In an innovative, tradition-defying rethinking of one of the greatest comedies in the English language, Morristown Community Players director Kevin Hiles announced Monday his bold intention to set his theater's production of William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice in 16th-century Venice.Read the rest here.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
"Unconventional Director Sets Shakespeare Play In Time, Place Shakespeare Intended"
This Onion article is not to be missed.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Arts Education: How Shakespeare Theatre and the Folger Are Getting It Right
On Twitter this week, Shakespeare Theatre asked its followers what they thought of Anne Midgette's recent Washington Post piece on arts education. I was going to respond on Twitter, but realized I had more than 140 characters' worth of thoughts.
Arts education is a big interest of mine. I've been an opera fanatic since the age of 11 (no, really, I'm serious), and I consider it a personal mission to get other young people interested in the arts. Myplot plan to get my nieces and nephew (six, four, and two) hooked on opera is proceeding nicely. So I was very interested to read Anne Midgette's article.
The article left me with mixed feelings. It was encouraging to read about the renewed interest in and emphasis on arts education. But I came away from the piece somewhat concerned about the quality of that education.
Consider this description of a school visit by Yo Yo Ma and Damian Woetzel:
The main emphasis here also seemed to be on the children, rather than on the art. Now, arts education should absolutely be "hands on," of course. I'm not suggesting children should just sit and listen (I fondly remember dancing at home to The Magic Flute as a child in my own fusion of ballet and interpretive dance). But the focus should be on fostering the children's entry into something bigger than themselves, not using art as a background for talking about one's own uniqueness. Getting the children to pretend to be animals as they are treated to a performance of Carnival of the Animals? Well, I can see that fostering a long-term connection with the music. Using a world-class cellist as background noise? Not so much.
While I think the focus of the visit should have been mainly on Woetzel and Ma performing and interacting with and teaching the students, I like the idea of the students' performing something in return. But I wanted to groan when I read that they performed Michael Jackson's "Thriller." I like pop (some of it, that is), but again, what is this doing as part of an arts education curriculum? Schools don't need to teach kids about pop music or popular culture -- kids learn that themselves. Schools need to teach kids about high culture -- art, theatre, classical music, opera, dance. Kids don't have a pop culture deficiency; they do have a high culture deficiency. And "Thriller" is not going to create kids who will fill the concert houses and opera halls of tomorrow.
Midgette notes that "Some arts organizations will have to confront the fact that their audiences are declining because of an irrevocable shift in the culture, rather than simply a lack of education." While I partially agree with that statement -- I think the high arts are valued less by the culture than they once were, which can't help but have an effect -- I don't think that "irrevocable shift" necessarily has to be irrevocable. At the very least, I don't think audience decline has to be irrevocable. (Maybe that's the blind optimism of youth talking, but I hope not.)
Too often today the assumption is that some great art is just too difficult, too inaccessible for children (witness "translations" of Shakespeare -- shudder!). But I think people are selling kids short. Kids aren't dumb. Of course you can't teach a child a Shakespeare play or an opera the way you would teach it to a highschooler or to an adult, but you can teach it to them.
I think there are two D.C. groups who really demonstrate this in their education programs: Shakespeare Theatre and the Folger Theatre. Instead of assuming that Shakespeare's language is too difficult for children, his plays too complex, both groups assume that kids are capable of being wooed by his language and enthralled by his characters. Then they focus on giving the kids the tools they need to engage with the work. That's the approach all arts education should be taking. There is no category of great art that can't be accessed by kids if they're given the tools to engage with it.
It's encouraging to see that, as Midgette's piece reports, arts education is becoming a priority. But the article made me realize that getting arts education into schools is just a part of the battle. If kids aren't being exposed to and given the tools they need to connect to great art, then arts education isn't going to do much to fill the theatres, concert halls, and opera houses of tomorrow.
Arts education is a big interest of mine. I've been an opera fanatic since the age of 11 (no, really, I'm serious), and I consider it a personal mission to get other young people interested in the arts. My
The article left me with mixed feelings. It was encouraging to read about the renewed interest in and emphasis on arts education. But I came away from the piece somewhat concerned about the quality of that education.
