C'est fini. We are done with the EWnd season of Shakespeare and Company. Easily the most difficult and trying summer I've had out there, but, also as easily, the most rewarding. I think our holy triumvirate took a chance on casting me as lead in two separate shows, but I'd like to think I held my own.
I'd like to take this chance to say thank you to the wonderful cast I was so lucky to get to work with; though young in years (on average), they were long in the tooth on talent and never gave me any grief for the way I mix metaphors. May we all be together again soon, my 'band of brothers (and sisters)'.
See you this fall for Ten Little Indians!
Monday, August 20, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
"Turning the accomplishment of many years Into an hourglass..."
Well, we made it. Hell Week is over and all three shows are up and running. Now to lapse into a coma from which I may never wake.
Henry V went well, all things considered. There were no major hiccups, though there were a few flubbed lines ("...such a sum of...CASH!"). I think I did ok; honestly, it's hard to tell at this point. My throat is so ragged from talking that I sound like George Burns after a tracheotomy.
I fear I yelled too much, but as the rehearsals went on, it became firly clear to me that there's a lot of yelling called for in the show. It just seems that I was the only one doing it.
The last scene went great. I only added back a little to one of Henry's lines when he's talking about how he can't speak very well but it's better to have a good heart than good rhetoric. The actress that plays Katherine is fantastic and makes her into an angel that can pardon all of Henry's sins (self-accused or otherwise). In all, it was a nice wrap-up to a well-performed, well-directed show. And to think I was worried...
Henry V went well, all things considered. There were no major hiccups, though there were a few flubbed lines ("...such a sum of...CASH!"). I think I did ok; honestly, it's hard to tell at this point. My throat is so ragged from talking that I sound like George Burns after a tracheotomy.
I fear I yelled too much, but as the rehearsals went on, it became firly clear to me that there's a lot of yelling called for in the show. It just seems that I was the only one doing it.
The last scene went great. I only added back a little to one of Henry's lines when he's talking about how he can't speak very well but it's better to have a good heart than good rhetoric. The actress that plays Katherine is fantastic and makes her into an angel that can pardon all of Henry's sins (self-accused or otherwise). In all, it was a nice wrap-up to a well-performed, well-directed show. And to think I was worried...
"SCONE!!!"
Sunday, July 8, 2007
"...And now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes."
Hell Week is two-thirds and we open Henry in a week. We lost a performance of Doctor to rain tonight; it happens. We generally go on, rain or shine, unless conditions are obviously unsafe. Tonight, though, we called it off because only three people showed up to watch: a company member and my parents. Thanks, guys!
We have one week to inject whatever magic we can into the show. The third show gets the most time in development (technically), but we stop rehearsing it during opening week so we can focus on the other two shows. Consequently, it can be tough to jump back into the groove and get things together before opening.
I think the show has some strong scenes in it, but I think we have yet to shape those scenes into a satisfying whole. I think we've only run the show top to bottom once so far in rehearsal, and even then we left a few scenes out. Things like absences, scheduling conflicts, fight rehearsals and other unavoidable obstacles have made it nearly impossible to get an idea of the show as a whole.
My concerns are essentially the same but, not content to simply play the damn role, I volunteered for another task: rewrite the last scene.
The last scene doesn't work. I don't mean our performances specifically; I think the scene itself is less than perfect. I've expounded on this topic at length previously so I won't drag all that out again, but never let it be said that I don't take action to change my situation. So I'll see what I can do to punch it up; though it's awkward, it's a vital counterpoint to the rest of the play.
We have one week to inject whatever magic we can into the show. The third show gets the most time in development (technically), but we stop rehearsing it during opening week so we can focus on the other two shows. Consequently, it can be tough to jump back into the groove and get things together before opening.
I think the show has some strong scenes in it, but I think we have yet to shape those scenes into a satisfying whole. I think we've only run the show top to bottom once so far in rehearsal, and even then we left a few scenes out. Things like absences, scheduling conflicts, fight rehearsals and other unavoidable obstacles have made it nearly impossible to get an idea of the show as a whole.
My concerns are essentially the same but, not content to simply play the damn role, I volunteered for another task: rewrite the last scene.
The last scene doesn't work. I don't mean our performances specifically; I think the scene itself is less than perfect. I've expounded on this topic at length previously so I won't drag all that out again, but never let it be said that I don't take action to change my situation. So I'll see what I can do to punch it up; though it's awkward, it's a vital counterpoint to the rest of the play.
"KISS ME, KATE!"
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
"...She is a woman more worth than any man; men, that she is the rarest of all women"
Alright, screw it. I'm on a roll here so I'll continue on with the 'promised post' about misogyny in Taming of the Shrew. Everyone feels SOMETHING about this show (and you're welcome, both of you reading this, to weigh in in the comments section) but I've done it so long now and in such a pedestrian, work-a-day way (i.e. just learning the friggin' lines) that the 'secret' of the show is elementary to me.
This isn't a show about keeping the sisters down for many reasons.
1. What everyone forgets (and few produce on stage) is that it's a show-within-a-show. The entire misadventures of Petruchio, Katharina, Lucentio, Hortensio, etc. etc. make up the action of a play that is viewed by Christopher Sly, lousy hubsand extrordinaire. It's a FARCE, people. Everything that happens in the show is suspect, and it's all presented with tongue firmly in cheek. True, Shakespeare, in the full bloom of his stupid youth, forgets to append a pertinent coda to the 'on stage' action, but nothing that happens should be taken at face value.
2. Kate is not a turbo bitch for no reason. She has it pretty rough. She's the first-born sister, and Daddy dotes on his second-born baby. No offense meant to my younger sister, but I feel for Kate. She's also someone who is extremely dissatisfied with being auctioned off to a pair of old guys so her goody-two-shoes sister can tie the knot. In any other play (i.e. As You Like It or Much Ado About Nothing), Kate would be a friggin' hero. It denigrates her character and the author to assume that she's crabby just because she's a "bitch". She's a person witb problems and she's brave to lash out the way she does, considering the age she lives in.
