Displaying items by tag: Beth Wolf

The true story behind Lauren Gunderson’s “The Book of Will” is compelling—the efforts of actors John Heminges (Jared Dennis) and Henry Condell (Ben Veatch), Shakespeare’s colleagues—to compile and publish a definitive collection of the Bard's works in the years soon after his death in 1616. This they did over the course of four years until it arrived in 1623, and Gunderson uses a comedic form to render the story and characters involved in the effort. 

Comedy keeps the story energized, staving off the dreariness of what might have been a docudrama. And the Promethean Theatre Ensemble cast directed by Beth Wolf delivers top notch performances. Brendan Hutt in the role of Richard Burbage, the actor who originated many of Shakespeare’s most famous roles, gives real Shakespearean heft to his performance. Hutt also plays William Jaggard, a publisher who produces the definitive First Folio (several after producing a less accurate version) with 36 of Shakespeare’s plays, 18 of them published for the first time. These included "The Tempest," "The Taming of the Shrew," "Macbeth" and "Julius Caesar," an unimaginable tragedy had these been lost.

Gunderson’s script opens with Heminges and Condell (and the audience) witnessing a performance of “Hamlet” so badly rendered as to lose the playwright’s intent. We see “To Be or Not To Be,” Hamlet’s famous soliloquy  (delivered by Jesús Barajas playing beautifully, stunningly wrong), the delivery even more butchered due to a distorted script, perhaps recorded from another actor’s faltering memory. It’s like watching as someone belts out a song all off key.

Galvanized by this horror, the two determined they would gather up all the most original copies of Shakespeare’s masterpieces and publish them in a book, before they were lost. Some of Shakespeare’s works were published while he was alive, but others were relegated to the haphazard storage of working theaters, marked up scripts found at playhouses even today. 

Jonathan Perkins

All this is factually true, as is so much of the play. That Gunderson often leans toward almost jarring contemporary vernacular and a comedic approach may make us question whether this can all be the real story, but indeed it is, in details large and small. Most of the cast performed multiple roles, for example Jonathan Perkins in the role of a compositor at the printer and three other characters. Perkins was arresting in the quality of his performance.

“Book of Will,” to my mind, is a flawed thing. While Gunderson has the greatest intention in celebrating Shakespeare, there is very little of his work delivered. The play is based on the reasonable presumption that the audience loves Shakespeare—who else would be drawn to the heroic tale of the publication of his works? But it doesn’t present enough of it to remind us why, to stir our emotions for a moment with the real art of the celebrated subject.

Brendan Hutt convincingly offers some solid Shakespearean delivery in the role of Richard Burbage, the actor who originated many of the playwright’s most famous roles, delivers promising and skillful recitations of bits of Shakespeare. But the snippets offered us by Gunderson are too brief, and not gripping. Even worse are a couple scenes where “quotable quotes” from Shakespeare are offered, sometimes in multiple languages to reinforce his universality—but it comes off as an artfully executed but nonetheless bad “tribute” to the playwright. 

One lost opportunity arises after Heminges’ wife Rebecca (Ann Sheridan Smith in an exceptional performance) passes away (I didn’t see that coming) at the beginning of Act II. Rebecca has been his rock during the four year effort to secure rights and overcome financial hurdles to publish the plays. Inconsolable, Heminges seeks solace in the theater, spending sleepless nights there reciting monologs from Shakespeare’s plays, he tells us. Could not the playwright have let Heminges deliver us even one of these, an apt monologue voiced with the passion of his grief?

In short, this is a play about people who love Shakespeare, but he isn’t tapped for what he might bring to the party. I thought James Lewis turned in a remarkable performance as Ben Johnson, Shakespeare’s rival and critic, who wrote a dedicatory poem for the First Folio. Lewis gave me the one moment I felt touched at the level of emotion that Shakespeare evokes in his works. This comes as the begrudging Ben Johnson delivers the opening lines of his dedicatory poem for the First Folio. 

Nevertheless, “The Book of Will” tells an important story of the epic accomplishment of two devotees of Shakespeare, and one well worth hearing and seeing. Even as the web lulls us into believing that all knowledge and information is permanently and universally accessible, in fact we are seeing in present days the disappearance of content  the “Book of Will” reminds us anew of the evanescence and fragility of the written word, and the commitment required to maintain and preserve it. "The Book of Will" runs through October 25, 2025 at The Den Theatre on Milwaukee Ave. in Chicago. 

