SHENANDOAH ROMP
SHENANDOAH SHAKESPEARE EXPRESS
EXCELLENT MOTION TOUR 2003/04
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
Henry IV, Part One by William Shakespeare
The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare
Performed in repertory at Colby College in Waterville, Maine
On November 5, November 6, and November 7, 2003
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
In Maine, when the nights grow ever longer and the weather becomes decidedly
brisk, one’s mind quite naturally turns to Shakespeare. Awhile back, I
learned the BBC had produced a thirty-seven DVD set of Shakespeare’s plays.
Thinking of the cold, dark months ahead, I was nearly tempted to order them
until I saw the price—$1,000. A little too pricey for me, I’m afraid, and my
credit card remained in my wallet.
However, not long ago, I got a small taste of what it would be like to spend
the winter with Shakespeare when Shenandoah Shakespeare Express (SSE), a
traveling troupe from Virginia, came to Colby College in Waterville, Maine.
On three consecutive nights, they performed three different plays: Henry
IV, Part One and The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William
Shakespeare as well as The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar
Wilde. It was a heady experience and more than a little disappointing when
it was over.
According to their brochure, Shenandoah Shakespeare Express began in 1988
under the direction of Jim Warren and Ralph Alan Cohen. After touring for
nearly ten years, the group settled in Staunton, Virginia, and began “work
on phase one of a three-part plan to build an indoor theatre called the
Blackfriars Playhouse, a Globe Theatre, and a Center for Research and
Education.” While Shenandoah Shakespeare Express is still the name of the
touring troupe, the whole company is now called Shenandoah Shakespeare.
Construction of the Blackfriars Playhouse was completed in 2001.
Lucky Virginia! SSE has been coming to Colby College for many years, and I
have been fortunate enough to see them on several occasions. Not only does
the troupe have amazing energy and snap, but they also have caught the
beautiful cadence of Shakespeare’s language. Although SSE uses modern music
and has quirky costumes, these anachronisms never overwhelm the plays. The
story always shines through, and the tomfoolery just adds to the fun, even
in the histories and tragedies.
In addition to Shakespeare, SSE includes other classical plays in their
performances, and this year that play was The Importance of Being
Earnest. I must admit that unlike Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde is an
acquired taste for me. I have seen Earnest many times, and I have
finally come to appreciate its wit and humor. However, Oscar Wilde is like
champagne; it’s good once in awhile, but I wouldn’t want a steady diet of
it. Like champagne, Earnest is a bubbly confection that somehow never
rises to the level of great art. Never mind! It’s so much fun that it really
doesn’t need to be anything more than what it is.
The brief, tangled plot revolves around two sets of young people: straight
man John Worthing; Algernon Moncrieff, a slightly disreputable wit;
Gwendolen Fairfax; a “dragon” in training; and John’s ward Cecily Cardew,
who suffers from extreme flights of fancy. John is a friend to Algernon and
in love with Gwendolen, Algernon’s cousin. Gwendolen is in love with John.
Naturally, there are complications. Lady Bracknell, Gwendolen’s dragon of a
mother, is a snob with high, high standards for her daughter. In a hilarious
scene, Lady Bracknell “interviews” John to see if he qualifies as a suitor
for her daughter. When she discovers that John is an orphan who, as an
infant, was found in a handbag in Victoria Station, Lady Bracknell most
definitely is not amused. In her eyes, John certainly does not qualify.
But Gwendolen will not be dissuaded. As long as her love has the name
Ernest, then that is good enough for her. Except of course, her love is not
Ernest. He is John. Ernest is a name John uses when he wants to escape his
pesky family in the country and come to London. Additionally, Ernest is the name
of his pretend brother, whom John must “help” on a regular basis. To further
complicate matters, in London, John goes by the name Ernest.
As it turns out, Algernon uses a similar ruse, which he calls Bunburyism. To
escape his own pesky family, Algernon has invented a very ill friend called
Bunbury. Whenever Algernon wishes to escape a tedious social obligation, Bunbury takes a turn for the worse and must be visited. Fortunately,
Algernon is clever enough not to use Bunbury for his own name.
The trials continue. Algernon catches wind of Cecily’s existence and is
determined to meet her. The action and the characters move from London to
John’s country estate where there is a confusion of identities when Algernon
pretends to be John’s brother Ernest. Naturally, Cecily falls madly in love
with “Ernest.” But how can this be? Gwendolen also is in love with “Ernest.”