3. Because the play involves a guy "taming" a girl, people assume that his actions are misogynist and her final speech is a nightmare of female submission. *I* think the final speech is a beautiful elucidation of the mindset that any spouse should have for his/her significant other. The only thing missing from the show would be a similar monologue by Petruchio about how important it is to be willing to do anything in one's power to please one's spouse, something I believe Petruchio, despite his rich dowry, despite the wager he wins through Katharina's 'obedience', despite all his crazy antics would do in a heartbeat for Katharina, his true equal in every way. Because the show's not called The Taming of the Madcap Swearing Jack, we don't get that speech, but there are other examples of Women getting theirs in Elizabethan sexual politics (see "The Tamer Tamed", et al.)
4. Petruchio be crazy, yo. Okay, Katharina is worked up over her situation, trust, and it's *possible* that someone could "get through" to her and make her feel better through gentle kindness, but the boisterous Pethruchio decides to make a fool of himself and imitate/magnify Kate's behavior in order to show her how ridiculous she's being, how she can have everything she wants (happiness and understanding through a true equal) by simply deigning to acknowledge the man who is turning himself inside out for her. "Making a fool out of yourself" for someone else is pretty much the definition of love in my book.
5. And finally, get over it, people. Men and Women sometimes have trouble making it work for a plethora of reasons: sexual politics, social standing, parents, money, sex, what movie to see and on and on. This is a play where the two people who have the courage to be themselves and to speak what they feel find happiness together and that's, frankly, awesome. I'd compare Taming to any number of "romantic" movies where the uptight society girl is charmed by the devil-may-care worldly guy and she learns to loosen up and he learns the joy of a loving commitment. The Aristocats, par example. Yes, Shakespeare's ghost haunt me, I just compared The Taming of the Shrew to a Disney film, and goddammit, I think the comparison stands.
This isn't a show about keeping the sisters down for many reasons.
1. What everyone forgets (and few produce on stage) is that it's a show-within-a-show. The entire misadventures of Petruchio, Katharina, Lucentio, Hortensio, etc. etc. make up the action of a play that is viewed by Christopher Sly, lousy hubsand extrordinaire. It's a FARCE, people. Everything that happens in the show is suspect, and it's all presented with tongue firmly in cheek. True, Shakespeare, in the full bloom of his stupid youth, forgets to append a pertinent coda to the 'on stage' action, but nothing that happens should be taken at face value.
2. Kate is not a turbo bitch for no reason. She has it pretty rough. She's the first-born sister, and Daddy dotes on his second-born baby. No offense meant to my younger sister, but I feel for Kate. She's also someone who is extremely dissatisfied with being auctioned off to a pair of old guys so her goody-two-shoes sister can tie the knot. In any other play (i.e. As You Like It or Much Ado About Nothing), Kate would be a friggin' hero. It denigrates her character and the author to assume that she's crabby just because she's a "bitch". She's a person witb problems and she's brave to lash out the way she does, considering the age she lives in.
3. Because the play involves a guy "taming" a girl, people assume that his actions are misogynist and her final speech is a nightmare of female submission. *I* think the final speech is a beautiful elucidation of the mindset that any spouse should have for his/her significant other. The only thing missing from the show would be a similar monologue by Petruchio about how important it is to be willing to do anything in one's power to please one's spouse, something I believe Petruchio, despite his rich dowry, despite the wager he wins through Katharina's 'obedience', despite all his crazy antics would do in a heartbeat for Katharina, his true equal in every way. Because the show's not called The Taming of the Madcap Swearing Jack, we don't get that speech, but there are other examples of Women getting theirs in Elizabethan sexual politics (see "The Tamer Tamed", et al.)
4. Petruchio be crazy, yo. Okay, Katharina is worked up over her situation, trust, and it's *possible* that someone could "get through" to her and make her feel better through gentle kindness, but the boisterous Pethruchio decides to make a fool of himself and imitate/magnify Kate's behavior in order to show her how ridiculous she's being, how she can have everything she wants (happiness and understanding through a true equal) by simply deigning to acknowledge the man who is turning himself inside out for her. "Making a fool out of yourself" for someone else is pretty much the definition of love in my book.
5. And finally, get over it, people. Men and Women sometimes have trouble making it work for a plethora of reasons: sexual politics, social standing, parents, money, sex, what movie to see and on and on. This is a play where the two people who have the courage to be themselves and to speak what they feel find happiness together and that's, frankly, awesome. I'd compare Taming to any number of "romantic" movies where the uptight society girl is charmed by the devil-may-care worldly guy and she learns to loosen up and he learns the joy of a loving commitment. The Aristocats, par example. Yes, Shakespeare's ghost haunt me, I just compared The Taming of the Shrew to a Disney film, and goddammit, I think the comparison stands.
"I'm half the man I used to be..."
"I'll have her but I will not keep her long..."
Henry is off of rehearsal this week as we rehearse Doctor and prepare to open Taming on Saturday. This period at S&C is affectionately called 'Hell Week', though truthfully it should be called 'Hell Fortnight plus One' or somesuch. For the next 21 days straight we will either be rehearsing or in performance for one or more of our three shows. After our performance on the Sunday of our third week (when all our shows are open) everyone sighs collectively in relief. Here's to a safe, productive Hell Week.
Oh, yeah. I broke up with my girlfriend...you know, the one who plays Kate to my Petruchio? My joke about surviving this summer just went from 'cute' to 'ironic'. Ha friggedy ha. Being pros, we're not going to let this affect us. but suffice it to say the 'acting' portion of our performances will be shifted from "pretending to hate each other at the beginning" to "pretending to like each other at the end".
Oh, yeah. I broke up with my girlfriend...you know, the one who plays Kate to my Petruchio? My joke about surviving this summer just went from 'cute' to 'ironic'. Ha friggedy ha. Being pros, we're not going to let this affect us. but suffice it to say the 'acting' portion of our performances will be shifted from "pretending to hate each other at the beginning" to "pretending to like each other at the end".
"I hate you." "Oh, I hate you, too."
Sunday, June 17, 2007
"It oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate..."
