Anaïs Koivisto’s Something Wicked, produced by the Everyday Inferno Theatre Company as part of this year’s Frigid New York Festival, consists almost entirely of original lines from Shakespeare‘s Macbeth, cropped and re-arranged in deconstructed collage form to explore, in a very modern way, the character and motivations of its notorious anti-heroine, Lady Macbeth. Academically of course, rivers of ink and storms of hot air have already been unleashed in this cause, so Koivisto’s contribution, for all its formal expressiveness and vibrancy, can only hope to stand some ground in an already crowded field. The alignment of character with fate is at the core of classical conceptions of tragedy but, however undeniably effective it is in art, it rankles with contemporary notions of personality development and redemption. Every generation has to find something of worth in the cultural inheritance of the previous in order to sustain an interest. Perhaps this is why the great villains of literature and history continue to demand our attention; we need to understand in a contemporary light what precisely made them tick.

Something Wicked commences at the instance of Lady Macbeth’s death. In the original play this momentous act occurs off stage and is merely a matter of report passed along to an already besieged and desperate Macbeth. Whatever the unsettling impact this unseen demise works on the imagination, for Koivisto it is an unsatisfactory way of finishing with the Lady. And so the action commences from this point and revolves entirely around the character, as she wakes to find herself in some otherworld, visited by the three Weird Sisters, who encircle her like tormenting Furies, recounting her deeds and conjuring scenes from her past. A weakened, bewildered soul, she observes her former steely self, black-eyed with murderous ambition, bloodthirsty in her speech, relentless in her provocation of her husband, and seems appalled. The original character’s abrupt shift from extreme ruthlessness to guilt-laden mental collapse is one of those undying academic topics of debate, but here Koivisto is unabashedly attempting to recast her in a more sympathetic light.

For the purpose the author has devised an ingenious re-ordering of the original lines, recited in over-lapping, echoing delivery by actors representing both the primary figures in the action, and the Lady herself  (there are up to three separate Lady Macbeths on stage at any given time). Dark as it is, Macbeth is arguably one the Bard’s most linguistically rich poetic concoctions and Koivisto’s ear is sensitive to the meter and the music as she arranges one speech followed or over-taken by another. Music and movement seem close to the heart of this production. There is a sense that Koivisto, directing as well as adapting, is getting her actors’ movements to echo the rhythm of the line delivery, as if they are engaged in a formal dance of some complexity. This could be worked on to tighten up composition and co-ordination, but on a blank stage, with just rudimentary flat backdrops, it is a wonderful thing to watch when it flows.

A rich sense of theatricality is at play and Koivisto employs a bold pallet of effects. At one instant of heated drama the scene suddenly shifts from the Macbeth story to present four seated academic types all intoning opposing notions of just why Lady Macbeth behaves the way she does. It is a welcome eruption of  comedy in an otherwise charged account, and the actors don’t miss a beat in the transition. Musical performances too are used to temper proceedings, but whilst they have a lyrical appeal, and one serves to present us with the strange sight of the thane and his wife engaged in a tango, they could be enfolded more smoothly into the action to prevent a drop in pace. The musicianship feels rather basic. In contrast to the production’s formal boldness, the visual style is minimal, but might have benefitted from a fresher approach. The preponderant insistence on black and red feels well worn, if not traditional. The actors are all on point and sound conversant with the Shakespearean language, but there are some moments of under projection, even in such a small auditorium.

“What’s done cannot be undone” is one of the lines frequently repeated here. It seems peculiarly relevant for Koivisto, as to whether she can successfully reveal a new part of her doomed, age old subject. She certainly succeeds in enhancing the tragic aura surrounding the Lady, and if tragedy, finally, is that which can ennoble humanity, then that’s saying much in regard to a figure most usually condemned to being one of theatre’s most notorious villainesses. Villainesses of course have always proven fascinating, and this original experiment in theatre proves no less so.