And so it goes.
Does this play have a happy ending? Do the lovers get together in the end?
Why ask? Even if you have never seen this silly play, you know what the
answer is.
For this play to work, two crucial elements have to be in place. The pacing
must be quick, and the casting must be perfect. I am happy to report both
conditions were met in this performance. The witty dialogue goes back and
forth at blinding speed, and keeping up with it is part of the fun. There’s
never a dull moment, and while not all of the characters are likeable, they
are certainly laughable.
As the straight-man John Worthing, Gregory Jon Phelps is appropriately stiff
but endearing. True, he has made his own mess, but he is so cute we
can’t help cheering for him. James Beard, as the decadent, cynical Algernon
brings just the right touch of Oscar Wilde to the part. Mr. Beard performs
with dash and style, but does not make Algernon’s character too outrageous.
Tall, slender Vanessa Mandeville Morosco is appropriately regal as the
imperious Gwendolyn, a true mother’s daughter. On the other hand, petite
Alyssa Wilmoth is such an appealing Cecily that we can understand why the
cynical Algernon can’t resist falling in love with her. From deadpan
servants (Raymond Wortel and J.C. Long) to a ditsy governess (Joann Sacco)
to an amorous rector (Christopher Seiler), the supporting cast is equally
good.
However, Dennis Henry as Lady Bracknell, steals the show. In Shakespeare
gender- bending fashion, he is everything she should be. Snobby, arrogant,
secure in her own beliefs, Dennis Henry’s Lady Bracknell brings a dark gloss
to the English aristocracy. Mr. Dennis plays the part with crisp gusto,
enunciating every pronouncement with the ringing certainty of a prophet sent
from God. Oh, how we love to hate Lady Bracknell!
I laughed through the whole play. I admit it. I even had fun. Still, it was
a relief to return the following night to see King Henry IV, Part One.
While it’s true that any play with Sir John Falstaff is going to
have more than its share of laughs, King Henry also has depth and
ideas and a keen insight into human nature.
When the play opens, King Henry is having more than his share of troubles.
There is open rebellion in the north, and although King Henry’s forces have
put down the rebellion, the English nobleman Harry Percy (Hotspur) won’t
turn over his Scottish prisoners to the king. Even worse, King Henry’s
ne’er-do-well son, Prince Henry of Wales (also known as Hal or Harry) has
fled the court for the tavern and lives a life of dissipation and
indulgence. It almost makes King Henry long for the days when he was just
Bolingbroke and had not yet begun to plot against King Richard II.
However, Hal is not simply a foolish wastrel. As he reflects on his
lifestyle, he comes to the conclusion that his bad actions will only make
his eventual redemption more glorious. It is here that we get our first
glimpse of Hal’s hard, calculating nature, which will come to full fruition
in subsequent plays. He’s a canny, prodigal son.
Hal’s partner in crime is Sir John Falstaff, a mountainous bundle of
unbridled male impulses, appetites, and energy. With Hal at his side,
Falstaff spends his days drinking, lying, eating, thieving, and whoring. In
addition, cowardice, callousness, and greed can be added to his list of
faults. Falstaff’s only redeeming feature is his true affection for Hal.
Literary men love Falstaff, and it’s not hard to see why—he gives them hope.
Falstaff might be fat, unattractive, and incompetent, but he still gets to
do all the things that males, even literary ones, typically fantasize
about. In essence, Falstaff is a blundering, pinhead version of James Bond.
As the plot thickens and Hotspur’s rebellion gathers momentum, we get
alternate scenes of high foolishness at the tavern. Ned Poins, another
wastrel, convinces Hal to rob Falstaff and his men of their recently
ill-gotten gains. This they do, under disguise and with much hilarity.
However, Falstaff remains as irrepressible as ever, maintaining he was
robbed by at least a hundred men. Then, Falstaff and Hal take turns
pretending they are father and son. That is, King Henry and Henry the Prince
of Wales. This joking scene turns serious when Hal, through playacting,
warns Falstaff that one day he will “banish” the large man. But that is in
the future. In the meantime, the prodigal Hal returns to the king, repents,
and claims his true heritage. And just in time, because as SSE puts it in
the handout, “civil war ensues.”
This all seems pretty cut and dry, but because it’s Shakespeare, it isn’t.