Gah. So, I've gotten behind on blogging. No surprise there. I've gotten somewhat discouraged. I've had "big" seasons out there before (lots of roles or lines or responsibility), but this one seems to be getting to me. We open in two weeks and I don't know how we got here already. Plus, we essentially had a week off when our director was laid up, so all in all, I feel underprepared. I been thinkin' about a lot recently as pertains to the show and some of that stuff is gonna come out now, most likely in a haphazard way.
First of all, I've decided I disagree with the politics of the play. The invasion of France (including Edward III's and Ed Jr.'s previously) were wrong. Not just in a "all war is wrong" way, though I agree with that sentiment, but morally it's pretty indefensible. The English didn't want to pay rent on their French holdings and they wanted to make sure their wool exports would continue to go through Flanders, so bang zoom, let's kill some Frenchies. Henry and his court puff everyone up with the new religion of nationalism, mom and apple pie (or would that be Mum and figgy pudding?) but they've got to realize that their fine sentiments can't excuse their basic greed. I could never be a politician because apparently it involves doing a lot of bad things while making pretty piss poor excuses for them.
Thusly, I find it hard to relate to Henry, to really believe what I'm saying when I know he probably didn't believe a lot of it himself. I've played characters before that I didn't agree with (like when I played a rapist), but when the 'mirror of Christian kings' is a big fat liar, it makes it hard to jump in with both feet.
Ok, done with that. To be fair, Henry was a pretty good king for his short reign. He had a knack for problem-solving in the short term: he basically turned a dynasty that stunk pretty fairly of regicide and turned it into a war machine that handed one of Europe's strongest monarchies its royal Ass. If Henry hadn't died so soon after uniting France and England, we might be calling a
croissant 'crescent bread' and Joan of Arc might have been an unassuming farmer's wife. His ability to inspire men and win allegiance may have been overblown (three guys tried to kill him in Southhampton, after all), but he ultimately was an effective general and strategist, wisely playing the warring French factions against each other in order to improve the English chances. Historically, his life was meteoric.
The trouble with meteors, though, is that they burn up...aaannd I've lost my thread. I'll pick this up later...
WTF!?!
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
“Or can we cram within this wooden ‘O’ the very casques that did afright the air at Agincourt?”
The other night, we began the process of blocking the Battle of Agincourt (inside, because of the rain). There are no less than 19 combatants involved in the fight. “Can we cram within this wooden ‘O’”, indeed. This is certainly the most ambitious combat scene I’ve been involved in at S&C and if everything comes out right, it should be awesome. If things go wrong, we’ll probably have a few people who can’t count to 20 on their digits anymore.
Our fights can be pretty cool and I’ve been in a few great ones. I got to be Edgar in the climactic broadsword swordfight of Lear for my second year in the company, and I fenced as Laertes in Hamlet two years ago. One of our long-term (as in 28 years) company members is the fight coordinator and he does a great job of creating exciting but manageable fights. He’s also a big fan of wrestling, comic books and video games so he definitely gets a few “holy crap” moments in there. The big challenge this year is that of management. During each of the two sections of the Agincourt battle, there will be 4-5 separate fights happening all over the stage, and without a careful eye towards spacing and awareness, we could end up with a few missing eyes and stabbed backs. Maybe we should be doing Greek tragedy?
I saw “300” the other day. It was good, in a essentially mindless and flashy way, but the story struck me as being nearly the anti-thesis of Henry V. Both works feature a noble king and his small band of warriors facing overconfidence in overwhelming odds, and both feature the full or partial defeat of those odds through shrewd utilization of the “disciplines of war”. But the similarities end there. Henry features a war of aggression (how ever well justified it may debatably be) while 300 is about fighting against a foreign invader. Henry ends well (ostensibly) while 300 ends in tragedy, at least for the short term (as our non-Persian asses know, the “good guys” win the subsequent battles and the war). Trying to “analyze” Frank Miller’s “commentary” on ancient warfare and defending one’s beliefs to the death would be like exegizing an episode of Sesame Street, but I have to wonder about similarities in Henry and Xerxex’s characters. Apart from the 8 ft. tall, androgynous Coppertan model with a full body-piercing punch-card aspects, that is.
Our fights can be pretty cool and I’ve been in a few great ones. I got to be Edgar in the climactic broadsword swordfight of Lear for my second year in the company, and I fenced as Laertes in Hamlet two years ago. One of our long-term (as in 28 years) company members is the fight coordinator and he does a great job of creating exciting but manageable fights. He’s also a big fan of wrestling, comic books and video games so he definitely gets a few “holy crap” moments in there. The big challenge this year is that of management. During each of the two sections of the Agincourt battle, there will be 4-5 separate fights happening all over the stage, and without a careful eye towards spacing and awareness, we could end up with a few missing eyes and stabbed backs. Maybe we should be doing Greek tragedy?
I saw “300” the other day. It was good, in a essentially mindless and flashy way, but the story struck me as being nearly the anti-thesis of Henry V. Both works feature a noble king and his small band of warriors facing overconfidence in overwhelming odds, and both feature the full or partial defeat of those odds through shrewd utilization of the “disciplines of war”. But the similarities end there. Henry features a war of aggression (how ever well justified it may debatably be) while 300 is about fighting against a foreign invader. Henry ends well (ostensibly) while 300 ends in tragedy, at least for the short term (as our non-Persian asses know, the “good guys” win the subsequent battles and the war). Trying to “analyze” Frank Miller’s “commentary” on ancient warfare and defending one’s beliefs to the death would be like exegizing an episode of Sesame Street, but I have to wonder about similarities in Henry and Xerxex’s characters. Apart from the 8 ft. tall, androgynous Coppertan model with a full body-piercing punch-card aspects, that is.
"Tonight...we dine...at SPAGOS!"
Thursday, May 24, 2007
"Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won?"
Sick yesterday so I took things easy. Now I'm ruminative and I been thinking...
