this week in shakespeare

O ROMEO, O JULIET, WHEREFORE ART THOU?

Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo & Juliet Suite offers numerous views of the action at Park Ave. Armory (photo by Stephanie Berger)

ROMEO & JULIET SUITE
Park Avenue Armory, Wade Thompson Drill Hall
643 Park Ave. at 67th St.
March 2-21, $55-$245
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
www.armoryonpark.org

“Oh no,” the person sitting next to me said at the start of Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo & Juliet Suite at Park Ave. Armory.

I couldn’t help but agree as we watched two dancers move a couch on a platform stage, followed by a cameraman in black who was documenting the action, the live video projected on a large screen. The men got onto the couch, which was facing away from the audience, but we could see what they were doing onscreen, since the cameraman was now in front of them. It was an odd way to begin the ballet, a multimedia adaptation of Sergei Prokofiev’s 1930s classic Romeo and Juliet, but it also signaled what was to come: ninety minutes of not knowing where to look as mostly unidentified characters — current and former members of Millepied’s LA Dance Project — performed on the stage, on the sides, and in various hallways and period rooms throughout the armory.

The score is bold and majestic. The choreography is often moving and beautiful. Camille Assaf’s naturalistic costumes, primarily blacks, brown, and grays, are set off by the usually heart-red platform and glow when the performers grab fluorescent light tubes and incorporate them in both inventive and curious ways. We get an inside look at various locations in the historic building, some not open to the public. A dark, mysterious masked ball with mirrors is held in a tight space. Romeo and Juliet (portrayed by three different pairs at each show: a man and a woman, two men, or two women) pose in silhouette against a white screen. A chase scene takes place under the rafters.

The problem is that we’re at a live performance and we spend much of the show’s eighty minutes essentially watching a movie, although it’s happening live. Even when the dancing is occurring on the stage, it is often being projected simultaneously, with cameraman Sebastien Marcovici, the company’s associate artistic director and rehearsal director, running about to capture it; it’s particularly intrusive during several duets between Tybalt (Renan Cerdeiro) and Mercutio (Shu Kinouchi) and Romeo (Daphne Fernberger) and Juliet (Rachel Hutsell). Many of the story’s most critical scenes can be seen only onscreen; in addition, no plot is ever described, so it helps if you know at least the basics of the Shakespeare play. There’s also a camera above the platform that offers a bird’s-eye view that is awe inspiring the first time but quickly becomes more like a scene from a Busby Berkeley movie starring Esther Williams. When the screen isn’t being used, it’s cast in shapes and colors that resemble a blurry Mark Rothko painting, as if hinting at the suicides to come.

And then there’s the balcony scene, which for me summed up the entire experience. (Just as an fyi, there was no balcony scene in the original play, which merely called for Juliet to be at a window.) Romeo and Juliet celebrate their newfound love by dancing in the glorious Veterans Room, then run upstairs and suddenly emerge on the upper ledge behind the screen. It’s a breathtaking moment — until Marcovici joins them, getting close to them so he can zoom in on their first kiss.

Mercutio (Shu Kinouchi) and Tybalt (Renan Cerdeiro) are at odds in multidisciplinary Romeo & Juliet Suite (photo by Stephanie Berger)

I’m sorry if I sound snarky; overall, I enjoyed the production, and there are numerous memorable moments that will stay with me. Fernberger and Hutsell are terrific, their movement packed with emotion, and the rest of the cast has a powerful energy. But it could have been so much more without all the bells and whistles; Millepied may have fared better had he incorporated the cinematic elements without getting camera happy, instead focusing more on the dance happening on the platform, in the room where the audience is sitting.

“Of all the places I’ve shown Romeo & Juliet Suite, the armory is by far the most fitting, as it provides the massive scale, flexibility, and grandeur needed to present this work at its fullest potential,” Millepied said about this iteration; previous versions have been presented at the Sydney Opera House, La Seine Musicale in Paris, and the Spoleto Festival in Charleston. He may have gotten a little carried away by the glorious armory, but there’s still a worthwhile dance to be found in his radically reimagined tale, if you know where to look.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer; you can follow him on Substack here.]

REFLECTING ON DANCE: VAN CLEEF & ARPELS FESTIVAL RETURNS TO NEW YORK

Nacera Belaza’s La Nuée will be at New York Live Arts for Dance Reflections festival (photo by Laurent Philippe)

DANCE REFLECTIONS BY VAN CLEEF & ARPELS FESTIVAL IN NEW YORK
Multiple venues
February 19 – March 21
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com

The second Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels Festival returns to New York City with sixteen performances and twenty-four workshops by some of the finest companies in the world, running February 19 through March 21.

