The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare

Because of Covid-19, theaters are closed here in California, and the Utah Shakespeare Festival is cancelled. Thus, I doubt I am going to have many chances to see live theater in the near future. We have been getting by with video sources, even though they are not the same. The Globe in London is releasing filmed performances of various plays, including this one.

We first saw this play at Fresno’s “Shakespeare in the Park” a number of years ago. The kids immediately loved it, what with laundry baskets and all. Critics have not been so enthralled with the play, considering it one of Shakespeare’s weaker works. Audiences and opera composers seem to have sided with my kids rather than the critics. 

 The play features Sir John Falstaff, the debauched and obese knight who steals the show in Henry IV Part I. In fact, Falstaff was so popular that Shakespeare wrote Henry IV Part II in order to cash in on the popularity. (Which proves, by the way, that neither shameless sequels nor cashing in are a new thing.) Eventually, Shakespeare decided to give Sir John his own play. 

 Despite featuring Falstaff and being ostensibly set in the time of Henry IV, the play is really a spoof of 16th Century middle class society. 

Sir John, broke again, decides to mend his fortunes by seducing a wealthy married woman. Well, two of them. He figures he might as well try both and see if he can land one. His buddies refuse to be the messengers, and instead, turn him in to the husbands. One of them laughs it off, but the other takes it all too seriously and is consumed with jealousy. He disguises himself and buddies up to Falstaff, asking him to seduce the wife so that he can have a chance at her after she is already “fallen.” 

Meanwhile, the two wives, who are smarter than any of the men of course, simply compare the love letters, laugh, and decide to play tricks on Falstaff. 

 First, he is forced to hide in a basket of laundry and thrown into the Thames. Then he is disguised as a fat aunt, mistaken for a witch, and beaten soundly. The final humiliation is when he dresses up for a fairy revel in which he is to meet his intended, but is harassed instead by youths paid to give him the business. 

It is hard to really feel too sorry for Falstaff. After all, he is trying to seduce married women. And he is a lech, even by Elizabethan standards. Furthermore, the main injuries are to his ego, not his body. But still, one might find a scrap of sympathy for an old man who is treated infamously. (As he claims.) 

 The secondary plot involves the daughter of one of the women, who is being courted by three men. The one she loves, Fenton, does not meet with the approval of either of her parents. Her mother prefers the French doctor, Caius; while her father prefers the Welsh preacher, Sir Hugh. The two are ludicrous characters, challenging each other to a duel, but are unable to complete it after they are directed to different locations. 

This being a comedy, you know it will end in a satisfactory marriage, and a comeuppance for each of the deserving persons. 

For the most part, the play is slapstick silliness rather than profound psychological analysis. But I did notice one thing in particular this time. The “merry wives” have complex and interesting motives. On the one hand, it is flattering to be pursued, even if by a silly rake like Falstaff. Thus, they play along to a point...not enough to actually cross the line into adultery, but enough to get off a bit on the fun. It is as if they are able to get some of the emotional gratification of an affair, without cheating. In this version, they make a mild nod to S&M in their flirtation. 

 Shakespeare also gets a lot of humor out of the class and nationality differences. His Welshman is nearly unintelligible, and his French doctor is so full of botched Latin and worse English that the London audiences of his day must have laughed themselves silly. For American audiences of today, some of the humor is lost perhaps, but at least poking fun at the French and Welsh doesn’t seem mean-spirited like it might have in Shakespeare’s day. Being either French or Welsh in America of the 21st Century doesn’t carry negative social consequences to any significant degree. 

The Globe version was set more or less in the 1930s, as far as fashion. In spirit, of course, it could be anywhere - or any place. While in general the acting was good, I particularly liked the interaction between Falstaff and the wives. All three parts were filled by fairly big names. Pierce Quigley (with a long list of stage and screen credits) played Falstaff. My only quibble with him is that he is too thin, even with a fat suit. But he did bring a good vibe to the part, sympathetic, calculating, egotistical, and wounded in turn. (The best Falstaff I have ever seen, though, is still Tom Hanks, at a live performance of the Henry plays in Los Angeles. That was just amazing.)