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Something Wicked
Company: Anais Koivisto & Everyday Inferno Theatre Co.
Directed by: Anais Koivisto

Remaining Performance:
Feb 25, 8:40PM
Mar 01, 2:05PM
Mar 08, 8:25PM

Click HERE for tickets

Running time: 1 h 0 min
Price: $14.00 – $16.00
Seating: General Admission

The Kraine Theater
85 E. 4th Street
New York , New York 10003
2nd and 3rd Ave

Horse Trade Theater Group will present the 8th Annual FRIGID New York Festival at The Kraine Theater (85 East 4^th Street between 2^nd Avenue and Bowery) and UNDER St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place between 1^st Avenue and Avenue A) February 19-March 9. Tickets are available for purchase in advance at www.FRIGIDnewyork.info or by calling 212-868-4444212-868-4444. 

Related Posts:

• Something Wicked: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2014 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Macbeth, Aquila Theatre; Macbeth, Epic Theatre Ensemble
• Romeo And Juliet, Empirical Rogue Productions
• The Bardy Bunch: The War Of The Families Partridge And Brady (Fringe Festival 2011)
• Punk Grandpa: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2016 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)

The first thing you can’t fail to notice upon entering the performance space for Empirical Rogue‘s production of Romeo and Juliet, is the spectacular environment chashama have provided for the company. Formerly a taxi service garage on Jackson Avenue, LIC, the space retains the character of its previous functionalism, but the translation of the environment for its theatrical purpose is all but awe inspiring. This is immersive theatre space at its most captivating. Three very simple arrangements of double rowed seats place the audience right at the edge of the action. Behind them floor to ceiling drapes of canvas enclose the space and focus attention on one corner of the performance area, where a raised office hutch serves as the play’s famous balcony setting. The raw cinder block walls are spectrally painted with fading murals and decorative effects that describe location and contribute atmosphere almost slyly – “Verona” the largest declares boldly, like some pageant-styled vermouth advertisement of the Forties. A raw building scaffold sits easily in the space, spotlights glow in constellation behind canvas walls, and a wide grill metal gate recalls you to the actuality of the location. Before the drama has begun you want to take your hat off to production designer, Dante Olivia Smith, muralist, Adam Fujita, and producer/director, Tim Eliot.  This is one of the most intelligent and graceful set designs I have come across.

Susannah Hoffman and Doug Chapman.

And very happily, all of its cleverness and lightness of touch is nimbly echoed in the performance that follows of Shakespeare’s most famous story of  the tragic, young, star-crossed lovers. Eliot has honed down the play to use just four actors, each necessarily playing several roles. The choreographing of characters to scenes requires rapid-fire role changes, asking both performers and audience to stay alert and keep their wits in order to follow the action. Rudimentary costume changes are effected in seconds behind the scenes, and on this first night of performance all ran effectively as actors disappeared through narrow gaps in the scenery to emerge moments later in alternate character from another partition. Timing is precise and impressive. Having the same actors portray different genders and different generations is engrossing to watch, but also throws into relief contrasts in the story’s culturally imposed roles and restrictions. Jacob Martin takes both the role of the impassioned and reckless Romeo, as well as that of the socially constrained and conservative Lady Capulet, Juliet’s mother. All of the actors can be commended on the stamina which they bring to bear in sustaining the charged atmosphere, and it is a special note of success that I found myself, while watching the four actors in scene together, expectant of the arrival of yet another. The sense that another character was waiting in the wings was proof of the effectiveness of the illusion they were working so hard to create.

This is a physical production and swordplay (Shad Ramsey) is vigorous and convincing. Creating the sense of a factional melee can be understandably difficult with just four, sometimes three, actors at a time. Eliot’s direction is equal to the challenge and he gives us a delightful note of chaotic confrontation at one point, when a van pulls up outside the garage, headlights blazing, the gate rolls noisily upward, and sword-wielding actors rush in. The illusions of a masqued ball and of populated public space are similarly creatively suggested with a minimum of effects and participants.

If there is a villain in the production then it is undoubtedly the acoustics in this raw space. Intimate exchanges between characters can get lost and, as there is much active space in use, the same may be said when actors are turned away from the audience. As Romeo, Martin projects the most effectively, conjuring youthful vitality and a character who is touchingly over-taken by new passions and the will to be an honorable man. There were moments though when I wished he would modulate his delivery more; not everything the young lover says is an exclamation. Susannah Hoffman as Juliet gets it right, marrying the charge to the lines. This is a full throttle performance with great range, taking us from girlish excitement all the way to womanly anguish. Her Mercutio is equally impressive, startling even as she projects a complex braggart and hot head who seems to be masking a woundedness at Romeo’s attentions towards women. Sarah Baskin gets great play out of the Nurse, driven by sympathy to imprudence, she is all attentiveness and want of wisdom. To Doug Chapman fall the less meaty roles of Benvolio and Friar Laurence, well-intentioned voices of temperance, and he dithers and agonizes leanly. As an ensemble these actors come together most effectively and in moments of pitch, the language and acting engender a white hot intensity that melts your sense of time and place, all the poise and cleverness, any need of a suspension of disbelief. It’s powerful.