The exciting series kicks off February 19-21 with the Lyon Opera Ballet presenting Merce Cunningham’s BIPED and Christos Papadopoulos’s Mycelium at City Center and the Ballet national de Marseille bringing (LA)HORDE’s Age of Content to BAM’s Howard Gilman Opera House from February 20 to 22. The lineup continues with such shows as Jan Martens’s The Dog Days Are Over 2.0 at NYU Skirball, Leïla Ka’s Maldonne at New York Live Arts, Noé Soulier’s The Waves at the Joyce, and Lucinda Childs’s Early Works for the Guggenheim’s Works & Process program.

Below is a look at five more of the highlights.

LA Dance Project’s On the Other Side is part of triptych at PAC NYC (photo by Jade Ellis)

BENJAMIN MILLEPIED AND THE L.A. DANCE PROJECT: REFLECTIONS: A TRIPTYCH
Perelman Performing Arts Center (PAC NYC)
251 Fulton St.
Saturday, February 21, 8:00, and Sunday, February 22, 3:00, $61-$157
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
pacnyc.org

Benjamin Millepied merges dance, music, and visual art in the New York premiere of Reflections: A Triptych, three pieces inspired by precious stones. The thirty-minute Reflections (2013) boasts a score by David Lang and a bold scenic design by Barbara Kruger, with six dancers musing on longing and memory. The seventeen-minute Hearts and Arrows (2014) features a set by Liam Gillick, music by Philip Glass performed by Kronos Quartet, and fab costumes by Janie Taylor. Several Glass compositions and a set by Mark Bradford anchor the forty-five-minute On the Other Side (2016), which explores communal human experience. Audrey Sides will teach a “Hearts & Arrows Repertory” workshop at the New York Center for Creativity & Dance on March 12.

DANCING WITH BOB: RAUSCHENBERG, BROWN & CUNNINGHAM ONSTAGE
BAM Howard Gilman Opera House
30 Lafayette Ave. between Ashland Pl. & St. Felix St.
February 26-28, $46-$110
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
www.bam.org/trisha-brown

Trisha Brown and the Merce Cunningham Trust celebrate their extensive collaboration with Robert Rauschenberg, and the artist’s recent centennial, with two classic works for which Rauschenberg created the visual design and the costumes. Commissioned by BAM in 1983, Set and Reset is a postmodern masterpiece, with music by Laurie Anderson, that was recently reconceived as an art installation at the Tate. The vaudevillian pièce de résistance Travelogue (1977) is set to John Cage’s “Telephones and Birds,” which has been adapted for mobile devices, and is performed within Rauschenberg’s Tantric Geography environment. “I feel like this is the one time I can let the cat out of the bag and let you know just how dear this man is to me,” Brown once said about Rauschenberg. “Bob understands how I construct movement.” Bob returned the compliment: “Particularly with Trisha, it’s always a challenge because she remains so unpredictably fresh.” Cecily Campbell and Jamie Scott will lead a “Trisha Brown Discovery” workshop at the New York Center for Creativity & Dance on February 28.

Benjamin Millepied reconfigures his Romeo & Juliet Suite specifically for Park Ave. Armory

ROMEO & JULIET SUITE
Park Avenue Armory, Wade Thompson Drill Hall
643 Park Ave. at 67th St.
March 2-21, $55-$245
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
www.armoryonpark.org

Benjamin Millepied follows up his PAC NYC Reflections tryptych with an eighty-minute multimedia adaptation of Sergei Prokofiev’s 1930s ballet Romeo and Juliet, combining dance, theater and film reconfigured specifically for the entire Park Ave. Armory building. The cast of eighteen dancers will rotate as Shakespeare’s doomed young couple, with the presentation spreading from the Wade Thompson Drill Hall to the historic period rooms and other spaces, so be sure to get there early. “Of all the places I’ve shown Romeo & Juliet Suite, the armory is by far the most fitting, as it provides the massive scale, flexibility, and grandeur needed to present this work at its fullest potential,” Millepied, who will participate in an artist talk with NYU professor André Lepecki on March 4, said in a statement. “I invite audiences to forget what you think you know about the story of these two star-crossed lovers — and how it should be told — and open your mind to experiencing a radically reimagined tale about love suited for modern day.”

Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker delves into the walking blues in Exit Above (photo © Anne Van Aerschot)

ANNE TERESA DE KEERSMAEKER: EXIT ABOVE — AFTER THE TEMPEST
NYU Skirball Center for the Performing Arts
566 La Guardia Pl.
March 5-7, $60-$90
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
nyuskirball.org

Exciting Belgian choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker displays her principle of “My walking is my dancing” in Exit Above, in which thirteen dancers move to the sounds of Meskerem Meesre interpreting the blues of Robert Johnson in addition to music by TC Matic’s Jean-Marie Aerts and dancer-guitarist Carlos Garbin, with scenic design by Michel François, costumes by Aouatif Boulaich, and opening text taken from Walter Benjamin’s “On the Concept of History.” In a 2023 interview, De Keersmaeker explained, “Less is more, I increasingly think. For me that means going back to the source, to the real thing. Blues goes all the way back to that essence, also content wise: It is about sorrow and joy, my sorrow, my joy but also our sorrow, our joy. Both individual and collective: That tension is crucial to me. Blues the ultimate emotional alchemy: we sing about our sadness, but by singing about it with others we transform it into a strength, something joyful. Singing about sorrow immediately contains the consolation for that sorrow. Isn’t this ultimately why we make art? To mourn together and to celebrate joy together. Beauty and solace. I know that beauty is considered to be old-fashioned, but we need it more than ever: Our relationship with nature is disturbed, we are living on the edge of an ecological catastrophe. When you’re lost, it’s a good idea to retrace your footsteps.” Jacob Storer and Clinton Stringer will lead an Exit Above workshop at the New York Center for Creativity & Dance for professionals on March 6 and everyone on March 7.

Compagnie Hervé KOUBI will worship the sun again in Sol Invictus at the Joyce (photo by Nathalie Sternalski)

COMPAGNIE HERVÉ KOUBI: SOL INVICTUS
Joyce Theater
175 Eighth Ave. at 19th St.
March 10-15, $32-$82
www.dancereflections-vancleefarpels.com
www.joyce.org

French choreographer Hervé Koubi studied dance and biology at the University of Aix-en-Provence, and he combines the two elements gorgeously in Sol Invictus as his company of eighteen performers pushes the limits of what the human body can do. Previously staged at the Joyce in 2023, Koubi calls the seventy-five-minute piece “a manifesto for life,” and he fills it with sections that explore ritual, worship, faith in a higher power — in this case, the sun — and life, death, and rebirth. “I want to talk about light, solidarity, and those bonds that unite us,” Koubi explains about the work, which features music and soundscapes by Mikael Karlsson, Maxime Bodson, Beethoven (the funeral procession from the Seventh Symphony), and Steve Reich and costumes by musical arranger Guilaume Gabriel. Several of the dancers will lead a “Sol Invictus Discovery” workshop at the New York Center for Creativity & Dance on March 13, and there will be a Curtain Chat following the March 11 show.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer; you can follow him on Substack here.]

A THEATRICAL TRAGEDY: CORIOLANUS AT TFANA

General Caius Martius (McKinley Belcher III) faces a political crisis in The Tragedy of Coriolanus (photo by Hollis King)

THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS
Theatre for a New Audience, Polonsky Shakespeare Center
262 Ashland Pl. between Lafayette Ave. & Fulton St.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 1, $95-$125
www.tfana.org

The Tragedy of Coriolanus has never been one of William Shakespeare’s most popular plays. It has never made it to Broadway, had been presented at the Public’s free Shakespeare in the Park summer series only twice (in 1965 and 1979), and has been adapted into a film just once, by Ralph Fiennes in 2011.

But then the Trump era started taking shape, and the problem play found new life. In 2016, Michael Sexton and Red Bull set the story amid the Occupy movement and involved the audience in the tale of the shifting power relationship between a conquering hero and the common people. In 2019, Daniel Sullivan directed a riveting version at the Delacorte, making it feel deeply relevant to what was happening in the United States without wearing its heart on its sleeve.

Now Ash K. Tata takes it on for Theatre for a New Audience at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center, in a bewildering production that had a not-insignificant number of theatergoers leaving at intermission at the preview I attended.

Afsoon Pajoufar’s set features an angled one-story facade, partially torn protest signs pasted all over it, declaring, “Corn at Cost” and “Price of Grain Is Too High.” Under a balcony and inside a narrow hallway is the unseen Roman senate, where General Caius Martius (McKinley Belcher III) is welcomed home as a champion for defeating the Volscians at Corioli and is christened Coriolanus; he is supported by his loyal right-hand man, the Roman consul Menenius Agrippa (Jason O’Connell), who watches his interaction with the people carefully, as Rome is undergoing plebeian reforms. Coriolanus suddenly and inexplicably is unwilling to treat the commoners, or rabble, with any kind of respect and refuses to pay heed to Menenius’s warnings.

Volumnia (Roslyn Ruff) tries to instill sense in her son (McKinley Belcher III) in confusing adaptation (photo by Hollis King)

Coriolanus alienates the people, who are led by Sicinius Velutus (William DeMeritt) and Junius Brutus (Zuzanna Szadkowski), as well as the senate and military, under commander in chief Cominius (Barzin Akhavan), resulting in his banishment. Meanwhile, his family — devoted mother Volumnia (Roslyn Ruff), wife Virgilia (Meredith Garretson), and son Martius (Merlin McCormick) — is confused by his choices, especially when it is reported that he may have joined forces with his archenemy, Tullus Aufidius (Mickey Sumner), the spy Adrian (Kevin Alicea), and the traitor Nicanor (Jack Berenholtz).

