Yesterday, Keira suggested I tell you all how fared the production of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale that Todd and I were in, which closed on Saturday.
She also suggested I share some pictures. (All photo credits, by the way, go to Bob Paz, Caltech’s photographic genius.)
Ahem. Well. Let me start by saying that this was a visually stylized (and sometimes dramatically stylized) version set in feudal Japan. We had very odd hair and make-up, and lovely costumes which, however, did not flatter any woman who had a figure.
Did I say odd hair? For some of us, that meant odd wigs. Very odd wigs. And the women’s makeup consisted of nothing but a thin layer of very pale base, and a large amount of very pink rouge bracketing the eyes. This lady here (not me) is an example of both wig and makeup!
There — now that I have prepared you — you are prepared, are you not? You won’t laugh (too much)? Very well.
Here’s Todd as King Leontes, going mad. (He did a lot of that in this play.) This is when King Leontes becomes suddenly (and wrongly) convinced that his wife, Queen Hermione, has been cheating on him with his best friend — and that the child she’s pregnant with is a result of this (nonexistent) affair.
And, yes. Todd is wearing a wig. A huge wig.
Now here’s me, in purple. And let me just say that I know the wig, the makeup, and the fifteen-foot-long obi wrapped around and around my waist, aren’t flattering to me. I know it. And I was remarkable in my restraint during this play in how little I stressed about it. (Honest! Well, maybe.) But I’m just saying.
(I’m just saying, it’s all Keira’s fault. She made me show you these pictures.)
Okay. Sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah. In the above picture, my character, the lady Paulina, comes up with a brilliant plan. I will show Queen Hermione’s now newly born baby to mad King Leontes — who will of course melt at the sight of the cute little baby, and snap out of his madness.
And here I am again as Paulina, with the baby, and with Antigonus, Paulina’s husband. Paulina breaks in on the king and insists he listen to her yell at him a lot (he yells too, of course — very Shakespearean), and insists he look at the cute little baby. In this picture, Paulina’s husband (who I suspect knows the king a bit better than she) is trying to get his wife and the baby out of the room before the king decides to execute them all.
But does the king listen? Of course not! (I suspect Shakespeare thought that if men listened to women more often, the world would be a better place.) The king orders the baby be abandoned in the middle of the forest by poor Antigonus (the guy in green above). Then comes the most famous stage direction in all of Shakespeare: “Exit, pursued by a bear.” The bear, of course, makes poor Paulina a widow.
Meanwhile, the king defies the Oracle’s proclamation of Hermione’s innocence. So as the good always suffer for the sins of the wicked, King Leontes is punished by the gods by having his older child and heir, Prince Mamillius, die for his sins. (Not that the prince ever did anything bad!) In shock, Queen Hermione falls down dead of grief. In the above picture, Paulina is telling Leontes just how really really bad he is. This time, he believes her, and is really really sorry.
Sixteen years go by, and Leontes is still sorry, and Paulina is still making sure he stays that way. (You see how stern I look!)
Meanwhile, the abandoned baby has grown up as a shepherdess, and a prince (son of Leontes’ old best friend) falls in love with her, and there’s lots of comedy and happy star-crossed love. (The first three pictures at the top are from this part of the play.)
Eventually, everyone comes together, and they discover the shepherdess is really the daughter of King Leontes. Now everyone is mostly happy — so Paulina decides to show them the statue she has of dead Queen Hermione. And — surprise, surprise! It comes to life.
Guess Queen Hermione wasn’t really dead after all. Or…was she?
Here’s Paulina, stealing center stage, more or less saying “can I help it if I can work miracles?”
Well, there you have it! Lots of pretty pictures. Lots of weird wigs. Lots of Cara pretending not to whine.
So — which costume (or hair) do you like best here? Or hate the least?
What’s the weirdest setting you’ve seen for a Shakespearean production?
When Shakespeare plays or movies are set in different times or places (e.g. McKellen’s Nazi-ish Richard III) do you love it, hate it, or think it all depends?
Cara
Cara King, author of My Lady Gamester and obsessive Shakespeare fan
Many years ago Sam Waterston played Benedict in a production of “Much Ado About Nothing” set in turn of the century New York. The war the soldiers were returning from was the Spanish-American war. I was very young when I saw it, but I’ve fond memories of Waterston and how well they made the dialogue and settings fit. And of course, that other NY-set Shakespearean play, West Side Story. A much freer adaption, but the basic skeleton is still there.
I think it depends. I’ve seen some productions that just blew me away (Hamlet as a space opera with a 7-foot HOTTIE in a silver lame cape in the staring role!!!). But then there have been others . . .
I actually don’t mind the hair and make-up, Cara–very Mikado-like.
And I love new versions of Shakespeare, usually–Richard III was great, I thought. I don’t like them when they’re deliberately coy, like ‘look how cute we are’.