The end of the play is horrifying! Every time I've seen it (including the time I directed it), it's done as this "aw, shucks", "will you go to the prom with me?" sort of afterschool special thing, like it belongs in one of the "earlier, funnier" comedies. It stuns me continually that audiences accept this treatment of the scene. Consider what's come before: England has, with little recent provocation, invaded France and killed or captured over 10,000 soldiers, 126 of them nobles, a fact that no doubt leaves Charles' castle feeling a little empty. In the scene itself, Burgundy delivers a speech that exhorts peace but in his words he can barely conceal his loathing for the continual aggression of the English. Henry basically says "Sign the paper and everything's cool, but if you don't, we have a problem." Oh, and by the way, can I talk to your daughter quick? Try to imagine Harry Truman hitting up Hirohito's daughter on the deck of the Missouri and you come close to the ridiculousness of this scene.
I understand that, despite the horrors of war on display in earlier acts, Henry V is essentially an historical adventure play for your average Elizabethan Londoner and every adventure needs a love story. But how the crap are we supposed to think this is cute? If I wrote a scene where a girl's dad made her marry the CEO who was taking over his company against her wishes and everyone was totally cool about it, there'd be rioting in the streets. Oh, but the CEO is cute and tells a self-deprecating joke or two, so don't worry about it.
We're going to block and work this scene tonight and I'm hoping for a breakthrough or five but I've got some serious issues about how this scene should be portrayed and how it'll be received. I know that, by the end of the play, people are ready to laugh and enjoy something light-hearted, but it seems like a disservice to make this scene fulfill that role. It ends up being more chauvinistic than people claim Taming of the Shrew is.
"Darling, being out of your box is a privilege, not a right..."
Monday, May 21, 2007
"Why should a man whose blood is warm within sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?..."
First week of rehearsal down. Our director for Taming took the week off so I was able to focus more on Henry V. We got a lot done in three days of rehearsal, including doing Harfleur, Bardolph's death scene AND St. Crispin's day all in two hours. Once more into the breach, indeed.
General thoughts? I'm gonna need a lot of water, but I'm not sure when I'll get to drink it. Also, it's FUN. Lots of fun. The general idea of the St. Crispin's Day speech is to act like you're jazzed about winning the upcoming battle and to joyously exhort the men, but truthfully, there's not much acting required. It's a bunch of fun to jump up on the platform and see all those expectant faces looking super jazzed already. It's gonna be great if I can avoid...
Yellitis. [ye·li·tis] :when a young, inexperienced (usually male) actor mistakes vocal volume for gravitas or intense emotion. see Jonathan Rhys Meyers in "The Tudors", Hayden Christiansen in Episode III, or Kenneth Branagh in any frickin' scene of Hamlet. Yellitis is a stone killer and it's out there. Sure, your character is upset. Sure, it's outdoor theatre. But yelling at the top of your lungs isn't acting; it's brachiating. There are other ways to convey emotional intensity. Look at Anthony Hopkins. How much yelling does Hannibal Lecter do? Those at highest risk for Yellitis are 20-30 year old male actors who are taking on more responsibility than they think they can handle. I'm watching plenty of "The Tudors" in an effort to inoculate myself against Yellitis, "the Noisy Killer".
I like the rehearsal process, so far; as previously mentioned, our director is extremely familiar with the play and is bringing some great ideas to rehearsal, but encouragingly, he is also open to other people's ideas and things that spontaneously happen during the work. I mean, we were only BLOCKING last week and we've already had a few "Holy Crap! let's do this! moments.
I need to amend a bit some of my earlier statements about the Falstaff Gang. The great thing about getting older is that you're supposed to get smarter, although for myself (and Congress) that curve seems to be irregular sometimes. I've been reading an old book of Shakespeare commentary recently for ideas. How old? It was one of my mother's English Lit textbooks when she was an undergrad, written back when Harold Bloom was deconstructing his high school prom. One of the things the book points out is how the action "in the trenches" (i.e. in the Boar's Head, on the battlefield) provides important contrast and commentary on the actions of the king and court. This is easy to forget, mainly because any stage or film production that wants to tell the story in 90 minutes usually cuts the counterpoint scenes first. I mean, people would rather see Henry yelling up on a platform than hear Gower complain about how they had to kill all the prisoners, right? We've cut those scenes as well, but we can hardly be blamed as our show length is as much about astrophysics as it is about audience interest; we only have so much daylight. Still, Shakespeare planted obvious parallels in both the action and dialogue of the "courtly" scenes and the "common" ones, even down to having characters echo each other literally. The best example I can think of is when Henry is reading the sentence of the conspirators and either honestly or politically invokes God in his God-like judgment of them:
"God quit you in his mercy!"
"...the taste whereof God of his mercy give you patience..."
"Since God so graciously hath brougth to light.."
"Let us deliver our puissance into the hand of God..."
Henry is both speaking for God and essentially holding up the idea that his war is approved by God. In the next scene, Mistress Quickly is describing Falstaff's last moments and remarks "So 'a cried out 'God, God, God' three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet." It's a strange parallel between Henry and the men he's rejecting and the man he has already rejected, Falstaff, and between what "God" means to a conquering king and what He means to a dying rogue.
Henry V is (or at its best, should be) about the nature of leadership and how a leader relates to his constituency, and vice-versa. It's not about a guy who doesn't like tennis balls and wants to kick Frenchy butt. In fact, I wish that there had been similar commentary embedded in the French court's dialogue and possibly even the French rank-and-file, detailing their opinions of their king and the situation their country finds itself in. Instead, it's mostly about their horses and how bad-ass they are. If Shakespeare had made his examination of wartime politics dipolar by seriously examining the French viewpoint, this might've been a truly great play instead just an okay, rah-rah English one. Speaking of opposite viewpoints, is there a French-authored tragedy contemporary with Henry V that deals with the terrible loss at Agincourt and how the French dealt with it? Like "The Madness of King Charles VI"? Just curious; might be a good one to do in rep with Henry...
"My lord? The upstairs neighbors are complaining about the yelling again..."
Sunday, May 13, 2007
"The flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold..."
Read Henry V finally, on Thursday night. I think every cast member has at least one role in the show, not to mention one of the directors. We didn't talk too much about the "concept" for the show, but it's obvious our director is very familiar with the show and he had some interesting things to say about it.
Some of my thoughts, post-read-through:
THERE ARE A LOT OF LINES. Nothing that was cut will be too sorely missed.
Canterbury/Ely conversation cut...oh, well...Making the audience sit through both that and the "King Pharamond" would be a little much to ask.