Despite Coriolanus’s potential treachery, Menenius continues to defend him, believing he will ultimately do what’s best for Rome.

“His nature is too noble for the world. / He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, / Or Jove for’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth. / What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent, / And, being angry, does forget that ever / He heard the name of death,” Menenius tells a fellow senator (Pomme Koch), Sicinius, Brutus, and a group of other citizens. Sicinius asks, “Where is this viper, / That would depopulate the city, and / Be every man himself? . . . He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock / With rigorous hands. He hath resisted law, / And therefore law shall scorn him further trial / Than the severity of the public power, / Which he so sets at nought.”

Tata tries to make the story of one man’s descent into ego and power, being above the law, relate to today’s America, but instead of delving further into the characters and celebrating Shakespeare’s language, he attempts to transform the play into a living, breathing video game; through the entire show, surveillance cameras project the action on a central three-sided mini-Jumbotron, although the images are blurry and the pixels often break up, accompanied by digital text and targets that are nearly impossible to decipher. In addition, all military maneuvers are projected across the stage and onto the building, accompanied by screeching noise, which quickly becomes repetitive and invasive. (The lighting is by Masha Tsimring, sound by Brandon Bulls, original music is by David T. Little, and projections by Lisa Renkel and POSSIBLE.)

Coriolanus (McKinley Belcher III) and Aufidius (Mickey Sumner) are at each other’s throats in gimmicky Bard production (photo by Hollis King)

Among the other puzzling elements are the wide range of Avery Reed’s costumes, from Virgilia’s striking, sexy red dress and Volumnia’s half-modern, half-ancient-Greek outfit to the armies’ paramilitary uniforms and the dress of the rabble, with bright reds, yellow, and blues popping out as if part of the play is in Technicolor; the inconsistent use of either knives or rifles in combat; the switching of Aufidius’s gender to create an unlikely romance; how some characters use a passage in the back to enter and exit while others go through a cutout in a long curtain; and the green-and-white beach chair Coriolanus sits in as he tosses cans of PBR to the commoners.

Tata never achieves a steady flow to the narrative; instead it stops and starts, with bumps and lags that drag it down. During intermission, messages are projected on the mini-Jumbotron as if there is a live chat going on, with such posts as “So glad the Tribunes stood up to this clown,” “Give us the grain and leave, patrician trash,” and “He literally called us rats. I’m done.”

I wish I cared enough to add my own contribution.

Though I guess I have here.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer; you can follow him on Substack here.]

NOT SO SWEET DREAMS: MICHAEL URIE AS RICHARD II

Michael Urie stars as Richard II in Red Bull production at Astor Place Theatre (photo by Carol Rosegg)

RICHARD II
Astor Place Theatre
434 Lafayette St.
Through December 21, $38-$300
www.redbulltheater.com

Craig Baldwin’s Red Bull adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Richard II gets off to a powerful start. As ticket holders enter the Astor Place Theatre, the king, portrayed by Michael Urie, is already onstage, kneeling in a glass cube serving as a cell, his bare back facing us. He is looking into a mirrored rear wall that reflects his face as well as members of the audience.

When the play proper begins, the jailed ruler says, “I have been studying how I may compare / This prison where I live unto the world: / And for because the world is populous / And here is not a creature but myself, / I cannot do it; yet I’ll hammer it out.” The opening soliloquy, which concludes with Richard asking, “Music do I hear?,” is followed by Aumerle (David Mattar Merten), the son of the duchess of York (Kathryn Meisle), singing along to the Eurythmics’ 1983 smash “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”

The rest of the production could use a lot more hammering out as it travels between the 1960s, the 1980s, and the late fourteenth century, transforming the tragic tale of a king’s downfall into a time-warping gay fantasia that never finds its sense of purpose, its lofty ambitions misguided and bewildering.

The grandson of King Edward III, Richard took the throne when he was ten years old, and in this version, he has never grown out of his childlike nature, making seemingly arbitrary decisions to suit his whim at any given moment. Now in his early thirties, he finds himself caught in a battle between his cousin, Henry Bolingbroke (Grantham Coleman), and Thomas Mowbray, the Duke of Norfolk (Daniel Stewart Sherman); each man has accused the other of being a traitor to the king and his realm. They face off in a senseless, energy-draining game of Russian roulette with six-shooters, emceed by the courtier Bushy (Sarin Monae West) as if it’s a professional wrestling match, complete with crowd sound effects that make Thomas the villain. When neither wins, the king banishes Henry for ten years, which his father, John of Gaunt (Ron Canada), negotiates down to six, while Mowbray is exiled for the rest of his life.

