Weekly Margin 2026, W23: Julius Caesar, Becoming Hamlet

 6/03/26: Julius Caesar

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.

6/04/26: Becoming Hamlet

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.

Weekly Margin 2019, W24: Improvised Shakespeare, Othello[s], Fairview

6/10/19: Improvised Shakespeare
What: A troupe of five players improvise a ninety-minute play in iambic pentameter (ish), based on a suggestion from the audience, using familiar Shakespeare tropes, style, and structure.
And? A delightfully silly romp through Athens in "The Philosopher's Revenge."

6/14/19: Othello[s]
What: Shakespeare Forum's centerpiece of its annual El Barrio's Shakespeare Festival, a re-examination and deconstruction of the tragedy in a variety of iterations and perspectives (Roderigo, Desdemona, Iago/Emilia, and finally Othello himself), with the performers switching roles for each iteration.
And? I know this phrasing isn't terribly helpful to outsiders, but I love how forum the last several Forum productions have been: leaning in to the unique qualities of individual performers to inform the characters portrayed, rather than trying to slot bodies into predetermined personality slots. It yields such heartbreaking honesty, such  simple and clear work, and surprising new relationships. Of especial note here were the different colors visible in Iago, depending on whose lens he appeared in: the Alpha friend to Roderigo, bossy and athletic and confident; the kind if somewhat snarky ally to Desdemona, his duplicity never revealed; the man in the midst of a crisis, unsure of what is true or if everything is true, to himself (I had issues with this iteration, compelling as it was, with whether it is actually Othello; the other three were still Othello, if that makes sense); and the Puck-ish sidekick whose treachery is only at the last revealed, to Othello. I love the first half of this production (Roderigo and Desdemona) and had some issues with the second half, but I also knew that the Iago section had to break the pattern somehow, and was pleased that it did, and did it so thoroughly. Some final quick highlights: Ari Dalbert's heartbreakingly confused Roderigo meeting his death, and Antonio Disla's brash and charismatic Iago delivering his death blow, then leaving him to die alone; Kia Nicole Boyer was honestly my favorite Desdemona I've seen (she also made a good Othello in a later cycle), and I loved the honest love between her and Amara James Aja's Othello; Tyler Moss's precision and active presence as a performer: he's the kind of living actor we all want to be, reacting in the moment to the moment, alive and honest; a small moment containing a world of story: Sara Malinowski's Desdemona in the final cycle, approaching the curtained bedchamber, hesitating, just a moment, as if remember the devastation within those four posters in a previous life.

Kia Nicole Boyer and Sara Malinowski as Desdemona and Emilia in the
Desdemona cycle. Photo by Allison Stock.

Best Of ... 18 for 2018

2018's spring continued the trend of 2017's autumn, with rather a dearth of content, and a lot of disappointment along the way. I'm sad to say that it wasn't nearly as difficult to whittle down my list to a "best of" this year as it has been in years past (I mean, there was still whittling ... but it was less torturous). I also saw fewer shows this year than my record of last year: 118 unique shows, with six repeats at 124 shows total. 

The cast of Head Over Heels. Photo by Joan Marcus.

This year I also did something new to help me track my theater-going, as anyone who reads this blog knows: with my Weekly Margin digest, I made a concerted effort to document at least my first impressions of every show as I saw it, with the idea that it would make drafting this final post a bit more, well, digestible. This year's post is going to be more economic in fill as a result, with the idea that I have already said a deal of what I thought the first time around. 

So now that I've managed all our expectations, I will say that, as always, there were still extraordinary things to be seen, productions that reminded me why I love live theater so much, stories that thrilled me, performers who blew me away. So let's get to it.

Weekly Margin 2018, W23: El Barrio Shakespeare Festival: Lear, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead

The Shakespeare Forum, which I've written about several times, achieved this year a long-held dream of its Artistic Director and Co-Founder, Tyler Moss: the El Barrio Shakespeare Festival running from May 31st to June 16th. The festival is framed around Forum's production of Lear, but also includes student presentations, special classes and workshops, and more. It's ambitious and impressive, and represents the many facets of what Forum does and wants to do.

My participation in this festival was sadly (but joyfully) limited to two events: Seeing Lear and performing in an encore presentation of our all-female staged reading of Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (with some of the players shuffled around).