Henry's charge to Canterbury to "take heed" with the impawning is a warning to be fully open and truthful or is it Henry divesting himself legally of responsibility for what may happen later, because "we hear note and believe", i.e. Colin Powell said they had W.M.D.s and we trust him so...
Levels, man...it's all about the levels. It'll be a real Roman holiday finding the right tone for the various speeches Henry has. "We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant..." could end really angry, but then you steal from "You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy", which gets sad around "so finely bolted didst thou seem", but can't be too sad anticipating "O, not today, think not upon the fault", which is somewhat cowed, similar to "tell thy king I do not seek him now"...etc. etc. The only part of this show that I feel 100% comfortable with is the tacked-on comedic ending, because it's funny and cute and I can do that.
The Falstaff Gang is fun but I wonder if they're completely necessary. There are plenty other "common" soldiers to play with in the show, like MacMorris and Gower (my girlfriend says they're the superfluous ones). What strikes me is that it seems they really were included because it's a continuation of Hal's through-line from the earlier history plays. You don't have to know anything about Falstaff to enjoy Henry V, but it helps. It's like when I saw Major League 2; I think I was able to work out the basic connections without having seen Major League 1. It's interesting to see Shakespeare paying service to his faithful audience members that way. "Sequels" seem so movie-ish but I guess we didn't invent them.
All three conspirators are being played by women. As if this show wasn't chauvinist enough, now we can't trust them devil women! Lets make the whole French court female (and Montjoy a post-op transgender)!
Well, the French lords that aren't suffering from organic brain dementia or who are suicidally stupid end up sounding like Henry's press agents. No one listens to the constable, anyway. Let's just say, I feel that this side of the battle is under-portrayed. It's like when you watch a Pearl Harbor movie (not Tora! Tora! Tora!, because it doesn't do what I'm describing) and Toshiro Mifune or whoever is playing Yamamoto and he's basically just a guy in an office on the phone saying "Yes. Bomb them now!" in English. Nationalism gets the better of historical accuracy here, for sure. Fun fact: Mifune Toshiro played Adm. Yamamoto in four separate films.
Just a note on Fluellen, Gower, Jamy and MacMorris: archaic racial stereotypes are always funny.
We'll see how a scene entirely in French and broken English (Frenglish?) will play with the good people of White Bear Lake.
Hanging Bardolph on stage FTW!
The French love their horses. Let's just hope the French don't LOVE their horses.
Ah yes, the war debate scene...good stuff. Of course, they're debating the cause of the war AFTER they've invaded the Continent...what does Petruchio say? "Better once than never, for never too late."
St. Crispian's Day rah rah. Up on the balcony maybe? It might be interesting to have the army up on the balcony and on the stage and Henry on the grass DC, exhorting the men but the audience, too by proxy. Heh heh, supposedly the actual historical speech given by Henry was a bit more pragmatic, running more along the lines of "All these French guys are rich, so if they get captured, they'll all be ransomed and get to go home. You poor bastards are broke and will be slaughtered to the last man if we don't win this thing. Uh...on ST. CRISPIN'S DAY!!!"
The battle is, of course, a mess, with both sides breaking the "rules" of war and inventing new ones, as well. Shakespeare inflates the losses a bit; it's more like 250 English lost to 6,000 French. STILL. Those are US Army vs. the Republican Guard type numbers. Those longbows must have come with a money-back guarantee. The French were not really as eager to fight as their scene implies; they were actually waiting for even MORE men to arrive and so the battle didn't start until 3 or so hours after dawn, with an opening volley by English bowmen. Our fights at S&C, whether cavalier, old Scottish, Edwardian, whatever, always feature two to four guys wailing on each other with longswords. It would be cool if we could capture the total quagmire the battle turned into...mud, blood, guys hatcheting each other and knights drowning in their own armor. I'm sure the mud will be vetoed by the costumer, but I'd like this one to be pretty vicious.
And the last scene, which is really cute if you can ignore that this chick is basically being auctioned off to a foreign conqueror so she can crank out a few future kings. Ah, love.
Well, more to come once we start blocking!
Some of my thoughts, post-read-through:
THERE ARE A LOT OF LINES. Nothing that was cut will be too sorely missed.
Canterbury/Ely conversation cut...oh, well...Making the audience sit through both that and the "King Pharamond" would be a little much to ask.
Henry's charge to Canterbury to "take heed" with the impawning is a warning to be fully open and truthful or is it Henry divesting himself legally of responsibility for what may happen later, because "we hear note and believe", i.e. Colin Powell said they had W.M.D.s and we trust him so...
Levels, man...it's all about the levels. It'll be a real Roman holiday finding the right tone for the various speeches Henry has. "We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant..." could end really angry, but then you steal from "You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy", which gets sad around "so finely bolted didst thou seem", but can't be too sad anticipating "O, not today, think not upon the fault", which is somewhat cowed, similar to "tell thy king I do not seek him now"...etc. etc. The only part of this show that I feel 100% comfortable with is the tacked-on comedic ending, because it's funny and cute and I can do that.
The Falstaff Gang is fun but I wonder if they're completely necessary. There are plenty other "common" soldiers to play with in the show, like MacMorris and Gower (my girlfriend says they're the superfluous ones). What strikes me is that it seems they really were included because it's a continuation of Hal's through-line from the earlier history plays. You don't have to know anything about Falstaff to enjoy Henry V, but it helps. It's like when I saw Major League 2; I think I was able to work out the basic connections without having seen Major League 1. It's interesting to see Shakespeare paying service to his faithful audience members that way. "Sequels" seem so movie-ish but I guess we didn't invent them.
All three conspirators are being played by women. As if this show wasn't chauvinist enough, now we can't trust them devil women! Lets make the whole French court female (and Montjoy a post-op transgender)!
Well, the French lords that aren't suffering from organic brain dementia or who are suicidally stupid end up sounding like Henry's press agents. No one listens to the constable, anyway. Let's just say, I feel that this side of the battle is under-portrayed. It's like when you watch a Pearl Harbor movie (not Tora! Tora! Tora!, because it doesn't do what I'm describing) and Toshiro Mifune or whoever is playing Yamamoto and he's basically just a guy in an office on the phone saying "Yes. Bomb them now!" in English. Nationalism gets the better of historical accuracy here, for sure. Fun fact: Mifune Toshiro played Adm. Yamamoto in four separate films.
