Love Above All at Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet, by Charles Gounod, opens with a tableau showing the feud between the warring Capulets and Montagues. One ensemble member takes a swing at another, and both go down in an enthusiastic, if overacted display of stage violence.

It doesn’t get much better from there.

Part of the problem may be John Irvin’s Romeo. He has a pleasant tenor and certainly looks the part, but his acting lacks conviction in certain places and temperance in others. Irvin has potential, but perhaps would have been served by a little more attention to his acting.

Sidney Outlaw and Chris Carr, as Mercutio and Tybalt, perform creditably, but there isn’t quite enough of them to satisfy. However, their duel in Act Three is one of the few times that the stage fighting doesn’t seem choreographed.

The costumes for Romeo and Juliet were provided by Malabar Ltd., and clothe the Montagues in blue and Capulets in red and gold. Besides being a little facile for an opera that’s supposed to be about the pointlessness of hatred and feuding, it would be nice if the lighting didn’t turn the gold to a particularly ugly orange.

Emily Birsan (Juliet), however, is the glittering star of the show. She handles Gounod’s tricky arias with composure, and her soprano voice is clear and pure. She captures Juliet’s youth and tempers it with determination.

But the biggest issue is the writing itself. Gounod’s opera focuses almost solely on the lovers, to the exclusion of everything else. Without showing more of the feuding, the forbidden nature of Romeo and Juliet’s relationship is less believable. Gounod even cuts the final scene of Shakespeare’s play, where the two feuding families, filled with despair at the deaths of their children, reconcile with each other. Without that ending, the story of Romeo and Juliet isn’t about overcoming hatred. It’s about beautiful people dying. Without knowing that the lovers’ deaths aren’t in vain, what, I ask, is the point?

Women Rule in APT's King Lear

Early on in Shakespeare’s King Lear, the Fool tells the titular king something that will define him for the rest of the play, saying “Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.” Indeed, Lear’s lack of wisdom in the ongoing production at American Players’ Theater is what leads to his downfall.

The play follows Lear, King of Britain, who is ready to abdicate in favor of his three daughters, on the condition that they profess their love for him. The two older daughters, Goneril and Regan, flatter and butter up their father with promises of false love, while the youngest, Cordelia, refuses and is banished. The following war for power ends the play with carnage, madness, and the second largest death count of any Shakespearean tragedy, topped only by Titus Andronicus.

King Lear is an ensemble vehicle, and APT’s supporting cast fills in what little dead space there is with interactions as fascinating as those taking center stage. Particularly interesting to watch are the vignettes between Jade Payton and Danny Martinez. During a violent scene, they cling to each other and Payton hides her face in Martinez’s shoulder.

Kudos also to Kelsey Brennan and Laura Rook in their stellar turns as the older sisters, Regan and Goneril. Brennan plays Regan with an icy fury, while Rook’s Goneril begs the question: Might she have turned out better had her father loved her more? A nod should also be given to Christopher Sheard as Goneril’s loyal servant, Oswald, who takes most of the beatings in the play with a grace that makes it look easy.

Cristina Panfilio plays the Fool with sensibility and a dry wit, well tempered by Greta Oglesby’s Duchess of Kent, who brawls, serves her king, and spits hard truths, whatever the consequences.

The effects for the production are nothing short of spectacular, as the eerie score that punctuates the action with martial drumbeats and cello interludes. In the famous scene where Lear screams his frustrations at a thunderstorm, lightning flickers, thunder crackles, and rain pours down, soaking Lear and the Fool.

Lear, played by veteran Core Company member Jonathan Smoots, is magnificent to watch in his transformation from powerful king to grief stricken madman. Smoots plays his madness not as a snap, but as a decline that begins so slowly that the change is barely noticeable until he’s wandering the woods in a flower crown.

It should be noted that, in a refreshing twist, director William Brown doesn’t try to paint sisters Regan and Goneril as power hungry monsters who betray their own father in their bloodlust. He humanizes them to the extent that their frustrations with their aging father are not only understandable, they seem natural. Furthermore, in his production, it is the women (with the exception of Edmund) who take what they want. Perhaps not the most moral sentiment, but certainly refreshing from an author whose female protagonists tend to spend most of their time bemoaning the inherent weakness of their sex.

The modernization of the tragedy brings striking comparisons to our own political landscape, and makes the actions of the characters that much more accessible. Although we might say we would never stoop so low for power as some of the characters, we’re just as human as they are. As much as we hate to admit it, it could be any one of us.

Mr. Burns: A Post-Confusion Review

Pop culture is an increasingly important part of today’s society, and one that brings meaning to many people. In Anne Washburn’s Mr. Burns (A Post-Electric Play), presented by Madison's Forward Theater, a nuclear apocalypse causes people to turn to The Simpsons, of all thing.

The show, which is three acts long, focuses on the survivors of the apocalypse and the measures they take to remain sane in an increasingly insane world. The first act takes place not long after the nuclear event, and focuses on seven survivors sitting around a campfire, trying to remember the plot of Cape Feare, an episode of The Simpsons. In the second act, seven years later, the world has begun to recover, and groups are performing episodes of the Simpsons for entertainment. The third act shows a world 75 years later, where the Simpsons has taken on a mythic, folkloric quality completely different from the original show.

Elyse Edelman and Jake Penner

The set, designed by Keith Pitts, is made almost entirely from found materials, and adds an eerie, post apocalyptic mood to the show. Huge curtains made of trash bags drape the stage, and the floor is covered with woven mats.

The script, however, has some flaws. The first two acts were relatively easy to follow, but once the third act began, it was very difficult to follow. The time skip wasn’t easy to process, and all of a sudden this was a musical. The same actors played different characters in the third act, which led to no end of confusion, and it wasn’t until twenty minutes after the play had ended that I finally understood the allegory.

Marcus Truschinski, playing both Matt, an apocalypse survivor, and Mr. Burns, the villain of the third act, shows great range in his performance. As Matt, he’s cocky and funny, then completely transforms into the dark and intensely physical Mr. Burns. When he’s onstage, the attention of the room is on him until he leaves.

Elyse Edelman, Marcus Truschinski, and Marti Gobel

Another notable performance comes from Forward Theater newcomer Elyse Edelman. Last summer, she turned in several hilarious performances at American Players Theater, but she does extremely well with serious material as well. Her performance as Maria is interesting, funny, and most importantly, believable.

Mr. Burns isn’t a play for mindless entertainment. One should expect to leave the theater thinking. But this isn’t a bad thing. Washburn’s writing elevates something as mindless as the Simpsons to entertainment worthy of thought. And that is no mean feat.

You can buy tickets for Mr. Burns as well as other Forward Theater Plays here. Pictures courtesy of Jennifer Uphoff Gray. Photos taken by Zane Williams.