CYMBELINE? CYMBELINE?? I’d not even heard of Shakespeare’s CYMBELINE. Wikipedia admits it’s “one of Shakespeare’s lesser-know plays”. There’s a great deal of speculation on the whys and wherefores of its obscurity but now I know the answer: CYMBELINE has remained largely unknown because it hadn’t yet been played by Midsommer Flight.

There’s debate over CYMBELINE’s genre – tragedy? comedy? romance? – but Midsommer Flight’s Director (and founder) Beth Wolf is absolutely certain: CYMBELINE is a comedy, and a hilarious one! While staying true to the original script, she has directed the (superb) actors to make it incredibly funny by via expressions, postures, and gestures.

The storyline is as simple and convoluted as all The Bard’s plays. King Cymbeline (Barry Irving) lost his sons Arvirargus (Juliet Kang Huneke) and Guiderius (Logan UhiwaiO’Alohamailani Rasmussen), kidnapped in infancy and raised by Belarius (Jessica Goforth). Cymbeline is therefore determined to get a true-born prince by marrying his daughter Imogen (Ashley Graham) to dreadful prince Cloten (John Drea), royal son of his Queen (Talia Langman). Imogen, however, has fallen in love with and secretly married a commoner who was orphaned at birth and therefore named Posthumous (Keenan Odenkirk) [and they wonder if this is a comedy??]. King Cymbeline learns of the nuptials and banishes Posthumous to Italy, leaving Imogen to fend off the loathsome advances of nasty little Prince Cloten.

Meanwhile, the evil Queen plots to murder both Imogen and Cymbeline using a deadly poison concocted by Doctor Cornelius (Jillian Leff), But Cornelius, no stoopnagel, suspects funny business (the wrong kind) and hands over a harmless sleeping draft. The Queen passes the potion to Imogen & Posthumus’ loving servant Pisanio (Bradley Halverson), telling her it’s a medicine.

In Italy Posthumous meets Iachimo (Shane Novoa Rhoades), a dodgy sort of bloke with whom the gullible (not to say rather thick) Posthumous makes a most imprudent wager: Iachimo bets that he can seduce Posthumous’ wife Imogen snicker-snatch (erm … sorry, snicker-snack). Imogen retains her virtue, but Macho Man Iachimo can’t accept being trounced (Italian, remember?), and presents false evidence of her capitulation to Posthumous.

When Pisiano (the faithful servant who everyone confides in} tells Imogen of Iachimo’s treachery the irate young princess determines to find Posthumous and set the record straight. Imogen shows herself smarter than her boo by dressing as a boy for safer travel. She christens her trans self Fidele, for faithful.

Etcetera, etcetera, and so forth. I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to disclose that, after various sophistry, skullduggery, knavery and chicanery, everyone is reunited, reinstated, and restored. All the bad guys are foiled, and a happy ending is had by all – all the good guys, any road.

Typical Shakespeare, yeah?

Jillian Leff as Doctor Cornelius in Midsommer Flight's 'Cymbeline'.

What’s not so typical is Midsommer Flight’s management of this gallimaufry.

This is the third year I’ve reviewed a Midsommer Flight production and I’ve been consistently impressed, but CYMBELINE was more than impressive – it was truly awesome.

Founded in 2012, it is Midsommer Flight’s mission to bring quality, accessible performances of Shakespeare to Chicago communities. Accessible is key here: too many people don’t bother to even try understanding Shakespeare’s vexatious language and convoluted plots. Midsummer Flight makes this intimidating material accessible at several levels: financially by offering all performances for free, culturally by casting diverse artists, textually by working with actors to bring iambic pentameter into comprehensible language, geographically by touring to different areas of the city, and physically by performing in public spaces – specifically, Chicago Parks. I saw CYMBELINE last weekend, July 14, in Gross Park. Each weekend they’ll perform Friday and Saturday night in a different park: Kelvyn Park at Logan Square, Nichols in Hyde Park, Lincoln Park, and Touhy in Rogers Park. Check Midsommer Flight’s website for details.

The performance is prefaced by the actors briefly outlining the plot to orient the audience to the play’s action; this Cliff’s Notes intro was really helpful. Midsummer Flight also offers musical diversion from a troupe of five minstrels (Jessica Goforth, Bradley Halverson, Juliet Kang Hunecke, Jillian Leff, Andi Muriel, and Aloha Rasmussen); there are also a few a capella songs, all composed and directed by Jack Morsovillo.

Scenic and Props Designer Jeremiah Barr manages the problems of an outdoor setting by wisely choosing Less is More. The sets, after all, will travel to several different open-air stages, so he keeps them starkly uncluttered. Likewise, Costume Designer Rachel M Sypniewski makes simple cloaks and mantles that can be donned in a tent, yet vividly distinguish the characters.

