'Our carnal stings' -- thoughts on Colorado Shakespeare Festival's 'Othello'

Geoffrey Kent as Iago and Peter Macon as Othello in the Colorado Shakespeare Festival's production of "Othello." [Photo by Jennifer Koskinen/Courtesy Colorado Shakespeare Festival]

 We were forced to read “Othello” in high school. Despite this, it’s one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. Scrape away the preconceptions, and memories of bad productions seen, and there’s a great river of vital stuff surging through it – race, sex, politics, loyalty, truth, possession, pride, and trust. The Colorado Shakespeare Festival’s production works due to its strong central performance and a no-nonsense directorial approach by Lisa Wolpe that focuses on telling the story clearly rather than trying to score points for cleverness. It's an excellent introduction to this key work.

“Othello” is often thought to be a play out of balance, one in which its manipulative villain Iago dominates, reducing the title character to a pawn. But, done properly, the play is not misnamed. The web of circumstantial evidence Iago weaves to make Othello think his new, young wife Desdemona is cheating on him is insubstantial. Why doesn’t Othello sweep it away?

Precisely because Othello is an experienced warrior, a commander. Bluff, emotional, and open-hearted, his martial virtues are his undoing in a civilian society where ambiguity, innuendo, politicking, and deceit dominate. Played properly, as it is here, Iago merely triggers the explosion of a magnificent hero.

Peter Macon brings previous experience to the role as Othello, along with a presence that commands attention and a deep, resonant voice. Many times Othello has been played with an overdose of gravitas, but Macon gives the audience at the outset an exuberant, playful, charismatic, three-dimensional man, which makes his mental collapse and fragmentation all the more moving and fascinating to watch as the night progresses.

Adept at battle, Othello’s lost in love, or what he considers love to be. In the end, it seems to be only a reflection of his self-regard, and the perceived loss of it makes it necessary for him to slay the object of his affections. Macon’s Othello is incapable of plucking suspicion from his mind, and seems like someone who might have wound in the same dismal ending even without Iago’s goading.

Othello is adrift in a culture of sexual paranoia. Women are defined by their chastity; men are defined by ability to overcome that chastity. A woman not completely innocent or faithful is a worthless whore; a man whose woman is unfaithful is no man at all. (So things haven’t changed that much in 400 years.) To sleep with another man’s women is to shame and gain power over him.

Iago, long-time aide to Othello, thinks that Othello has cuckolded him – that and Othello’s preferment of another as his lieutenant spurs his stream of lies that lead to murder. The actor playing Iago has to be careful. The role has been played by and large as either transparently evil or, worse, incredibly bitchy. Exceptional interpreters of the role such as Ian McKellen and Frank Finlay work against the stereotype, underplaying so deftly that we are hoodwinked by the character’s feigned honesty as well, even though we know better.

Geoffrey Kent takes the latter course quite successfully as Iago. Kent has a very sunny disposition as an actor that helps him sell his manipulations, and a deference that really lets Macon take the lead in many scenes, which works well.

Desdemona is another frustratingly difficult role. As written, she’s cloyingly sweet and altruistic, so much so that sometimes at the end of a production her death comes as quite refreshing turn of events. The role has largely been played that way, sometimes branching into a standard variation in which she is just so damn sexy, so naturally attractive and sensual, that it seems inevitable that she will die for it.

Laura Baranik’s Desdemona seems in the beginning like a spoiled and oblivious young thing, and the chemistry between her and Macon was not substantial on opening night. But, as the evening progresses and Desdemona is ever more wronged, Baranik works the anger, shame, frustration, and hurt of the character well, giving us a woman struggling to understand her doom.

More notes – good old CSF regular Sam Gregory is here as Desdemona’s father Brabantio, and is a kick in the pants to watch. Often Brabantio is played as a quivering, ineffective dodderer, but Gregory is vital and vindictive as the deceived parent. Kudos to Rodney Lizcano, too, for getting the most out of the role of comic-relief Roderigo, Iago’s ally and dupe. Vanessa Morosco is a fine Emilia, Iago’s wife, one of the most outspoken, honest, and observant female characters in Shakespeare. She speaks truth to power and suffers the consequences.

