In people-without-clothing news, some nudity in a Shakespearean production is causing quite a stir—but it might not be what you think. The much-heralded production of King Lear starring Ian McKellen has been taped and will be broadcast next January on PBS. In the production, McKellen has a full frontal nude scene and PBS chief Kreger will not yet answer whether or not the scene will be edited for television. The issues inherent in this story and the caginess with which it’s being dealt bring up a number of key questions.

Obviously, there are the myriad of issues surrounding nudity, both on stage and in film. Some argue that it can be artistic while others firmly believe that on some level it is always exploitative. Secondly, there is the PBS angle. Fifteen years ago, the network found itself in the midst of a similar controversy over the similarly-praised Tales of the City(which ironically also feature McKellen in a small role), a miniseries which also featured male actors dropping trou. PBS met with much criticism for airing the program and the two sequel miniseries moved to Showtime (where mature content is de rigueur).

Underneath it all, however, is an unspoken question. Would either of these arguments have happened (even with PBS involved) if the nudity featured was of a female actor? Instead of arguing about whether or not it is appropriate (which will yield a different response depending on whom you ask), we should ask whether this issue is treated the same way across the board. In Shakespeare, as elsewhere, the answer seems to be no.

In many of the umpteen-million versions of Cinderella, the wicked stepsisters are virtually indistinguishable from each other. Both are typically ugly, poorly dressed, and out of shape. In addition, they are both portrayed as snotty, conniving and seriously lacking in brains. In short, they are the same character. A similar fate often befalls productions of Shakespeare’s how-many-plotlines-can-we-stuff-into-one-play? tragedy, King Lear. The ill-fated Cordelia stands out as the forsaken favorite, but her two sisters, Goneril and Regan, are too frequently, well, wicked stepsisters.

Hoping to avoid this pitfall is the new and much-publicized film version of King Lear starring everyone’s favorite flesh-eater, Anthony Hopkins, as the mad king. As previously announced, Cordelia and Regan will be played, respectively by Keira Knightley (she of the teeth and cheekbones) and Gwyneth Paltrow (she of the children with ridiculous names). It was just released that Goneril will be played by Australian actress Naomi Watts.

I have high hopes for Watts in this part, as she, Knightley and Paltrow are very different actresses (with different strengths and weaknesses) that will ostensibly translate to three distinct characters. Watts biggest downfall is that she’s a bit of a sulker. She’s good, but sometimes tends to weep and glower her way through her films. The upside is that she’s a fierce and intense performer who should more than hold her own among her costars. Goneril differs from her sisters in that she is more extreme in pursuit of her goals, and thus more shattered when it all falls apart. She’s phenomenally unhappy, and unhappy is what Watts does best.

Idaho Shakespeare Festival is opening its season with the non-Shakespearean play The Crucible, written by the late Arthur Miller. Since The UnShakespeare have been featured in some of my recent blogs about Shakespeare Festivals, Idaho Shakes’ production provides the perfect continuation to the discussion. Though written over three hundred years after Shakespeare’s works, The Crucible has many attributes that make an appropriate companion piece to Will’s works.

While The Bard admittedly wrote most of his tragedies about royalty (or at least military figures), his humanizing of his heroes brought them down from the pedestals upon which Greek tragedies had placed them. King Lear is less interesting as a story about a ruler losing his political power; it succeeds much more as a drama about a father at odds with his children and friends. Indeed, it is the personalization of the action that adds weight to any political content.

In The Crucible, John Proctor fails in the same way Shakespeare’s heroes do. He is doggedly out of touch with his own vulnerability and overly invested in his own self-righteousness. In true Shakespearean fashion, his downfall ruins many people around him, including people he loves. True, Miller was commenting on the fanaticism that surrounds (and ultimately condemns) Proctor, but this too smacks of Shakespeare. King Lear also endures nefarious forces, some even within his own family. In both cases, however, things might have turned out better if both the heroes had recognized their precarious circumstances and played the game a little better.

Watching films of the past ten years, I often find myself taken out of the experience when I can tell that part of the scene has been create through CGI. For me, the recognition of the effect as an effect completely takes me out of the movie. This is particularly true when films try to create huge storms or other environmental effects. It just looks fake, so how am I supposed to buy into the danger or drama of the situation?
A production of Shakespeare’s later and less familiar work, Pericles, currently playing at Cal Shakes (California Shakespeare Festival), is receiving positive notices for avoiding this kind of fakery. One review acknowledges the play’s tricky structure (which some attribute to diverse authorship), and praises this version for making the play a unified whole. The critic also noted an added, unexpected benefit: during the outdoor performance, some fog rolled in and added some surprising atmosphere to the play.

