January 19, 2023
“Othello” at Shakespeare’s Globe: Men Be Trippinby Randi / September 20, 2018
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the shocking American play that recently came to London’s Soho Theatre.
You know how art can be fucking crazy? (‘You know how people have these little habits that get you down?’) Like how artists, regardless of their medium, like to shock their audience into strongly feeling something so they do bonkers things like using feces instead of paint (real example) and preserving a shark in formaldehyde (real example) and nailing their scrotum to Red Square (real example) and constructing a complicated series of machines that take food and pass it through tubes and bowls to digest it in stages until it literally produces poo at the end (real example that I’ll discuss more of when I blog about our Australia adventure)? Well here’s one more example! ‘Underground Railroad Game’, considered one of the 25 best plays of the past 25 years by the New York Times, is forking nuts and made me feel very uncomfortable in ways no theatre has ever done. Yet unlike the aforementioned examples of alarming ‘art’, this play wasn’t being scandalous just for the sake of being scandalous – it actually had a purpose for wicking me out so much, and although I’m still grappling with it, I can’t deny that it was powerful. (The other examples are bullshirt.)
‘Underground Railroad Game’, which from now on I’ll refer to as URG because that’s the sound I made through the entire back half, is a riveting 80 minute tour of American racism on a societal level and an interpersonal level, and even though it starts off funny, it’ll leave you staring hard into the floor wishing that it would swallow you whole so you don’t have to think about how gross you feel from what you just witnessed and what it said about the world and people and black people and white people and America and just everything but then you get up because you want to take a shower.
And boy does it start off funny. The play opens on a barn at night in the 1800s, as a scared, skittish black woman enters and ravenously eats an apple from her pocket. But when she hears a man outside, she hides in a wooden box. The man still finds her but tells her she doesn’t have to be scared – he’s one of the good white men, an ‘angel’ really, who will help this runaway slave escape to the north. Their acting is overly earnest and over the top, and kind of funny but we started to worry that the entire play was going to bank on this conceit holding water for more than a few minutes. Of course, just when we thought ‘hmm is this really this play?’, the lights came on in the entire theatre, jarring the audience, and the two actors came closer downstage and said to us, “Okay class! What did we learn?”
Those two actors, Jennifer Kidwell and Scott R. Sheppard, are the two creators and writers of this play. And they’re not playing a slave and an abolitionist – they’re playing two enthusiastic teachers at Hanover Middle School, and we, the audience members, are their 7th grade students. They explain that their little skit was an introduction to their social studies unit on the Underground Railroad, in which they will combine forces as classes. We students would be separated into Union and Confederate Troops, and during the next few weeks, the Union army would try to sneak black baby dolls from one classroom’s wooden box to the other’s without Confederate troops catching them – our own underground railroad! To see which side we were on, we were told to look under our seats, where we all found little envelopes with little army men figurines inside. (This is when I broke my theatre rule of No Talking and whispered to Husband “oh so this is like REALLY interactive, huh.”) Who has a blue figure? they asked, and the appropriate audience members whooped, as people do. You’re the Union army! Who has a gray figure? I did, and I was told ‘You’re the Confederacy!’ Instead of whooping, we all, being woke, booed, and Sheppard quickly said “Hey hey none of that! We support our troops!” and we all died laughing.
As middle school teachers, they absolutely slayed me with their pitch perfect demeanor and comments. “Eyes up here!” they pointedly shouted at anyone who was talking to their companion or looking elsewhere. “I better not see any phones kids!” My favorite too-accurate thing of theirs was when the (extended) school bell would ring and they’d both shout together at us: “That’s not our bell! That’s not our bell! Stay seated!” One such moment had me laughing so hard that I made a little squeak-laugh sound after the rest of the audience had already quieted down from their laughter. Sheppard and Kidwell both focused their attention on me like laser beams and glared me down and then Sheppard said, “We’ll wait.” I wanted to laugh even harder at that but true to middle school form I just turned bright red instead and wanted to vomit as everyone turned to look at me, but I also became hysterical.
