Boys in skirts
Yesterday I saw The Shakespeare Theatre's production of Romeo and Juliet. This is the second time I've seen an R & J there, and I've seen Baz Luhrman's, my college did it while I was there, and I've seen at least one other production, although I can't recall exactly where.
This production had an all-male cast, and I was, frankly, a bit skeptical. Just before curtain, I realized that the problem wasn't necessarily that I didn't believe men could portray women's parts, but that I thought it was very gimicky because I didn't see any actual play with or problematizing of gender, just men taking the two substantial roles for women in the play (i.e. Juliette and the Nurse. I don't think Lady Capulet has nearly as many lines, and Lady Montague is nearly mute. Poor Rosaline doesn't speak once.)
After watching the production, my fears were confirmed. This was very much not a gay or a queer R & J, but one where real women were not working. In many other ways, it was an exceedingly traditional R & J (although the one performance that I found intriguingly different was Mercutio, who seemed a lot calmer than usual: how often does 'A plague on both your houses' sound mildly aggrieved instead of like a grand curse?), and the staging was actually really cool. There was this intriguing thing of reusing these barrels (of wine for the party) to create a number of things: forest for hiding, at one point; a pool to drown Tybalt in; breakfast tables for the Montagues; other things. Also, because Harman Hall has a protrudring stage, almost to the point of being theater in the round, they don't use curtains for scene change, and they had the majority of the cast acting as chorus, repeating dialogue for scene changes. That was neat.
But as far as questioning gender or masculinity, two of the goals the director said he wanted to address in Asides (the magazine the company puts out to announce its productions and other things happening at its buildings), I felt the play completely fell down. This may have been, in part, because I felt very distanced from the production for long stretches - I kept comparing it to William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet, the Baz movie. And the comparisons weren't exactly unfavorable, but I did have enough mindspace to make the comparisons, as opposed to being thoroughly intrigued by what was before my eyes.
In any case, I was disappointed, but not disturbed, in the final analysis. I wish I had liked it better. The company's done a better job on other plays.
(Please, god, let the Twelfth Night be good. Twelfth Night is my favorite Shakespeare Play and the last production they did, I didn't like much. It was the most dreary fucking Twelfth Night I'd ever seen. Thankfully, the director for this season's Twelfth Night directed last season's Taming of the Shrew, which was lively and passionate, even if kind of fucking creepy. [A good Taming is always creepy, 'cause it's a creepy fucking play, to my way of thinking. {Sort of the way Gabe Saporta writes songs of cheesy, smarmy pop-y goodness, that step just that line over the edge into creepy. Gabe, who wants to be the Lil Kim to your Big Poppa? She got an abortion and he got back with his wife and died. Where's the happy?}])
This production had an all-male cast, and I was, frankly, a bit skeptical. Just before curtain, I realized that the problem wasn't necessarily that I didn't believe men could portray women's parts, but that I thought it was very gimicky because I didn't see any actual play with or problematizing of gender, just men taking the two substantial roles for women in the play (i.e. Juliette and the Nurse. I don't think Lady Capulet has nearly as many lines, and Lady Montague is nearly mute. Poor Rosaline doesn't speak once.)
After watching the production, my fears were confirmed. This was very much not a gay or a queer R & J, but one where real women were not working. In many other ways, it was an exceedingly traditional R & J (although the one performance that I found intriguingly different was Mercutio, who seemed a lot calmer than usual: how often does 'A plague on both your houses' sound mildly aggrieved instead of like a grand curse?), and the staging was actually really cool. There was this intriguing thing of reusing these barrels (of wine for the party) to create a number of things: forest for hiding, at one point; a pool to drown Tybalt in; breakfast tables for the Montagues; other things. Also, because Harman Hall has a protrudring stage, almost to the point of being theater in the round, they don't use curtains for scene change, and they had the majority of the cast acting as chorus, repeating dialogue for scene changes. That was neat.
But as far as questioning gender or masculinity, two of the goals the director said he wanted to address in Asides (the magazine the company puts out to announce its productions and other things happening at its buildings), I felt the play completely fell down. This may have been, in part, because I felt very distanced from the production for long stretches - I kept comparing it to William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet, the Baz movie. And the comparisons weren't exactly unfavorable, but I did have enough mindspace to make the comparisons, as opposed to being thoroughly intrigued by what was before my eyes.
In any case, I was disappointed, but not disturbed, in the final analysis. I wish I had liked it better. The company's done a better job on other plays.
(Please, god, let the Twelfth Night be good. Twelfth Night is my favorite Shakespeare Play and the last production they did, I didn't like much. It was the most dreary fucking Twelfth Night I'd ever seen. Thankfully, the director for this season's Twelfth Night directed last season's Taming of the Shrew, which was lively and passionate, even if kind of fucking creepy. [A good Taming is always creepy, 'cause it's a creepy fucking play, to my way of thinking. {Sort of the way Gabe Saporta writes songs of cheesy, smarmy pop-y goodness, that step just that line over the edge into creepy. Gabe, who wants to be the Lil Kim to your Big Poppa? She got an abortion and he got back with his wife and died. Where's the happy?}])