Consider this description of a school visit by Yo Yo Ma and Damian Woetzel:
Ma finally begins playing his cello — with the Savoy kids, not for them. Together with Damian Woetzel, the ballet-dancer-turned-arts-activist, he follows a template they have used in other schools: Four chosen kids declaim things that make them unique, while Ma plays cello riffs under and between the words."Four chosen kids declaim things that make them unique, while Ma plays cello riffs under and between the words." That's just silly. What on earth does that have to do with teaching kids about the arts? Midgette continues:
Ma himself represents several interests: providing a role model for the children, a sign of community, national concern for a struggling school and a way for WPAS to show its involvement. But he also represents, in this classroom, a rather vague definition of “art,” and it’s hard to tell exactly what this performance adds up to. (emphasis mine)It is hard to tell. Presumably the goal of arts education is to expose kids to art with the hope of cultivating in them an attachment to the arts. But to do that, you have to expose them to actual art. Ma playing cello riffs is only arts exposure in the most tangential sense. While he did go on to eventually play a very brief piece by Saint-Saëns, just three or so minutes of classical music seems a bit of a waste of a visit from one of the most talented cellists in the world.
The main emphasis here also seemed to be on the children, rather than on the art. Now, arts education should absolutely be "hands on," of course. I'm not suggesting children should just sit and listen (I fondly remember dancing at home to The Magic Flute as a child in my own fusion of ballet and interpretive dance). But the focus should be on fostering the children's entry into something bigger than themselves, not using art as a background for talking about one's own uniqueness. Getting the children to pretend to be animals as they are treated to a performance of Carnival of the Animals? Well, I can see that fostering a long-term connection with the music. Using a world-class cellist as background noise? Not so much.
While I think the focus of the visit should have been mainly on Woetzel and Ma performing and interacting with and teaching the students, I like the idea of the students' performing something in return. But I wanted to groan when I read that they performed Michael Jackson's "Thriller." I like pop (some of it, that is), but again, what is this doing as part of an arts education curriculum? Schools don't need to teach kids about pop music or popular culture -- kids learn that themselves. Schools need to teach kids about high culture -- art, theatre, classical music, opera, dance. Kids don't have a pop culture deficiency; they do have a high culture deficiency. And "Thriller" is not going to create kids who will fill the concert houses and opera halls of tomorrow.
Midgette notes that "Some arts organizations will have to confront the fact that their audiences are declining because of an irrevocable shift in the culture, rather than simply a lack of education." While I partially agree with that statement -- I think the high arts are valued less by the culture than they once were, which can't help but have an effect -- I don't think that "irrevocable shift" necessarily has to be irrevocable. At the very least, I don't think audience decline has to be irrevocable. (Maybe that's the blind optimism of youth talking, but I hope not.)
Too often today the assumption is that some great art is just too difficult, too inaccessible for children (witness "translations" of Shakespeare -- shudder!). But I think people are selling kids short. Kids aren't dumb. Of course you can't teach a child a Shakespeare play or an opera the way you would teach it to a highschooler or to an adult, but you can teach it to them.
I think there are two D.C. groups who really demonstrate this in their education programs: Shakespeare Theatre and the Folger Theatre. Instead of assuming that Shakespeare's language is too difficult for children, his plays too complex, both groups assume that kids are capable of being wooed by his language and enthralled by his characters. Then they focus on giving the kids the tools they need to engage with the work. That's the approach all arts education should be taking. There is no category of great art that can't be accessed by kids if they're given the tools to engage with it.
It's encouraging to see that, as Midgette's piece reports, arts education is becoming a priority. But the article made me realize that getting arts education into schools is just a part of the battle. If kids aren't being exposed to and given the tools they need to connect to great art, then arts education isn't going to do much to fill the theatres, concert halls, and opera houses of tomorrow.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
In Which I Propose a Few Rules for Updating the Settings of Operas and Plays
I am looking forward to seeing the Metropolitan Opera's Live in HD broadcast of Rigoletto this weekend. While I'm familiar with some of the big arias and know the outlines of the story, I've never seen the opera before, either on stage or on screen, or listened to it in its entirety, so I'm excited to further my Verdi education.