Fine touches abound. Live music is featured in the form of Becca Bernard, a solo cellist, sitting all-but-not-quite out of sight behind wooden pallets in one corner. The wardrobe (Summer Lee Jack) is a hybrid of contemporary wear and historical costume notes, lithely at play with a notion of dress-up and realism. In a similar vein, features of the scene-setting mural decoration archly confess to their own artificiality, their recently applied theatricality. But there is a lyricism amidst this self-consciousness. In the one instance when the space is plunged into complete darkness, a small, plastic night light that has been glowing unnoticed throughout the action, becomes the sole point of light. Keen-eyed observers might note it is a figure of the Virgin, the mother of all sorrows, herself a complex symbol of themes that underscore the drama. Utterly thoughtful, innovative, bold and tempered, Empirical Rogue and Tim Eliot have produced a memorable version of this much played Shakespearean favorite, itself the mother of all tragic romances. All one can say is Bravo! Bravo!

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Related Posts:

• Something Wicked (2014 Frigid New York Festival)
• The Bardy Bunch – Keep On Singing And Dancing All Through The Night
• Petunia And Chicken (2014 Frigid New York Festival)
• Something Wicked: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2014 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Macbeth, Aquila Theatre; Macbeth, Epic Theatre Ensemble

New York City is host to two concurrently running productions of Shakespeare’s Macbeth this Spring: Aquila Theatre‘s presentation at the Gym at Judson (April 18th – May 6th), and Epic Theatre Ensemble‘s interpretation at the 47th Street Theatre (April 20 – May 26th). A stable of many a theatrical company’s portfolio, apart from its matchless, vivid language, Macbeth as drama has much to attract aspiring ensembles, not least the challenge presented in portraying two of Shakespeare’s most unsympathetic lead roles. We watch as Macbeth and his wife are enticed into evil by the lure of power and then, as good stage villains, are punished for their crimes. The trick, however, is in making them into more than stage villains, for in that resides the case for tragedy and its capacity to ennoble human existence. It is a tricky bit of the equation as both of these productions can testify.

Aquila Theatre is devoted to the classics of western theatre, in restating their claim to preeminence as timeless pieces, triumphs of human artistry and culture. As such they tend toward language focused productions that are light on the use of contemporary stagecraft elaborations. For their Macbeth Desiree Sanchez wears both directorial and production designer hats. She is spare in her approach. A minimum of props are deployed in the expansive and lofty space  Judson’s Gym theatre offers. There is an economy and subtlety at work in the way she groups the action about the squared arena. An innovative, momentary introductory prelude scene which highlights a blood-soaked, battle worn Macbeth in one corner, and a bereft Lady Macbeth on bloodied bed sheets following unsuccessful labor in the opposite corner, acts as a startling, punched signature of this director’s suggestion for the fatal couple’s motivations. The Macbeths are traumatized people, destabilized, estranged, in search of a project into which they can pour themselves, erase the past, and reunite. This prelude dispatched in an instant, there is little other tinkering with the body of the play and all unfolds to order.

The performances are vigorous, emotive, well spoken and, most importantly, psychologically grounded. If you have an ear for Shakespeare this is a wonderful production to hear his words delivered eloquently and with conviction. Rebecca Reaney as Lady Mabeth is nuanced and bold, spectacularly benefiting from Peter Meineck‘s well-judged lighting, which is at once lavishly theatrical and self-disciplined. Guy Oliver-Watts, working to uncover an aspect of post traumatic stress disorder in the role of Macbeth, has a more complex part. He is thoroughly convincing, but in so doing projects a weakened, dependent quality in the man who would be king and, strangely, this deflates the character somewhat, puncturing the fullness of the play’s tragic reach. He is doing well what he has been directed to do but herein lies the rub, and a very fine rub it is for the measure of what might be deemed tragic theatre. The rest of the cast are for the most part assured in their roles, with Peter F. Gardiner, (Banquo), James Lavender (Macduff), and Rachel Barrington (Lady Macduff) especially commendable.