He makes us see how all the characters, even King Henry and Hal, are a mixed
lot, and how King Henry manipulated his way to the throne. Shakespeare also
gives us a very tender scene between Hotspur and his wife that shows us a
different side of the aptly named rebel. Through dialogue and action,
different aspects of the main characters are revealed, and it’s these layers
that give the characters depth.
As in The Importance of Being Earnest, the acting and casting are
wonderful. James Beard, as King Henry, and Gregory Jon Phelps, as Hal, are
by turns regal, sly, and engaging. Benjamin Curns plays the rogue Falstaff
with such good humor and verve that even I almost liked the old miscreant.
Almost. However, the performance that stole this show was J.C. Long as he
played both Hotspur and Ned Poins. In one scene, he literally took my breath
away as he did a lightening quick character change from Hotspur to Poins.
Even though I have seen many, many plays, I have never seen anything like
this.
Then there’s the catchy music in this show, performed by the troupe. It
seems as though these actors can do it all. The play instruments, they sing,
and they act. Truly, what more could theater patrons ask for? A dog on stage
to really steal the show? And why not? That’s exactly what happened in
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, the last night’s performance.
On the surface, The Two Gentlemen of Verona is just as silly as
The Importance of Being Earnest. Two young men, Valentine and Proteus,
are sent by their fathers to Milan to gain experience and maturity, which
they both sorely lack. Once in Milan, they both fall in love with Silvia,
the Duke’s daughter. The Duke, of course, wants his daughter to marry
someone else—the foppish but rich Sir Thurio. Silvia, however, has fallen in
love with Valentine and wants nothing to do with Sir Thurio. Even though
Proteus has pledged his love to a young woman (Julia) in Verona, he forgets
this vow and immediately begins plotting against Valentine, who plans to
elope with Silvia. Proteus’s plot succeeds and Valentine is banished.
Where does he go? Why, into the woods of course, with Silvia, Proteus, Julia
(disguised as a man), and Sir Thurio in hot pursuit. To liven things up
even more, Shakespeare throws bandits into the mix. Naturally, all ends
well, but not before it’s clear that the two real gentlemen are not
gentleman at all, but rather Julia and Silvia. Unlike Proteus and even
Valentine, the two women behave with grace, honor, and intelligence. An
uncharitable part of me wondered why Silvia and Julia just didn’t ditch
those two callow youths and go off on their own.
All very well and good, you might be thinking, but where does the dog come
in? Why, somewhere near the end but before everyone flees to the forest. In
a scene that is both odd and touching, Launce, Proteus’s servant, has a
conversation with his dog Crab. Launce was supposed to give Proteus’s dog to
Silvia, but the dog “was stolen from me by the hangman boys in the
marketplace.” Not wishing to anger his master, Launce decides to give his
own dog Crab to Silvia. Silvia rejects the present, and Launce reflects on
Crab’s errant ways. The dog has wet on Silvia’s farthingale, stolen
puddings, and killed geese.
Yet Launce loves Crab. He rescued Crab from drowning when he is a puppy, has
taken a beating for him and has even “stood on the pillory for geese he hath
killed.” Launce asks, “How many masters would do this for their servants?”
Just as the women are more gentlemen than the men, so is Launce a better
master than his own master. Even though Crab, as a dog, is clearly beneath
him, Launce loves, defends, and protects the dog. I expect Crab was indeed
treated better than most servants.
A local dog, a golden lab, was called upon to play the part of Crab. Poor
Crab the lab! Never have I seen a creature with such stage fright. As soon
as Crab the lab figured out what was going on and saw all those staring eyes
from the audience, he or she wanted nothing more to do with the whole
project. This, of course, only endeared Crab more to the audience. And when
Launce scolded Crab the lab for its many transgressions, Crab, with ears
slicked back, looked suitably chastened. This, in turn, brought a collective
“A-w-h-h-h” from the audience. Clearly, Crab the lab was the star of the
show, foremost in the audience’s sympathy.
And the rest of the cast? They were excellent of course and received a
standing ovation. If the clapping was a little harder for Crab the lab, the
actors didn’t seem to mind.
Well, the Shenandoah romp is over. Yes, I feel a little blue and wish that
Virginia were closer to Maine. Alas, it isn’t. Of course, there’s always
that BBC thirty-seven DVD set. Maybe if I start saving now…