I'm feeling a slight bit of trepidation about the production, however, after reading a couple of articles on it in the New York Times. I am trying hard to keep a totally open mind, but this article, about the decision to update not just the production but the libretto translation (which now becomes an adaptation) made me a bit nervous. While I undoubtedly fall more into the traditionalist camp than the updaters camp (as the author of this article characterizes them), I'm not a strict traditionalist and have few problems in theory with updating the setting of a production. In practice, however, I think it rarely turns out to have been a good idea. The majority of the time, updated productions distract from the story. From the article:
When I've seen a modern update I like, I often barely notice that the play's or opera's setting has been updated (I mean, of course I notice -- presumably Shakespeare didn't arm Coriolanus with a rifle -- but the updated setting fades into the play. I don't think about it). The play's the thing in these updates, and the changes serve the goal of telling the story. One would think that one's goal in updating a play would always be to tell the story more clearly, but it's amazing how often it becomes obvious that the director ceased focusing on telling the story and started focusing on fitting the story into his setting.
If I had to suggest a few rules for updating productions, these would be among them:
1. If you have to change the characters' titles, or if the characters' titles sound ridiculous in your setting, you're doing it wrong. This is one of the things I notice the most in bad updates -- you're constantly drawn out of the story by the jarring contrast between characters' titles and the setting. John Wayne aside, there were no dukes in the Wild West, nor counts, princes, or earls. Updating Hamlet to the 19th or even the 20th century in the courts of Denmark can work. If you're trying to set it in the Wild West or Miami Beach, you should probably rethink things. This point also applies to settings/place names. If the play constantly refers to places that seem greatly removed from the context of your update, you have a problem.
2. There should be a need for every prop. I'm particularly thinking here of the Mary Zimmerman production, I believe it was, of Lucia di Lammermoor at the Met. One of the scenes featured a photographer trying to get everyone together for a family picture. It was a very 19th century thing for a wealthy family to do, I suppose, but it had absolutely no relevance to the scene or to the story. It shed no light on the opera, and was quite distracting. I've seen similar things in other updated productions. The director incorporates props or bits of business that emphasize the period but have no meaning for the play itself. They may serve to reinforce the play's setting, but they do nothing to reinforce the story.
3. If you're updating a production, make sure there are direct parallels between your update and the original setting. One excellent recent example of this is Ralph Fiennes' terrific film of Coriolanus. Fiennes' intent was to set Coriolanus in a situation like that of the modern-day Balkans -- presumably in something like the Bosnian conflict. Very small warring powers, almost city-states. Such a setting, of course, corresponds very well to that of the play, where you have warring tribes/small nations. Fiennes also makes incredibly effective use of television by having the play's politicians pontificate on the news and political talk shows, a very natural and effective parallel to the forums and chambers of ancient Rome. Imagine, however, Fiennes deciding to make Coriolanus and Aufidius not the modern-day equivalent of generals in city-states, but CEOs of rival companies. It requires a lot more work to fit that into the play, as the parallels between the two are significantly weaker -- if not nonexistent. While it seems perfectly natural for Coriolanus to be leading his troops into a war-torn town in something like modern-day Bosnia, it would seem a lot less natural -- if not utterly ridiculous -- for Coriolanus to lead his troops on an all-out assault of the offices of Aufidius Cosmetics, Inc. That may sound absurd, yet there are updates out there that are at least this crazy.
4. You shouldn't have to explain anything to make the audience understand your update. If you have to spend time explaining the updated setting or the updated roles of your characters to your audience, rethink your concept. The audience should be able to understand the setting and the roles and relationships of the characters from the production itself, as they can in a "traditional" production. It should not require a pre-show announcement, excessive signage, etc. If your update doesn't make the settings and relationships as clear as they would be in a non-updated production, then you should rethink things.
I think I could probably add several more rules, but this post is already getting long. I'm sure I'll discuss this topic again! Until next time, I'll be keeping an open mind about Rigoletto and hoping for one of those stellar updates that provides a new window into an old work.
