and great at yelling “Macbeth!” and only Macbeth in a
Scottish accent. The weird sisters, aka witches (Robin
Goodrin Nordli, Miriam A. Laube and Erica Sullivan), play
a larger role on the stage than in the text; their presence is an
earthy, ethereal one. And praises to the Porter (Rex Young)
for interrupting this downer with some snarky dick jokes.
The costumes (Chrisi Karvonides-Dushenko), though
stunning, are a bit of a mismatch, like something the
witches conjured in a bathtub. Hecate (Michele Mais),
backlit by flames, is the moonlit incarnation of the Heat
Miser or The Little Mermaid's Ursula — a stunning scene
on a cloudless night. Lady Macbeth also sports some pretty
fierce digs. But the men alternate between Victorianesque
suits, modern leather jackets, ripped jeans, guerilla warfare
garb and Black Panther berets — and I think I spotted a
kilt in there.
From the lighting and set design (Christopher Acebo),
which is dark, sinister and raw, to the movement and
frenetic energy between the players on stage, most
everything you’d want is there. If you happen to read the
director’s note, however, you might notice a bit of a hit-
and-miss premise.
Director Valenzuela, in an effort to make Shakespeare
more modern, claims Macbeth’s motivations and ultimately
his self-destruction are driven by his fear of the “other.”
Now it’s true that most of Macbeth’s counterparts are
played by either people of color — or, in the case of Fleance
(Will Wilhelm), gay — but their “otherness” compared to
Macbeth’s own heteronormative, white privilege seems to
be of unimportance, as it should be.
Sure, we live and have lived in times in which the
“other” is feared, and with great consequences, but it’s a
hard sell on the stage. We never see Macbeth as fearing the
“other,” but rather fearing anyone who might undermine
his power, especially anyone who might be considered
an heir to the throne, because he himself cannot father
children.
I suppose I don’t quite understand the necessity to
reinvent Macbeth’s motivation. Power, deceit, love,
murder, insanity — these are universal and ageless truths
of human affairs, the very reason there is and always will
be an annual Shakespeare festival.
Human beings are power-hungry shit-bags sometimes.
Period.
Introductions follow at a funeral. There’s the Countess
of Rossillion (Vilma Silva), who is grieving the loss of
her husband; her highborn jackass son, Bertram (Daisuke
Tsuji); and Helen (Royer Bockus), the quirky, punk-rock
admirer of said jackass son, all reminding us that the heart
wants what it wants.
All’s Well has been dubbed one of Shakespeare’s
problematic plays, but that’s only because literary scholars
can’t bring themselves to use the word “dramedy.” It’s
smart, it’s ugly, it’s funny, it’s — wait a minute, is that…?
“We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder…”
At the end of the opening scene, Bockus flips her pink
hair and belts out the words we were all hoping for, with
Pat Benatar reminding us that all is well. Mostly.
It’s still a messy story. Girl loves boy, boy prefers
running away to war and a lot of terrible decisions are
made in the name of desire.
All in all, director Tracy Young delivers the most
modern of the Elizabethan plays in OSF’s current rotation.
Bockus is painfully familiar as the lovesick misfit (who
hasn’t marveled at the eyebrows of their beloved?). The
Clown (K.T. Vogt) is a saucy lesbian snacking on Cheetos.
The newly healed King of France (Kevin Kenerly) busts
a move to “Uptown Funk,” and the ladies of Florence
(Lauren Modica, Brooke Ishibashi and Jessica Ko) are a
finger-snapping comic trio.
With the production simultaneously set in the 1600s
and present day (interesting choice), costume designer
Alex Jaeger plays with the old and the new — a favorite
pastime of Shakespeare himself. T-shirts, hoodies,
overalls and baseball caps are countered with Elizabethan
accordion collars and puffy pants. Though the oversized
heart-shaped and gold-plated crotch ornament sported by
the rude and then redeemed Parolles (Al Espinosa) is a
bit excessive.
Spring is in the air, and everything is all really French!
Tiffany blue fixtures and bold floral patterns are the focus of
the set design by Mariana Sanchez. The Italian landscape is
shadowy and dark. A large orange tent reaches the highest
tier, providing shelter for the soldiers in green — it’s a little
Vietnam-like. Why do most war scenes, no matter the time
or place, resemble Vietnam?
One source of contention is in the focus itself. All’s
Well is full of deeply flawed characters, none more so
than Helen, and yet she is the undisputed hero in OSF’s
production. Granted, she is repeatedly rejected, and abused
by Bertram and Parolles. Helen’s refusal to take Bertram’s
“no” for what it is leads her to do awful things, but she’s
never held accountable, whereas we have no problem
hating on the men.
Helen’s rise to cunning and cool in both Bockus’s
endearing portrayal and Young’s choice to flip the ending—
a recognized surprise — push the problem over the edge.
The audience has no choice but to cheer on Helen as she
carefully kisses Bertram on the eye.
It’s fun, but I have my doubts if there is enough Pat
Benatar for that level of sympathy.
Young is most successful by simply playing on what is
already there. The characters are inherently relatable. Give
Helen a diary and Misfits T-shirt and I’m looking at my
own experience with rejection. You can make the clown
a lesbian, the soldier a woman, the son a fuck boy. All of
that works just fine. But you can’t claim it’s not a fairy tale
and then give the audience a nice, pink haired bow. The
mile long walk back to the hotel is ample time for you to
question your devotions.
Macbeth
All's Well
That Ends Well
T H R O U G H O C T. 13
I N T H E E L I Z A B E T H A N T H E AT R E
The opening scene of Shakespeare’s All’s Well that
Ends Well features a familiar stop-start synthesized beat.
A procession of mournful characters files in through
prayerful rhythm. Is that Pat Benatar? But the music ends
without any words, and the wind lets out of our collective
sails.
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