Shortly after the duel, a dying Gaunt worries about the future of England in Richard’s hands; in a wheelchair and breathing through an oxygen tank, he warns, “Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; / Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land / Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; / And thou, too careless patient as thou art, / Commit’st thy anointed body to the cure / Of those physicians that first wounded thee: / A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown.”

Soon, Bolingbroke is amassing an army to overthrow Richard, who has gone to Ireland to deal with rebel forces. Henry is supported by Lord Northumberland (Emily Swallow) and York, while the Bishop of Carlisle (Canada), the queen (Lux Pascal), Sir Stephen Scroop (Sherman), Bushy, Green (James Seol), Sir William Bagot (Ryan Spahn), and Aumerle (David Mattar Merten), the duchess’s son, remain loyal to the king.

Flashbacks reveal the king’s memories of better times, particularly hanging out with his favorites in a sauna and a drug-laden nightclub, where he does not hide his affection for Aumerle, even with his wife present. But when Henry and Richard meet again, the Bishop of Carlisle predicts, “The blood of English shall manure the ground, / And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars / Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound.”

“Confounding” is exactly right.

Craig Baldwin’s adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Richard II searches for its center (photo by Carol Rosegg)

Richard II is not one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays; it has never been made into a film, and major productions are few and far between. For example, it has been staged by the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park series only twice, in 1961 and 1987 (although it was scheduled for 2020 but instead was done as a radio play with André Holland in the lead). The Royal Shakespeare Company brought it to BAM in 2016 starring a fabulous David Tennant “portraying the dandy king with a bittersweet bisexual abandon and more than a touch of Jesus,” I wrote back then.

As much as I, and nearly the entire New York theater community, adore Michael Urie (The Government Inspector, Once Upon a Mattress), even he is not able to weave his way through the chaos and maelstrom (and fog). Onstage the entire 135 minutes, Urie does shine in a few instances, with some funny asides and gestures to the audience, but it’s hard to believe that he’s a king. The marquee depicts him wearing a pink spray-painted crown, eyes sadly cast down, so there’s more than a hint of the direction Baldwin will be taking, as many historians believe Richard was gay, but the show lacks focus; it’s all over the place. (Baldwin and Urie previously collaborated on Michael Kahn’s 2018–19 production of Hamlet for DC’s Shakespeare Theatre Company, in which Urie portrayed the melancholy Dane.)

Rodrigo Muñoz’s costumes switch from contemporary clothing, military garb, and Studio 54 chic to sauna towels, bathing suits, and Black Panther outfits, sometimes mixing in the same scene, as if the actors are in different shows. Northumberland wheels a news camera onto the set occasionally, preparing us for a live video feed that doesn’t happen; I wondered if there was a technical issue or it was done by choice. Jeanette Yew’s lighting keeps it mostly dark, although there are several moments when actors move around spotlights to shine on themselves or others, killing any pace. And “Sweet Dreams” upends the atmosphere more than once.

In a program note, CUNY English professor Mario DiGangi posits, “Why should we care about all these Yorks, Gloucesters, and Lancasters?”

As far as this production of Richard II is concerned, that’s a good question.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

NOT AS YOU LIKE IT: TWELFTH NIGHT AT THE DELACORTE

Duke Orsino (Khris Davis) and his minions get ready for action in Twelfth Night (photo by Joan Marcus)

TWELFTH NIGHT
Delacorte Theater, Central Park
Tuesday – Sunday through September 14, free with advance RSVP, 8:00
shakespeareinthepark.org

The confusion begins early in Saheem Ali’s inconsistent adaptation of William Shakespeare’s 1601–02 romantic comedy, Twelfth Night, which opens the newly revitalized Delacorte Theater in Central Park. As the audience enters the space — the majority of the $85 million upgrade went to technical operations, dressing rooms, bathrooms, accessibility, and signage, along with improvements to the facade and seats — a string quartet is playing on a red stage that features swirling patterns and, in giant, bold letters around the back, the subtitle of the play: What You Will. (The renovation did not rid the Delacorte of its famous raccoons, one of which ambled along atop the back wall moments before the play began, eliciting the adoring attention of the crowd.)

Then Ghanaian American singer-songwriter Moses Sumney, portraying the fool, Feste, walks onto the stage with a guitar and sings, “All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players. / They have their exits and their entrances, / And one man — or woman — in their time plays many parts.”

The line actually comes from the second act of As You Like It and seems like a cliché here taken out of context, even with its addition of “or woman.” Meanwhile, the musical shift from classical to Sumney’s alternative/indie R&B is jarring, and the character feels more like a demonic troubadour than one of Shakespeare’s fools.

