Since 2014, my wife has attended the Utah Shakespeare Festival, usually with a friend, on a week that the kids and I are camping somewhere. We have dropped by occasionally if we are camping in the area. Back in 2016, however, we joined her for a second trip to see the fall plays. (They used to have some in summer, some in fall, with a brief overlap if you did it right. At this time, they appear to be doing just one set of plays throughout the whole period.) That 2016 trip was a lot of fun, but we hadn’t had the chance to go back since then. We had been set to visit last year, but the entire festival was canceled due to Covid. This year, we finally got to go, and, because the kids are now ages 10 and up, they were able to attend all the plays without issue.
Because we saw seven plays in four days, I decided to just write up all of them briefly in one post, rather than try to find time to write longer posts. These are in the order we saw them.
The Comedy of Errors
This was the second version of this play that we have seen at the festival - it is currently one of the most performed of Shakespeare’s comedies. As I noted in previous posts, this was also the play my wife and I saw (locally) on our first date. Let’s just say that nearly 22 years later, we still love to see Shakespeare together.
While the previous festival version was set in the Wild West, this one was set in a coastal Mediterranean vacation town, in the 1970s. Which meant fantastic costuming, as well as a naturally bizarre feel that made the “suspension of disbelief” incredibly easy.
One of the difficulties of the play is that some of its central humor is not particularly funny in the 21st Century. Specifically, beating slaves or servants is not particularly amusing, even when dressed up in iambic pentameter. This production took two approaches to this problem, and came up with what I consider to be good solutions. First, all violence rebounded on the perpetrator. So, when one of the Antipholuses tries to beat one of the Dromios with a rope, he gets entangled himself to great comedic effect. The other approach was even more amusing. There are food vendor displays in key places on the set, and when the time for beating comes, the characters grab fish from the shelf. As in, giant plush fishes. This is, as Monty Python demonstrated, inherently funny.
In addition to the sets and costumes, the other interesting decision was to make enough cuts to the play to enable it to be performed without an intermission. I thought this was an interesting way to do it, particularly since this play isn’t about the soliloquies, but about the ludicrous plot and verbal silliness.
In what will certainly be a theme in this post, the acting was excellent across the board. USF is always top notch and professional. I do want to give special credit to the always-hilarious Michael Dougherty and his counterpart Andrew Plinio as the two Dromios. Dougherty has a rubber face and is astonishingly good at physical comedy. But Plinio was amazing too. Their athletic and over-the-top physical acting were riveting.
The Pirates of Penzance
Ah, yes, one of the reasons we really wanted to go this year (meaning last year…) was that Gilbert and Sullivan was on the list. Pre-Covid, we took the kids to see The Mikado by the Pacific Opera Project, and they quite enjoyed it. The Pirates of Penzance is, of course, hilarious when done well, and contains some of the best-known G&S songs, including my favorite, “The Major-General’s Song.”
As with Comedy of Errors, there are some jokes that do not sit as well in our times as in the past. For a few, they were cut altogether. But the major change was to make it clear that the young women very much wanted to run off with the pirates and get married. This eliminates the rapey vibe that the Victorians might have found funny, and replaced it with a more consensual silliness.
Also not exactly traditional is that this production was very heavy on the dancing. Oh yes, the actors had to act, sing, and dance in this one. This also meant that they could solve one of the bizarre problems that G&S created with a key moment in the operetta: what does happen when the police face off with the pirates? In the score, the police enter, and there are three bars of music. Then…….nothing. Um, so, what is supposed to happen? In some productions, the police just fall down, end of battle. In others, music is repurposed from elsewhere to underscore some actual fighting. In this version, the fight is done as a “tap battle.” Yep, that’s right. The police have already been tap dancing their way through their scenes, so setting up a faceoff between the sergeant and the pirate king makes perfect sense in context. And also, it becomes abundantly clear why the pirates win. Because Rhett Guter is a phenomenal dancer. And not just at tap. He pulls some legit ballet moves earlier in the operetta, and taps circles around everyone else. (In what seems unfair, Guter acts, sings, dances, and performs magic tricks - he’s a polymath of performance.)
I should also mention Jalon Matthews as Fred, Richard Henry as the Major-General, and Marlene Montes as Ruth for their excellent performances. And also Cecilia Iole for her spectacular coloratura singing as Mabel. G&S is filled with musical jokes, and she nailed them.