Just a note on Fluellen, Gower, Jamy and MacMorris: archaic racial stereotypes are always funny.
We'll see how a scene entirely in French and broken English (Frenglish?) will play with the good people of White Bear Lake.
Hanging Bardolph on stage FTW!
The French love their horses. Let's just hope the French don't LOVE their horses.
Ah yes, the war debate scene...good stuff. Of course, they're debating the cause of the war AFTER they've invaded the Continent...what does Petruchio say? "Better once than never, for never too late."
St. Crispian's Day rah rah. Up on the balcony maybe? It might be interesting to have the army up on the balcony and on the stage and Henry on the grass DC, exhorting the men but the audience, too by proxy. Heh heh, supposedly the actual historical speech given by Henry was a bit more pragmatic, running more along the lines of "All these French guys are rich, so if they get captured, they'll all be ransomed and get to go home. You poor bastards are broke and will be slaughtered to the last man if we don't win this thing. Uh...on ST. CRISPIN'S DAY!!!"
The battle is, of course, a mess, with both sides breaking the "rules" of war and inventing new ones, as well. Shakespeare inflates the losses a bit; it's more like 250 English lost to 6,000 French. STILL. Those are US Army vs. the Republican Guard type numbers. Those longbows must have come with a money-back guarantee. The French were not really as eager to fight as their scene implies; they were actually waiting for even MORE men to arrive and so the battle didn't start until 3 or so hours after dawn, with an opening volley by English bowmen. Our fights at S&C, whether cavalier, old Scottish, Edwardian, whatever, always feature two to four guys wailing on each other with longswords. It would be cool if we could capture the total quagmire the battle turned into...mud, blood, guys hatcheting each other and knights drowning in their own armor. I'm sure the mud will be vetoed by the costumer, but I'd like this one to be pretty vicious.
And the last scene, which is really cute if you can ignore that this chick is basically being auctioned off to a foreign conqueror so she can crank out a few future kings. Ah, love.
Well, more to come once we start blocking!
"Is it gone? Did I get it all?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
"Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage."
Read Taming of the Shrew last night. Fun, fun stuff. Loooong post to come about that show and what everyone's afraid to say about it, namely "It's not sexist!"
Cast for the show is great; a good mix of new people and old standbys. My girlfriend is playing Katherina to Petruchio, so we'll see if we survive the summer months. More to come in that promised post...
Cast for the show is great; a good mix of new people and old standbys. My girlfriend is playing Katherina to Petruchio, so we'll see if we survive the summer months. More to come in that promised post...
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
"When we are born, we cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools."
First company meeting last night. I have to start doing these as soon as I get home from rehearsal or I know I'll fall behind. Lots of new people this year and lots of healthy enthusiasm. All the new folks seem talented and hopefully they'll be game to let it all hang out this summer. There are 23(?) actors this year and 11 of them are virgins (White Bear virgins, that is) and we have one former alum who's come back to play (woot, Eric!).
We read Doctor in Spite of Himself last night...just glanced at it, really. Scanned it, if you will. At 33 pages, I think it's the shortest show I've done at S&C, and saving true one-acts, definitely one of the shortest shows they've produced. There's never a dearth of business that S&C actors can invent to lengthen a classic comedy (or, for that matter, a tragedy), but it's kinda surprising to see Jeff Altier, the Cecil B. DeMille of the Northeast suburbs, do 30-page show with a ten person cast. Like Joe Montana coaching pee-wee fooball...no, wait...like Patton overseeing a snowball fight. Yeah, I like that one better.
Somehow during introductions last night, "profession" got added to name, roles, and years in company, so I had the distinct honor of informing everyone that I do "nothing". I'm not totally comfortable presenting myself as an "actor" yet, mostly because I haven't earned enough at it to buy a pot to piss in. George suggested I was a "kept man". Touche', big guy. You just made the list.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
"It was always yet the trick of our English, if they have a good thing, to make it too common..."
Okay, so first...how we gonna do it?
Henry V, taken all-in-all, is not particularly complex: young king wants to solidify his shaky dynasty with a conquest or two, so he sets his sights on the rude French (type-casting). His plucky, rag-tag army, against-all-odds beats a superior force and unites the kingdoms of England and France. And Henry marries the beautiful princess. And the Ewoks sing "Yub-Yub"...wait, that's the third movie...or the sixth one, whatever...
Anyway, this play (like the presentation of any play, I guess) is all about intent or what you want to "say" with the production. Except Chekhov. No matter what you want to say when doing Chekhov, it still ain't gonna mean shit.
Author intent is always a good place to start (excepting Chekhov, natch). Scholars have called Henry V nationalist propaganda, a critique on politics and the motivations behind war, a coming-of-age story for the nascent King Hal (who in Henry IV 1 & 2 was sort of the Paris Hilton of Lancasterian England) and also "a gripping, spine-tingling thriller! Four stars!!!" (Rex Reed). Mostly, it's just about how those English guys beat those French guys that one time. It's an Elizabethan action movie. Henry, as a character is refreshingly free of hand-wringing once the decision to invade France is made; just ask the Governor of Harfleur. Hamlet wishes he was Henry V. Shakespere manages to say some stuff about war and patriotism and who really runs a kingdom, but I have a feeling the groundlings mainly hung aroung for the Agincourt scene, just like you watched the Matrix again only for the subway fight. There may have been something in there about Eastern philosophy and the nature of life and simulacra and...oooh! Helicopter crash into building!