So I bet you are thinking this sounds just HILARIOUS and like a jolly good time, and it really was, because this was the nice little part that represented how most people learn about racism and America’s racist history – they make it palatable in our schools, and easy and clean and no one gets hurt. But that way doesn’t really work, because our history wasn’t easy or clean and way too many people got hurt, and continue to get hurt, from the racist foundations of America. These cheerful lessons don’t do much to teach kids about real racism and how it affects our society or stop them from growing up into racist adults.
And so, Kidwell and Sheppard swiftly change the story’s focus from these cute lessons for the kids onto their interpersonal relationship as teachers, and then as romantic partners, of two different races. At first it’s funny, like in their Gene-Kelly-throwback dancing around town, or when they ‘walk’ through town making jokes about race that quickly go too far. Even though they start pushing boundaries early on, they’re still boundaries we have seen before, so the discomfort is familiar.
But then. Oh but then. As their relationship progresses, they can no longer gloss over the serious issues created by their different races or the history of what that difference means. Sure both of them teach about slavery but only one of them really understands it on a profound rather than academic level. As a black woman and a white man, they are going to be haunted by the master and slave relationship of their ancestors, haunted by their own lesson plan of whether they’d be reaffirming or rewriting history together. They try to work out their issues in weird sexual ways that become somewhat cruel. Then the ‘somewhat’ falls by the wayside and these two incredibly brave performers start exorcising the demons of history in full-on sadomasochistic ways, playing back and forth with the master and slave roles as the stunned audience looks on and wonders whether we should go get help. The first glimpse of a stark naked Sheppard elicits gasps from the astonished audience, but then he’s naked for like a good 20 minutes, as Kidwell treats him like he’s on an auction block and breaks rulers on his back and chases him around with terrifying advances, culminating in him masturbating into a flag. All of it seemed real – especially, grossly, that last bit – so it was distressing, offensive, and actually appalling to watch. As I covered my face with my hands, I was flabbergasted that the adorable little middle-school-assembly show I was laughing at an hour ago had morphed into this horrifying trauma for everyone involved. But I get it. Going too far in ways we’ve never really seen before in the theatre (at least mainstream theatre) let them so powerfully argue that the horrors of slavery are as relevant and real today as they were in the past, damaging people and relationships and society still. I mean I think they had to do it, at least. I’m still quite traumatized.
INFORMATION
‘Underground Railroad Game’ is at London’s Soho Theatre until October 13th (looks like they got an extension). Tickets are pretty cheap.
No I didn’t stage door are you kidding me I saw them naked.
Related Posts
Why Jack Black Needs to be the Next Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof
When theatre finally returns, I know we’ll be thrilled to see literally anything (well, within reason), but there are some moves I will need to see made to ensure it comes back better than ever. Broadway and the West End must make a statement by fostering new and diverse talent to create plays with ideas and characters that reflect the modern world. But we’ll also need magnificent, large-scale productions of the classics to guarantee crowds and a financial return. And on that note, the next big production of Fiddler on the Roof must, that’s must, star none other than Jack Black.
This universally beloved comedian, this outrageous rock star, this person I just found out yesterday was Jewish (I know), is always, always the correct answer to the question “What celebrity would you want to have dinner with”, and he’s also the correct answer to the question “Who should star as Tevye in the next Fiddler?” Now that I’ve thought about, I will honestly not accept any other casting.
I know we have Fiddler productions like literally every other season in New York and London, and according to the gorgeous documentary about the gorgeous show, Miracle of Miracles, a production has been occurring somewhere or other every day since its debut in 1964 (well probably until last year but LAST YEAR DOESN’T COUNT, not for this astounding amazing factoid or for my aging process I DID NOT TURN ANYTHING LAST YEAR OKAY). Like I said, the theatre community absolutely has to honor new ideas and talent – and an altogether new, more sustainable way of doing things – in order to foment the next generation of brilliant voices. HOWEVER, we also need to honor the PERFECT GENIUS of this idea and make it happen before it doesn’t. The world needs this. Here are my reasons.
It’s a sure thing financially.