Pierce Quigley and Bryony Hannah

Sarah Finigan and Bryony Hannah, as Mistress Page and Mistress Ford respectively, were hilarious. Their characters were clearly having way too much fun with their tricks, and they were totally believable as co-conspirators. I did not know much about either, but Finigan is also a veteran actor both on stage and screen, while Hannah is best known for her work on Call the Midwife. She is pretty tiny compared to the other actors (who themselves aren’t huge, actually) and looked the part of the little British housewife. 

 As with all Globe productions, the live music was fun. In this case, mostly Dixieland Jazz from a small ensemble. The dance numbers were definitely old New Orleans, with extravagant Mardi Gras costumes. Overall, it was good fun, and well done. 

 

 

 

The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare

Because of Covid-19, theaters are closed here in California, and the Utah Shakespeare Festival is cancelled. Thus, I doubt I am going to have many chances to see live theater in the near future. We have been getting by with video sources, even though they are not the same. The Globe in London is releasing filmed performances of various plays, including this one.

 I first saw A Winter’s Tale at Bakersfield College about two decades ago. I can’t remember if I was dating my wife or recently married, but it would have been before kids complicated our theater life. Of course, eventually, they started coming with us, which has been all kinds of fun. 

 The Winter’s Tale is one of Shakespeare’s problem plays. Or maybe one of his late romances. Whatever you want to call it, it is a comedy in the sense of having a happy ending, but could easily have been a tragedy with a slightly different ending. 

 I find it fascinating in part because of the way Shakespeare separates the serious drama and the comedy. The first part of the play, set in “Sicilia,” is drama and tragedy. The second part, full of comedy and high spirits, is set in “Bohemia.” (The locations are obviously fictitious, because Bohemia then and now is landlocked, and does not have a coast as in the play.) At the end, the humor of Bohemia practically invades the traumatized Sicily and brings (literally) life back to it. 

 Shakespeare borrowed the plot from a story by Robert Greene, Pandosto. The original is a full tragedy, with the king killing himself after accidentally falling in love with his lost daughter. Shakespeare chose to dramatically change the ending, writing what is now one of the most iconic scenes in the play, when the statue comes to life. But I get ahead of the plot. 

 Leontes, king of Sicilia, is entertaining his childhood friend, Polixenes, king of Bohemia. Polixenes is homesick, and decides to return. Leontes tries to persuade him to stay, but is unsuccessful, until queen Hermione intervenes, and persuades Polixenes to stay. 

 Rather than please Leontes, this act makes him insanely jealous, imagining that Herminone is cheating on him with his friend. Furious, orders one of his lords, Camillo, to poison Polixenes. Instead, Camillo, convinced of the innocence of the queen, warns Polixenes and the two of them flee to Bohemia. Leontes then denounces the queen despite her pleas of innocence. Her tears are of no avail, he calls her unborn child a bastard, and throws her in prison. When the child is born, orders that she be abandoned to her death.

 Herminone appeals to the Oracle, which declares her innocent. Leontes is not convinced, despite the warning that he will have no heir until his lost daughter is found. As a result of his stubbornness, his son dies of a wasting sickness, and Herminone appears to die as well. 

 Bereft, Leontes comes to his senses at last, and realizes he is wrong. However, it is, at this point too late. 

 The courtier sent to abandon the daughter does so, but is chased away soon after, with Shakespeare’s most famous stage direction, “Exit, pursued by a bear.” This was a disappointing moment in this particular production, with just a banner with a picture of a bear unfurled. Was the bear suit at the cleaners or something? 

 The infant is found by a shepherdess (shepherd in the play, but a shepherdess in this production) and her son. 

The next act opens sixteen years later. The infant has grown into a lovely young woman, Perdita, who has caught the eye of Prince Florizel, who courts her in disguise. Polixenes, accompanied by Camillo, spies on them, and erupts in fury at their betrothal. After threatening Perdita and her adoptive family with horrid punishment, he orders them never to see each other. 

 Camillo has other ideas, however. He wishes to return to his native land, and takes Florizel and Perdita with him. 

 At the end of the play, all these identities are revealed, and father and daughter are reunited - and Florizel and Perdita can marry and clinch the alliance. 

