A new production of Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen of Verona pits a cast of seasoned pros against fresh-faced newcomers. The cast’s age range spans five decades and one production member quoted in an article about the production compared performing Shakespeare to the Olympics. If the comparison is apt, the temptation is to write off Shakespeare’s early comedy as a minor event in comparison to his ten history plays (which would be, what, the decathlon?) Still, cast members might argue differently, as even comic Shakespeare is still Shakespeare. Looking at the canon as a whole, is the Olympics a good or bad point of comparison?

Certainly few theatre artists would dispute the level of difficulty inherent in attempting Shakespeare. Much like competitive sports, Shakespearean actors perform better after rigorous training. Or do they? In a cast like this, the argument could be made both ways. Certainly, the young performers will bring something fresh and vital to the text, even if their performances lack a certain polish. The veteran actors might have more mastery of the material, but they run the risk of turning mechanical simply through sheer familiarity.

While both the Olympics and Shakespearean theatre have spectators, they come armed with very different concerns. Or do they? Olympic audiences want their chosen athletes to win; Shakespearean theatergoers don’t shell out tons of money to see flatly delivered poetry and awkward body movements. They want to be riveted, so in a sense they want the actors to win as well. Virtuoso acting nearly always carries with it an element of competitiveness (occasionally to a show’s detriment as actors vie for pieces of scenery to gnash into)—what could be more Olympian than that?

Marin Shakespeare Company is tackling history this season, but not in the ways you might expect. There are no Henrys to be found nor any Richards nor Johns. There are no speeches about English wars that have been reinvented as some kind of commentary on current events. Instead, the company has chosen two plays (one Shakespearean, one not) that both use history in different ways as inspiration for their dramatic plots. Though you might not initially think of Shakespeare’s category-defying The Winter’s Tale and Peter Shaffer’s intense, twentieth-century drama Amadeus as companion pieces, it turns out that the two have some striking parallels.

Many people have long speculated that, happy ending aside, The Winter’s Tale is a kind of allegory of Henry VIII’s disposal of his eleven-fingered second wife, Anne Boleyn. Indeed, a jealous king’s claims of adultery followed by his wife’s death seem to support this notion. Where the play differs is in its marked shift in tone in the second half of the play (which famously jumps sixteen years). Amadeus is also based on historical figures, albeit more directly. The fictionalized tale of the personal and professional relationship between composers Mozart and Salieri won Tonys and Oscars aplenty in its stage debut and subsequent film version. Where people take issue with Amadeus is in the accuracy of its portrayal of the animosity between the two men (who may have been friendlier to each other in real life) and its suggestion that Salieri murdered Mozart. While it makes for a nice Othello-ish plot device, it may not have really happened. The question is if audiences know to take these plays with a grain of salt, how much does historical fidelity really matter?

Nope, not doing Hamlet either! The title of this post was inspired by the fact that several cast and crew members, families and friends, all went to see the Idaho Repertory Theatre’s production of Twelfth Night yesterday. What an amazing show it was! Set in the 1980s, which was MY decade of adolescence, the IRT included tons of great 80s music, hairstyles, clothes (including the IZOD alligator on boatloads of polo shirts), and even Duke Orsino holding a boom box up at Olivia, a great reminder of John Cusack/Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything!

Considering the fact that I prefer Shakespeare set in more “traditional” times and places (yes, I know that “traditional” has a billion different meanings when it comes to adapting Shakespeare, so it’s not really necessary to correct me or tell me that when Shakespeare was around, plays weren’t set in “traditional” settings either. I’m just saying what I prefer - you know, my opinion!), some of my students and even my husband were all surprised that I enjoyed this “painfully 80s” version of Twelfth Night. I’m sure a lot of my enjoyment came simply from the fact that it was a walk down memory lane for me. Had it been set in the 60s or 70s, I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much - those decades don’t mean anything to me, personally.

But beyond the setting, what I enjoyed about it is that the actors had a wonderful grasp of the language, which was something my actors needed to hear for themselves. I can tell them, over and over again, to slow their lines down, enunciate more clearly, project, play up the antithesis and imagery, etc., etc., but what was more meaningful for them was to watch a professional group of actors speaking Shakespeare…and doing it really well!

In addition, the IRT company of players makes Shakespeare FUN! How can a female Feste, dressed as a cross between Madonna and Cyndi Lauper not be fun, especially when she’s partying with Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek (who, remarkably, did his entire character with a hilarious Ricky Ricardo Cuban accent, wavy blonde hair, and made his first entrance onto the stage on a motor scooter!) to tunes like “We’re Not Gonna Take It”! I realize that everything I just wrote sounds oddly heretical, and I hope the Bard isn’t rolling over in his grave (honestly, I suspect Will would have encouraged the insanity, saying, “Couldn’t he ride the motor scooter through the audience instead? That would be awesome!”). But wouldn’t Shakespeare want his plays to be enjoyed by teenagers in the 21st century, rather than dreaded? I know that when the younger kids that saw the play get to our 11th grade World Literature class and “have to” read Twelfth Night, they will say, “That was great - remember when Malvolio came out in yellow cross-gartered parachute pants, dancing like Michael Jackson???” They’ll actually know the plot and the characters because the IRT did such a great job of showing them that Shakespeare can be fun.