All around, a fun play. My only disappointment was that they used pre-recorded music. (Although they paid the musicians to record for this production, so points there.)
Pericles, Prince of Tyre
This was the first of three straight heavy Shakespeare plays we saw over two nights and an afternoon. By the end, I think we were all a bit wrung out. But they were so good.
Honestly, when we were picking which plays to see, I gave the lowest priority to Pericles, simply because I think it is one of his weaker plays in general, and was co-written with George Wilkins, who was not nearly as good of a writer. In addition, there are stretches of the play that are repetitive, and seem to go on and on and on. The most important decision for any production, therefore, is how to cut it to make it make sense and not become a tedium for the audience.
I was surprised, therefore, that I actually enjoyed this production very much. By the way, absolutely no diss to the fascinating experimental version we saw in San Diego back in 2014. Both versions were good in their own way, and very different from each other.
The play is framed by narration by “Gower.” This refers to John Gower, a friend of Chaucer, who wrote the source material that Shakespeare borrowed. In Gower’s version, the initial framing story - why Pericles is on the run - is the center of the story. (The incestuous king and daughter whose secret is discovered by Pericles when he solves the riddle.) In the earlier version we saw, this part was omitted, while the narration was largely retained.
For this production, many of the cuts were to the earlier part of the narration, believed to have been written by Wilkins, and far more wordy (and repetitive) than was necessary. This leaner version was nice, and enhanced by the delicious baritone voice and stage presence of Rene Thornton Jr. (He was in three of the productions we saw, and so very good in all of them.) Overall, the careful cutting truly made this play into a coherent - and compelling - drama.
Pericles is really about two characters, Pericles and his daughter Marina. This production played up the Marina parts quite a bit, making it about both of their journeys, so to speak. Pericles seems the plaything of the gods, with tragedy after tragedy bludgeoning him until his psyche crumbles entirely, leaving him a shell of a man. He is truly like Job, persecuted for seemingly mysterious reasons, through no fault of his own. Every time he seems to experience something good, it is taken from him in the worst way possible. Marina too experiences her share of horrible, but she finds a means of escape, and essentially rescues her father in the end. The play therefore explores the themes of fate and of hope in the face of hopelessness.
There are some interesting aesthetic choices in this production. Shakespeare’s grasp of Mediterranean geography is shaky at best, and the places in this play make no sense unless they are taken to mean imaginary locations. In order to help keep things straight, the costumes are color-coded for each location, which actually did make it easier to keep track of which king was which and what part they played. The stage and props were pretty sparse, in keeping with the austere vibe of the play itself.
The play was carried by strong performances from the two leads. Danforth Comins as Pericles inhabited his character from start to finish, and made the transformations from confident suitor to desperate castaway to husband and father to wretched broken man to healing parent of a confident daughter. His performance seemed emotionally resonant without being excessive - one of the best of the festival.
Also outstanding was Sarah Suzuki as Marina. (And also doubling as Antiochus’ daughter.) She had the stage presence to carry off the somewhat unbelievable scenes in the brothel, and also just owned the reconciliation scene with Pericles. I do not believe I have seen her in anything else before, and I do hope she returns for future roles.
I should also mention here the performance of Desiree Mee Jung as Thaisa. She also played Adriana in Comedy of Errors and Elizabeth in Richard III, so a variety of parts, all of which she inflected with a unique feel.
Cymbeline
This one turned out to be my favorite of the festival - although it was very, very close. I had not seen Cymbeline before, and it seems to be rarely performed. In part, this is because in its original version, it has a labyrinthine plot; a ridiculous number of characters, many of which play very small parts then disappear; and a lot of extraneous backstory and explanatory material that makes little sense to a modern audience. Thus, as with Pericles, the key is to make the right cuts and rearrangements to create a coherent story.
Also, the play really should be entitled Imogen, not Cymbeline, as King Cymbeline is pretty much a bit character. (In fact, later productions did use the other name.) But there are two reasons he gets the name. First, he was a real person - a Celtic king who fought the Romans back in Augustus’ time. Second, nobody named plays after women in the 17th Century. (For that matter, Beethoven’s opera is Fidelio, not Leonore.) In part to make up for this, the director of this production made two characters into females (which works just fine), so that the cast has full gender pairity.