Caitlin Ayer’s versatile, symmetrical set (it doubles as CSF’s “Much Ado About Nothing”’s) lets the traffic flow smoothly, essential in a long work like this – the show dragged a bit on opening night, but it can only get tighter. And Hugh Hanson’s costumes are splendid.

Quibbles? I love Anne Sandoe, but replacing the Doge of Venice with a Duchess really doesn’t fly. Plus, I miss the crazy, emblematic melted-Hershey’s-kiss-shaped hat a doge usually wears! Why do I know this? Why is it even important? I don't know. I don’t get out much.

“Othello” continues at the Colorado Shakespeare Festival through August 8. For tickets and information, please visit coloradoshakes.org.

Why should you go to the Colorado Shakespeare Festival?

Photo by Zachary Adams. I pulled it from Geoffrey Kent's Facebook page. Thanks guys!

By BRAD WEISMANN

Out here in the provinces, theater is an upper-middle-class affectation, or something you take your grandma to once a year -- at Christmastime. You can slag the hordes in only for some traveling Broadway fare, usually. There is a niche culture of dedicated theatergoers in the area, but anyone in the biz without a stellar and spectacularly overworked marketing department to lean on will tell you that it’s catch-as-catch-can out here. There are many quite talented practitioners here, in all departments, but for most of them it’s a hobby that has to remain its own reward.

Despite the crowings of anxious promoters, various local bureaucrats and Chamber-of-Commerce types, regional cultural mandarins, big-box cultural p.r. guys, and the like, the situation is, was, and always will be desperate. The mainstream critical/press apparatus that used to fuel interest in and dialogue about the arts has pretty much suffered the fate of the Nazis at the end of “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Es ist ganz und gar todt!

In Boulder, you can begin to redeem this situation by going to the Colorado Shakespeare Festival. Now everyone groan, both the populists who think the fare is too highfalutin’ for today’s audiences – and all the inhabitants and supporters of smaller, edgier local companies such as the Boulder Ensemble Theatre Company, square product theatre, LOCAL Theater Company, and the ones I forgot, who may be sick and tired of the attention that does get lavished on this institutionally supported annual event.

However, there are seven reasons, two of them the same, why you should go.

1.      It’s Shakespeare. Can you do Shakespeare? No, you can’t. Few can. It’s HARD. I know, I tried. I could get through about two minutes tops before either I or the audience started laughing uncontrollably. During the big stabbing scene of “Julius Caesar.” These CSF guys can do Shakespeare, usually pretty well. It’s not community theater. It’s not dinner theater. It’s not musical comedy. It’s the not the reworkings of beloved American classics, or any other kind of crap that’s not even close to Shakespeare but that nervous admins think will put asses in the seats. It’s almost certainly going to be at least tangentially Shakespearian. The new kids running the show at CSF actually care deeply about Shakespeare and are going balls-out to do a great job. And that’s important. See #7.

2.      It’s classy. In theater, the audience is king. (OK, except in experimental theater.) Who doesn’t want to be treated like royalty? Both the indoor and outdoor venues at CSF are very nice. Yes, the seats at the Mary Ripon Outdoor Theatre are made of huge slabs of rock, BUT – they have these cute little seatbacks they hand out free, and they used to CHARGE for those. Isn’t that nice? Someone tears your ticket, they smile, they give you a program, they help you find your seat. Who does that anymore? And you can pack a picnic dinner, eat on the greensward or lawn or  in front of the theater before the show, pound some wine and beer . . . crawl into the shrubbery and burn one . . . I’m pretty sure you can pass out in the grass if you like. Just pay for your ticket first, they need the money.