Coincidentally the notion that the Macbeths, and especially Lady Macbeth, are grieving former parents, is made central in Epic Theatre’s version of the play. This idea is evident in the presence on stage of a small shrine with a framed photograph of a toddler, to which Lady Macbeth touchingly returns for some of her scenes. Also, it is manifest in the large projected photo image of the Macbeths, tenderly converging about a drowsy infant, which is thrown up on the broken surface of the rear wall. This projection is relentless, hanging like a grey cloud above the proceedings, at once lugubrious and sentimental. Interpretation, with a capital I, is the strategy of this production. Set in a more contemporary world, we are treated to off-stage electronic voices in ear pieces, and a video screen displaying action elsewhere. The Weird Sisters are a heterogeneous mix of sexes and ethnicities, and hang about the stage throughout the action on overhead ladders and walkways, like jaded demi-gods, stonily unmoved by the unfolding drama below. Innovation appears one of director Ron Russell‘s chief concerns with his production. In the banquet scene where a guilty Macbeth is plagued with visions of the murdered Banquo, the bloodied apparition is suddenly encountered in a dance embrace by the newly crowned king. This shift works dramatically, as do some of the other re-imaginings. Richard Easton as Duncan, hailing from the video monitor, is a treat as a telegenic royal talking head, at once hammy and calculating. However, a growing awareness dawns as it becomes plain that Russell as director, engaged with innovation it seems for innovation’s sake, completely loses the plot in the finest sense. This might have been more immediately evident if I had read the production’s publicity notes which describe the play as “a brutal and darkly funny exploration of the banality of evil.” Really? Macbeth? Funny? If the line had been offered by Mel Brooks I might have taken closer note, but otherwise it seems merely, but utterly, wrong-headed. And how wrong-headed becomes dismayingly clear in due course as Russell stokes up moments of sour humor (one of the witches sings her lines in a borrowed tutu as a karaoke turn) and rubbishes any solemnity. It’s as if the idea of theatrical tragedy is unknown to him. The most damaging turn occurs amidst some rapid fire scene shifts toward the conclusion which require one actor to change swiftly between two characters. This is done on stage by the actor (James Wallert) taping and un-taping a fringe of hair to his brow to distinguish between roles. In the duration a cry is heard off stage. Jumping from left to right, Wallert, fringed one moment, un-fringed the next, delivers the news of Lady Macbeth’s death. It is, richly, a Mel Brooks moment, and there was more than one chuckle in the audience.

Can Russell actually hear the language Shakespeare is putting in his characters’ mouths? The evidence is scarce and the actors suffer from the inability to sound as if they mean their words. Who is to blame them if the director has no feeling for the real emotion of the play? Apart from Easton in the role of Duncan, and Julian Rozzell, Jr. (with presence to burn) as one of the witches, everyone seems merely focused on unburdening themselves as rapidly and succinctly as possible of their Shakespearean metre. Russell is not the director who can marry them to their lines. As Macbeth, Ty Jones actually commences the soliloquy – “Is this a dagger I see before me?” – with his back to the audience. No chance here for an actor to convey facially the extremity of the moment. Russell, it seems, is not interested in psychological subtleties (witness the never-changing backdrop projection) merely the chance of creating something different. Well sad to say, something different definitely this way comes, but you’ll be lucky if the pricking you feel is confined to your thumbs.

Related Posts:

• Something Wicked (2014 Frigid New York Festival)
• The Bardy Bunch – Keep On Singing And Dancing All Through The Night
• Something Wicked: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2014 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare, Bama Theatre Company (Fringe Festival 2012)
• Pulp Shakespeare – The Bard Would Be Proud (Fringe Festival 2012)

Because Frigid slots are limited to 60 minutes some shows have needed to trim their original running time.  Cutting down some of the material can sometimes break a beautifully crafted piece, as you just can’t fit it all in. Not so for Emleigh Wolf who has been bringing The Terrible Manpain of Umberto MacDougal to various audiences on numerous occasions over the last few years, often in small 5-20 minutes sketches at open mics and other venues.  At its current Frigid run at UNDER St. Marks, Wolf really shines as these short skits are able to be united and lengthened.  While always humorous, putting Umberto in a full narrative with a beginning, a middle, and a triumphant end makes The Terrible Manpain of Umberto MacDougal something that I think we can all identify with by the conclusion of the performance.