Jack Black will attract a crowd. To tell you the truth, I am skittish about returning to any room with more than 4 people but even in the deepest depths of my anxiety I could not be kept from seeing him in this. Even if I have to sit in a MIDDLE SEAT, I would pay to see him. Also, I have seen approximately…….832 productions of Fiddler, not counting the ones I’ve been in, and if you asked me a week ago, I would have say “listen, it’s one of the all-times, undeniably, but I need a break of like, two seasons.” NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE. I need this production NOW. FIRE THIS SUCKER UP AND THROW IT AT MY FACE.
And, of course, this perspective is universal. Everyone would want to see him in this, because everyone loves him. Jackson has hella fans, from his romcoms, from Tenacious D, from School of Rock, from simply his repeated red-carpet photos where he compares his belly to Angelina Jolie’s pregnant belly. Tell me the name of someone who doesn’t love him and I’ll tell you the name of someone who is somehow thinking of the wrong person. He is the best. I can wholeheartedly say this now, because I was once mistaken about it. When one of the greatest cinematic masterpieces of all time first came out – The Holiday – I remember my idiot teenage self saying to similarly idiotic friends “It’s so unfair that Cameron Diaz gets Jude Law while Kate Winslet gets Jack Black.” I KNOW. I can’t believe I’m admitting this personal failure to realize that Jack Black, especially in The Holiday, especially when he’s in the Blockbuster video store and singing all the forking movie scores???, is the most fun person alive. Top 5 anyway. And a fun person beats a stereotypically hot person anyday, even if that SHP is Mr. Napkinhead.
Anyway all this to say, he’s universally beloved and at least half of the world’s population would want to see him in a musical, and at least half of them would pay for it. So like, a few billion people, BET ON IT.
He can actually sing it.
As some of you anti-antisemites know, it’s currently Passover. I saw this video of Jack singing the Passover song Chad Gadya this week for the first time, thanks to the amazing website Alma (is it called Alma or Hey Alma, or is the Hey just the social media handle? No one will ever know). As soon as he finished the first line, I thought, oh good god it’s TEVYE! TED GET IN HERE, IT’S TEVYE!
Sure, we know he has a successful rock career with Tenacious D, and sure he delivered one of the best movie scenes in history with his “scroodle deedle doodle scroodle deedle doo, scroodle deedle doodle BEAH DA BAH BAH” in that Blockbuster Video, but I never knew that he could sing like this. There is some real vocal control here, a necessary trait for 8 shows a week (okay he would probably take matinees off like all the celebs do but still). And the tone! He is TALENTED. Sure he shouts the end but I bet he could belt it.
Listen to the classic Tevye-esque moves each time he sings the “chad gadya” part and tell me he wouldn’t do a grand service to this score. Listen to those patter segments and LOOK ME IN MY FACE and tell me he wouldn’t elevate “If I Were a Rich Man” to even higher comedic heights. Ugh I cannot live without knowing how he would make the “dabadabadeebaduhbadabadabadeebadum” part his own. All day LONG he’d biddy biddy bum.
I bet your life that he can act it.
Tevye is rightly considered one of the great male parts in musical theatre, but it’s also simultaneously considered a bit of a big, overdone, overstuffed, overacted jest of a role. It should never be that. Truly, Tevye needs to be handled by a great comedian, but with a deft touch, melding his comedy with considerable vulnerability and heartbreak so that his less kind moments are understood and they come across with their necessary sadness. Tevye’s harshness needs to be believable; it can’t be a surprise despite his joviality. Jack Black is a big teddy bear, but he also is a big teddy bear with teeth. Anger from him would be believable. Desperation, cruelty, despite his lovable fluffiness, would all feel authentic. That IS Tevye. Jack could nail the pathos required for this role. It wouldn’t be a joke. He would be incredible.
Listen, antisemitism is rising everywhere, and the people who aren’t perpetrating it don’t think it’s important enough to really fight against like other problematic isms (I’m going to again plug the incredible book Jews Don’t Count by David Baddiel). WE NEED THIS. DO THIS FOR JEWS EVERYWHERE. AND FOR THEATRE LOVERS EVERYWHERE. AND FOR JEWISH THEATRE LOVERS EVERYWHERE. I will not sleep until this production is a go. (Lol that’s not true sleeping is my favorite.)