6/07/18: Lear
What: King Lear, aging and (unbeknownst) slipping into dementia, divides his kingdom among his daughters, seeking a sort of royal retirement. Sabotage, subterfuge, and disguises, along with the ever-quickening disintegration of Lear's mind, lead to wrack and ruin for nearly everyone touched by Lear. Under Sybille Bruun-Moss's direction, the role of Lear is shared across the entire cast.
And? I've always been a big fan of form and content conversing in a meaningful way, and this is especially true when a production has a "gimmick" of some sort (think: Deaf West's Spring Awakening, where the inability of the adults to communicate clearly with the children is mirrored against the Deaf and the hearing communities' similar difficulties). The splintering of the role of Lear among all the players here is not only a reinforcement of one of the tenets of Forum (you're not barred from playing any role in the canon, and the most important thing you can bring to that role is your own unique self), but a visceral exploration of what it means to have dementia - how changeable and unpredictable your personality can be. So we can have Denny Desmarais's heartbreakingly lost Lear asking audience members if he is Lear, Antonio Disla's furiously hurt Lear, railing at his daughters for knocking his legs out from under him, Melody Lam's joyfully childlike Lear attentively listening to the ramblings of Poor Tom, and Adam Goodman and Alenka Kraigher's despondent and bitterly laughing Lears when finally reunited with the banished Cordelia. All these disparate parts culminate in a gutting coup de theatre that is simultaneously shocking and inevitable.

I will say that sometimes this device, which is indicated in the program, but not made immediately explicit in the production, does result in some lack of clarity, particularly in the first half of the play (some of the cutting down to a two-hour run time also contributes to confusion). However, I still found myself profoundly moved by this production and this cast, staged with casual grace by Bruun-Moss (and assistant director Gwenevere Sisco). And I haven't even mentioned Tyler Moss's witty and unforgiving Fool, Frankie DiCiaccio's delicate Cordelia, or Harry Waller's insecure Regan yet. But there's not a weak link in this cast, and it's yet another particularly Forum production which I am grateful to have witnessed.

6/10/18: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead
What: Tom Stoppard's debut play, about two minor characters from Hamlet trying desperately to make sense of the scraps of plot they're given, while flipping coins which always seem to come up heads. We presented a staged reading of this about two years ago, and were asked by Forum to bring it back for an encore presentation in their Festival, with a few shuffled players in the parts.
And? This is one of my favorite plays, and Guildenstern is one of my favorite parts I've gotten to play. This second go around was an interesting variation on the first, with some added stressors and anxieties, but came with an amazing group of women that I am so lucky to have worked with. On a personal level, I particularly appreciated how, with Erin Keskeny's Rosencrantz as opposed to Kelly Zekas's, I couldn't let myself fall into the patterns of the first time; as Rosencrantz has changed, so too must Guildenstern. The performance, like last time, was once again thrilling and joyous, and I was so moved to be surrounded by such a supportive audience. I have so much admiration for the five women I performed with, and it was an honor to share the space with them, to see them be amazing.

Erin Keskeny and Zelda Knapp as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Photo by Zelda Knapp.

Margin Notes: Titus

Titus

Antonio Disla, Whitney Egbert, Fahim Hamid, Denny
Desmarais, and Andrew Barrett. Photo by
Lauren Eliot Photography.

Seen on: Saturday, 6/17/17.
My grade: A-

Plot and Background

The program alerts the audience that this production, performed by eight actors sharing all the roles, follows its source material, Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, loosely. It is instead a one-hour exploration and examination of humanity, specifically the plight of refugees and the endless cycle of vengeance to which humanity is too often prone. Titus, recently victorious against the Goths in battle, ignites the cycle by executing Tamora's oldest son. Blood will have blood, as Billy Shakes said, and by the end of the play all sons have been murdered, and few people are left standing. The Shakespeare Forum presents Titus after an extended period of exploration dating back to last autumn, and as a continuation of the process they began with its Henry V of 2015, to examine why and how they tell stories.

Disclosure, and 
What I Knew Beforehand

I have been attending The Shakespeare Forum's open workshops since 2009, recently served on its Advisory Board, and I've blogged about - and reviewed - Forum and some of its past productions. As for Titus, this was actually my second hour-long production of it I've seen, and I've seen the Julie Taymor film, though beyond that I wasn't overly familiar with the particularities of the text.

Thoughts:

The performance begins with a pre-show (one normally performed outside, but due to the rain, was conducted indoors at my performance) of a chorus of women singing "Pie Jesu" over six shrouded corpses. This sets a contemplative, elegiac mood for the audience - we're not coming in at the start of a bloodbath, but after there has already been substantial life lost. So when Tamora pleads with Titus not to kill her son, too, we feel the weight of that plea. That weight is carried equally by the cast, who rotate in and out of all the roles, sometimes mid-line - so all are murderers bent on revenge, all are victims, wronged and mutilated. The violence and cruelty escalate, from cold execution to torture and mutilation, from rape and trickery to cannibalism and slaughter. As the dominoes fall faster, the play suddenly spirals and once again Tamora begs Titus for clemency - and we hold. Can the cycle be broken? Not easily, says this production. Not easily, but it is possible, if we can but remind ourselves what is important about our time here on earth. It's not the message I expected, frankly, especially in our current climate, where each military or diplomatic misstep seems to presage the next world war. But it is a message very much in keeping with what has been a primary tenet of The Shakespeare Forum since its inception: "Love is the strongest choice." Love, not despair. Not an inevitable and inescapable path to destruction. We can break the cycle.

