What: Smith Street Stage presents Shakespeare's play about politics, intrigue, and the slaying of Julius Caesar.
And? I was excited to see this one, as I've been meaning to get out to Brooklyn to see a show from Smith Street Stage for a while now (the co-founder is someone I went to both high school and college with). Smith Street does an excellent job of embracing its surroundings: they perform in Carroll Park, with children playing around and behind, traffic passing, and the sun slowly setting as the story continues. Indeed, for this play in particular, what begins in the seeming broad light of day -- a self-righteous plot to assassinate a ruler feared to be despotic -- descends slowly into the gloom of evening as political maneuvering and violence take hold. With the falling light comes illumination from stage lights, a refusal to let these deeds sink into darkness. I know this happens with any evening outdoor theater (heck, we see it at the Delacorte every summer), but it is especially effective with this narrative. The company tells the story well, without ornamentation or self-indulgence. Louis Butelli's Caesar is affable and diffident and surprisingly frail when not wearing his power suit. Amara James Aja's Brutus has a quiet power and dominating presence that draws the attention whenever he is onstage. His foil, Bryce Foley's Antony, has a different power, almost catlike in his spatial awareness, physicality, and strategizing. Though clearly dismissed by the senators as someone with no political power, he demonstrates first in his funerial speech and later in his battle prowess that he is not a man to be easily overpowered or outwitted. Katie Wilmmorth's Cassius is earnest and sharp, the full polish of someone who knows how to play the political game, but knows less how to win a war fought on the ground. Jonathan Minton manages to make his comparatively smaller character, Casca, highly memorable with his dry delivery and confidence demeanor.
What: The Shakespeare Forum continues its investigation of the fracturing of Shakespeare protagonists into parts, to see what different aspects emerge, having explored this theme in their past productions of Lear, Titus, and Othello[s]. In those productions the roles were shared across the company; in this workshop the role of Hamlet is shared among the audience, the Facilitators, and by the actor playing Hamlet. In this way the audience is encourage to bring their own selves and experiences to the role and the story. The rest of the roles do not rotate among performers, as in past Forum explorations.
And? I really like the concept behind the experiment they're conducting here, and they lay out the format and boundaries early on, including asking audience members individually if they are comfortable participating in this way. The experiment is most effective if you fully buy in: not knowing when they might be called upon to repeat one of Hamlet's lines to dilate the moment, or even exchange dialogue with another character, the audience must choose to be actively present rather than quietly passive. In this way, I was emotionally invested in each moment, with less of the analytical lens I usually wear to theatrical experiences. Hamlet's words become our words. Claudius's smiling condescension to Hamlet is irksome, the sight of Hamlet's dead father is heartbreaking, and the revelation of Ophelia's death is devastating. The intimate and earnest portrayals by the ensemble equally reenforce this personal experience: these are real people who love us (or don't). So when they had me speak Hamlet's confrontation with Laertes at Ophelia's grave, I was already crying at the sight of her, dead and lost forever.
One of the larger challenges with this sort of experiment is the question of pace and rhythm. These challenges can be massaged with further work (again, this is a workshop, not a full production), but as it currently stands there is often air between lines of dialogue -- or even amid soliloquies where an audience member trades lines with the actor playing Hamlet -- which dissolve the immediacy of the moment, as well as break up thoughts into disconnected phrases. A challenge, too, is the balance Damon Horowitz (who co-directs with Sybille Bruun as well as physically embodying Hamlet onstage) must strike between performing the role and functioning -- as the program indicates -- as our Hamlet Guide. His performance then feels more like teacher than character, a curious void among so much feeling. It's especially hard if the audience member speaking meets him on that level, rather than attempting to engage with the line as their own individual self. This is why the buy-in helps: hear the words, speak the words, see the other characters, and take this personal journey. But it's an unusual sort of vulnerability to bring to a show, and not everyone is comfortable doing that. Perhaps that ready comfort was easier for me because of how well I know the text, as well as how much love I have for my memories of Forum and for its founders Tyler Moss and Sybille Bruun, who both perform in this as well.