 But there is one thing remaining. The faithful Paulina, widow of the unfortunate Autigonus, eaten by the bear, reveals that she has a peculiar statue, true to life of the dead Hermione. It is no spoiler this many centuries later to say that the statue is really Hermione herself, carefully tended by Paulina all these years. After sixteen years of penance, Leontes is a changed man, and finally worthy of Hermione. 

 A play like this, with its improbable plot, stands or falls on the quality of its direction and acting. The Globe, unsurprisingly, rose to the occasion regarding both. (My only quibble is the lack of a bear…) 

 While all of the male leads were good, I thought that the three females around whom the play centers were particularly outstanding. Sirene Saba, as Paulina, had tremendous stage presence and a projection of authority that was a perfect contrast to the unstable and irrational Leontes (Will Kean in a convincing performance.) Nora Lopez-Holden as Perdita brought the right level of exuberance and naivete to the role. Likewise, Luke MacGregor as Florizel seemed just the sort of ditzy prince to make a game of courting a shepherdess. Becci Gemmel, in a trousers role as the clow, Autocylus, was hilarious. Adrien Bower (Camillo), Oliver Ryan (Polixenes), and Howard Ward (Antigonus) were all suited to their parts. 

 Special props, though, go to Priyanga Burford as Hermione. She is every bit as commanding as Paulina, then vulnerable and shattered after the false accusations - but she retains her dignity throughout. The statue scene was incredible because of her ability. In previous versions, Hermione is posed in a neutral position, to make standing perfectly still easy. In this one, Burford held her arms in an artistic pose. For at least ten minutes. The level of control this must have required is astonishing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her during the whole scene. Since this was a filmed version of a live performance, this wasn’t done with camera cuts. She did this - night after night. Highly impressive.

The unjustly accused Hermione (center), with her irrational husband Leontes (right), as Paulina (left) looks on with horror.

Florizel and Perdita at the carnival.

 I also love that the Globe uses live musicians and music composed for the occasion. This was, like previous plays I have seen, a good bit of the fun. 

Unfortunately, by the time I got to writing this, the streaming of this play had ended. However, The Globe intends to continue to release past productions in two week increments, and I will be watching as many as I can. (Next up: The Merry Wives of Windsor.) 

 

Information about the plays can be found here.

The specifics for The Winter’s Tale are here.  

 

The Two Noble Kinsmen by William Shakespeare and John Fletcher

Ah, the Shakespeare Wars. Did Shakespeare co-write The Two Noble Kinsmen? What parts did he write? It is generally accepted now that Shakespeare and John Fletcher collaborated on this play, as they did on Henry VIII. 

Fletcher was Shakespeare’s successor at The Kings Men after Shakespeare retired, and it appeared he was groomed for the job. The two collaborations (plus a third that is lost) are the last works we have from Shakespeare. For some reason, my Complete Shakespeare contains Henry VIII, but not The Two Noble Kinsmen.

Because of Covid-19, theaters are closed here in California, and the Utah Shakespeare Festival is cancelled. Thus, I doubt I am going to have many chances to see live theater in the near future. We have been getting by with video sources, even though they are not the same. I didn’t review it, but Phantom of the Opera was on YouTube for a weekend, and the kids and wife watched By Jeeves one night. 

But best of all at this point, The Globe in London is releasing filmed performances of various plays, including this one. 

The plot of The Two Noble Kinsmen is taken from “The Knight’s Tale” in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Chaucer borrowed most of the story from Boccacio.There are references to two prior stage adaptations of the story in various writings, but the originals of those have been lost. Thus, Shakespeare and Fletcher’s version is the first that survives. 

There are a few changes from the original. A framing story is added to explain the battled which sets the plot in motion. The prison escape is different. But other than that, it basically follows Chaucer’s tale. 

The play opens with three queens presenting a petition to Theseus and Hippolyta, rulers of Athens. The cruel Creon has dishonored the corpses of their dead husbands, and refused them burial. (Yes, this does appear to be a borrowing from Sophocles. No, Theseus and Creon do not appear in the same story in Greek Mythology - this was Boccacio’s invention.) Theseus agrees to battle against Creon, and wins. 