The performance starts with an introduction as to what manpain actually is: (click here for a previous look at Umberto explaining this truth here) :

“Well, manpain is the pain that men feel.  Not just any pain but the true emotional depths of a man’s soul. While society may want to frown on it, I assure you, it is one of the more critical topics you will encounter.  I hope tonight, to help all the men here, cast off this idea of their unmentionable sentiments and emnbrace the feelings beneath the harsh exterior they’ve been branded with.”

We are then introduced to Umberto’s guitarist, Mike Hamilton, (played by Mike Ogletree)  and begin the process of hearing one story after another outlining how Umberto has gained the gifts to deal with his manpain so effectively that he can help us with ours.  Besides just being a “melancholy guitarist playing a sorrowful tune”, his accompanying guitarist (Mike Ogletree) really does a great acting job as well.  His character is inserted into different parts of the stories being told and interjects just enough to keep the dramatic tension building, and the plot progressing throughout.

Instead of Umberto simply being a character who is parading his troubles, he has trouble with that parade and it becomes overwhelming to him at times, adding a greater dimension to the work as a whole. Umberto talks of his father abandoning him at birth, of the “rental pony” that died at his one and only birthday party, and of his early rejections in love.  There was also the lack of success at many things along the way – except for his endeavors in chronicling his manpain (carefully excerpted sections of his journal are then read).

All seems to be a downer, one that drips manpain onto us so thoroughly that even as we laugh, we cry.  Then comes the first turning point in the story.  One Christmas Umberto, while staying home for Christmas evening alone (his unfortunate usual lot in life)  heard a singing, and a wailing in the street, and then the sounds of cops shouting, ready to pull a fellow sufferer of manpain off to jail.  This motivates Umberto to dash out to the street, to care for his fellow traveler along life’s dusty and tear-drenched highway, and to help this man fully express his manpain for the first time.  Together they cried and talked until the sun rose the next morning.  This gave him a friend and ally, Mike Hamilton, who encouraged Umberto to share his gift of understanding manpain to all the world.  And so began Umberto’s move away from isolation and toward the present day where we see him now telling his stories, sadly, but sadly in a charismatic way.  We are enthralled and want to hear more.

And the more we hear, the more the interaction between Umberto and Mike becomes intense.  More and more painful moments are brought up and the audience becomes invested and concerned as Umberto turns less serene in his moroseness, more desperate, confronting the truths he has yet to deal with.

Eventually the stories move to a climax, where Umberto looks like he might be willing to put all of his manpain behind him.  It looks like it could all begin to turn around finally, and then…

Well if I told you, I’d spoil the ending for you and rob you of the chance to see the great work that Emleigh Wolf and Mike Ogletree have put together, a capstone on the little journey that Umberto has been making at all the venues in the last few years, which the directing of Bricken Sparacino has helped to move to such a satisfying conclusion.

Well maybe I could give you the end but not the context, because Umberto would want to help us all find some better ways to handle our manpain:

“And now, my new friends, you’ve heard my whole story
The heartache, the torment, and even the glory
For every last man, there’s a pain deep inside
But how you handle that pain is for you to decide
You can allow it to keep you in a prison of woe
Or you can use it to help your inner self grow
Our despair has brought us the ultimate gain
And in that lies the essence of true manpain.
Well, manpain is the pain that men feel.
Not just any pain but the true emotional depths of a man’s soul.”

 

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The 2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL will run February 22-March 4 at The Kraine Theater & The Red Room (85 East 4th Street between 2nd Ave and Bowery) and UNDER St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place between 1st Ave and Ave A). Tickets to all shows may be purchased online at www.FRIGIDnewyork.info or by calling Smarttix at 212-868-4444.

Related Posts:

• The Terrible Manpain Of Umberto MacDougal: 5 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Death: It Happens – Still Daddy’s Girl (2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Following The Path Of Yoga
• Tina And Amy: Last Night In Paradise (2014 Frigid New York Festival)
• LOL:The End – Beginning And End (2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)