- Rosalind
I'm feeling a slight bit of trepidation about the production, however, after reading a couple of articles on it in the New York Times. I am trying hard to keep a totally open mind, but this article, about the decision to update not just the production but the libretto translation (which now becomes an adaptation) made me a bit nervous. While I undoubtedly fall more into the traditionalist camp than the updaters camp (as the author of this article characterizes them), I'm not a strict traditionalist and have few problems in theory with updating the setting of a production. In practice, however, I think it rarely turns out to have been a good idea. The majority of the time, updated productions distract from the story. From the article:
J. D. McClatchy, a poet, librettist and sometime Met title maker, said that once a director sets the course, there is no choice but to follow. “That’s what makes me very nervous about directors,” he said, speaking in general terms, “that they will change things to suit themselves, rather than the text they’ve been given to interpret.”That's what makes me nervous about directors too. Almost invariably, when I see an unsatisfying update of a play or opera, I feel like the director came to the work with a determination to be novel/make it exciting/make it relevant, then picked a time period at random and twisted the play to suit. On the occasions when I see an update I really love, on the other hand, I feel like the director sat down with the work, asked how he or she could best convey the story as written, and then hit on something modern as the best way of illuminating the story's meaning. In the first case the setting takes precedence; in the second the story does.
When I've seen a modern update I like, I often barely notice that the play's or opera's setting has been updated (I mean, of course I notice -- presumably Shakespeare didn't arm Coriolanus with a rifle -- but the updated setting fades into the play. I don't think about it). The play's the thing in these updates, and the changes serve the goal of telling the story. One would think that one's goal in updating a play would always be to tell the story more clearly, but it's amazing how often it becomes obvious that the director ceased focusing on telling the story and started focusing on fitting the story into his setting.
If I had to suggest a few rules for updating productions, these would be among them:
1. If you have to change the characters' titles, or if the characters' titles sound ridiculous in your setting, you're doing it wrong. This is one of the things I notice the most in bad updates -- you're constantly drawn out of the story by the jarring contrast between characters' titles and the setting. John Wayne aside, there were no dukes in the Wild West, nor counts, princes, or earls. Updating Hamlet to the 19th or even the 20th century in the courts of Denmark can work. If you're trying to set it in the Wild West or Miami Beach, you should probably rethink things. This point also applies to settings/place names. If the play constantly refers to places that seem greatly removed from the context of your update, you have a problem.
2. There should be a need for every prop. I'm particularly thinking here of the Mary Zimmerman production, I believe it was, of Lucia di Lammermoor at the Met. One of the scenes featured a photographer trying to get everyone together for a family picture. It was a very 19th century thing for a wealthy family to do, I suppose, but it had absolutely no relevance to the scene or to the story. It shed no light on the opera, and was quite distracting. I've seen similar things in other updated productions. The director incorporates props or bits of business that emphasize the period but have no meaning for the play itself. They may serve to reinforce the play's setting, but they do nothing to reinforce the story.
3. If you're updating a production, make sure there are direct parallels between your update and the original setting. One excellent recent example of this is Ralph Fiennes' terrific film of Coriolanus. Fiennes' intent was to set Coriolanus in a situation like that of the modern-day Balkans -- presumably in something like the Bosnian conflict. Very small warring powers, almost city-states. Such a setting, of course, corresponds very well to that of the play, where you have warring tribes/small nations. Fiennes also makes incredibly effective use of television by having the play's politicians pontificate on the news and political talk shows, a very natural and effective parallel to the forums and chambers of ancient Rome. Imagine, however, Fiennes deciding to make Coriolanus and Aufidius not the modern-day equivalent of generals in city-states, but CEOs of rival companies. It requires a lot more work to fit that into the play, as the parallels between the two are significantly weaker -- if not nonexistent. While it seems perfectly natural for Coriolanus to be leading his troops into a war-torn town in something like modern-day Bosnia, it would seem a lot less natural -- if not utterly ridiculous -- for Coriolanus to lead his troops on an all-out assault of the offices of Aufidius Cosmetics, Inc. That may sound absurd, yet there are updates out there that are at least this crazy.
4. You shouldn't have to explain anything to make the audience understand your update. If you have to spend time explaining the updated setting or the updated roles of your characters to your audience, rethink your concept. The audience should be able to understand the setting and the roles and relationships of the characters from the production itself, as they can in a "traditional" production. It should not require a pre-show announcement, excessive signage, etc. If your update doesn't make the settings and relationships as clear as they would be in a non-updated production, then you should rethink things.