Fighting on Creon’s side are two aristocratic cousins, Palamon and Arcite. They both loathe Creon’s cruelty, but feel duty bound to fight for their home city. Injured in the battle, they are captured and imprisoned by the Athenians. While in prison, they pledge eternal friendship, and are practically kissing on each other, when they spot Emila, Hippolyta’s sister, walking in the garden. They are so smitten with her that they fight over who has the right to woo her, coming to blows. 

Arcite is released from prison, but banished, after a relative intervenes. Palamon later escapes with the help of the jailer’s daughter, who has fallen in love with him. (This is a chance from Chaucer - in the original, Palamon poisons the jailer.) Arcite disguises himself and gets a job as bodyguard for Emilia. He finds Palamon half-starved in the forest and brings him food and drink - and weapons so that they can eventually fight each other over Emilia. Meanwhile, the jailer’s daughter goes mad over her unrequited love and runs away, eventually taking up with a dance troupe. 

Arcite and Palamon are discovered, and about to be executed, but Emilia and Hippolyta intervene. Theseus agrees to have the two of them fight each other. The winner gets the hand of Emilia, and the loser gets executed. Emilia is horrified (and not too happy about her lack of say in the matter, but...she’s just a woman in Ancient Greece, so…) but Arcite and Palamon are all in - this will solve their dispute, after all. 

Before the match, Arcite, Palamon, and Emilia all pray to their gods. Arcite asks Mars to give him victory in the battle. Palamon asks Venus to give him the hand of Emilia. And Emilia ask Diana to let her marry the one who loves her the best. 

In the event, all three prayers are answered. Arcite wins the battle, but is thrown from his horse afterward and mortally wounded. As he dies, he reconciles with Palamon and gives his blessing to marry Emelia. 

As Theseus says at the end:

Never Fortune 

Did pay a subtler game. The conquered triumphs; 

The victor has the loss; yet in the passage 

The gods have been most equal.

I wouldn’t say that this play is one of Shakespeare’s finest. The language is good (and Shakespeare’s portions flow really well), but it doesn’t reach the heights like in his best plays. The plot is interesting, of course, but it also bears some resemblance to The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Like that play, there are some interesting lines that hint at a non-heterosexual orientation of the characters. While the homoerotic element doesn’t last as long as in Two Gentlemen, the two lead men seem to have a closer than normal bond. 

Even more interesting, though, is Emilia, who seems pretty reluctant to marry. Early on, she mentions a childhood friend who died young, and says she can never love a man like she did Flavina. 

“The true love 'tween maid and maid may be 

More than in sex dividual.”

Her lady-in-waiting, who also seems...close to her, notes that she is breathing hard. Later, while praying to Diana (not Venus, interestingly - she picks the virgin goddess), she says:

This is my last 

Of vestal office. I am bride-habited 

But maiden-hearted.

Shakespeare is full of stuff like this: gender bending, complicated erotic bonds, and an acknowledgement that marriage (in the traditional, patriarchal sense) was an economic and political arrangement superimposed on a tangle of romantic and erotic attachments and preferences. 

While Emilia is reluctant to marry, this isn’t the normal way women in Shakespeare approach love and sex. Usually, the women are far from reluctant. Indeed, they are often more sexually aggressive than the men. The Jailer’s Daughter (never named) is in this category, relentlessly pursuing Palamon as she goes mad. 

She gets a happy ending, though. Her wooer (a young man who is never named) is enlisted to pretend to be Palamon and court her. His kindness and love (and perhaps sex - it is at least implied) wins her over and restores her sanity. By the end, it is clear that she and he will be happily married. 

The production itself was outstanding. It was set more or less in Medieval England, which made sense given the presence of a Morris Dance troupe. The music for the dance scenes (and throughout the play) was composed by Eliza Carthy, and performed by a small ensemble live on stage. (Depending on the piece, there were trombone, guitar, banjo, violin, and various percussion instruments. I heartily approve of this.) 

As Arcite and Palamon, Bryan Dick and Paul Stocker, respectively, were excellent. Ellora Torchia as Emilia was also outstanding - and believably beautiful enough to inspire two guys to lose their heads. The rest of the cast was great - unsurprisingly solid throughout. 