“Shakespeare in Love” on the West End: It’s A Mystery Why It’s Not A Musical But It’s Still Worth Seeing
I never thought I would miss or even appreciate Gwyneth Paltrow. Sure, she was never hocking $200 white t-shirts and fair-trade moccasin shavings in her movies, but her Gooping activity has infiltrated most people’s memories of her acting history. Her film career is clouded with the smoke emanating from her custom glass gilded barbecue for macrobiotic mushrooms and meat from animals she petted with Mario Batali. But she was a pretty good actress, remember? And her Viola de Lesseps in “Shakespeare in Love” was fantastic, Oscar-worthy and Oscar-winning stuff.
So why did I all of a sudden recall Gwynnie’s ‘90s-era acting ability with such fondness? It’s kind of mean, but it’s because I just saw the new play version of “Shakespeare in Love” on the West End. It’s a lovely, fun show that you’ll enjoy, especially if you liked the movie. But if, like me, you loved the movie, so much so that you confront the 90% of the populace that still likes to argue that it shouldn’t have won Best Picture over “Saving Private Ryan”, then you will also, like me, find various quibbles with this show’s lack of editing, its pushing of easy physical laughs, and…the crazy voice of its Viola. (I mean, you don’t have to have even seen the movie to agree with the latter.)
Now listen. The actress playing Viola, Lucy Briggs-Owen, is wonderful. Especially in the second act, she absolutely won me over and made me cry and stuff. But I still just cannot get over her voice. She has the raspy, gravelly voice of a 2-packs a day night-shift trucker who counts Marge Simpson and Harvey Fierstein as close relatives. During Act 1, I was wide-eyed with disbelief that a character whose entire purpose rests on the gloriousness of her speaking voice was cast so surprisingly. It’s actually hilarious. The story will hook you nonetheless, as the producers perhaps try to prove that one’s voice doesn’t matter as long as you are beautiful, or something? I doubt that was their aim.
Anyway, yes, so the story is indeed centered on Viola’s voice, or what she does with it: act. She is a noble lady promised to marry a truly awful man named Wessex, but she just wants to be an actor, especially in Shakespeare’s plays, because she has an enormous literary crush on him and yearns for her life to be filled with poetry, as all young girls do. Fortunately for her, she’s actually a superb actor. Viola calls up all her courage and auditions for a new play disguised as a man, meeting the bard himself during her ‘amazing’ audition. This is when I started to roll my eyes a little. At this point, Will Shakespeare is super down in the dumps, dirty-haired, shirt-unbuttoned, totally out of sorts and depressed that he’ll never be able to find a star for his new play “Romeo and Ethel the Pirate’s Daughter”. We see awful no good actor after awful no good actor butcher auditions as Will sinks deeper. But then Viola, disguised as Thomas Kent, enters and begins her monologue from “Two Gentlemen of Verona”, and it’s supposed to rouse Will from the darkness, give him hope in his play, and make him fall in a sort of awe-inspired love. But…but…but…her voice! I didn’t believe that the anti-smoking ad that Viola seemed to make out of “What light be light if Sylvia be not seen” would have changed Will’s life so. Well, but it did, so I’ll stop mocking the poor girl’s voice. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fantastic actress; I just didn’t get her for this part where the purity and beauty of the voice is so important! The best is in the famous canoe scene, when Will is describing to ‘Thomas’ his feelings for Viola, and she’s like “tell me about her beauty; what’s her hair like?” and Will’s like “long and blonde so nice” and Viola’s like “and her lips” and Will’s like “erma, such lips” and then Viola’s like “and her voice?” and I cackled.
Anywayyyyy, so Will’s like erma p. gerd, I found my Romeo, and at about the same time, he sees the undisguised Viola at a ball he crashed, and is like, erma p., I found my muse and my love because I loves me some long blonde hair and influenza-ridden smoker voice. I’m sorry now I’m done. So Will Shakespeare, this beyond brilliant best playwright of all time, OF ALL TIME, doesn’t realize that they’re the same person even though all his plays feature gender-bending disguises. I guess all those plot-twists come after this point in time, inspired by Viola. Cute.