Maria (Daphne Rubin-Vega) offers some intriguing news to Malvolio (Peter Dinklage) in Shakespeare production at revitalized Delacorte (photo by Joan Marcus)

Next, a sea captain (Joe Tapper) and Viola (Lupita Nyong’o) rise in a small boat from one of the Delacorte’s new modular trap doors. Emphasizing that they are strangers to this land, the first words they say to each other are in Swahili, although most of their conversation in in English. (Nyong’o was born in Mexico and raised in Kenya and speaks fluent English, Spanish, Luo, and Swahili.) The explicatory scene lets us know that there has been a shipwreck that has led the captain and Viola to Illyria, which is ruled by the duke Orsino (Khris Davis), who is in love with Olivia (Sandra Oh), a count’s daughter who is mourning the recent deaths of her father and brother and currently uninterested in suitors. Viola’s brother, Sebastian (Junior Nyong’o), was also on the ship, and Viola holds out hope that he has survived as well. She decides to disguise herself as a man named Cesario and serve the duke. (Sebastian has indeed survived and is on the island, with Antonio [b], an enemy of the duke’s, as his servant.) Only then do we meet Orsino as he declares to court gentleman Curio (Ariyan Kassam) and Feste, “If music be the food of love, play on,” which usually starts the play.

Thus, this Twelfth Night has a completely different atmosphere, which is not in itself a bad thing. I am not a Bard purist who insists that Shakespeare plays should not be messed with. Among the endless beauties of his work are the myriad possibilities it offers for reinterpretation. Over the last dozen years, I have seen three memorable productions of Twelfth Night: one on Broadway starring Mark Rylance as an Olivia who is light on her feet and a wickedly funny and towering Stephen Fry as her steward, the much-maligned Malvolio, in a delightful version that harkened back to the seventeenth century in form and style; one off Broadway by Axis that was dark and foreboding and utterly involving; and one at the Delacorte in 2018, an engaging musical comedy by Shaina Taub, who also portrayed Feste. (Twelfth Night is a favorite of the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park presentations, having been staged six times previously, going back to 1969.)

In 2021, I was disappointed in Jocelyn Bioh and Ali’s Merry Wives, which moved the location of the story from Windsor to South Harlem and felt too caught up in shtick, and the same is true here. Scenes move by too quickly as actors enter and leave down the aisles, via the traps, and through the “What You Will” wall like a one-ring circus, not allowing enough time for character development or actor chemistry. Attempts at amusement abound: Olivia’s uncle, the Falstaffian Sir Toby Belch (John Ellison Conlee), and his sidekick, the cheeky Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Jesse Tyler Ferguson), hang out in a hot tub doing lines of coke and whippets when they’re not plotting with Olivia’s chambermaid, Maria (Daphne Rubin-Vega), to publicly embarrass Malvolio (Peter Dinklage) in front of Olivia, whom he secretly pines for. Orsino asserts his strength and power by working out barechested at a gym and ordering his minions to drop and do pushups for punishment. Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian (Kapil Talwalkar) hide from Malvolio behind four handheld letters, T, R, E, and E, instead of a tree, which is cute at first but goes on too long. A duel is transformed into a comic boxing match, with Sir Andrew in full boxing regalia.

Olivia (Sandra Oh) and her minions get ready for action in Twelfth Night (photo by Joan Marcus)

Real-life siblings Lupita and Junior Nyong’o are dapper in their double-breasted suits. The inspired casting of Dinklage as Malvolio tails off when he is left doing too much voguing, particularly when trying to put a smile on his face. Davis has impressive abs. The actor known as b seems out of place whenever they’re onstage, although the part of Antonio can be a challenge to integrate in even the best of productions. Rubin-Vega looks fabulous, but it’s hard to remember she’s playing a maid. Conlee has fun as Sir Toby, but it’s Oh who steals the show as Olivia, wonderfully balancing comedy and pathos as her lust builds up, subduing her mourning with an elegant wit and grace, best capturing the spirit of Ali’s intentions.