So if you decide to direct a play someday, whether it be Shakespeare or another playwright, try to arrange a trip to a local theater to see a play. Maybe you won’t luck out and get to see the exact same play that you’re directing (last year we saw Much Ado…the same summer we did Much Ado…talk about perfect timing!), but it really doesn’t matter. What’s important for your cast is that they get the chance to see professional actors (or good amateurs) doing what they themselves are trying to do. Talk to your cast after the show or at your next rehearsal and ask them what they noticed about the performance. All of my cast noticed what amazing projection Sir Toby had - good heavens, I think people across town probably heard him! And he wasn’t screaming or yelling…he was projecting. There’s a big difference, and it’s hard to teach, so look for opportunities to show rather than talk about it. The other thing that is helpful for them to see is comic timing. Good timing in comedy is essential, and the IRT actors were amazing, particularly in the scene where Sir Andrew is supposed to be challenging Cesario/Viola to a duel, but he doesn’t want to fight anymore than she does. I wish everyone out there could see that scene - it was hilarious and it was such a great example of awesome comic timing.

Good DVDs of the plays are the next best thing…but not necessarily the movie versions. I adore all of Branagh’s films, as well as other Shakespearean plays that have been turned into major motion pictures, but the problem with those is that they aren’t stage plays. They’re good and exciting and fun to watch, but you’re trying to get your cast to think like stage actors, not film actors, and there is a difference, particularly when dealing with Shakespeare. So look for the Plays of William Shakespeare series, or the BBC-Time-Life Films series, The Complete Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare. Those are excellent substitutes if you don’t have a local university, college, or community theater available. No matter what, though, make it fun for your kids…show them that Shakespeare is still considered amazing and great for a reason!

Titus Andronicus is rearing its bloody head again, this time in a production in Illinois. A recent write-up on the show mentioned that the production will (natch) lean heavily on the grisly, gory elements of the story. It is unsurprising, as the play tends to yield interpretations in the Hostel vein. What was also interesting about the article was its mentioning of a film called Theatre of Blood, a horror film from 1973 starring Vincent Price.

The connection? The film features a mad, bad actor who dispatches critics one by one to get his revenge. What makes the murders novel is that each is based on a scene from Shakespeare, including one from Titus Andronicus (I’ll spare you the gross details. Let’s just say, be careful what you eat). In addition to recreating the stage scenes in order to kill his victims, Price also gets to recite some of the great soliloquies from the plays.

Aside from the obvious jabs at critics, Theatre of Blood is also oddly Shakespearean in its own right. In particular, it parallels the often operatic level of excess employed in performing Titus Andronicus. In the play and in the film, people don’t just die, they are devoured (literally, in some cases). Yet amidst all of the beheadings and disemboweling, there is poetry. It is what Shakespeare does best: mixing together high art and low art so seamlessly that you cannot tell the difference between the two.

Jukebox musicals are second only to Disney musicals in terms of popularity within the last ten years. The premise is commercially sound: take the catalog of a famous and successful pop act and build a story around the songs. This way, audience members will know they’ll enjoy the music before they’ve even seen the show. The mother ship of this trend is Mamma Mia, based on the songs of Scandanavian pop divorcees ABBA (a film version of this show is about to disco its way into theatres this Friday). Since then, hordes of pop solo and group acts (most of whom have, ahem, seen the glory days come and go) have attempted to duplicated Mamma Mia’s incredibly massive success, some with less success than others.

One that falls somewhere in the middle is the Elvis jukebox musical All Shook Up, which borrows a considerable portion of its plot elements from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. All Shook Up wasn’t the Broadway smash that Mamma Mia was, but it seems poised for moderate success on the regional, community and high-school circuit, where nostalgia sells big. A new regional production of the show is being mounted in Maine and the parallels to Shakespeare are quite prominent. Most notably, the central plot conceit involves a young girl masquerading as a man. While you might not initially pair The Bard with The King, All Shook Up does precisely that.

A New Hampshire production of Othello is upping the ante on high-concept interpretations of Shakespeare. First, it transposes the action of the play into the world of street gangs. Othello’s power is rendered far grittier and less noble in this variation on the play. More importantly, several of the key roles have been refashioned as female characters. The villainous Iago is not only played by a woman, but as a woman as well (by default the character also becomes a lesbian, due to her relationship with Emilia).