I am so Shakespeare-impaired that I’ve only seen one production in an unusual time/place. It was a roaring 20s version and now I can’t remember the play. Brain-fry. It was years ago but I remember there were problems with the sound in that venue, so my biggest problem was missing half the dialogue. I am usually pretty open to all sorts of artistic efforts–the opposite of a purist. So I’d probably enjoy a thoughtfully done (and audible) adaptation.
Cara I just love that picture of you looking stern. If I were Todd I’d be quaking in my shoes… π
I totally, totally groked those costumes and that makeup. How very creative! I wish I could’ve seen the actual production. Reminds me of Kurosawa.
As an actor, it must’ve been rather challenging, as you have to manage Shakespeare and his tongue-twisting sentences, but the gestures and body language have to be feudal Japanese.
Kalen: Seven-foot hottie(?!) in silver lame. Shakespeare would’ve approved that over-the-top depiction. π
Todd: Now, how much of Cara’s “scolding” was acting? π
Nice Bathrobes!
Oh, Cara, that looked like so much FUN!!! I thought you looked great!
I’m like Elena, Shakespeare-impaired, knowing my Shakespeare from movies, really. I’d probably be a purist, though. Set the plays in Shakespeare’s time!
Diane
As for my opinion on “translating” Shakespeare to odd places and times — I think I’m in the middle on it. Sometimes it works wonderfully, and the change shows something about the play one never saw before — or shows something new about the time or place it’s set.
But sometimes, I think it’s done just for a gimmicky reason, or because the people putting it on think a more traditional setting will be “boring.” That’s what I think is silly. After all, most of the people seeing it will probably never have seen that Shakespeare play before, so just because you’re bored with Henry V set in the Middle Ages, don’t assume everyone else is! π
Many years ago Sam Waterston played Benedict in a production of “Much Ado About Nothing” set in turn of the century New York.
Ooh, Susan, I love Sam Waterston. Wish I’d seen that production!
And yes, I think West Side Story (even with its modern dialogue) is a great example of how sometimes it’s a great idea to do Shakespeare’s plays in different places or times. Feuding families in Italy can seem confusing or distant, but New York gangs, with racial distinctions, is very real, very now!
And I think in the same way, Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet worked really well. Okay, some of the actors could have been better with the language, but overall, I found it exhilerating.
Cara
Hamlet as a space opera with a 7-foot HOTTIE in a silver lame cape in the staring role!!!
Kalen, Kalen, Kalen… You have definitely lived a more interesting life than I have. π (Wish I’d seen that one!)
Okay, so here are some Shakespeare films with various “new” settings that I’ve liked:
RICHARD III (the Ian McKellen version, with Richard a Hitler-like figure in a modern Third-Reich-ish world) — fabulous
TWELFTH NIGHT (the one with Imogen Stubbs, Helena Bonham Carter, Ben Kingsley, etc, set in Victorian England) — lovely.
LOVE’S LABOURS LOST (Branagh musical adaptation) — flawed, but great fun
ROMEO + JULIET (as mentioned above, with Leonardo DiCaprio et al) — exciting and fun
I actually don’t mind the hair and make-up, Cara–very Mikado-like.
Glad you like it, Megan! Actually, during one rehearsal, in the beginning of the trial scene, Todd broke into “My Object All Sublime”… Very appropriate. π
I don’t like them when they’re deliberately coy, like ‘look how cute we are’.
Ah, well put. I quite agree!
Cara I just love that picture of you looking stern. If I were Todd I’d be quaking in my shoes… π
Actually, Elena, that’s by far not my meanest look. I suspect Todd is used to worse when I’m actually being stern! π
Cara
My favorite was Hamlet in the original Klingon. They stopped occasionally to explain why they made the linguistic choices they did- in Klingon, there is no verb “to be”, so they chose something like to exist or never existing, for example.
My least favorite was a production of Julius Caesar where you could just hear the Director thinking, “When you think of Rome, you think STATUES!” So they would proclaim a line, switch pose, say a line, switch pose, etc. The one bit of scenery was on wheels and was jiggled a bit to signify a scene change. It was pulled apart slightly to show a red crack when Julius died. Ooo. I fell asleep. Then I got up and walked out.
The wildest was A Clockwork Orange does A Comedy of Errors, but I have trouble explaining that one to people who haven’t been on serious medication, prescribed or not.
Reminds me of Kurosawa.
Actually, Keira, we were told to watch Kurosawa movies if we could, to see how the people sat, and kneeled, and moved. (I ended up just skimming Kagemusha and Ran to see the women’s movement…) (Not the Women’s Movement, you understand, but the…ah, never mind.)
And we had one lesson with a Kabuki expert… And he shared one interesting thing with me. In Kabuki, men play all the roles, and each actor specializes in either women or men. Well, he said that a character like mine would be played by a man who played men! Which was a great relief, actually, because I’m no dancer, and wasn’t as good as some of the women at all the graceful movements… (Plus, it’s easier to play a semi-harridan who pushes the men around if you don’t have to be uber-delicate all the time!) π
As an actor, it must’ve been rather challenging, as you have to manage Shakespeare and his tongue-twisting sentences, but the gestures and body language have to be feudal Japanese.