The director has excelled in such non-Shakespeare plays as James Ijames’s Fat Ham, Bioh’s Nollywood Dreams, and Donja R. Love’s Fireflies, but I’ve found both Merry Wives and now Twelfth Night overwrought and scattershot, with too many scenes and characters appearing to come from different plays, lacking continuity despite individual moments that shine. It’s perhaps best exemplified by the Twelfth Night finale, a showcase for costume designer Oana Botez and set designer Maruti Evans; it looks fabulous, but it comes out of nowhere. It elicits wild applause from the audience, but it feels like a preening peacock that has arrived onstage, perhaps watching out for that raccoon.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

DOES THE END JUSTIFY THE MEANS? NYCT’S ALL’S WELL EN PLEIN AIR

New York Classical Theatre’s All’s Well That Ends Well travels from Central Park to Carl Schurz Park to Battery Park (photo © Da Ping Luo)

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
June 3-22: Central Park, Central Park West & 103rd St.
June 24-29: Carl Schurz Park, East 87th St. & East End Ave.
July 1-6: Castle Clinton, Battery Park
nyclassical.org

Every summer, numerous companies deliver free Shakespeare in parks (and even a parking lot) throughout the five boroughs. One of the best, most consistent troupes is New York Classical Theatre (NYCT), which has “staged” more than nine hundred free performances since 2000, including nearly two dozen Bard plays in addition to classics by Oscar Wilde, Anton Chekhov, Molière, Bernard Shaw, Friedrich Schiller, and others. Burdman refers to it as Panoramic Theatre, in which scenes take place in different parts of the parks, the audience moving along with the cast. NYCT has done it again with a splendid revival of All’s Well That Ends Well.

Most everyone knows the phrase “All’s well that ends well,” but few have actually seen what is one of the Bard’s problem plays, and it feels as problematic as ever in the twenty-first century. However, Burdman and NYCT are breathing new life into it this season as it travels from Central Park to Carl Schurz Park to Castle Clinton in Battery Park, continuing the mission they began in 2000: “NY Classical firmly believes that everyone — regardless of economic, social, or educational background — should have the opportunity to enjoy live professional theatre together as a community. Our free, engaging performances interpreted for approachable spaces inspire experienced theatergoers to reconnect with the classics and build new and future audiences.”

All’s Well That Ends Well is a kind of rom-com with an edge, a twist that feels forced, and not just in the current environment. Helena (Anique Clements) has been recently orphaned by the death of her father, Gérard de Narbonne, physician to the ailing king of France (Nick Salamone). She is now a ward of the countess of Roussillon (Carine Montbertrand) and is deeply in love with the countess’s son, Bertram (Paul Deo Jr.), who wants nothing to do with her. Helena travels to the king to offer him one of her father’s remedies; the king is suspect, since so many other doctors have failed him, so Helena offers him a deal: The king will take the prescription and, if it cures him, Helena can choose any man in the kingdom to be her husband, but if he is still sick, he can have Helena executed. The king agrees.

The king’s fistula goes away, and Helena tells him she wishes to marry Bertram, who is strongly against the union but must ultimately fulfill the king’s command. But instead of consummating the marriage, Bertram takes off to fight in Florence, leaving behind a letter in which he sets for his new bride what appear to be impossible tasks: “When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband. But in such a ‘then,’ I write a ‘never.’”

Bertram is accompanied by his untrustworthy friend, Parolles (Karel Heřmánek), a fool and a coward who thinks he’s a fashionista and doesn’t realize when he’s being ridiculed, including by the French courtier Lafeu (Clay Sorseth), who wouldn’t mind if his daughter were to wed Bertram.

A determined Helena disguises herself as a pilgrim and goes to Italy, where she meets old widow Capilet (Montbertrand) and her virgin daughter, Diana (Angelique Archer). The three devise a plan to coerce Bertram into marrying Helena, and it’s a devious one that is at the heart of why the play is so rarely performed.

Partly inspired by a story from Boccaccio’s Decameron that was adapted by Geoffrey Chaucer in “The Clerk’s Tale,” All’s Well That Ends Well has been performed at the Delacorte in the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park series four times, in 1966, 1978, 1993, and 2011, and has appeared on Broadway only once: Trevor Nunn’s Royal Shakespeare production, which ran for a month at the Martin Beck in 1983. Otherwise, there are small iterations here and there, including TV movies in 1968, 1978, and 1981. So it is exciting that Burdman has brought it back; the company last presented it in 2006.

I saw the show when it was in Central Park by the 103rd St. entrance, winding its way under trees, down paths, and by a pond. (The shows in Carl Schurz Park will be seated in one location, while the scenes will move in Castle Clinton.) Burdman has streamlined it to fit into the company promise of keeping it under two hours, so several characters and some major quotes have been excised (“No legacy is so rich as honesty”; “A young man married is a man that’s marred”), but others are still there (“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none”; “many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s undoing”).

The costumes are lovely, the props minimal (blindfolds, a pair of swords, a crown), and the lighting necessary only as the sun sets. (Members of the crew sit in the front with flashlights focused on the speaking actor.) Burdman directs the proceedings with a swift hand, the actors occasionally meandering through the audience. The strong cast is led by superb performances by Clements, who is so appealing as Helena that it’s hard to believe Bertram’s reluctance to wed her, and Montbertrand, who ably shifts between the countess and the widow. Reeves gets well-deserved breakout applause for her singing.