You could argue that these two very intriguing concepts could merit separate interpretations. A gangland Othello is loaded enough even without the sex/gender elements thrown in. This milieu ups the race card as gang membership is often drawn along racial and cultural lines. Still, to play devil’s advocate, you could argue that the play is dangerously close to courting stereotypes. Does the only major black character in Shakespeare have to be portrayed as a thug?

The sexual politics are also full of potential. Audiences fatigued by seeing every Othello staged as a statement about racism may find it refreshing to see issues of gender and sexuality featured so prominently. Since Desdemona, like Ophelia, is too often given a wan, whiny interpretation (let’s hope this production is the exception), making Iago a woman gives Othello a fierier sparring partner. It also enriches the role of Emilia, which in some ways is a better part than Desi. Whether or not this Othello can successfully juggle everything on its very loaded agenda, it earns high marks for originality.

Something’s Rockin’ in Denmark is not a joke. I swear. In fact, the play enjoyed a very brief run on Broadway over thirty years ago. The play has recently been revived and, yes, it is a musical version of Hamlet. The temptation to snicker at this kind of adaptation isn’t as easy to do as it once was. Last year, Spring Awakening, a century-old German expressionist play was turned into a Good Charlotte-esque rock musical and walked away with the Tony award. Still laughing?

Plays of the past, it seems, are the new future. Ultimately, though, does Something’s Rockin’ in Denmark say more about the state of Shakespearean theatre or musical theatre? Addressing the former, it seems that artists are constantly striving to find new ways to interpret and reimagine these works. Musical theatre is a logical option in this light, particularly because it provides the opportunity to further explore the musicality of the text itself.

The statement this makes about musical theatre, however, may be even more telling. As Spring Awakening attests, there is some backlash to the increased commodification of Broadway musicals. Does every Disney cartoon need to be made into a musical? While I understand the need for family entertainment, shouldn’t there be pieces that speak to other age groups/demographics as well? Also, no matter how successful it is, no matter how many reality shows they build around it, Legally Blonde: The Musical is garbage—a perfectly obnoxious concoction based on a mediocre film that misogynistically celebrates stupidity as some kind of twenty-first-century female empowerment. I don’t blame writers (and audiences) for demanding more gravitas in musicals. If the melancholy Dane wants to sing, I’m all ears.

Loving the earth has become trendy. With the turning point being former Vice President Gore’s 2006 documentary, An Inconvenient Truth, the past two years have seen the green movement go global. Now, recycling is for sissies. That’s not green; it’s simply expected. If you’re hardcore about the environment, you’re remodeling you car, your house, and your life. Like any zeitgeist, the movement has also had an impact upon theatre, including Shakespeare festivals. One festival has even incorporated a green tie-in to their season by asking audience members to pledge personal ecological change.

Last fall, a host of network television shows incorporated environmental issues into their plotlines (Mr. Gore even made a cameo). It seems that Shakespearean productions could be taken in a similar direction—and some already have. The Tempest has always been the go-to play to talk about the environment because of the whole man-trying-to-control-nature thing. Prospero could be seen as a representative for humankind and its hubristic desire to dominate, control, and exploit the natural world. The play has frequently sparked thematic explorations of slavery, and the notion of the enslavement of the natural world certainly creates a parallel.

The Tempest also makes a good fit because of its structure. Like many late Shakespearean works, it is a multi-genre work whose eclectic nature make it easy to graft different ideas onto it. In this light, we can view the finale as Prospero’s renunciation of his manipulation of the environment. It also helps make sense of his eleventh-hour decision to let his duplicitous captives live. Despite the ills these men have wrought upon him, Prospero in the end decides to recycle them.

I have always been a movie buff, from the time I was a little kid. I remember my mom taking me to see Disney’s Robin Hood at the theater (you know, the one where Robin Hood and Marian are foxes, and Prince John is a thumb-sucking lion…PJ? PJ! Oh, I like that…Hiss, put it on my luggage!). And I remember going to my first drive-in movie with my brother - Young Frankenstein.  Probably not the best movie for a 6-year-old to watch - I believe a lot of the humor was lost on me until later years!

But movies have always been important to me and played a big part in my life…especially historical epics!  Oh, my…that year that both Braveheart and Rob Roy came out?!?!  I thought I’d died and gone to historical cinema heaven! And, of course, being a huge Shakespeare/Elizabethan buff, I adore movies like Elizabeth and Shakespeare in Love.