Even with the cuts, the plot is complex. Cymbeline feels like the bard wanted to revisit ideas from Romeo and Juliet (Sleeping potions! Forbidden love!), Othello (False accusations of adultery!), Henry V (England kicks butt!), Lear (Father daughter quarrels!), As You Like It (Wrongful banishment! Living in the forest!), Comedy of Errors (Mistaken identity!), and Twelfth Night (Lost brothers! Women disguised as boys!) - Shakespeare decided to throw it all in. And, as in pretty much all of his late Romances, an exploration of reconciliation, particularly between fathers and daughters.
In the cut version, what remains are the essentials. Imogen’s brothers are stolen by a loyal knight who has been wrongfully banished. Imogen’s stepmother wants her to marry her stepbrother and thus put him on the throne; and when Imogen marries Posthumus Leonatus instead, turns on her. Cymbeline banishes Posthumus, and Imogen retreats to her room to await the day she can reunite with her husband. Posthumus has left his faithful servant, Pisanio, to look after Imogen.
While in Rome, Posthumus ends up disputing with a nobleman, Iachimo, who claims he can seduce any woman - even the faithful Imogen. (Yes, the name does resemble Iago - as does his role.) Iachimo fails to seduce Imogen, but, through a ruse, is smuggled into her room in a chest. While she is asleep, he pinches her bracelet, memorizes the layout of her room, and uncovers her breast to see a mole that he will describe to Posthumus. Clearly, this is a lot more “proof” than Iago gave to Othello.
Posthumus unfortunately believes Iachimo, and decides to do the “toxic male of 2000 years ago” thing and murder his wife. Fortunately, he doesn’t take Othello’s approach and kill her himself. Instead, he asks Pisanio to do it. And poor Pisanio - she has just been given some poison by the queen, and told that it is medicine. So she is essentially expected by two different people to murder Imogen.
Pisanio refuses to murder, but does use the chance to get Imogen the hell out of the castle. Through a series of events, Imogen disguises herself as runs into her brothers and the knight Belarius (also changed to a female role), although none of them know who the others are.
In the meantime, Cloten, the dumb lunk of a stepbrother, comes after Imogen - disguised as Posthumus - but instead insults and challenges one of her brothers, who ends up removing Cloten’s head. Imogen takes the “medicine” - which doesn’t kill her, but her brothers and Belarius think it has - and wakes up after her funeral...next to the beheaded corpse of what she thinks is her husband.
Yeah, that’s a mess.
Oh, and then Cymbeline refuses to pay tribute to Caesar Augustus, who sends a troop of soldiers, including Posthumus and Iachimo, and battle ensues in which Imogen (still disguised as a boy) has assisted a Roman soldier, the English win and capture the others, and, well, the feral long lost brothers also fight on Britain’s side. And it’s a big mess. Until things start to unravel, because identities are revealed, and thus everyone gets a happy ending. Except for Cloten, who is still headless and dead; Iachimo, who is revealed as an asshole; and the queen, who has killed herself. And, perhaps, Cymbeline, who has to eat some serious crow.
While not as full of great lines as the best Shakespeare plays, it does have one that I noted, in part because it is used as the title for an Alan Bradley novel.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Now, about the staging. This was one of the plays that was presented in the small theater, this time set up with a U-shaped audience. The basic idea was that of a “trunk show,” in which everything comes out of a few trunks. The actors show up in modern street clothes, open a trunk to find the script of the play, and then put on the costumes they will wear. The stage itself is strewn with trunks of various sizes, which serve as a set which rearranges itself into the various settings, from castle to forest. Props too all come out of trunks. Eventually, the battle itself comes out of a trunk, which is creatively lit from above to make it seem the light is coming out of the trunk itself.
The case was limited to 8 actors, with significant doubling. Some of these were thematically fascinating. Yao Dogbe played both Posthumus and Cloten, two very different characters. He did so with only a minor costume change, but with such a difference in demeanor, voice, and body language, that it was clear who he was at any given time. Cymbeline and his sons doubled the Roman nobles - another thematic coupling that made sense.
Of all the plays we saw, I think I enjoyed the acting most in this one. Some of that was probably that we were close up, and got the intimate experience. The actors also occasionally broke the fourth wall (as they did in Shakespeare’s day, but not in the Victorian era), and brought some interesting personal touches. One great example is that Cloten starts off trying to sing a Shakespearean song to wake up Imogen, but it clearly is not working for him. So, with the assistance of a nameless servant, he transforms it into a beatbox rap that brought down the house.
