There are few things in today's desensitized society that I think will shock audiences. But the Playcrafters Barn Theatre's Second Samuel, by author Pamela Parker, manages to shock in its secret that's almost carried to the grave by Miss Gertrude, a deceased woman who is never seen on stage. That secret creates the play's tension, and ultimately leading to a lesson in tolerance that avoids being too preachy, and that applies to the acceptance of anyone's differences.
Director Chris Causer plays up the baser parts of William Shakespeare's The Tempest in the District Theatre's latest production, taking the debauchery of Bryan Tank's Trinculo, a coxcomb of a servant, and Ed Villarreal's Stephano, a drunken butler, to their limits. (And sometimes mine.) The scenes involving the two men bickering, and their leading around of Todd Schwartz's crazy-ish castaway Caliban - a native to the island that serves as the play's setting - drew large laughs from Friday's audience, and broke up the serious tone of the rest of the tale.
I didn't think there was much wrong with Sunday night's presentation of Genesius Guild's Romeo & Juliet, aside from the fact that I didn't feel much of anything at it. But in terms of this particular Shakespeare play, isn't that a pretty sizable issue?
A preface for those at Sunday's Genesius Guild presentation of The Comedy of Errors: You know that horribly rude woman who talked, and talked loudly, on her cell phone through the first two minutes of the play, even after repeated shushings and one verbal request to shut the hell up? I sat three rows behind her.
Amidst the laughter that accompanied Saturday night's Lincoln Park presentation of The Frogs, I was especially aware of one particular audience member's vocal enjoyment. He was seated quite a bit away from me, but judging by the timbre, I'd say he was about five or six, and he'd routinely giggle with an involuntary, infectious happiness that made it sound as though he was being tickled. A bunch of us were, actually.
Rating its Degree of Difficulty on a scale of one through ten, I'd give Genesius Guild's opening-night performance of Shakespeare's As You Like It... hmm... about a 27.
A leading actor tortured by the inability to play a role he can't feel. A narcissistic starlet unashamedly flaunting her sexuality. A group of second bananas complaining about the sizes of their roles. A sweet-faced ingénue enduring the advances of an older sponsor. A clueless playwright convinced that his pedestrian dialogue is marvelous.Subscribe & Listen to Reader Podcasts
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