Not everything in this experimentation works. The sharing of roles across the eight actors is unevenly conveyed - sometimes it's clear when a character has shifted performers, but sometimes it's not clear until a minute or so into a scene, when names are spoken, or when my imperfect memory of the story informs me who this must be. Perhaps that's part of the intention, that it doesn't matter who's speaking the lines, that nearly every character is bent on vengeance, and so differentiation is less of a priority - the motif of scheming savagery is more important than clarity of narrative. But I can't help but seek a story to follow, and some of this confusion took away from my total immersion in the moment.

However, there is one very striking scene where the sharing among the cast takes on a hypnotic power: all eight actors share Titus's soliloquy where he crafts his final revenge upon Tamora, and they are not in accord. In a Pirandellian nod, the group's unity shatters for the first time in the performance, as seven of them must convince the eighth to get past his despair and his exhaustion, to screw his courage to the sticking place, commit to their plan, and return to the script. This, then, is Titus's second chance to say "no more," and his second failure to do so.

When Titus misses his third chance, inciting a hyperspeed distillation of the slaughter of the past hour, there is, finally, a palpable release when - on Tamora's third plea for mercy - the players choose, at last, love. Singing first singly, then together, they reaffirm love as the most important legacy - both hearkening back to the elegy which began the show, and looking forward to what we will leave behind.

15 for '15 - My Top Theatrical Experiences This Year

Daniel N. Durant as Moritz in Deaf West's Spring Awakening.
Photo by Kevin Parry.

We don't need no stinkin' rules! Especially not rules that limit me to choosing only 10 shows for 2015. That's just cruel and unusual punishment. And, as I'm not an accredited journalist, and this is my house, we're doing 15 for 15 this year.

I'm quite proud to report that my attendance bumped up from last year - I saw 130 shows in 2015, and when we remove the repeats, it comes out to 121 unique shows - only one fewer than I saw in 2013, and 24 up from last year. It's been an odd mix this year - some truly extraordinary theater, including the groundbreaking work by Broadway's biggest nerd, Lin-Manuel Miranda - but the Fall season on Broadway, at least in terms of straight plays, was oddly disappointing. However, Off-Broadway picked up the slack, there's still plenty of good work to remember from this past Spring, and loads to anticipate for 2016.

So let's get started. (and before anyone calls the dogs out on any shows I omitted, the list started at 32 for the year, which I then had to painstakingly cull down to its present length)

Honorable Mention: I can't officially include Hedwig and the Angry Inch on this list, since the production made my '14 list last year, but if I didn't include John Cameron Mitchell's incredible performance in the role he created, I'd be doing a disservice to all of us. I saw him only after his injury early in his run, but even hobbled as he was by multiple knee braces, his Hedwig was a terrifying and heartbreaking force of nature. The role (and the show) transformed under his care, running a good twenty minutes longer from all the riffing and adlibbing. This was Hedwig as I knew her from before - bitingly cruel one moment, sweet and loving the next. A deeply-bedded river of bitterness ran through her, even as she valiantly soldiered on, crutch tucked under her arm. And oh god, the moment JCM opened his mouth in the first song, sounding just like he did twenty years earlier, I started to cry. (I feel it would be remiss if I did not also mention the fact that my friend Marissa received the infamous car wash treatment when we attended together - without a doubt, an unforgettable evening).

Hamlet's Sterile Promontory

Do you hear, let them be well used; for
they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the

time - Hamlet

Review of The Shakespeare Forum's Hamlet, at Theater for the New City, June 21-July 1. It would be disingenuous of me not to say, at the outset, that not only am I acquainted with most of the members of this production, but that I call many of them friends. However, I am in earnest when I say I think that only slightly influences my objectivity.

Tyler Moss and Pat Dwyer
 as Hamlet and Ghost

A young man stands center stage and looks calmly out at us. He smiles and says nothing. He is quietly satisfied with himself, with us, with the world. His friend approaches, a folded letter in his hand. As Hamlet silently reads the letter, we see his mother and his uncle, behind him and in another space, reading the same letter. The young man falls to the floor, a wretch in silent agony and shock. His world has ended. The play has begun.

My Hamlet can beat up your Hamlet

I go to a weekly workshop in downtown Manhattan called The Shakespeare Forum. It's a group that formed about two years ago, as an open arena for actors or Shakespeare-nerds of all shapes and sizes to come and play. Every Tuesday night actors stand up in front of their peers and show work - a scene or a monologue - and receive feedback - mediated by its creators, Tyler Moss and Sybille Bruun, as well as resident artists - from everyone watching. Afterwards everyone goes out to a bar.

It's an incredibly generous, supportive atmosphere, frankly more so than my very expensive undergrad conservatory training (not to rain on that parade, oh parents-who-paid-for-this-education-and-also-read-my-blog - I don't regret that training and I learned a lot, but we all know I spent a lot of time being unhappy). These are genuinely good smart people.

More importantly, they're good smart teachers.