Yao Dogbe was amazing in that dual role. Also of particular note was the command performance of Constance Swain as Imogen. She took on the role of the woman wronged by all around her, and wore her grievance in every gesture, every word, every flash of her eyes. It was impossible to take your eyes off of her. The rest of the cast was great as well, but those two stood out.
Richard III
Where to start with this one? Two of my teens voted for this play as their favorite. Having watched Cymbeline in the afternoon, another heavy play in the evening was a lot - although the kids did great. My initial impression was not as positive as it became upon further reflection and a bit of time away from crowds.
There are many ways to portray Richard. I saw a local production 20 years or so ago, in which Richard was played by Randy Messick, back then the drama professor at Bakersfield College, and now retired and serving as an Anglican priest. His version was delightfully lugubrious and calculating and villainous.
In this version, Aiden O’Reilly took a different approach. He brought a rage and fury and hurt and grievance, and brought it for three freaking hours. The outdoor theater is pretty big, and we were up in the balcony, and yet he almost seemed too big for the venue. As I noted at the time, he could have been the frontman for an arena metal band - and not needed a microphone. It was real. At the time, it felt like a bit much, probably in part because that made 6 hours of close contact with other humans while wearing a mask, and I was a bit of an introvert overload by the end. But later, I found that his performance really stayed with me, and I was able to see so many things that he did that were truly amazing.
First, of course, is that, despite the rage and his constant (and I mean CONSTANT) pacing around the stage, every word was clear. You never lost what was being said, never felt that the emotion overcame his skill, and also never failed to hear when he spoke softly. Second, he apparently performed the entire show without a leg brace. I still can’t believe that. Because he kept that left leg absolutely straight at all times. And not while standing and talking. He did it while furiously pacing the stage, swordfighting, and even - I can’t get over this - literally running up and down the stairs. Oh, and although he doesn’t advertise it, he’s legally blind.
Like the other plays, Richard III was cut somewhat. I did not realize that it was actually Shakespeare’s longest, in its original form, because everyone cuts some things. Apparently, there are long prologues to every act that recapitulate the action in the previous acts - and indeed in the whole series of historical plays from Henry IV forward. We, as modern audiences, do not need all of this, and don’t care about every detail of Plantagenet and Tudor family relationships. So, a decent bit of this was cut. I also noticed a few lines from a few speeches.
On the other hand, the roles of the women in the play, which often are cut, were left mostly intact, to give the trio of Elizabeth, Margaret, and Anne plenty of stage time. I loved this decision, because their speeches are every bit as illuminating as what Richard himself says. Kudos to Desiree Mee Jung, Melinda Pfundstein, and Sarah Suzuki, respectively, for owning these roles.
Since I haven’t reviewed this play before, I have to quote a few of my favorite lines. The opening may be the best in all of Shakespeare.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
And then, in an early speech, one that I quote all the time, because it perfectly describes the way the Religious Right justifies its evil violence toward others.
But then I sigh and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil;
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stolen out of Holy Writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
And then, of course, near the end:
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul will pity me:
Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself?
And that, perhaps, leads me to the staging. Most was unsurprising - period-correct costumes since this is a history, basic stage work, with balconies and stairs, swords. But the scene when the ghosts visit Richard (and Henry VII - that part is often cut) was just fantastic. I can’t even entirely describe it, but many who saw the play were talking about that scene the next day.
I am determined to prove a villain.
The Comedy of Terrors
My wife decided to switch her ticket for this slot to see Intimate Apparel by Lynn Nottage. In a perfect world, I would have wanted to see it as well, but we didn’t have time to see all eight plays given the time off we had. So we had to pick and choose. I decided to take the kids and see The Comedy of Terrors, and I think it was a good choice for us. This play, by John Goodrum, is both a “two hand” play - only two actors - and a British “sex comedy.” (That’s not as naughty as it sounds - while there are a few mild sex jokes, the point is laughing at relationships. And, in this case, fart jokes.)