Oh besides the voice, the craziest change from the movie is how stupid Will seems before he meets Viola/Thomas. The play starts with him trying to write Sonnet #18, “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day”, with the whole company watching. It’s kind of funny, how he can’t finish the first line, but then it gets tiresome when we hear the sonnet for the 9th time in one act. Also, Christopher Marlowe helps him write it, or really writes most of it for him. He also gives Will most of the groundwork for the main conflict of “Romeo & Juliet”, plus the name Juliet. In the play, it’s completely different from the not-so-good-natured playwright rivalry of the movie. Instead, the play shows them as pretty much BFFs, with Marlowe being the brains of the operation and Will being brilliant only when inspired by love. Marlowe’s death is that much sadder, and I loved their boyish friendship. But I didn’t like how the entire first act made Will sort of a buffoon. It is very easy and effective to show writer’s block as the movie did – somewhat subtly and realistically. It doesn’t need to be over the top. Who doesn’t know what writer’s block is! It’s unnecessary to show writer’s block by having the writer seem stupid. Now that’s just offensive to all writers. I did, however, really like the actor playing Marlowe, and I am glad they made the part so much bigger and meatier for the play for his sake, so let’s call it a draw.
The rest of Shakespeare’s acting troupe included a mustachioed yet winning pirate with long greasy hair playing the Ben Affleck role, a young pretty-faced boy who plays the girl parts while he can, and a tailor given the prologue whose stutter we’re supposed to laugh at?? In the film, the stutterer was someone you rooted for and cheered with when he conquered it with performing. But in the show, it felt more like the stutter was on display for the audience to ridicule. Not a good change. Please, if you see this or any other show ever, you’re probably a douche if you laugh at disability on display.
Queen Elizabeth, the role Judi Dench won an Oscar for despite only having like 4 lines and being onscreen for a shorter time than it takes me to tie my shoes, is played more humorous than regal here, which is somewhat off-putting. I don’t know Lizzie the I like I know Lizzie the II, but I’m pretty sure neither of them would be humorous in front of the general public. In front of family and friends, sure, but not in front of poor people. This Queen was written, directed, and acted just a little too familiarly. I want my queens bitchy, stern, and formal, thanks.
My favorite minor character I didn’t even realize was my favorite until the program verified it afterwards. Paul Chahidi, who was the glorious maid in Twelfth Night on Broadway last season (with Mark Rylance, originally at the Globe), played the Geoffrey Rush producer part of Henslowe. Paul Chahidi is superb and I want to see him as the humorous sidekick in pretty much every single play, even those without humorous sidekicks. Rush gave the movie its major memorable line, as he said at various points, to explain how things sort of work themselves out, “It’s a mystery!” and it was adorable, and we liked it, and we loved it. Chahidi’s Henslowe says it once early on and I smiled…but then in Act Two, he started saying it more and more. In the final 20 minutes, I think he said it 4 times. That is too many. That’s the writer’s fault, not Chahidi’s (Paul’s likeability is what saves us from groaning) but that’s something that should have been caught. That overuse and the 9 times we have to listen to Sonnet #18 should have been addressed by editors.
Regardless of these quibbles, the play is overall enjoyable and should make you laugh and cry and laugh and cry some more if you are not a robot. They really should have taken the opportunity to make this a musical and try to elevate it above and beyond the movie, rather than aiming to equal it, but I’ll leave that development to future artists. The story is strong enough without music, I guess. Will and Viola fall in love, Will is totally inspired and writes the genius “Romeo & Juliet” (it’s genius, even if you’re still sick of it from middle school), and Viola has to follow the queen’s and her father’s orders and marry Wessex. This oh this was also much worse than the movie. Wessex is a total shit in both, just a horrible awful man, but at least in the movie he looked like Colin Firth so you didn’t feel toooo badly for Viola. Here he’s just a normal so it’s real sad. Also, her father (whom I don’t think we see in the movie) is an even worse shit. So at least she gets away from him. The maid, the best part of the movie because it’s Imelda Stanton, is just okay here. She kind of milks her “It is a new day!” line to get laughs from the audience when really it should only be the set-up for Viola’s “It is a new world” reply, which is instead tossed aside.
