By R.C. Baker
By Alexis Soloski
By Alexis Soloski
By R. C. Baker
By Alexis Soloski
By Tom Sellar
By Araceli Cruz
By Brienne Walsh
They call Measure for Measure a "problem play," I begin to think, in the same sense in which a recalcitrant infant is a "problem child." It is not a "good" play; it doesn't behave the way you want it to. As with such children, its misbehavior is in some respects its principal attraction: Nobody's really comfortable around it, but to hate it is to confess your fascination with it. The action works out neatly but wrongly, somehow; the characters' reactions at each point feel true to human nature, but though Shakespeare's poetry and psychology are always on the mark here, he somehow failed to get his third duck, morality, to stay in a row with them. Too often, the play's equivocating views feel like attempts to placate various segments of the audience; the elaborate insistence of its ending, which for modern theatergoers contains the most repugnant material, suggests steps in a prescribed ritual almost as arcane as the Masonic rites that lie behind The Magic Flute.
In that impossible final scene, Isabella must forgive Angelo, who intended to rape her and who she still believes has murdered her brother. Worse, she must forsake her chosen vocation to marry the Duke, who has lied to her (brutally about Claudio's death), tricked her into a public humiliation, and committed blasphemy by hearing confessions while disguised as a priest. Engaged in by anyone other than a head of state, these were serious offenses, some of them punishable with torture. Small wonder that many modern critics have drawn a parallel between the Duke's shady activities and those he condemns: The fake priest who arranges Mariana's entrapment of Angelo is in no position to sneer at bawds. Critical speculation has made the Duke everything from a mouthpiece for the English throne (his distaste for crowds parallels James I's) to an alienated, manipulative sociopath, who needs a mariage blancwith Isabella to conceal his homosexuality (accused of womanizing, he claims he's "not inclined that way").
Productions of Measure for Measure fall into two categories: those that try to solve the play's problem and those content merely to state it. Mary Zimmerman's version, the least cluttered of the four I've seen in Central Park over the decades, falls into the second category. It isn't much of a productionthe absence of clutter is often matched by an absence of emotional depth and of visionbut Shakespeare's words will carry a lot of burdens for a director wise enough to stay out of their way, and Zimmerman's lack of fancy frills is coupled with a refreshing lack of directorial self-aggrandizement. There is no elaborate physical business, little foolery with irrelevant props, no horde of gesticulating extras, no coy updating or arrogant contradicting of the text. The set is a framework of bare steel girders; the lush romantic music, heard only at breaks in the action, seems to rebuke it. The costumes are in the now familiar mode of vaguely contemporary clothes modified by a Victorian look and Elizabethan touches. Except for the red velvet suit sported by Joe Morton as the Duke, and the rows of fake gardenias that line the stage floor to celebrate his return, it all looks rather drab, but the visual drabness, like the uninflected staging, is enough to let the lines do their work.
Watch Your Step!
By Harry B. Smith, music and lyrics
by Irving Berlin
14th Street Y
344 East 14th Street
After that, how the spectators read the play is all in the actors' hands, a test of whose viewpoint can capture their attention most strongly. Played with authentically Shakespearean dice, this game might be exciting. Regrettably, the Public's fondness for media stars has loaded the drama's upper reaches with the weightier modern kind that barely roll at all. Either from their own limitations or Zimmerman's noncommittal approach, Billy Crudup and Sanaa Lathan, this production's Angelo and Isabella, are the least interesting and least believable I've ever seen. Crudup, seeming preposterously young, can't even find a suitable body language for the role; he gangles and slouches like someone who'd rather be hanging out at the malt shop than imposing his moral principles on others. Lathan, at least, has some dignity, and, in the last few scenes, lets the anguish of Isabella's situation catch up with her; what she can't do is tune her feelings to her lines, which she recites in a metrically rigid singsong so dislocated from her movements as to seem prerecorded. Daniel Pino's Claudio may be overwrought by comparison, but at least you feel he's living through the play's emotional events line by line.
Flanked by such an Angelo and Isabella, no Duke could do more than hold his ground, but Joe Morton makes that ground seem solid indeed. Stuck with all of the script's dubious pieties and sagacities, he speaks them in a firm, lucid, impartial tone, strong in presence but devoiddeliberately, I imagineof personality, making the role an Elizabethan infomercial. While this puts an added damper on the main plot, Morton's gray clarity makes him a perfect counterbalance to the subplot's low comedians, who as a group come off better here than in any Measure for Measure I can remember. It's not that the individual performances are so earth-shattering, but that taken together, they fulfill this aspect of the play perfectlyagain, in part, because Zimmerman has declined to read anything into the roles but opportunities for clowns.