The show was stolen, however, by Francesca Mills as the jailer’s daughter. She is a Little Person with a long list of credits for acting, singing, and dancing roles. She did all three in this, and was just electric. I mean, when she was on stage, you could not keep your eyes off of her. Both in her sane and insane moods, she captured the character perfectly. 

This play will be streaming on YouTube through May 17, if you want to watch it. (Next up is A Winter’s Tale, which I plan to watch as well.) For more information, here is the website. 

 Grand Spectacle

 Arcite and Palamon

 Emilia

***

Over the years, I have seen 27 of the (arguably) 39 plays written by Shakespeare. I am not counting this one as “live,” but it is a wobbler - the video is of a live stage performance, not a movie adaptation. My wife has seen even more than I have, because of her annual trip to the Utah Shakespeare Festival. Anyway, here are the ones I have reviewed on this blog: 

All’s Well That Ends Well*

As You Like It*

Comedy of Errors*

Coriolanus* 

Hamlet* (Benedict Cumberbatch)

Hamlet* (Bakersfield College 2017)

Henry IV (Parts 1 & 2 adapted by Daniel Sullivan)

Julius Caesar*

Love’s Labour’s Lost*

Macbeth*

Measure for Measure

Measure for Measure* (BC 2018)

The Merchant of Venice*

Much Ado About Nothing*

Othello*

Pericles, Prince of Tyre*

Richard II

Richard II (Old Globe San Diego 2017)*

Romeo and Juliet*

The Taming of the Shrew*

Twelfth Night*

The Two Gentlemen of Verona*

* indicates the ones we have seen with at least some of the kids.

Measure for Measure (Bakersfield College 2018)

I first read Measure for Measure six years ago (see my post here) - and since that time, it has been my favorite of Shakespeare’s “problem plays.” It addresses the themes of mercy and justice without the taint of anti-Semitism and cruelty present in The Merchant of Venice. It has a memorable and complex female heroine. It has a villain who gets a fitting comeuppance - but also receives undeserved mercy. And, like all of the “problem plays,” it is one heartbeat away from being an unspeakable tragedy. Believe me, Measure for Measure is arguably the most bitter of all Shakespeare plays - even more than Othello or Lear.

 

My previous review contains the plot, and a number of other observations about the play, which I will not repeat here. I recommend reading my previous post first, if you have not already done so. This was my first time to see this live, although my wife saw it at the Utah Shakespeare Festival a few years ago.

Six years seems like an eternity ago for me, honestly. A great many things have changed in my life, in my beliefs, and in our world at large. Just to name a few things: The leader of the cult that I spent part of my teens and 20s in was unmasked as a sexual predator. The religious tradition I was brought up in threw in its lot wholeheartedly with White Nationalism. On a related note, our family has left that tradition, and no longer participates in organized religion. I have lost a number of friends as a result of standing against the racism, misogyny, and social darwinism which are the core beliefs of the Right in this country right now.

But perhaps most obviously connected to this play, women have started to come forward and out the powerful men who have raped, sexually assaulted, and sexually harassed them. The #metoo movement changed the discourse substantially. On the one hand, some men have felt some heat. On the other, there has been a significant backlash - and as one could easily predict, it has come mostly from white men. And the women who benefit from white supremacy in our nation. One would like to hope that the tide is turning. But it will only turn of those of us who are determined to smash the patriarchal and racist systems that plague our country keep the pressure on, vote, and push back against those who are committed to returning to the injustices of the past. This isn’t a new issue, and, although things have changed for the better over the past few decades, we have a long way to go.

As it is with some many issues, though, Shakespeare was there first.

When I read this the first time, I hadn’t really appreciated the dynamics of sexual predation in the play. I mean, I noticed it, of course. And I already had deep suspicions about Bill Gothard from talking to women who, like me, had left the cult. But the #metoo movement really clarified it. Director Cody Ganger from Bakersfield College chose to do this play, this year, because of this theme - and it felt incredibly timely. What Shakespeare gets about human nature is this: rape isn’t primarily about sex, it is about power - and therefore, sexual assault (and false claims of sexual assault) are primarily wielded as power plays. In fact, if Measure for Measure can be said to be about anything, it is about the relationship of sex and power - both economic and political.