Tom Bateman as Will works unbelievably hard, so hard that the sweat literally pours off of him throughout the show. His hair was soaking wet the entire time, even at stage door. I was like, “I don’t know how you are going to do a second show tonight” and he said “I don’t know either!” which is funny and self-deprecating but then he lit a cigarette and I was like, oh so you want to struggle to keep up, I get it.
So, anyway, no matter how you felt about the movie, this show is worth seeing. It’s not perfect, and like 99% of shows (/movies/television/books/anything), I wish I was able to edit it before it was considered set and finished, but alas, it has a few flaws. Luckily, these flaws won’t keep you from enjoying the show, and at least in the case of Viola’s uncharacteristically husky voice, some of them will help you enjoy it more. Okay now I’m done making fun.
Anyway, yes, so the story is indeed centered on Viola’s voice, or what she does with it: act. She is a noble lady promised to marry a truly awful man named Wessex, but she just wants to be an actor, especially in Shakespeare’s plays, because she has an enormous literary crush on him and yearns for her life to be filled with poetry, as all young girls do. Fortunately for her, she’s actually a superb actor. Viola calls up all her courage and auditions for a new play disguised as a man, meeting the bard himself during her ‘amazing’ audition. This is when I started to roll my eyes a little. At this point, Will Shakespeare is super down in the dumps, dirty-haired, shirt-unbuttoned, totally out of sorts and depressed that he’ll never be able to find a star for his new play “Romeo and Ethel the Pirate’s Daughter”. We see awful no good actor after awful no good actor butcher auditions as Will sinks deeper. But then Viola, disguised as Thomas Kent, enters and begins her monologue from “Two Gentlemen of Verona”, and it’s supposed to rouse Will from the darkness, give him hope in his play, and make him fall in a sort of awe-inspired love. But…but…but…her voice! I didn’t believe that the anti-smoking ad that Viola seemed to make out of “What light be light if Sylvia be not seen” would have changed Will’s life so. Well, but it did, so I’ll stop mocking the poor girl’s voice. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fantastic actress; I just didn’t get her for this part where the purity and beauty of the voice is so important! The best is in the famous canoe scene, when Will is describing to ‘Thomas’ his feelings for Viola, and she’s like “tell me about her beauty; what’s her hair like?” and Will’s like “long and blonde so nice” and Viola’s like “and her lips” and Will’s like “erma, such lips” and then Viola’s like “and her voice?” and I cackled.
Anywayyyyy, so Will’s like erma p. gerd, I found my Romeo, and at about the same time, he sees the undisguised Viola at a ball he crashed, and is like, erma p., I found my muse and my love because I loves me some long blonde hair and influenza-ridden smoker voice. I’m sorry now I’m done. So Will Shakespeare, this beyond brilliant best playwright of all time, OF ALL TIME, doesn’t realize that they’re the same person even though all his plays feature gender-bending disguises. I guess all those plot-twists come after this point in time, inspired by Viola. Cute.
Oh besides the voice, the craziest change from the movie is how stupid Will seems before he meets Viola/Thomas. The play starts with him trying to write Sonnet #18, “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day”, with the whole company watching. It’s kind of funny, how he can’t finish the first line, but then it gets tiresome when we hear the sonnet for the 9th time in one act. Also, Christopher Marlowe helps him write it, or really writes most of it for him. He also gives Will most of the groundwork for the main conflict of “Romeo & Juliet”, plus the name Juliet. In the play, it’s completely different from the not-so-good-natured playwright rivalry of the movie. Instead, the play shows them as pretty much BFFs, with Marlowe being the brains of the operation and Will being brilliant only when inspired by love. Marlowe’s death is that much sadder, and I loved their boyish friendship. But I didn’t like how the entire first act made Will sort of a buffoon. It is very easy and effective to show writer’s block as the movie did – somewhat subtly and realistically. It doesn’t need to be over the top. Who doesn’t know what writer’s block is! It’s unnecessary to show writer’s block by having the writer seem stupid. Now that’s just offensive to all writers. I did, however, really like the actor playing Marlowe, and I am glad they made the part so much bigger and meatier for the play for his sake, so let’s call it a draw.