But what on earth does this have to do with Staging Shakespeare? Well, one thing that has been very helpful, not only to my cast but also to the students in my English classes, is to teach Shakespeare’s plays utilizing good film versions of the plays. Of course, when I teach Henry V to my 8th graders, we watch the Branagh film - read one act, watch the act; read the next act, watch that act, etc. When I teach Hamlet, we watch bits of both the Gibson and the Branagh films, and when I teach Macbeth, I’ve found that I prefer the BBC version of the play with Nicol Williamson (remember him as Merlin in Excalibur?) over the Ian McKellen/Judi Dench play, although I like to show scenes from both. (Speaking of Excalibur - Here’s some trivia for you - Cherie Lunghi, who played Guenevere, also did a fabulous Beatrice in the BBC’s Much Ado About Nothing! Kind of cool that two Excalibur cast members also did some mean Shakespeare!)

So back in May and June, when the weather here was icky and we couldn’t start rehearsing outside, our cast spent a great deal of time working on the text - reading parts aloud; figuring out what various words and phrases meant; determining what their characters might be thinking and feeling at any given moment. Once we were finished, we would watch whatever scenes we had worked on that day from the BBC version of Shrew, with John Cleese as Petruchio. Talk about a HOOT! John Cleese is just a great actor anyway, but seeing him come in for his wedding to Katharina, dressed in some hideous burlap-type vest, no shirt on underneath, but an enormous yellow sunflower stuck to the vest…and a hat with the longest feathers sticking out in front of it…I could go on…I won’t…except to mention that Grumio had some weird face painted on his bare belly, under a very similar ensemble as that of Petruchio’s! The kids loved it, and they saw some really outstanding acting in the process. We also watched the Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor film version, which is such an enjoyable movie, especially when you consider that Burton and Taylor were married at the time they made the movie…it definitely created quite the dynamic for their performances!

Using film versions of the plays seems almost like a no-brainer, really. In this day and age of audio and visual technology, why wouldn’t a teacher or director want to use film to help their students really get into Shakespeare? The only downside I can see is that you don’t ever want your actors to feel like they have to play a part exactly like some famous actor did it. I was hesitant about showing the Branagh Much Ado last year, simply because I didn’t want anyone to feel like there was only one way to play these characters. But I also showed them the BBC version (the one with Cherie Lunghi as Beatrice) in order to demonstrate that there are definitely different ways of approaching the characters, the scenery, the costumes, the everything of putting together a stage production…as long as you don’t deviate from Shakespeare’s text!

Just a suggestion, too, concerning those BBC plays - If you look for them on Amazon or other commercial websites, you’ll probably only find them available to purchase as sets - all of the comedies, all of the histories, or even all 37 plays in one huge bundle. If you are interested in buying them individually, go to the Folger Library website - www.folger.edu - and you can purchase them through their gift shop, one at a time. I’ve slowly been building my collection this way, purchasing the ones I need for school or for whatever plays I am considering directing in the future.

And finally…a little ritual that I started last summer as our production neared completion and we were almost to Opening Night. When I start to worry about the play coming together, actors learning their lines, costumes being finished, sets being painted, but I know I’ve done everything I can do and it’s up to the kids, I pop in my copy of Shakespeare in Love.  If I have time, I’ll watch the whole film, but sometimes I’m just too tired to stay up and watch it after my children are in bed, so instead, I will skip to the scene where Will’s Romeo and Juliet is about to start.  Henslowe’s tailor, playing the Chorus, is stuttering backstage, and Will looks like he would rather slit his wrists than let the play go on.  Then the Chorus gets pushed out onto the stage, and it almost appears that he won’t be able to get the words out…but suddenly, his voice is perfect, exclaiming, “Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene….” I absolutely love that entire part of the movie, where they show what it might have been like the very first time R&J was on the stage…except, of course, where a gorgeous Gwyneth Paltrow saves the day! And then, when the play is over, and the audience just sits there, like they didn’t know what hit them…until finally, thunderous applause and ovations! Ah, yes…it helps me sleep better that night!

Despite its title, if you are someone who dislikes Shakespeare (and, by the way, shame on you), you most likely still won’t enjoy the new production of Paul Rudnick’s I Hate Hamlet. In fact, you sort of have to love the play to appreciate its storyline. The set-up is simple, an actor who hates Hamlet (because it’s an impossible part to live up to) finds himself playing the role. To make matters worse, he’s not doing a very good job. Add to that some personal crises, and you have the smorgasbord of suffering we expect from comic protagonists. The solution comes when the actor is haunted by the ghost of John Barrymore. I’m sure you can probably guess how it ends.

The inclusion of Barrymore is a novel twist, because there are tons of twentieth-century actors who have put their imprint upon the role of the melancholy Dane. When you think about it, who hasn’t tried their hand at the part? Therein is the inside joke of I Hate Hamlet: in a way, its protagonist is right. The role, even more than the play itself, is like some hideous family heirloom: nobody wants it, but you can’t avoid it. More than that, there is the sense of proving yourself in the attempt, regardless of the outcome. It’s sort of a theatrical form of hazing: sometimes misguided, sometimes, dangerous, sometimes disastrous, but in the end it brings out a sense of pride in you for having done it.