3.      It’s fun. Be aware, they will not throw your Frisbee back. However, in Shakespeare actors are usually stopping every once in a while to confess their plans to you, or tell you how they feel. Sometimes they blow horns and such and run up and down the aisles. Theater is supposed to involve you. Only in the 19^th century did the deadly tradition of sitting absolutely still and indicating your approval with APPLAUSE and APPLAUSE ONLY begin. Shakespeare is theater from the time when the audience and the players fed off each other. YOU CAN REACT. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO ENJOY YOURSELVES.

4.      It’s violent. Hey, did you know that Shakespeare was the Tarentino of his time? “Titus Andronicus” makes Martin McDonagh look like Oscar Wilde. And one of the gang this year at CSF is Geoffrey Kent, aka The Fight Guy. He is the president of the Society of American Fight Directors, and he really know how to put on swordplay, mayhem, and the like, plenty of which litters “Henry IV,” which hits the CSF stage this summer. So you’ve got the whole “Game of Thrones” vibe going on. In fact, why didn’t the marketing department use that? “The original Game of Thrones.” Should be bloody . . . awesome. (To be fair, Part II, which they’ve only staging three times as opposed to eight for Part I, is a lot less bloody, more like: King Henry IV: “You’re not a good son.” Prince Hal: “Yes I am!” King Henry IV: “You want to steal my crown.” Prince Hal: “No I don’t, Dad.” King Henry IV: “Where’s my damn crown?” Prince Hal: “IT’S RIGHT HERE, DAD.” Meanwhile, Falstaff’s all like, “Ooo, I’m a cheeky bugger, I am. I’m a right old rogue!” King Henry: “You better shape up.” Prince Hal: “OK, I will.” Falstaff: “Crikey, dun’t look good for yours truly, do it?”)

5.      It’s educational. Did you know that the appreciation of Shakespeare has been ruined by more middle-school English teachers than any other factor, according to my unscientific conjecture? It’s true. The only way you are going to knock that resistance and misperception out of your head is to see the stuff, live, as God intended. In this world in which our collective cultural consciousness has shrunk to the size of a mouse’s foreskin on a subzero street corner, Shakespeare is the last bastion of something in the arts we can and should all hold as common coin. If you know something about him and his work, you mark yourself as an educated individual who cares more about the bottom line and what the score is. At the very least, it increases your chances of getting laid to a nominal degree.

6.      It’s important. You should know how to see a play. It’s the second-oldest form of entertainment. It’s the root of every other art. America will never have a repertory theater company on every block, or a symphony orchestra that has to turn down an endowment because it simply doesn’t know what to do with all that money. We will not as a nation, forego the Super Bowl to watch an especially riveting episode of “Masterpiece Theater.” Motels will never hang fascinating original paintings on the walls of their rooms (except for La Reve in Pasadena, you should really check it out). But you need to develop the capacity for taking art in and letting it make you feel and think. It takes discipline and effort. Some people think art is the pickle tray in the buffet of life. It’s not, it’s the entrée. It’s like water and air and food and shelter and warmth and love. Which leads to

7.      It’s Shakespeare. There’s a reason why he’s the Quesarito of English literature. He’s a four-tool player. He knows how to tell a story, or at least borrow some really good plots. He delineates character like no one else – you really feel like you can see clearly inside everyone on stage. Every character that’s not purely a walk-on functionary has dimension and depth, and, like real people, contains and expresses contradictions and unresolved ambiguities. He’s not afraid to go for the really big questions underneath any given issue – he’s dealing with life and death, sin, guilt, dishonor, love, loss, death, a constellation of the aspects of human existence, which means his subject matter is always relevant and never gets old. And the language, the language. There’s a reason why it seeps into everything we say and write. It’s so damn apt and compelling, so much so that it will still lift me out of myself, although I’ve heard it or read it a thousand times. It’s sheer beauty.

Every time you get a chance to experience Shakespeare done well, you get to experience the human soul in high gear. The gateway is right here in the midst of us, and we are lucky to have it. It’s called the Colorado Shakespeare Festival. You really should go.