Just a quick summary: Duke Vincentio leaves his domain in the charge of Lord Angelo, his subordinate, so he can spy on how his kingdom is being governed. Angelo is a humorless prude, with as much self-righteousness as any fictional character, and a determination to enforce the most draconian laws without mercy. One of these laws punishes men for fornication with the death penalty. (Yes, Shakespeare turns this societal double standard absolutely on its head.) Caught up in this is Claudio, who is all but married to Juliet - they just need her dowry to make it legal. He gets her pregnant, and...off with his head. Claudio’s sister Isabella - preparing to become a nun - is reluctantly dragged into the case. Her halfhearted plea for the life of her brother (who she really thinks is a flake) is ineffective. But she does inspire Angelo’s lust. He assaults her, then tries to get her to trade her virginity for Claudio’s life. Angelo, of course, has no intent to keep his promise. He intends to violate Isabella, then kill her brother so he can’t revenge her innocence.

And he knows he can get away with it, because he has power and a reputation for prudery.

Here is the pertinent part of the conversation. (The whole scene is powerful, though.)

ISABELLA

I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,

Let me entreat you speak the former language.

ANGELO

Plainly conceive, I love you

ISABELLA

My brother did love Juliet,

And you tell me that he shall die for it.

ANGELO

He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.

ISABELLA

I know your virtue hath a licence in’t,

Which seems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

ANGELO

Believe me, on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.

ISABELLA

Ha! little honour to be much believed,

And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!

I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for’t:

Sign me a present pardon for my brother,

Or with an outstretch’d throat I’ll tell the world aloud

What man thou art.

ANGELO

Who will believe thee, Isabel?

My unsoil’d name, the austereness of my life,

My vouch against you, and my place i’ the state,

Will so your accusation overweigh,

That you shall stifle in your own report

And smell of calumny. I have begun,

And now I give my sensual race the rein:

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;

Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,

That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother

By yielding up thy body to my will;

Or else he must not only die the death,

But thy unkindness shall his death draw out

To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,

Or, by the affection that now guides me most,

I’ll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,

Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true.

To see this essentially played out before our very eyes in my lifetime is pretty disturbing. Again, the reason that Shakespeare has remained popular and relevant for the past 400 years is that he understands human nature and human society so very well. On a related note, the reason that the bible has remained relevant is exactly the same. There is a strikingly similar story in Genesis, which has been much abused by Christians lately, alas. (See below for more.)

What Shakespeare gets so right here is that the dynamics of power determine who is believed in cases like this. After all, it isn’t really reputation. Angelo does indeed have a good reputation. But so does Isabella. She is a prude herself, actually, is a nun in training, and is above reproach. She pleads for her brother reluctantly, and pays the price for being a vulnerable woman.

Again, we have seen this play out in real life. And it isn’t just a single Isabella - but multiple women - and some male witnesses as well. But power still ultimately seems to win.

Shakespeare doesn’t just leave it at that either. The disguised Duke orchestrates a “bed trick,” then watches Angelo attempt to kill Claudio anyway (a convenient death provides an alternative), then returns as his true self. But he does what you might expect: he “believes” Angelo and throws serious shade at Isabella and Marianna (Angelo’s jilted fiancee.) In essence, this goes exactly how certain hearings went recently. The woman is not believed, pays the price, and the man skates without consequences. In this case, the Duke saves his ire for the final scene, and all is made right in the end. But both the Duke and Shakespeare play along to make the point that, while this story may have a happy ending, in most cases, this doesn’t happen. The Angelos of the world tend to win. They can rape and assault and destroy the reputation of women with impunity - because they have a penis and power. The Isabellas of the world pay the price. And the Claudios too - the lower status men are the ones punished for sex in our society.

Let me give some major props to Bakersfield College for their interpretation of this play. While junior college productions have their limitations - lower budgets, amateur actors, the need to include students relatively new to the stage - they really do work hard to bring the drama to life. This isn’t an easy play to put on, and they did a thoroughly credible job. No, don’t expect every part to be professional quality. Give the kids a little slack when they don’t project enough to fill the outdoor space, or miss the rhythm of a line here or there. There were some great moments, and they deserve credit.

