but I feel like I went to see something put on for the amusement of people who pay for entertainment, something that's not really meant to touch or inspire. That's okay! Entertainment for its own sake is a valid form of art and this particular play was executed exceedingly well. But at the price tag it's not for me; it's too safe. Nine times in ten when I go to the theatre I want it to kick my ass all over the stage, to upset me and make me happy and make me consider the world in a new way. That happens a lot when I read Shakespeare; it doesn't happen much when I see it on stage. I'm not a person who readily expresses emotion -- I go to the theatre to get my Katharsis. Judging from the recent trends in theatrical subscription and single-ticket sales, I'm not the only one who's looking for an emotional purge and becoming dissatisfied with what I find on our country's stages.
Anyway, it's an excellent production technically and worth the three hours it runs, though I admit I checked my watch once or twice. Cloten was hilarious and very well-played; Imogen was charming, and the Doctor had awesome comic timing. I did like the symbolic "battle" with the flags. The set felt unfinished to me, but I understand that with an extreme thrust there's only so much you have to work with. The theatre is a beautiful theatre, and going to Navy Pier is always an...experience. I'll probably check out Othello in the spring, but I'll definitely be going as an usher, and not a paying patron.
Oh, and you know what I will totally pay for? I WILL PAY FOR SAINT JOAN. Chicago Shakespeare is bringing the Shaw Festival's Saint Joan down from Canada for two weeks in January and I? AM SO THERE. I POUNCE ON SHAW WITH GREAT GLEE. Though I think Shaw himself would probably write a monograph about how we should bomb Navy Pier into the lake.
But there have been three plays I've seen, in an entire life in the theatre, that actually touched me to the core. One one of them was Commonwealth Theatre Company's Julius Caesar. So maybe, really, the problem isn't with me -- or at least, the problem isn't one of general art but one of personal aesthetics.
Cymbeline is one of the "Problem Plays", along with Pericles and a few others. It's suspected that Shakespeare wrote them later in life, either for his own amusement or because he was "whoring himself" as one of my comrades put it -- writing poor quality scripts because he was famous and under deadline and wanted to be able to toss something off and go back to whatever it was William did in his off-time, like wooing young boys or poaching or something. Unlike Pericles, it's established that Shakespeare probably wrote the whole of Cymbeline, and certainly I can't think of many people who could pull off an ending like that play has.
I saw the play at Chicago Shakespeare Theatre last night, which is an incredibly swanky place, all carpeting and wood-paneling and cocktails at the concessions stand. Apparently it used to be a parking garage; it's located on Navy Pier and the juxtaposition is startling, like walking out of a carnival and into the Athenian Amphitheatre. I will say that the theatre space itself is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen -- accoustically excellent, aesthetically pleasing, and shockingly intimate for a 500-seat theatre (It's modeled after the Swan).
The play was not at all badly done; the acting was top-notch and, for what they're worth, the costumes and set were well-constructed, though I didn't agree with a lot of the artistic choices. I'm pretty sure I know what religion the actor playing Iachimo is, his vinyl trousers didn't leave much to the imagination. Nor did the rest of the costumes, in an artistic sense; I really do think that anyone coming to see Shakespeare probably gets, after ten minutes, that the Italians are the bad guys and the Britons are the good guys. We didn't need a melodrama colour-code (black for the baddies, red and yellow for the good guys) to figure that out. And for god's sake, someone please put some black ink on the trademark yellow stitching on one actor's knee-high Doc Martens, so that they don't shatter the illusion of the play quite so completely.
The reason Cymbeline is such a tough play is that it's really, when you get down to it, not a Comedy or a Tragedy or a History or a Romance, as they like to slot Shakespeare's plays into; it's a black farce. Which is fine, but you have to be a very special kind of director to pull it off and I don't think it quite achieved what it could in the right hands. It felt more like each scene had been examined to see if it was Comic or Tragic and then played as such, independent of the rest. There were magical elements, which I understand was part of the director's vision, but what I wanted to see was a total spectacle -- if you're going to play it magical, why not go all the way, especially since at one point Jupiter descends from the grid and throws lightning bolts.
Who needs Iachimo undressing Imogen with his teeth when you can have him steal her bracelet with magic? And, considering it is so dark sometimes, why not have Imogen's brothers actively pursuing her sexually? Their professions of love for her, in disguise as a Young Boy, were momentarily funny, but they could have been really disturbing and interesting if they were taken as literal homoerotic love. Imogen's been outcast by her father, stalked by her stepbrother, thrust from court into the wilderness, and eventually wakes up next to what she assumes is the beheaded corpse of her husband; come on, guys, let's really fuck with her head, let's get her so turned around that by the time that brilliant commedia-style ending starts to slot into place it looks like her own world reassembling itself. George Lucas wasn't afraid of a little incest, why should Chicago Shakespeare be?
I enjoyed Cymbeline -- I laughed at several parts and really loved the way the complicated ending played out -- but I feel like I went to see something put on for the amusement of people who pay for entertainment, something that's not really meant to touch or inspire. That's okay! Entertainment for its own sake is a valid form of art and this particular play was executed exceedingly well. But at the price tag it's not for me; it's too safe. Nine times in ten when I go to the theatre I want it to kick my ass all over the stage, to upset me and make me happy and make me consider the world in a new way. That happens a lot when I read Shakespeare; it doesn't happen much when I see it on stage. I'm not a person who readily expresses emotion -- I go to the theatre to get my Katharsis. Judging from the recent trends in theatrical subscription and single-ticket sales, I'm not the only one who's looking for an emotional purge and becoming dissatisfied with what I find on our country's stages.
Anyway, it's an excellent production technically and worth the three hours it runs, though I admit I checked my watch once or twice. Cloten was hilarious and very well-played; Imogen was charming, and the Doctor had awesome comic timing. I did like the symbolic "battle" with the flags. The set felt unfinished to me, but I understand that with an extreme thrust there's only so much you have to work with. The theatre is a beautiful theatre, and going to Navy Pier is always an...experience. I'll probably check out Othello in the spring, but I'll definitely be going as an usher, and not a paying patron.
Oh, and you know what I will totally pay for? I WILL PAY FOR SAINT JOAN. Chicago Shakespeare is bringing the Shaw Festival's Saint Joan down from Canada for two weeks in January and I? AM SO THERE. I POUNCE ON SHAW WITH GREAT GLEE. Though I think Shaw himself would probably write a monograph about how we should bomb Navy Pier into the lake.
