Shylock is a Jew. A bad Jew, perhaps, but a Jew nonetheless. This is something that is known by virtually every theatergoer on the planet except, apparently, Ike Schambelan, whose new production of The Merchant of Venice presents us with a decidedly assimilated moneylender. Never mind that this leads to some awkward textual inconsistencies—Shylock complains to Antonio, “[You] spit upon my Jewish gabardine” (he wears a suit) and, “[You] void your rheum upon my beard” (he face is clean shaven)—instead, let us focus on the fact that Shylock, before anything else, is a stubborn, loyal and orthodox member of his tribe, one whose final humiliation is conversion to Christianity. But Nicholas Viselli, who plays the role, is dressed like a Wall Street executive; his conversion as well as his insistence on receiving his bond is meaningless without his dedication to the Jewish commandments. (#69: Men must not shave their beards with a razor.) Fortune has elected him a representative of his people, a defender of their presence in Italy—he demands his pound of flesh for personal as well as collective revenge, to win a victory for the Jews. But in an outfit no different from his fellow Venetians, he’s just a jerk with a grudge. Continue reading “A Gentile Shylock”
The relationship between Magic Johnson and Larry Bird goes back over three decades. It is, I am told, a touching story of friendship and rivalry, though one would never know that from Eric Simonson’s new play, Magic/Bird, an inexplicable, excruciating disaster of a production. Continue reading “From the NBA to Broadway”
Being Shakespeare is a strange piece, less a play than a lecture with lighting. For a little under two hours, Simon Cowell gives us a skeletal account of Shakespeare’s life, interspersing its major events with historical background and some of the Bard’s more famous scenes; really, it is a chance for him to play Lear and Hamlet and even Juliet, a collection of greatest hits, like Hugh Jackman on Broadway for the literary crowd.
When we walk into the theater, there is man playing saloon music on a piano. A woman passes out bags of peanuts, and Christopher Sly (Matthew Cowles), an old, drunken bum who has been tricked into thinking he is an aristocrat, loudly comments on the action of the play, so much so that the actors occasionally “break character” to quiet him down. It is a gleefully lowbrow take on the opening of Olivier’s Henry V, but instead of framing it within a performance at the Globe Theater, director Arin Arbus has placed her Taming of the Shrew in the American West. Though she never makes it clear why she has done this, it works nonetheless. The biggest complaint about Shrew is its supposed sexism, and by drawing more attention to the fact that it is a play within a play—by continually reminding us that we are watching actors playing actors playing parts—Ms. Arbus forces us to look closer at the irony in Shakespeare’s writing and not accept the taming at face value.
Harold Pinter said, “There are two silences. One when no word is spoken. The other when … a torrent of language is being employed. This speech is speaking of a language locked beneath it.” Nina Raine has taken this sentiment to heart in her new play Tribes, which centers on the ferocious, suffocating love between a pair of brothers, Billy (Russell Harvard), who is deaf, and Daniel (Will Brill), a schizophrenic who has more and more trouble drowning out the voices in his head. The family is rounded out by their father Christopher (Jeff Perry), an acerbic professor-turned-critic and their mother Beth (Mare Winningham), a woman who writes genre fiction in a house full of genuine and pseudo-intellectuals—even their sister Ruth (Gayle Rankin) has an ostensibly creative career (she sings opera in English).
It is 1942 and in Poland, Jews are marching into the gas chambers. But in Yonkers, they are ostensibly dealing with family problems. When Eddie (Dominic Comperatore) finds himself terribly in debt after the death of his wife, he drops his two sons Arty (Russell Posner) and Jay (Matthew Gumley) off with their uncompromising German grandmother (Cynthia Harris). They are joined by Aunt Bella (Finnerty Steeves), a thirty-five-year-old child and Uncle Louie (Alec Beard), a low-level gangster who acts like he heads Murder, Inc.
Declan Donnellan has directed theater, opera, ballet, and film, all of which come into play in his dynamic revival of John Ford’s ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, a wonderful production that has been choreographed and timed down to the last second. By making the appropriate cuts to the original text, he has streamlined the play so that it focuses only on its central relationship, the love affair between Giovanni (Jack Gordon) and his sister Annabella (Lydia Wilson); it is a Romeo and Juliet in which “the problem is no longer that the lovers are from different families, the problem is now that they’re from the same one.”