CYMBELINE, like all Shakespeare’s plays, includes quite a bit of intimacy and fighting (though the beheading occurs offstage), deftly directed by Maureen Yasko, Jillian Leff, and Chris Smith. Stage Manager Hazel Marie Flowers-McCabe, with assistant Ayla Sweet, keep the proceedings vigorous and vivacious without degenerating into pandemonium.

Special kudos to Text Coach Meredith Ernst! As I said earlier, making iambic pentameter comprehensible is a major problem with Shakespeare, but in CYMBELINE I heard and understood virtually every word. And congratulations, of course, to Director Beth Wolf and Assistant Christina Casano, who transformed an undistinguished and ambiguous play into a thoroughly successful comedy.

The actors, of course. They made innuendos and improper phrases irresistibly funny, using facial expressions, posture, gesture, and all the other tricks in an actor’s toolbox. A special shout-out is due to Jillian Leff, who made the stodgy Doctor thoroughly waggish. It takes a gifted actor to have the audience howling through her report from of the Queen’s deathbed.

Bradley Halverson’s Pisanio was also prime. Shakespeare doesn’t usually give much stage time to menial characters, but Pisiano was a key role, juggling allegiances from all-powerful King and Queen to beloved Imogen and Posthumous. 

My absolute favorite was John Drea as the ghastly prince Cloten. His comedic gestures hovered perilously close to slapstick – jumping up and down and shaking his fists like a tantruming toddler – but he remained safely high camp without descending into pratfall – hysterically funny but never Three Stooges.

Comedy was amplified by the actors often playing directly to the audience, winking to bring us in on a joke or making us complicit with an aside. This can be difficult to manage without breaking character or disrupting flow, but this cast pulled it off without a bobble – good work, Casting Director Karissa Murrell Myers!

Well, that’s about it for my review. In short: CYMBELINE by Midsommer Flight is absolutely marvelous – see it!! It’s playing through August at various Chicago Parks – find the one you want to visit and bring lawn chairs and a picnic, like at Ravinia.

But wait just a tic: in these perilous times I needs must append some commentary.

As MAGA condemns drag shows and bans books, they would do well to wipe the shelves of Shakespeare, for his plays are rife with gender fluidity. At the Globe all female parts were, of course, played by cross-dressing males, who enacted romance and desire with the other male actors – men kissing men right there on the stage OMG! Gender-swapping characters, like Imogen/Fidele in Cymbeline, are key in As You Like It, Merry Wives of Windsor, The Merchant of Venice, and of course Twelfth Night. Gender is also critically explored in tragedies like Hamlet and Othello, and Lady Macbeth’s dominance over her husband is totally discordant with societal expectation. Her cry, “Unsex me!” hints that Shakespeare found much amiss in Elizabethan society's dictum of “the natural order”.

Same-sex romance is acceptable in Shakespeare as well. In Twelfth Night, Duke Orsini falls in love with the young man Cesario, but is undismayed when ‘he’ is revealed as Viola (though he continues to refer to her as ‘boy’ during his proposal). Boy, girl … whatever, he wants it. His wife Olivia also falls for Cesario, largely because she admires ‘his’ feminine ways, and when she marries Viola’s twin Sebastian (believing him to be Cesario/Viola), he assures her that, like ’Cesario’, he is ‘both maid and man’.

The Buggery Act of 1530 made sodomy a capital offense and punishable by death, defining the rigid expectations of heterosexuality. Still, 17^th century England saw many examples of same-sex relationships: King James I and King William III, for example, each had several male lovers. We can assume that what went on in the King’s chambers was also happening in less august beds. After all, gender fluidity was a cornerstone of the Elizabethan rule. In her oration to the troops gathered to fight the Spanish Armada Elizabeth says, “I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England ....” Good ol’ Liz. I’ve always liked her.

In high school I was fascinated with Henry VIII and his desperate attempts to wring a healthy boy from his pox-ridden testicles. Then his daughter, the child he disowned and condemned (not to mention orphaned) goes on to become one of England’s most revered sovereigns. Take that Henry, you misogynistic, mistaken, misanthropic, myopic, misguided monomaniacal monarch! I’ve always loved that by the time he got to his sixth wife Henry was actually henpecked – though his brain was tapioca by then; he may not even have noticed.

But I digress.

SEE CYMBELINE!! Even if … especially if you don’t like Shakespeare.