The WInter's Tale on a Winter's Night

We almost thought we wouldn't get there. J and I each thought the other knew exactly how to get to the Folger, but it turns out memory--and J's GPS--failed us. A light snow was falling; J's blood pressure was rising. Miraculously, we made it to the box office to pick up our tickets with one minute to curtain.

Seeing plays at the Folger is one of my favorite things to do in this town. The productions are generally excellent, and I love the faux-Globe atmosphere, "this wooden O." But despite watching from the railing of the balcony, so close that I could see when the actors sprayed each other with spit, the Folger's staging of "The Winter's Tale" was, well, meh. Now, this is one of Shakespeare's oft-overlooked plays, and one of my favorites. It's a beautiful tale of jealousy and love regained--but not without extreme suffering.

But James Kronzer's set left me cold. It looked like an 80s black-laquered nightmare and threatened to fall down with every dramatic outburst. I'm not sure what the intention was here, but if it was to make me feel cold and hopeless but visually offended, then it worked. Although the designer employed some clever panels to switch the scene from Sicilia's bitter winter to Bohemia's eternal spring, the effect fell flat because the original shiny black panels that formed the set were still visible. Bleh.

Connon Morrissey's Hermione started off like my old Volkswagen--shaky and halting until it warmed to a purr by the third act. By then, it was almost too late, and forgiveness for the first two acts was hard to give. On the up side, Daniel Stewart as Leontes gave me the depth I wanted without falling prey to the temptation to chew the scenery. The same cannot be said for Anthony Cochrane's Autolychus, who came on as drunk, merry, and mischievous rather than witty but malevolent. And don't even get me started on Shakespeare's ingenues. I have seldom seen these roles played the way I think Shakespeare intended--with depth and innocence, but also with flavor and originality. This production was no exception--Perdita, and even her lover Florizel, simply irritated me.

But my biggest disappointment was the play's climax, which was...anti-climactic. The ending to The Winter's Tale is where a theatre company can really shine. The Royal Shakespeare Company's mid-90s production at the Kennedy Center is one of my favorite theatrical productions ever. Perhaps that's an unfair comparison. But the RSC was able to convey with great skill the pathos and bitterness that combine with joy and relief in an ending that could be read as straight comedy. The Folger, however, played it ham-handedly. Not only did they not effectively expressive the range of emotions these characters go through, but they also played it un-dramatic and un-funny. I could understand a director's choice to pick only one of the two but can't forgive the decision to chose neither.

Nevertheless, "The Winter's Tale" was not a waste of a winter's evening. I saw in the more expensive seats just below me an old boss of mine I lovingly nicknamed "Cruella DeVil." I pretended I didn't see her. I know she saw me.

Postscript: I began this blog after J and I saw the Shakespeare theatre put on Romeo and Juliet with an all-male cast. My problem with that production was not the Elizabethen casting but the screeching, hyperkinetic performances of Romeo and Juliet themselves. Honestly, J and I couldn't wait for them to off themselves.