I think I could probably add several more rules, but this post is already getting long. I'm sure I'll discuss this topic again! Until next time, I'll be keeping an open mind about Rigoletto and hoping for one of those stellar updates that provides a new window into an old work.
- Rosalind
Friday, February 8, 2013
The Helen Hayes Award Nominations, or Some Belated Thoughts on Midsummer Night's Dream and Strange Interlude
Nominations for the 2013 Helen Hayes awards were announced last week, and left me puzzled, to put it mildly. I do not understand how the uninspired Ethan McSweeny-directed Midsummer Night’s Dream was nominated for Outstanding Resident Play and Outstanding Director, while the far, far better Strange Interlude was passed over for both those honors and received just one nomination, for the marvelous Francesca Faridany as Nina.
I am generally unimpressed with Ethan McSweeny as a Shakespeare director. I have seen three Ethan McSweeny-directed Shakespeare productions – Merchant of Venice, Much Ado About Nothing, and Midsummer Night’s Dream – and not one has led me deeper into the play. While I have no quarrel in theory with updating the settings of Shakespeare productions, McSweeny shows the dangers of such an approach. His productions always seem more focused on his conceit than on the play itself. This all came to a head in Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was definitely the worst of the three McSweeny Shakespeare productions I’ve seen (Much Ado may not have been thought-provoking, but its excellently cast Beatrice and Benedick gave it a lot of charm).
One would think that making sure the language comes across would be a focus of any Shakespeare director, but the opposite happened here. For most of the performance, the language seemed to be the last thing the director focused on. Judging by the program notes, making the production magical was a huge focus, yet the most magical element of Midsummer, its entrancing poetry, was so lost in this production as to be practically nonexistent. I think this was the single largest reason why the production, despite some lovely visual moments like the snowstorm entrance, was so decidedly unmagical (the backstage setting and the fairies’ costumes – more “Lovely Ladies” in Les Miserables than magical sprites – didn’t help the magic either).
Titania, Oberon, and the four lovers had seemingly no feel for the poetry of the language and were pretty uniformly one-note and shrill. Puck stood out in contrast because he was the only one of the seven who was universally understandable and who consistently conveyed the music of the language. Listening to him was a relief. I (I hope fairly) blame the director for this. Had the problem been confined to one or two characters, I might have laid the fault at the actors’ doors, but it seems unlikely that all six – Titania, Oberon, and the four lovers – were simply not up to Shakespeare, especially as I think both Titania and Oberon were veterans of the Stratford Festival in Ontario. That the problem was so universal suggests to me that the director simply didn’t make language and poetry a priority. Nowhere was this more obvious than at the end of Act I, where the characters’ words were lost completely in the literal mud-slinging going on onstage. (I’d love to see a director come up with something more interesting than the characters gradually losing their garments and sinking into a mud fight – that trope seems a little stale by now.)
The production did improve a bit when the mechanicals were on stage – vocally and dramatically they came across more clearly than Titania/Oberon and the lovers, and they were often genuinely funny – but they were not enough to redeem the play as a whole.
If I was bewildered by the nomination of Midsummer for Outstanding Resident Play and Outstanding Director in a Resident Play, I was not at all bewildered to see that Francesca Faridany was nominated for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Resident Play for her performance in Strange Interlude. What does defy understanding is that Midsummer was nominated for Outstanding Play and Director while Strange Interlude was not. Michael Kahn had far less to work with in Strange Interlude than McSweeny did with Midsummer, given that, as reviewers pointed out, Strange Interlude seems unlikely to stand the test of time, but Kahn, aided by a magnificent cast, managed to make the performance of a not-so-enduring play quite mesmerizing. Everything worked together in Kahn’s production – the cast, the sets, the costumes, the direction – and I was drawn deeply into the characters and the story. Francesca Faridany as Nina was splendid and richly deserves her nomination. I would have nominated Robert Stanton (Charles Marsden), who was in every way Faridany’s equal, as well, and Michael Kahn should have been nominated as director.
