The first performance was King Lear as done by the New York Classical Theater Company and part of the River to River festival. I'm not entirely certain what sort of reviews this play received; I remember reading one but can no longer find it and honestly don't remember what it said. The company is notorious for their "Shakespeare on the Run" performances in Central Park, a practice which for Lear was moved to Battery Park. Essentially, each scene in the production takes places in a different location in the park, requiring the audience to get up and move every single time. It may sound like I'm just being lazy, but this conceit seemed to serve as nothing more than a gimmick, another device in a long list of "Hey, how can we make people want to come see another Shakespearean play?" or even sadder, "How can we make this damn thing interesting without actually using any sort of skill?"
The overall feel of Lear was just that: I felt that save a few key actors (a wonderful Gloucester comes to mind) most of these people either didn't know what they were doing or didn't care. Lear himself offered no subtlety or range, and Edgar spent most of the play shouting in a way that I assumed was supposed to convey anger/sadness/confusion. Perhaps his yelling was in fact an expression of emotion brought on by the awful play he was in?
The entire idea of moving from location to location was exciting for me and my companions, who are both theater majors. We couldn't wait to see what sort of inventiveness would result, what amazing uses of space would ensue! Where would the heath scene occur? What would staging the opening in Castle Clinton, an army base turned theater turned historical monument do for the show? The answer to this last question, sadly, is nothing. Very few of the scenes actually drew on their environment for creative fuel or energy (with the exception of the last battle scene, perhaps, but that may have been more the effect of nightfall than actual location) and the constant location changes solely seemed to serve as an annoyance and a way to break up any pretense of building tension or narrative flow. That's right, they managed to destroy the flow of freaking Shakespeare! King Lear, one of my favorite plays, was rendered almost entirely unwatchable in the New York Classical Theater Company's constantly moving hands. Not to mention that I couldn't even see or hear half of the time due to the fact that constant hurried motion led to haphazard seating arrangements and lots of trees blocking my view.
My frustration became so great that when the director of the travesty spoke to the audience at the end, asking them for donations and saying "We have been doing this for ten years, please help us bring you theater for ten more with your generous donations!" I couldn't help mumbling things like "If they've been doing this for ten years you'd think they'd be better at it" and "Oh god, please don't let them do any more theater! Another ten more years? Please, no!" Learn from the past, people, so that this never happens again. King Lear: a tragedy in more ways than one.
Chronologically, the next play I saw wasn't Pericles, but I think it's fitting to compare this amazing production by the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival with Lear. The actual play itself isn't one that is usually performed or even read due to a multitude of problems, including the fact that most people thing the beginning wasn't even written by Shakespeare. My friend Tom pointed out that most people have probably only heard of it from a mention on Slings & Arrows. Additionally, there are so many different characters, events and locations (all three unities of theater are flung out the window) that it can be incredibly confusing and even boring.
So keep that in mind when I say that the HVSF's production was engaging, witty and generally showed what a good theater company can do in spite of an awkward script. You could tell that the actors were so experienced and the director so competent that they could have been doing anything and made it good. I also appreciated how the silliness and humor in the production seemed to naturally flow from the text and the actors themselves, instead of being the result of someone sitting down and saying "Okay, how are we going to make this scene funny? How do we make Shakespeare interesting?" That's sort of a pet peeve of mine, if you hadn't noticed already.
On a different note, I also recently saw a performance of The Caucasian Chalk Circle as done by Performance Lab 115 in a delightful space called the Chocolate Factory (In Long Island City, of all places. That's right, I went to Queens for this show. Queens!). I've already written quite a bit, so I'll try to keep this whole thing brief, but suffice it to say that the production was incredible. There was narration featuring dark folk music and engaging characters. I wasn't bored for a second. Additionally, in light of the whole "Lear in the park didn't know how to use space to contribute to art" thing, I would like to comment on how Chalk Circle showed what actually using a space properly can do for a show. The Chocolate Factory is a building that features concrete, metal beams, and generally feels like a construction site. The performance began downstairs with the audience standing in a ring around the action, a technique that worked wonderfully given the town-meeting setting of the opening of the play (Chalk Circle is a one of those narrative within a narrative type stories, and, like Pericles, is also notoriously difficult to stage). We were eventually led upstairs with singing and for the rest of the show remained seated in front of a lovely bare-bones set split in two by vertical metal beams. It's hard to say exactly what this setting leant the overall feel of the performance, but there was a certain desperation underneath the antics occurring on stage that I think owed itself greatly to location.
I was planning on saying quite a bit about the fourth play I saw, In the Heights, but now that I've come down to it, it just isn't as interesting to think about as the other three shows. It was entertaining, and other than some occasionally amazing lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda, (also the man who translated some of West Side Story into Spanish for the revival) a pretty typical musical. I feel like it may have been more interesting while it was still Off-Broadway, where presumably the smaller venue would have created a more intimate feel. Honestly? Recently it's just plain hard for me to watch Broadway performances in general. I can almost feel the actors pandering to audiences, pausing for the laugh they know will come and grinning at the old ladies in the front row, saying "See, wasn't that funny? Don't you love us? Our show is the next Phantom of the Opera, right? Right????" Maybe I'm just crazy, but my brother noticed the same tendency, and he almost never watches plays (if he can help it).
I couldn't help but noticing the hilarity involved in me taking a half-hour subway ride from my apartment in Washington Heights to 42nd street, going to see In the Heights and then taking another 30 minute ride back up to the neighborhood I had just seen a musical about. Except I took the C, not the A train.
Guys, if you do feel compelled to do some sort of theater, please don't confuse gimmick with technique. Good theater should be a natural evolution from the people, place, and script you're working with, it's not that hard. I promise. I guess I'll see if I can keep my own advice next semester when I assistant direct a friend's senior project. She'll be doing an as of yet not officially named Shakespearean play, so hopefully I can learn from Lear and the like and help her do something genuine and amazing.
