Playwright: William Shakespeare
At: Chicago Shakespeare Theater, 800 East Grand
Phone: (312) 595-5600;
$48-$62
Runs through: Nov. 23
The Taming of the Shrew is probably one of the Bard's funniest and most entertaining comedies. In the hands of Chicago Shakespeare Theater, and the brilliant, inspired direction of David Bell, the entertainment value—and the humor—of this most enjoyable work is ratcheted up a notch. Bell has conspired with a peerless creative team to set Shakespeare's story of love and will in Italy's Via Veneto, circa 1950, and has knocked out a stunning backdrop of haute couture, paparazzi, and the conceits of the wealthy, fashioning a glorious backdrop that complements Shakespeare's wit and vision perfectly.
Katharine (Kate Fry) is the hot-tempered, beautiful elder daughter of Italian gentleman, Baptista (Roger Mueller). Baptista is rich and his younger daughter, Bianca (Chaon Cross) is the object of much competition for her fair hand (and a sizable dowry). The problem is, Baptista will not let his younger daughter wed until his older daughter is no longer single. But who wants the shrew? With a tongue like a razor, the stubbornness of a mule, and the temperament of a pit bull, Katharine is not high on anyone's list as a potential lifemate. That is, until Petruchio (Ryan Shively) comes along. Petruchio, lacking in finances, but rich in ideas, sees a clear road to wealth by wedding—and taming—Katharine. As in all of the Bard's romantic works, the course of true love is never true. But Petruchio is up to the task. Not only will he wed Baptista's fiery elder daughter, but he will make of her a proper, and submissive wife, who will agree with him when he calls the moon the sun. Along the way, the competition rages among a stable of comic suitors trying to best the others for Bianca's hand.
Bell has taken Shakespeare's world and set it down in a perfect world of high style, befitting the glamorous time period and locale. James Leonard Joy's Italian piazza, all aged marble, pillars, and balconies is a visual delight. Susan Mickey's costumes fit the period perfectly, with its straw bowlers, cropped shirts, flowing dresses and scarves; the costumes here are a vintage dream. And with Henry Marsh's musical composition, under the musical direction of Alaric Jans, this Taming of the Shrew sings (listen, especially to the lovely operatic voice of Marlene Flood as a widow who will make good on Bianca's leftovers). A six-piece band is in tune with the times and the spirit of the piece.
Finally, and most importantly, Bell has assembled an ensemble that contains not even one weak link; indeed, there are some superior performances here that are a joy. Kate Fry's Katharine carries the show on her able shoulders. Fry is mercurial, sexy, and glowing with a kind of hot-tempered sensuality that barely withers even when she is 'tamed.' As her suitor, Petruchio, Ryan Shively matches Katharine in sexiness, guile, and a formidable stage presence, clearly demonstrating that he is the only man on stage capable of the challenge of turning Kate into wifely putty (I know, I know, it's not PC, but Shakespeare had never heard of that term). And finally, Guy Adkins, as Tranio, the servant of Lucentio, Bianca's chief suitor, steals every scene he's in, becoming the comic centerpiece of the show. Adkins is one of Chicago's finest actors and here, he demonstrates why: in the hands of a lesser talent, his Tranio could be heavy-handed, a real ham. Adkins knows how to maximize laughter while holding back just enough to be right on target.
This Taming of the Shrew is a sumptuous, stunning, visual delight. Don't miss it.Playwright: Ferenc Molnár,
adapted by P.G. Wodehouse
At: Borealis Theatre Company at Theatre Building Chicago, 1225 W. Belmont Ave.
Phone: (773) 327-5252; $18.50
Runs through: Sept. 28
The model for western playwrights throughout the 19th century was the 'well-made' play popularized circa 1825 by Eugéne Scribe and Victorien Sardou. Its principles, whether employed for drama or comedy, dictated a relentless emphasis on plot, with circumstances rather than temperament guiding the characters' actions. This rational, but undeniably artificial, approach to human experience soon invited widespread parody (by George Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde, among others)
Ferenc Molnár's Spiel Im Schloss, adapted in 1926 by P.G. Wodehouse as The Play's The Thing, mocks the form even as it mimics its conventions: Mssrs. Turai and Mansky are successful authors currently collaborating on an operetta with Albert, a talented young composer engaged to star diva Mlle. Ilona, whose presence in their show guarantees them a hit. But one night, in a hotel boasting thin walls, the lady is overheard bestowing a farewell smooch on her former paramour—the lecherous and very married matinee idol, Almady—and it's up to the inventive Turai to rescue the romance and their project.
Once the rescue operation kicks into motion, we cheer it on with gleeful enthusiasm. The difficulty lies in the set-up, however: Turai may comment on the dissimilarities between life and drama, excising copious amounts of exposition by declaring, 'Wouldn't it be simpler if we were to cut out all that other stuff and just introduce ourselves?'—after which he and his comrades proceed to do so. But the text as written still requires characters to herald each revelation with a series of preambles that eventually exhaust the actors' catalogue of arch, ironic, we're-doing-this-on-purpose deliveries, forcing them to play these plodding passages straight.
The Borealis company gives it a game try, nevertheless. The Character Men—director Jeff Baumgartner's Turai, Leo J. Harmon's Mansky, John Westby's Almady and Phil Carlin's butler Dwornicheck (Wodehouse did the adaptation, remember?)—come off better than the Juveniles, though Glenn W. Proud has some nice moments as the passionate Albert. Too, the sparse audience on the night I attended (9/11, you know) may have had an enervating effect on the performance, making for a temporary let-down of the side.
