Playwright: William Shakespeare. At: Strawdog Theatre, 3829 N. Broadway. Phone: 773-528-9696; $20. Runs through: March 29
Shakespeare's Richard III is, to most theatre companies, what 'Got My Mojo Working' is to blues bands—an opportunity for everybody to wail at full throttle. Not only is prince Richard Plantagenet the baddest of Elizabethan bad boys—refusing to surrender his stolen turf even when plainly faced with superior firepower ( big battle sequences! ) , seducing the bereaved wives of men he has slain ( funeral sim-sex! ) and dispatching hired thugs to murder children ( gallons of fake blood! ) —but the text mandates his being twisted in body as well as soul ( latex scars, eye patches and prosthetics ) .
But you'll find no leering, teeth-gnashing, 'hump-backed toad' in this Strawdog Theatre production, no tango dancing with outraged widows atop coffins halted in mid-procession, no shimmering phantoms come to haunt their executioner in the field, and surprisingly little carnage, at home or on the front lines. As visualized by director Nic Dimond, the struggle for the throne of England is a family affair, its intricacies marked by intrigues forged among individuals within a circle as intimate as that of a Eugene O'Neill drama. The reduced logistics engendered by this approach, in turn, render the play's convoluted plot more coherent than in conventionally-cluttered productions. ( How often have we understood just why little brother George was thrown into the slammer? Or the attraction that leads smart cookie Buckingham to align himself with a gangbanger like Richard? Or just what each of those crying women are complaining about? )
This close-up view also suits the restrictive quarters of the Strawdog loft, scenic designer Joe Schermoly's airy perimeter of arches eventually proving too obstructive even for warfare presented in Caravaggio-like tableaux ( though award-winning fight choreographer Matt Hawkins contributes a lively three-way showdown for Richard and his two closest enemies ) . And if Dimond's emphasis on, literally, the characters' relationships sometimes makes for an impression of acting-class solo turns, there is no faulting the performances of James Anthony Zoccoli as the betrayed Buckingham, Anita Deely as a refreshingly composed Lady Anne and Janet Ulrich Brooks as a likewise refreshingly articulate Margaret of Anjou.
The centerpiece of the evening, however, is the magnificent second-act confrontation of Jennifer Avery's feisty Elizabeth with John Henry Roberts' nerdy school-shooter Richard, whose wiles cannot sway his stubborn adversary to compliance. Slackerly playgoers contemplating an intermission departure are advised that this Clash of Wills—which we barely remember in other productions—is well worth the wait.