Let me start with the best of them all. The scene I quoted above was fantastic. As it unfolded, Angelo went from wrestling with his lust and loss of self control to actively grabbing and fondling Isabella. It was creepy beyond belief, and well acted by the leads.

I don’t think I have seen John Spitzer in anything before. He is tall, lanky, and fairly handsome. While I am not sure he looks the prude in the way that, say, Alan Rickman could - he’s young and innocent looking - he wasn’t bad at the self-righteousness thing. But when he turned, boy did he turn. He went from pretty boy to gross lech in a few minutes. Paired with this was the excellent work by Mariah (Jordan) Bathe. I saw her at The Empty Space earlier this year as the middle sister in Chekhov’s The Three Sisters, and she switched from the passionate lust for the married officer she loves to utter disgust. Her face showed horror, fear, contempt, panic, and more, as she was groped and caressed against her will. If you want to call this “anti-chemistry,” I think that would capture it. The two of them portrayed the loathing in a highly believable way.

A few of the other actors merit some mention. Carlos Vera has become a real fixture of local theater, and has been in nearly every Shakespeare play (among others) that I have seen in the last few years. He has taken on progressively larger parts as he has gained experience. In the role of Vincentio, he brought his usual simmering aggression to the part. Justin Thompson, hilarious as Mercutio last year, was likewise amusing as the libertine Pompey in this play. One of the few ringers, the always delightful Paul Sosa was hilariously chipper as the dimwitted constable Elbow. Lucy Brown played the executioner Abhorson in full goth makeup and a menacing silence. Cody’s husband Kevin Ganger made a good scene as Barnardine, the crazy murderer. As part of the play’s classic punk aesthetic, he had a mohawk, a union jack shirt, and as good of a punk swagger as I have seen. Honestly, I hardly recognized him, despite the fact that he has been in productions (including a great turn opposite his wife in The Taming of the Shrew) around town for years.  

Shakespeare needn’t be set in period costume, of course, and BC has a longstanding tradition of using creative settings for dramatic effect. Sometimes these are more effective than others, but I do think it serves to make students think of Shakespeare as timeless, rather than time bound. (My wife took a few Shakespeare classes while she was in nursing school at BC - and got to propose a few settings of her own.)

In this case, the classic punk era was used for the lower-class characters. The aristocratic characters wore suits - except for the clergy, who wore black and clerical collars, and the police, who wore uniforms. The music too fit the vibe, with a heavy dose of the B-52s.

Overall, a thoughtful production of a play that really should be seen more often. It may be 400 years old, but it still challenges our ideas of power, morality, mercy, and justice.

***

Speaking of the B-52s, this one was essentially the theme song:

***

Ah, the old Joseph and Potiphar's Wife story. It has now been dragged out to ostensibly show the dangers of false rape accusations and create fear that any man could have his life ruined by one of those scary, awful women. The misuse of this story is nothing new - it’s endemic to the patriarchal Evangelical tradition, which feels a need to portray female sexuality as terrifyingly dangerous.

Even more offensively, the tragedy and injustice of the Emmett Till lynching has been repurposed for the same use.  

What both of these either miss - or ignore - is that both stories are, like Measure for Measure, about the abuse of power.

Potiphar’s wife is like Lord Angelo. She has power, and decides to ruin a lowly slave when he refuses to give his body to her on demand. In both cases, it is the entitlement of power that treats those below as chattel to be abused at will.

Likewise, Carolyn Bryant, who later admitted that she lied about what Emmett Till - a 14 year old boy - did to her, has never paid a price for her role in the murder of an innocent. And she is just one instance of cases where white women and their precious “purity” has been used as an excuse to murder, abuse, enslave, and segregate black men.

This is the pattern, actually. You can see it with Bill Gothard, with Donald Trump, with Harvey Weinstein, with so many rich, privileged, powerful (usually white) men. To quote Trump, “Grab ‘em by the pussy. When you are a star, you can get away with anything.” It’s all about power. Shakespeare got that all too right.

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Let me once again whine about BC’s criminal lack of publicity photos. Come on, guys! Promote your art! Make it a bit easier for those of us who enjoy your productions and would like to give you some online love. We. Need. Pictures.