[Funny aside: During one of Strange Interlude’s intermissions (the play is almost four hours long), I was eating a cupcake at the bar in the Harman foyer, when Michael Kahn walked up next to me. He glanced over at me, and I took the opportunity to say how much I was enjoying the production … only I am nearly positive he thought I was talking about the cupcake! Fortunately I realized this mid-observation and managed to make it clear that I was talking about the play. The degree of fervor with which I spoke was a little much for a cupcake. :-)]
I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on the nominations (or on Midsummer and Strange Interlude). Any reactions?
I am generally unimpressed with Ethan McSweeny as a Shakespeare director. I have seen three Ethan McSweeny-directed Shakespeare productions – Merchant of Venice, Much Ado About Nothing, and Midsummer Night’s Dream – and not one has led me deeper into the play. While I have no quarrel in theory with updating the settings of Shakespeare productions, McSweeny shows the dangers of such an approach. His productions always seem more focused on his conceit than on the play itself. This all came to a head in Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was definitely the worst of the three McSweeny Shakespeare productions I’ve seen (Much Ado may not have been thought-provoking, but its excellently cast Beatrice and Benedick gave it a lot of charm).
One would think that making sure the language comes across would be a focus of any Shakespeare director, but the opposite happened here. For most of the performance, the language seemed to be the last thing the director focused on. Judging by the program notes, making the production magical was a huge focus, yet the most magical element of Midsummer, its entrancing poetry, was so lost in this production as to be practically nonexistent. I think this was the single largest reason why the production, despite some lovely visual moments like the snowstorm entrance, was so decidedly unmagical (the backstage setting and the fairies’ costumes – more “Lovely Ladies” in Les Miserables than magical sprites – didn’t help the magic either).
Titania, Oberon, and the four lovers had seemingly no feel for the poetry of the language and were pretty uniformly one-note and shrill. Puck stood out in contrast because he was the only one of the seven who was universally understandable and who consistently conveyed the music of the language. Listening to him was a relief. I (I hope fairly) blame the director for this. Had the problem been confined to one or two characters, I might have laid the fault at the actors’ doors, but it seems unlikely that all six – Titania, Oberon, and the four lovers – were simply not up to Shakespeare, especially as I think both Titania and Oberon were veterans of the Stratford Festival in Ontario. That the problem was so universal suggests to me that the director simply didn’t make language and poetry a priority. Nowhere was this more obvious than at the end of Act I, where the characters’ words were lost completely in the literal mud-slinging going on onstage. (I’d love to see a director come up with something more interesting than the characters gradually losing their garments and sinking into a mud fight – that trope seems a little stale by now.)
The production did improve a bit when the mechanicals were on stage – vocally and dramatically they came across more clearly than Titania/Oberon and the lovers, and they were often genuinely funny – but they were not enough to redeem the play as a whole.
If I was bewildered by the nomination of Midsummer for Outstanding Resident Play and Outstanding Director in a Resident Play, I was not at all bewildered to see that Francesca Faridany was nominated for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Resident Play for her performance in Strange Interlude. What does defy understanding is that Midsummer was nominated for Outstanding Play and Director while Strange Interlude was not. Michael Kahn had far less to work with in Strange Interlude than McSweeny did with Midsummer, given that, as reviewers pointed out, Strange Interlude seems unlikely to stand the test of time, but Kahn, aided by a magnificent cast, managed to make the performance of a not-so-enduring play quite mesmerizing. Everything worked together in Kahn’s production – the cast, the sets, the costumes, the direction – and I was drawn deeply into the characters and the story. Francesca Faridany as Nina was splendid and richly deserves her nomination. I would have nominated Robert Stanton (Charles Marsden), who was in every way Faridany’s equal, as well, and Michael Kahn should have been nominated as director.
[Funny aside: During one of Strange Interlude’s intermissions (the play is almost four hours long), I was eating a cupcake at the bar in the Harman foyer, when Michael Kahn walked up next to me. He glanced over at me, and I took the opportunity to say how much I was enjoying the production … only I am nearly positive he thought I was talking about the cupcake! Fortunately I realized this mid-observation and managed to make it clear that I was talking about the play. The degree of fervor with which I spoke was a little much for a cupcake. :-)]
I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on the nominations (or on Midsummer and Strange Interlude). Any reactions?
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