Back to basics works in CSF’s “Romeo and Juliet”

Jamie Ann Romero and Ben Bonenfant in the Colorado Shakespeare Festival's production of "Romeo and Juliet." [Photo by Glen Asakawa for CU Communications]

The Colorado Shakespeare Festival's troupe needs a hit. Like action heroes with their backs against the wall, they pull off a miracle – a straightforward, involving production of “Romeo and Juliet.”

CSF’s production of “R & J” doesn’t mess around. It coheres, it is focused and fun to watch. It proves that you can tell a thousand-told tale again and still touch its immediacy.

After some years of economic misfortune (CSF broke even last season, and will begin retiring its debt after this go-round), the Festival finds itself with a longer season, fewer productions, a reduced staff, and the elimination of concurrent runs on any one stage.

Given these conditions, it is vital that each and every show succeed. Under the scrupulous editing and firm direction of Lynne Collins, “R & J” does just that, moving briskly and clearly through its saga of woe. It’s so easy to miss the mark with Shakespeare, and CSF has delivered its share of wacky directorial concepts and woeful miscasting in the past. This time, it gets it right. (OK, I miss the end of Act Five, when the warring families reconcile and Friar Laurence does his own version of “CSI: Verona”.)

Many old hands and local notables in the acting profession are here to midwife the presentation. Best of all, Jamie Ann Romero is Juliet. She stole the show as Ophelia here two seasons ago, and excelled in “Our Town” and “King Lear” in 2010. Here she inhabits a difficult part – the emotional gyrations the two young lovers go through are acrobatic – with grace and depth of feeling.

No less gifted is Benjamin Bonenfant, who delivers a matter-of-fact Romeo so grounded in the reality of what is happening to him that he is absolutely believable. The CSF stalwart Geoffrey Kent is on hand as mercurial Mercutio, burning with his usual high standard of extremely watchable intensity. (He’s one of the top fight directors around, which gives us a splendid assortment of on-stage battling.)

Nurse and Friar are really the second leads of the show, serving as comic foil and fairy godfather to the doomed couple, respectively. Leslie O’Carroll is the picture of jollity as the Nurse, and a solid Erik Sandvold effectively underplays the humble monk.

Other familiar and welcome faces include Karen Slack as Lady Capulet, Mark Rubald as he husband, Stephen Weitz as Escalus and Sam Sandoe as the apothecary.

Andrea Bechert’s standing set is versatile and appealing, a tawny cityscape that neatly blends in with the faux-Italianate architecture of CU in which it nests. Clare Henkel’s costumes are period-friendly, and Shannon McKinney’s lighting is functional and unobtrusive.

On a technical note, long-time CSF sound designer Kevin Dunayer is not present this year, but his long-time assistant Rudy Garcia, and Timothy Orr, take over with no loss of quality.

Now, whether you like it or not, body mics are in place for each and every actor onstage this year, for the first time in CSF history. The challenges of ambient noise from nearby Broadway have made it difficult for some to hear the lines – and in truth, the Rippon Theatre was not designed with acoustics in mind.

The solution needs tweaking; crunches, drop-outs and feedback and distortion in the upper registers plagued the premiere. These are quite normal when breaking in a new sound system, however, and will undoubtedly be smoothed as the summer progresses.

This also gives the actors, some of whom have bellowed their lines for years on the outdoor stage, a unique challenge. Stage technique demands “big” gestures and expressions, film and other amplified work allows the performer to scale back his or her work. Everybody now has to stay big visually, and yet can pull back and explore subtlety vocally. It should be a fascinating exploration in contrast.

It’s great to be able to recommend a production wholeheartedly. CSF understands “Romeo and Juliet,” and will share that with anyone who attends this very excellent show.

 

“Romeo and Juliet” is presented by the Colorado Shakespeare Festival through Aug. 13 in the Mary Rippon Outdoor Theatre on the campus of the University of Colorado. For tickets and information, please visit coloradoshakes.org or call 303-492-0554.