In outdoor theatre, weather is generally the enemy. Summer theatres and Shakespeare festivals live in fear that bad weather, particularly if prolonged, will impede or halt production (not to mention reduce box office receipts). Yet the fog that enshrouded Pericles was an unexpected benefit; one of those moments that define live theatre because it cannot be recreated. Provided that safety does not become an issue, it is easy to imagine other plays that would benefit from dramatic climate changes. Imagine seeing a performance of The Tempest or King Lear in a rainstorm. In addition to the spectacular benefits, it would also enliven the actors as well because they would not have to imagine weather conditions and attempt to act in response to them. If there’s a Pirates of the Caribbean 4 (and, believe me, I hope there is not), the filmmakers could take a note from Pericles on how to create atmosphere.

Ian McKellen must be seriously peeved. The British film and stage actor has been schlepping around the world with his widely touted production of Shakespeare’s King Lear for much of the 2007-2008 season. When word broke yesterday that a new film version of the venerable tragedy was to be mounted, the natural question was who would appear in it. Currently, two of the three daughters have already been cast. Gwyneth Paltrow, who has been a rather spare presence onscreen in the past five years since becoming a mom, will play Regan. Keira Knightley, who gained fame fighting undead pirates in a trio of overblown, thoroughly awful action comedies, will play Cordelia. No name actress is attached to the role of Goneril as of yet, possibly because the character’s name will produce too many snickers among adolescent audience members. The big news, of course, is the King himself, who will be played by none other than Anthony Hopkins.

Since Hopkins name is bigger in the film world than McKellen’s, the choice is not terribly surprising. In truth, it will be very surprising indeed if he is not extraordinarily good in the film. While passing over McKellen might be sad news for his fans, Hopkins is far from a flyweight. In many ways, the casting of the daughters is far iffier. Knightley has proven herself to be a lovely photographic object, but her acting consists of talking around her teeth and posing like she’s in a period-piece body wash commercial. Most importantly, she isn’t warm, and Cordelia is the heart of King Lear in many ways. Paltrow has a habit of being either really good or utterly wan. When she last played Hopkins’s daughter in Proof, I was expecting a lot due to the raves she had received for her stage performance in the same role. I was sadly disappointed. Maybe the casting of Goneril will seal the fate of the performances of the daughters’ roles – whipping the other two actresses into shape or sinking with them.

In the past few years, King Lear has been defined largely by star turns. In the past year, Sir Ian McKellen embarked on a worldwide tour with the play, earning reviews ranging from the rapturous to the rancorous. A few years prior, Christopher Plummer took Lear to Broadway and raged mightily as the tortured King. The play is now being performed at The Globe featuring an actor many have never heard of—David Calder. A recent review noted Calder’s lack of fame while heralding his performance’s richness and psychological complexity. The reviewer also noted that the show begins and ends with Calder. For this viewer, the supporting cast was incredibly inconsistent, throwing of the balance of the production.

People of the theater are fond o f trotting out sayings about the ensemble nature of the profession and how the success of a given production depends on the achievements of all involved. Reading this review, I wondered if this is always the case. With particular regards to Shakespeare, is this true of King Lear? No one would argue that a capable cast of talented actors would enhance any production. Also, there are plenty of good parts to be had in this particular tragedy, which manages to balance a wide range of characters while still giving them individuality and complexity. Still, with a play like Lear, most folks are going to see the title character. Is it possible that King Lear has become a vehicle play over the years, a work sculpted by directors to highlight the talents of actors of a certain age?

“Hello, My name is Prospero. You banished me to this island. Prepare to die.” If you never thought you would hear that uttered, think otherwise. If, like me, you have a special place in your heart for The Princess Bride, that statement might vaguely make sense to you. It comes from the character Inigo Montoya, played with gusto in the 1987 film by Mandy Patinkin. It was recently announced that the erstwhile Mr. Montoya will be treading the boards as Prospero in a new production of Shakespeare’s mixed-genre masterpiece, The Tempest.

Patinkin is a rather idiosyncratic actor. While he works steadily on the stage, his film appearances are highly sporadic. He also makes headlines for leaving highly successful television shows just as they are taking off. Onstage, Patinkin is most frequently cast in musicals due to his remarkably high tenor voice. Therefore, his appearance in The Tempest represents a change of pace.