So very, very true. We only got our costumes about a week before opening, and that changed almost all the movement. All my striding and running suddenly had to become skimming and the like — small steps only!
Rob wrote: Nice Bathrobes!
Todd took one look at that, snorted, and said, “There’s Rob for you!” π And yes, they *were* nice bathrobes. (Mine was silk!)
My favorite was Hamlet in the original Klingon.
I so wish I’d seen that, Georg! (Though I’m not sure Hamlet was actually written in Klingon… Though I expect the Klingons claim it was! Heck, Chekov probably claims it was written by Tolstoy, too…)
The statues play sounds dreadful. I’ve seen productions like that (though maybe not Shakespeare) and I want to shake the director and say “a neat idea isn’t the same thing as a good idea!” And, come to think of it, that’s not even a neat idea. π
Clockwork Errors… Hmmm…
Cara
Cara: I liked Kurosawa’s [i]Ran[/i] quite a bit, once I got used to the stylized acting. I find that switching from jeans to long skirts means I have to switch how I walk. Going to those kimonos… Good thing no one fell flat on their faces.
Georg wrote, “My least favorite was a production of Julius Caesar where you could just hear the Director thinking, When you think of Rome, you think STATUES!'”
Pardon the inappropriate reponse here, but… [much laughter]. Well, now that that’s over with… I commiserate with you that an entire play in that fashion might’ve been a bit much.
Reminds me of a Halloween costume party where a lady showed up in an Egyptian costume. She even walked sideways with her face to the side.
I like the costumes, Cara! Megan’s right, they remind me of Mikado. Wish I could have seen this production. (If Todd accompanies you to an RWA again, will he wear that wig??)
Georg, that Julius Ceasar sounds BORING! And like it would take two days to get through the play with everyone changing postures all the time.
I once saw a production of Much Ado that was set in 1950s New Orleans, sort of Streetcar Named Desire-ish (or maybe that was what the director was going for to start). The costumes and sets were good, but everyone except one older gentleman (who did a sort of funny Big Daddy thing) completely acted like the wrought iron balconies and palmetto fans had nothing to do with them, and spoke with Veddy Faux British accents in a slow, ponderous This Is Shakespeare and Thus Important way. I couldn’t figure out why they bothered to change the setting at all. π
Sorry I’ve taken so long to comment on this (excellent, as always!) post, but I’ve had 80 midterm exams to grade. Life is like a great big fun house, without the fun…
Elena wrote:
Cara I just love that picture of you looking stern. If I were Todd I’d be quaking in my shoes… π
This is why, in real life, I try not to get out of line. π But in the play, she really lets me have it. Of course, during the part when I was insane I got to abuse other people to my heart’s content…
Cara wrote:
Actually, Elena, that’s by far not my meanest look. I suspect Todd is used to worse when I’m actually being stern! π
Need I say more? π
Keira wrote:
Todd: Now, how much of Cara’s “scolding” was acting? π
It is always useful to a performer to be able to draw on deep wells of past experience.
Amanda wrote:
If Todd accompanies you to an RWA again, will he wear that wig??
That wig was soooooooo bloody uncomfortable, that I could barely restrain myself from throwing it down and jumping on it when the production was over. Not to mention in one scene when my lords wrestle a sword away from me, one of them had a tendency to accidentally grab my wig–which left me in the delicate position of trying to act without moving my head, lest the wig be ripped off, along with a non-negligible amount of my own hair…
Anyway, it was a lot of fun, but I’m not sorry it’s over…it took sooo much time. And there was memorizing all those lines…and trying not to lose my voice…
Todd-who-has-now-taken-to-stopping-random-strangers-and-soliloquizing-at-them
I cannot imagine Sam Wasterston in anything other than Law & Order. π
Ah, midterm time over. Hope we see more of your comments Todd. And where’s Lord Bertram? I would love to get his take on the “mantitty” post.
Ooh, Keira, you’re going to give Bertie a swelled head, making him a lord! I think he might happen to be an honourable or something, but that’s the most he can possibly claim. (Or, rather, the most he should claim!) π
I’ll ask him if he wants to take a look at Megan’s post — but it might offend his delicate sensibilities. (So hard to tell sometimes!)
Cara
It depends on the show’s execution. I liked Julie Taymor’s creativity with “Titus Andronicus” but disliked a post-L.A. riots take on a “Romeo and Juliet” production by Shakespeare/LA. Actor’s Alley in Van Nuys put on a tiny, traditional, and superbly acted “Richard III” many years ago, yet Ian McKellen’s 20th century “Richard III” was wonderful onstage at UCLA. I love “West Side Story” and think that the short film “West Bank Story” sounds promising. I’ll try watching all adaptations of my favorite playwright, but definitely some interpretations are better thought out than others.
If you think Shakespeare’s plays receive interesting treatment, check out some opera adaptations, especially Peter Sellar’s Mozart productions!
Oh, yes, Jean, I’d forgotten about “Titus”! I thought that was bizarre and fascinating and worked amazingly well, considering both the difficulty of the play, and the risks Taymor took!
Cara