The rest of Shakespeare’s acting troupe included a mustachioed yet winning pirate with long greasy hair playing the Ben Affleck role, a young pretty-faced boy who plays the girl parts while he can, and a tailor given the prologue whose stutter we’re supposed to laugh at?? In the film, the stutterer was someone you rooted for and cheered with when he conquered it with performing. But in the show, it felt more like the stutter was on display for the audience to ridicule. Not a good change. Please, if you see this or any other show ever, you’re probably a douche if you laugh at disability on display.
Queen Elizabeth, the role Judi Dench won an Oscar for despite only having like 4 lines and being onscreen for a shorter time than it takes me to tie my shoes, is played more humorous than regal here, which is somewhat off-putting. I don’t know Lizzie the I like I know Lizzie the II, but I’m pretty sure neither of them would be humorous in front of the general public. In front of family and friends, sure, but not in front of poor people. This Queen was written, directed, and acted just a little too familiarly. I want my queens bitchy, stern, and formal, thanks.
My favorite minor character I didn’t even realize was my favorite until the program verified it afterwards. Paul Chahidi, who was the glorious maid in Twelfth Night on Broadway last season (with Mark Rylance, originally at the Globe), played the Geoffrey Rush producer part of Henslowe. Paul Chahidi is superb and I want to see him as the humorous sidekick in pretty much every single play, even those without humorous sidekicks. Rush gave the movie its major memorable line, as he said at various points, to explain how things sort of work themselves out, “It’s a mystery!” and it was adorable, and we liked it, and we loved it. Chahidi’s Henslowe says it once early on and I smiled…but then in Act Two, he started saying it more and more. In the final 20 minutes, I think he said it 4 times. That is too many. That’s the writer’s fault, not Chahidi’s (Paul’s likeability is what saves us from groaning) but that’s something that should have been caught. That overuse and the 9 times we have to listen to Sonnet #18 should have been addressed by editors.
Regardless of these quibbles, the play is overall enjoyable and should make you laugh and cry and laugh and cry some more if you are not a robot. They really should have taken the opportunity to make this a musical and try to elevate it above and beyond the movie, rather than aiming to equal it, but I’ll leave that development to future artists. The story is strong enough without music, I guess. Will and Viola fall in love, Will is totally inspired and writes the genius “Romeo & Juliet” (it’s genius, even if you’re still sick of it from middle school), and Viola has to follow the queen’s and her father’s orders and marry Wessex. This oh this was also much worse than the movie. Wessex is a total shit in both, just a horrible awful man, but at least in the movie he looked like Colin Firth so you didn’t feel toooo badly for Viola. Here he’s just a normal so it’s real sad. Also, her father (whom I don’t think we see in the movie) is an even worse shit. So at least she gets away from him. The maid, the best part of the movie because it’s Imelda Stanton, is just okay here. She kind of milks her “It is a new day!” line to get laughs from the audience when really it should only be the set-up for Viola’s “It is a new world” reply, which is instead tossed aside.
Tom Bateman as Will works unbelievably hard, so hard that the sweat literally pours off of him throughout the show. His hair was soaking wet the entire time, even at stage door. I was like, “I don’t know how you are going to do a second show tonight” and he said “I don’t know either!” which is funny and self-deprecating but then he lit a cigarette and I was like, oh so you want to struggle to keep up, I get it.
So, anyway, no matter how you felt about the movie, this show is worth seeing. It’s not perfect, and like 99% of shows (/movies/television/books/anything), I wish I was able to edit it before it was considered set and finished, but alas, it has a few flaws. Luckily, these flaws won’t keep you from enjoying the show, and at least in the case of Viola’s uncharacteristically husky voice, some of them will help you enjoy it more. Okay now I’m done making fun.