The main reason we wanted to see this one is that one of the actors is Michael Dougherty. Who is just straight up hilarious to watch in anything. He has a rubber face, rubber body, and a gift for physical comedy that I have not seen better anywhere. From that first time seeing him in Charley’s Aunt, I have wanted to see more of him. Dougherty is joined in this play by Alex Keiper, who happens to be his wife in real life, so serious chemistry. Her roles in this play tend more toward the “straight man” side, while Dougherty gets to be the “funny man.” But there are still plenty of comic moments for her, and she was excellent as well.
I won’t even try to summarize the plot, because it is so beyond silly. It involves, as expected, two sets of twins who look exactly like each other. Or, maybe it is triplets? Oh, and it starts with a screen audition and goes way too fast into hookers and detectives and fiancées stranded on desert islands and...well, that’s about as far as I will go. It’s all about pacing, and jokes, and silliness, and very British humor.
Although I should add that certain places in the play are reserved for “local” color, and in this case, the nefarious secret society was named “The Cedar City Sons of Satan,” and there were some pretty dang funny Mormon jokes. (Not mean-spirited either, just...hilarious.) My 10 year old said this was her favorite play, and she did laugh through the whole thing. I enjoyed it myself.
Ragtime
Since seeing this one locally a few years ago, I have rather loved this musical. As good as the local production was (and it was good), USF just killed it. The ensemble singing was perfect in pitch and timing, every single part was played well, and Ezekiel Andrew as Coalhouse Walker Jr. was amazing. He clearly has opera training, and brought those skills along with a modern emotional spectrum to his songs.
Melinda Pfundstein (remember her from Richard III?) was excellent as Mother, Daria Redus was tender and full of hurt as Sarah, and Rhett Guter got to show off his professional magician skills as Houdini. Oh, and Rene Thornton Jr. was perfect as Booker T. Washington. I could go on about every role. This was the big budget production that was likely expected to make the money at the festival, and they made sure it was unforgettable.
***
So, those are the plays. This year, Amanda and I attended a bunch of the discussions (she always does, but in past years, I had to watch the kids), and it was very interesting. Because this is Utah, the audiences are pretty white and pretty old. Yes, this is true of theater audiences in many places, but particularly so here. (It is definitely a contrast with the small theaters here in Bakersfield, where we draw a lot of younger and diverse people.) It is also clear that compared to bigger cities, these audiences skew more conservative and religious.
So, those who run the festival have kind of a hard line to walk. On the one hand, they want to push the festival in a more diverse, progressive, and socially aware direction. But they also have to sell tickets. Amanda is friends with one of the people involved on that side - he taught in Bakersfield back in the day, and Amanda’s usual companion to the festival took classes from him. So we got to discuss the approach a bit with him, and he confirmed Amanda’s guess, that the choice of plays - many about immigrants, outsiders, prejudice, and so on - were part of a general move in a more progressive direction. For years, the festival has made a point of hiring diverse actors, which meant that usually the people on the stage looked more like America than the audiences did. From my point of view, this diversity is both familiar (Bakersfield theater is delightfully diverse and subversive) and delightful. After all, when you expand your pool of talent, and add different perspectives, art achieves greater depth and higher standards. This was fully on display throughout the festival.
It was certainly interesting participating in the discussions. Amanda and I are hardly leftists by temperament or by global standards. But we are solidly on the progressive side of this particular group. Some of the things that were noteworthy to us were things like the guy who complained that both Pericles and Richard were not “manly” enough - and thus not believable as characters. (I’ll let you imagine what generation - and likely military experience - he was.) Or a few people who were puzzled by the existence of “intimacy directors.” Those seem normal (and welcome) to people our age I suppose, but for many, they seemed weird. The most bizarre, though, had to be the woman who thought that the iconic scene in Ragtime where the KKK hoods dismantle Coalhouse’s car, which was done in silhouette (which runs through the musical), as somehow being like the Iwo Jima photograph. Say what??? Oh, and the one gal who couldn’t accept that a particular character in Intimate Apparal was a closeted lesbian. (Amanda said it wasn’t particularly subtle…)
I also had fun just being with Amanda. She has a phenomenal knowledge of theater, particularly musicals, so any discussion she is a part of is instantly at a higher level. We love discussing the plays together - I hope she enjoys me, at least, because I love talking with her about them. Many of our dates were to plays, so this is definitely our sort of thing, even after more than two decades.
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Previous Utah Shakespeare Festival plays:
