When we think of Shakespeare's plays, we recall rapier duels bitter with fury and indignation (Hamlet and Laertes, Tybalt and
Mercutio). Atrocities meted out to innocents (Banquo, Desdemona, Ophelia). Bloody battles on Bosworth Field and Salisbury Plain,
replete with Alarums (Elizabethan stage direction for lotsa shouting) and Excursions (ditto for lotsa running around). Plots propelled
by extraordinary violence reflect not only the author's craft at building suspense, but a society in which 'dead men tell no tales' was a
policy more frequently employed by those in power than—we would hope—it is today.
But what about the comedies? What place does untimely death or crippling accident have in a universe designed to celebrate life
in all its pleasure and glory? Impulsive actions in comedies differ from those in tragedies in that they are rarely spurred by truly
malicious intent and seldom result in irreparable injury. This makes the psychological dynamic of comic fights far more elusive. But
the physical prowess required for their performance is no less—indeed, compounded in the outdoor productions so popular in balmy
summer climes. Actors participating in such seasonal fare recount stories of floors rendered hazardous by sudden downpours,
indigenous wild creatures intruding on the action, and mental alacrity impaired by heat-associated discomforts.
The Chicago area's 2003 summer season features three citronella-circuit Shakespeares, all of them comedies marketed for
family audiences: As You Like It at Oak Park's Festival Theatre, The Two Gentlemen Of Verona at Elgin's Talisman Theatre and A
Comedy Of Errors at Oak Brook's First Folio. The plot of the first calls for the young hero to tussle with a pro wrestler. That of the
second proposes two chums in love with the same girl—a situation certain to lead to testosterone-fueled scuffles. And that of the third
has a pair of servants chivvied by their employers, one of whom is himself strong-armed by police officers. How is this rude behavior
to be presented as harmless horseplay?
Says Tom Taylor, Festival Theatre's fight choreographer (who also plays Orlando, wrestling with Dan Marco as Charles, the
King's Champion), 'I didn't want anything too grim. The text suggests Charles' strength and skill enough without the match having to
be a Thunderdome thing. Kyle, our sound designer, pieced together the music for the fight after seeing it just once. So that really
wasn't planned out very much, but it all came together quite nicely. Let's hear it for theatre as a Collaborative Effort!
'I was glad that we had a big guy like Dan playing Charles. He was always ready to try out new ideas, whether they were mine,
his, or the director's. A lot of the moves we chose for the fight came out of the difference in our body types: Charles uses a lot of
muscle moves—throws, and bear hugs. Orlando tries a few of these and gets soundly planted. Finally, he sees that he has to out-
finesse his opponent, using his speed to his advantage.'
The Two Gentlemen Of Verona presents even greater challenges for a fight choreographer, claims Kevin Heckman. 'None of the
three fights we added to the play are specifically mentioned in the script. I didn't even go with the idea of fights in the play until after I'd
cast Brian [Plocharczyk] and Matthew [Tucker], who both have some background in stage combat. Our production's costuming
suggested a military sort of environment that I felt would highlight the friendship between Valentine and Proteus. Since competition
and games often play a key role in male friendships, I introduced a smallsword bout at the very beginning of the play. In that scene,
they're just playing around. But the next time we see them together, Proteus has realized that he's fallen in love with Valentine's
fiancee, and so the fight, while still friendly, has a serious edge to it.
'One of the problems inherent in the play's final fight is that Valentine has only six verse lines to go from being angry with Proteus
to forgiving him. I had that anger provoke Valentine to attack Proteus—but Proteus comes out on top and then apologizes to
Valentine, rather than killing him. Since it's clear that Proteus' remorse is genuine, Valentine's subsequent forgiveness makes more
sense in that context.'
The Comedy Of Errors offers fewer opportunities for formal fights, but plenty for slapstick action—including a hapless sidekick left
dangling from a balcony and a working fountain into which various characters are ducked in the course of the play. Recalls Michael
Goldberg, 'During previews, we had the pleasure of dealing with rain, sprinkling ever-so-slightly about half an hour before curtain.
Even after wiping the stage down, its surface is still slick. This makes the actors tentative in their movements, and that affects the
whole tempo and feel of the show. So we limited our use of the fountain primarily because of the amount of water that would have
been deposited on the stage. Also, we didn't want to soak the actors' costumes—I believe they are washable, but I don't think there is
anything explicit in their design for wicking away moisture.'
This brings up the problems of performing outdoors. What do the other choreographers have to say about their pastoral
surroundings?
'Being outside doesn't affect us much since the actual stage [in the Wing Park bandshell] is covered.' says Heckman, 'They just
have to slow down a touch when the ground is wet. But actors often start speeding up over the course of a run, anyway, so this is
sometimes a good thing.'
'Deciding to stage the wrestling match on the grass meant sticks, acorns, mud, that itchy feeling you get lying on it without a
shirt—but no worrying about stray staples, splinters, screws or running into other actors,' notes Taylor. 'And since I was going to be
LOSING most of the time, I knew I was going to be on the ground a lot, where a nice, soft patch of earth makes a good fall better for
everybody. I'm barefoot for the fight, so when the grass is wet, I just slide a bit. Fortunately, Dan is able to act through any delays until
we can continue the match.'
'Rain, trains, planes and automobiles,' shrugs Goldberg. 'The only thing you can do is remember that safety is the primary
concern and keep refocusing on the stage. With most actors, once they become accustomed to their work environment, this is no
problem. And audiences generally don't seem to mind the distractions either. The joy of doing outdoor theatre is being outside on a
beautiful night, under the stars.'