Though it's safe to say that Henry may be the shallow end of Shakespeare's dramatic intention pool, there's still plenty of meat there. Did I just mix a "pool" and a "meat" metaphor? One of the things that makes Shakespeare so interesting (and enduring) is that he is so effective at layering multiple themes, ideas and intentions into his works. You get insightful comedy in the midst of tragedy (see: Gravediggers in Hamlet; the Clown, Poor Tom and mad Lear; the porter in McB, et al.) and show-stopping tragedy in disarmingly innocent comedy (see: Hero's shaming and fake death in Much Ado; comedies that start with tragedy like Twelfth Night, Tempest and Comedy of Errors; being eaten by a friggin' bear in Winter's Tale). Then you get odd ducks like Measure for Measure, which is a LAUGH RIOT. Shakespeare himself didn't want his works to necessarily point to some obvious moral or solution, which leaves a director and her company plenty of room to play. In Shakespeare, character is the car, plot is the road, but you decide where the highway leads.
So what's the destination for this particular family trip? Well, we haven't discussed that yet as a company, but it could go a couple of ways (are we there yet?). The political themes are always a popular hook to hang the show on. The last time I was in Henry V, America was in the process of invading Iraq for the second time in 15 years, so the Dubya parallels were irresistible for most reviewers. A young, untested, highly-religious ruler (who is the son of a former ruler) is using a military campaign to bolster his public opinion ratings. One state, two state, red state, blue state. I have a problem with this interpretation which has nothing to do with the fact that it was mostly master-minded by Dominic Papatola (the interpretation, not the war). From the first, Henry doesn't really WANT to go to France. Yeah, he's full of the Kool-Aid of the Divine Right of Kings and dieu et mon droit, but he full well knows that they could lose and worse, a lot of people, both English AND French would surely die. Henry spends most of his alone time in the play ruminating on the justness of his cause and the caprice of fate that makes one man a peasant and the other a king. Henry's "cabinet" and greedy ecclesiastical advisers assure him that Salic Law is crap and the war will succeed. Our kingdom's little war began with our fearless leader doing the urging and drawing a stark line between "us" and the "enemies of freedom". In this analogy, yellowcake uranium evidence will stand in for Salic Law.
I could go through myriad variations of interpretation, but the best way to approach the show is obviously to ask what it means to us today, and not just politically like the earlier production I described. Equating it with our specific modern mise-en-scene would only serve to distance us from the issues it presents (love of country; bravery, cowardice, arrogance, fealty; the horrors of war; heroism; political machination), just as over-emphasizing its antiquity or viewing it as a museum piece with little to inform our present discourse would only dampen its message, whatever we decide it to ultimately be. People who saw Henry V during Shakespeare's time would have known the story, and they would have taken at face value what was happening: these men can be trusted, these can't. Our leader is noble; our leader is lost. War is terrible; war can be necessary. We have an enemy; our enemy is ourselves.
Special "I'm not crazy!!!" bonus: Here is a link to a site comparing elements of Henry V to Star Wars (Lucas, not Reagan). See? If it's on the Internet, it MUST be true!
Henry V, taken all-in-all, is not particularly complex: young king wants to solidify his shaky dynasty with a conquest or two, so he sets his sights on the rude French (type-casting). His plucky, rag-tag army, against-all-odds beats a superior force and unites the kingdoms of England and France. And Henry marries the beautiful princess. And the Ewoks sing "Yub-Yub"...wait, that's the third movie...or the sixth one, whatever...
Anyway, this play (like the presentation of any play, I guess) is all about intent or what you want to "say" with the production. Except Chekhov. No matter what you want to say when doing Chekhov, it still ain't gonna mean shit.
Author intent is always a good place to start (excepting Chekhov, natch). Scholars have called Henry V nationalist propaganda, a critique on politics and the motivations behind war, a coming-of-age story for the nascent King Hal (who in Henry IV 1 & 2 was sort of the Paris Hilton of Lancasterian England) and also "a gripping, spine-tingling thriller! Four stars!!!" (Rex Reed). Mostly, it's just about how those English guys beat those French guys that one time. It's an Elizabethan action movie. Henry, as a character is refreshingly free of hand-wringing once the decision to invade France is made; just ask the Governor of Harfleur. Hamlet wishes he was Henry V. Shakespere manages to say some stuff about war and patriotism and who really runs a kingdom, but I have a feeling the groundlings mainly hung aroung for the Agincourt scene, just like you watched the Matrix again only for the subway fight. There may have been something in there about Eastern philosophy and the nature of life and simulacra and...oooh! Helicopter crash into building!
Though it's safe to say that Henry may be the shallow end of Shakespeare's dramatic intention pool, there's still plenty of meat there. Did I just mix a "pool" and a "meat" metaphor? One of the things that makes Shakespeare so interesting (and enduring) is that he is so effective at layering multiple themes, ideas and intentions into his works. You get insightful comedy in the midst of tragedy (see: Gravediggers in Hamlet; the Clown, Poor Tom and mad Lear; the porter in McB, et al.) and show-stopping tragedy in disarmingly innocent comedy (see: Hero's shaming and fake death in Much Ado; comedies that start with tragedy like Twelfth Night, Tempest and Comedy of Errors; being eaten by a friggin' bear in Winter's Tale). Then you get odd ducks like Measure for Measure, which is a LAUGH RIOT. Shakespeare himself didn't want his works to necessarily point to some obvious moral or solution, which leaves a director and her company plenty of room to play. In Shakespeare, character is the car, plot is the road, but you decide where the highway leads.
So what's the destination for this particular family trip? Well, we haven't discussed that yet as a company, but it could go a couple of ways (are we there yet?). The political themes are always a popular hook to hang the show on. The last time I was in Henry V, America was in the process of invading Iraq for the second time in 15 years, so the Dubya parallels were irresistible for most reviewers. A young, untested, highly-religious ruler (who is the son of a former ruler) is using a military campaign to bolster his public opinion ratings. One state, two state, red state, blue state. I have a problem with this interpretation which has nothing to do with the fact that it was mostly master-minded by Dominic Papatola (the interpretation, not the war). From the first, Henry doesn't really WANT to go to France. Yeah, he's full of the Kool-Aid of the Divine Right of Kings and dieu et mon droit, but he full well knows that they could lose and worse, a lot of people, both English AND French would surely die. Henry spends most of his alone time in the play ruminating on the justness of his cause and the caprice of fate that makes one man a peasant and the other a king. Henry's "cabinet" and greedy ecclesiastical advisers assure him that Salic Law is crap and the war will succeed. Our kingdom's little war began with our fearless leader doing the urging and drawing a stark line between "us" and the "enemies of freedom". In this analogy, yellowcake uranium evidence will stand in for Salic Law.