The finale is still troubling, requiring a key suspension of disbelief, but even so, NYCT’s production lives up to the title of the play.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

MOBILE MUCH ADO: BILINGUAL SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARKS

Public Theater Mobile Unit production of Much Ado About Nothing continues in parks through June 29 (photo by Peter Cooper)

PUBLIC THEATER MOBILE UNIT: MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
Multiple locations in all five boroughs
June 3-29, free (no RSVP necessary)
publictheater.org

Composer and lyricist Julián Mesri and director and choreographer Rebecca Martínez follow up their 2023–24 Public Theater Mobile Unit hit, The Comedy of Errors, with another fun, and free, outdoor treat, a streamlined bilingual adaptation of the Bard favorite Much Ado About Nothing.

The hundred-minute show takes place on a colorfully designed square platform with two ceramic-like chairs with red-flowering cacti on top; the set, by Riw Rakkulchon, evokes the work of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. The audience sits on three sides of the stage, with the costumes, props, and pianist and guitarist behind the fourth side, where you can see the cast prepare for scenes with the help of very busy stagehands.

The actors make use of the entire space, walking through the aisles and settling under trees, so it’s a hoot watching passersby wonder what’s going on — or pay no attention at all, not letting anything get in the way of where they’re going. (I saw the show when it was performed on the Fortieth St. side of the New York Public Library; it was previously at Astor Plaza and will continue at J. Hood Wright Park, the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, Sunset Park, A.R.R.O.W. Field House, and the Queens Night Market through June 29.)

The narrative is not quite as tight as the earlier The Comedy of Errors, so it helps to be familiar with the details of the play; in addition, not all the Spanish is translated into English, and vice versa. Don Pedro of Aragon (Hiram Delgado) returns to Messina after a fierce battle, accompanied by Señor Benedick of Padua (Nathan M. Ramsey) and the right noble Count Claudio (Daniel Bravo Hernández); Governor Leonato (Robert Marcelo Jiménez) readies a welcome celebration for them. While Claudio falls instantly in love with Leonato’s daughter, Hero (usually Mayelah Barrera, but I saw terrific understudy Katherine George), Leonato’s niece, Beatrice (Keren Lugo), has a verbal altercation with Benedick.

Benedick (Nathan M. Ramsey) and Beatrice (Keren Lugo) have a tilted relationship in reimagined Bard tale (photo by Peter Cooper)

Beatrice: I wonder that you will still be talking, Señor Benedick: nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?
Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Señor Benedick?
Benedick: But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.
Beatrice: A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. Le doy gracias a Dios y a mi sangre fría — que en eso estamos de acuerdo: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Benedick: God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face.
Beatrice: Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such a face as yours were.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue. But keep your way, i’ God’s name; yo ya estoy.
Beatrice: Siempre con el mismo numerito — ya te tengo calado.

The bastard Don Juan (Martín Ortiz), jealous of the respect his half brother, Don Pedro, receives, enlists the squire Borachio (usually Carlo Albán, but I saw understudy Jonathan Gabriel Mousset) to throw a wrench into the blooming love between Hero and Claudio, singing, “It’s time to shake off this shame! / To take what’s rightfully mine!” Tricking Margaret (Sara Ornelas), Hero’s lady-in-waiting, Borachio and Conrade (Ortiz) convince the night watch that Hero has been unfaithful prior to her nuptials. On the case is the local constable, Dogberry (Cornelius McMoyler), and his two assistants, Verges (Delgado) and Sexton (Ornelas). Mistaken identity, misunderstandings, a masquerade ball, spying, lying, pratfalls, and private letters all come into play in one of the Bard’s most beloved comedies.

The presentation is delightful from start to finish, even with too much repetition and too many gaps. Shakespeare purists might miss several famous lines, but key ones are still there: “Speak low, if you speak love,” “She speaks daggers, and every word stabs,” “Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.” Mesri’s lovely score features such songs as “I Will Wait for You (Te Esperaré),” “Don Juan the Villain,” “Hey Nonny Nonny,” and “Hay Que Cantar,” although there is less music in the second half; Mousset plays the guitar on- and offstage, with music director Angela Ortiz on piano.

Christopher Vergara dresses some characters in modern-day suits and others in colorful military garb and elegant gowns. The cast, which is having as much fun, if not more, than the audience, is led by charming turns by Lugo, George, Jiménez, and Ornelas, who at times resembles Kahlo. Sound designer Tye Hunt Fitzgerald competes with traffic and wind.

Admission is free, with no advance RSVP necessary. Be sure to arrive early to catch the troupe doing a group sound check and getting into their costumes. Stage manager Ada Zhang and assistant stage manager Bea Perez-Arche keep it all moving with expert precision.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]