It also represents a highly unusual bit of casting. The one danger of stardom in any medium is that at a certain point you get the opportunity to play parts for which you are less than ideally suited simply because of your stature. Patinkin has many fine qualities, most of which are completely wrong for Prospero. First, he is too young for the part. Prospero is a role best suited to an actor in his post-King Lear years. Also, Prospero is many things, but quirky is not one of them, and, alas, Patinkin is quirky with a capital “Q.” As his former costar might have said, his playing this role is “inconceivable.”

One of the greatest actors of Shakespeare passed away earlier this week. Paul Schofield, whose career spanned more than five decades, died from complications of leukemia at age 86. Schofield was a rare bird among actors—one who preferred the stage to the screen. His most famous role was that of Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons, which earned him 1966’s Best Actor Oscar (he had also played the role on stage). Despite this success, he remained largely absent from the silver screen for much of his career (notable exceptions include his fine work in Quiz Show and a terrific performance in The Crucible).

Although far from a recluse, Schofield simply chose to work more on the stage and gave few interviews over the course of his career. In the theatre, he mastered all of the great Shakespearean roles including Macbeth, Hamlet, and King Lear. In many of his obits, a famous quote from Richard Burton is often mentioned, “Of the ten greatest moments in the theater, eight are Schofield’s.” Despite this, Schofield’s name is probably less familiar than that of Burton (who largely left the theatre in favor of films at a young age). Perhaps one of the reasons Schofield will be forever tied to Thomas More is because he was so well-suited to the role. Friends and co-stars have eulogized him as an incredibly decent human being. In addition, his acting has often been heralded for its groundedness and strength. It was this same powerful core that made his turns as Shakespeare’s famous heroes uniquely human.

If Shakespeare was a poet first, why do we remember him more as a dramatist? This is the question posed in a recent article about Shakespearean scholar. For this writer, it seems that far too much attention has been paid to Shakespeare’s career as a dramatist while not enough writing has been devoted to his poetry. For this writer, Shakespeare started out as a poet first and later found his way into theatre. Additionally, he points out that Shakespeare had a poetic career beyond the Sonnets. Two of Shakespeare’s most famous and masterful poetic works are Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece. While both works have received significant attention in literary circles, they don’t receive the same attention as King Lear.

If this assertion is true, why don’t both of his efforts receive equal attention? One issue may be accessibility. For those who regularly read poetry for study and/or enjoyment, this isn’t a problem, but how many people read poetry for leisure? Has poetry inadvertently become a victim of educational classism? In other words, is poetry something only studied by wealthy intellectuals?
Forum may have also played a role in the shaping of Shakespeare’s reputation. Theatre’s role as popular entertainment (both in Shakespeare’s time and especially in the 1800’s) has ensured that his plays reach a wide audience. His poetry, unfortunately, has not enjoyed the same level of exposure. Yet, there is one other factor that arguably is the biggest contributor to the disparity at hand. Shakespeare’s dramatic writing has always been celebrated and analyzed for its poetic quality. In essence, audiences and readers have been getting two forms in one. Shakespeare didn’t stop writing poetry; he simply incorporated it into new forms. In doing so, he may have cast a shadow over his earlier, equally important work.

Totus mundus agit histrionem is believed to be a kind of catchphrase for the original Globe Theatre. The phrase translates to “The whole world is a playhouse,” a sentiment not to far from Shakespeare’s famous quote, “All the world is a stage.” The new Globe, built just over ten years ago according to what are believed to be the specifications of the original, is adopting this slogan again for their upcoming season.

Apparently, a Totus Mundus season means a wide variety of Shakespearean plays, including King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and Timon of Athens. It is an interesting mix, particularly on the heels of their most successful season yet. That season included the widely known tragedy Romeo and Juliet. This season follows a similar format, balancing well known titles (Lear and Midsummer) against lesser known (Windsor) and even obscure (Timon) works.

While the better known titles inspire a variety of responses, from voracious anticipation to overexposed fatigue, it is the lesser titles that have more potential to impact the audience. Timon may be well known to Bard aficionados, but the uninitiated may not even have heard of its existence. As a result, the artists involved have more creative leeway, because they are presenting an unknown quantity. Its audience is less likely to come into the production with preconceived notions about concept and characterization. In this way, The Globe has the potential to broaden its audiences’ understanding of Shakespearean theatre.