I could go through myriad variations of interpretation, but the best way to approach the show is obviously to ask what it means to us today, and not just politically like the earlier production I described. Equating it with our specific modern mise-en-scene would only serve to distance us from the issues it presents (love of country; bravery, cowardice, arrogance, fealty; the horrors of war; heroism; political machination), just as over-emphasizing its antiquity or viewing it as a museum piece with little to inform our present discourse would only dampen its message, whatever we decide it to ultimately be. People who saw Henry V during Shakespeare's time would have known the story, and they would have taken at face value what was happening: these men can be trusted, these can't. Our leader is noble; our leader is lost. War is terrible; war can be necessary. We have an enemy; our enemy is ourselves.
Special "I'm not crazy!!!" bonus: Here is a link to a site comparing elements of Henry V to Star Wars (Lucas, not Reagan). See? If it's on the Internet, it MUST be true!
Monday, May 7, 2007
O for a muse of fire...
I am quite possibly the world’s worst blogger. Like many aspiring chroniclers on the Intarwub, I get a few honeymoons posts under my belt, and mere days later, my blog is deader than the Three Little Pigs at a Nugent family reunion. When I do end up posting, I usually manage to offend and/or insult anyone who’s had contact with me in the last 6 months. Not to mention the fact that I firmly believe that most people, however interesting their job at the Gap is or how cute their cats may be, are not the Samuel Pepys or Anais Nin they believe themselves to be (Anais is a rabid Abercrombie and Fitch shopper, anyhow).
All these things taken as fact, I am an actor, and interesting things do happen to me constantly (at least, I find them interesting) and there’s this thing that actor or directors sometimes do: they keep a rehearsal or production journal, a chronicle of the ins and outs of getting a show on stage. Vanity project, you say? Maybe, but for aspiring performers or fellow practitioners of the arts or even the curious uninitiated it can be a fascinating look into how a show comes together.
This year will be my seventh at Shakespeare and Company and the company's 32nd season. This year we are presenting The Taming of the Shrew, Henry V and The Doctor in Spite of Himself. Hey! Kenneth Branagh once portrayed Henry V (on stage and film)! Kenneth Branagh also played Hamlet in a film version of the play and kept a film diary that was later published by W.W. Norton and Co. which he undoubtedly made a pile of cash from. Kenneth Branagh is a raging douche-bag! If he can do it, I can do it (the journal, not the doucheyness).
So here it is; nightly will I record for posterity the trials, travails, tragedies and triumphs of Shakespeare and Co. bringing Henry (and also Taming and Doctor) to the stage in a Fox News "Fair and Balanced" manner (maybe not the last part).
"B-but, why?! What don't you like about Sir Ken Branagh?" I can hear you saying because I've hacked your webcam. He's an accomplished performer and director; I'm sure he's an exceptional husband and father. I've never seen him onstage, but his films leave me somewhat cold. My girlfriend calls his performances "somewhat masturbatory", but I frankly don't appreciate most of the Shakespeare he's brought to the screen, and he's kinda the "Shakespeare Guy" in Hollywood. I feel his performances are either too indulgent (see: Hamlet [4 hour version]) or plain annoying (see: Much Ado About Nothing: The Case of the Super Whiny Benedick). I actually appreciate more the non-classical work he did in films like The Gingerbread Man (RIP Altman) and Dead Again (baaaaad movie, good performance). I just don't think he's the right guy to bring Shakespeare to the masses and he's CERTAINLY not the Second Coming of Olivier. More like the Second Coming of Derek Jacobi. It's up to you to find that appealing.
"Buy why?! Why," you say (and you sure talk to your computer a lot), "do you have pictures of him all over your site?" to which I grimly reply, "Forget it, Jake. It's Ironytown..."
All these things taken as fact, I am an actor, and interesting things do happen to me constantly (at least, I find them interesting) and there’s this thing that actor or directors sometimes do: they keep a rehearsal or production journal, a chronicle of the ins and outs of getting a show on stage. Vanity project, you say? Maybe, but for aspiring performers or fellow practitioners of the arts or even the curious uninitiated it can be a fascinating look into how a show comes together.
This year will be my seventh at Shakespeare and Company and the company's 32nd season. This year we are presenting The Taming of the Shrew, Henry V and The Doctor in Spite of Himself. Hey! Kenneth Branagh once portrayed Henry V (on stage and film)! Kenneth Branagh also played Hamlet in a film version of the play and kept a film diary that was later published by W.W. Norton and Co. which he undoubtedly made a pile of cash from. Kenneth Branagh is a raging douche-bag! If he can do it, I can do it (the journal, not the doucheyness).
So here it is; nightly will I record for posterity the trials, travails, tragedies and triumphs of Shakespeare and Co. bringing Henry (and also Taming and Doctor) to the stage in a Fox News "Fair and Balanced" manner (maybe not the last part).
"B-but, why?! What don't you like about Sir Ken Branagh?" I can hear you saying because I've hacked your webcam. He's an accomplished performer and director; I'm sure he's an exceptional husband and father. I've never seen him onstage, but his films leave me somewhat cold. My girlfriend calls his performances "somewhat masturbatory", but I frankly don't appreciate most of the Shakespeare he's brought to the screen, and he's kinda the "Shakespeare Guy" in Hollywood. I feel his performances are either too indulgent (see: Hamlet [4 hour version]) or plain annoying (see: Much Ado About Nothing: The Case of the Super Whiny Benedick). I actually appreciate more the non-classical work he did in films like The Gingerbread Man (RIP Altman) and Dead Again (baaaaad movie, good performance). I just don't think he's the right guy to bring Shakespeare to the masses and he's CERTAINLY not the Second Coming of Olivier. More like the Second Coming of Derek Jacobi. It's up to you to find that appealing.
"Buy why?! Why," you say (and you sure talk to your computer a lot), "do you have pictures of him all over your site?" to which I grimly reply, "Forget it, Jake. It's Ironytown..."
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