15 minute read
How Shakespeare’s characters have marked us
This season’s plays examine the lessons we learn in our most intimate relationships —for better or worse—and how we carry them with us out into the world.
By Becca Vaclavik
Each summer, the CU Presents editorial team sits down with Tim Orr, CSF producing artistic director, and Wendy Franz, managing director, to discuss what the summer lineup offers audiences thematically. Some years, the answers are as varied as the plotlines themselves. Other years, like this one, a single, central theme bubbles to the surface: The 2022 season explores our closest bonds and how each is impacted by our individual choices. Who do we choose to give our loyalty to? Why do we sometimes betray those we love the most? And, perhaps most importantly, what lessons can we learn from our choices as they propel us forward in the world?
“The cornerstones of each of these stories are themes exploring the way friendships are tested, as well as legacy: These plays examine how different groups choose to make their mark on the world,” says Franz, who is also set to direct All’s Well That Ends Well.
In prepping All’s Well, Franz has become particularly keen to unpack Shakespeare’s take on what modern audiences have come to know as “cancel culture.” There is no denying that humans can be an unforgiving lot.
And that some people—women, for example; people of color, too—tend to face swifter judgment and harsher consequences for their mistakes, even when made in the folly of their youth.
When someone is “canceled,” though, it denies them (or anyone else, for that matter) the opportunity for growth. It snuffs out their chance at making amends.
Instead, perhaps, we should seek restorative justice: a modern framework that proves how, when we encounter our transgressions, we have the opportunity to repair them. And then, we have the opportunity to transform our relationships. A lesson for 2022, perhaps, but it’s evident in the pages of this 400-year-old play, says Franz.
“There’s richness and maturity here. The play offers life lessons on what can be gleaned when we commit to investing in each other, rather than writing one another off.” In The Two Gentlemen of Verona, two lifelong friends are faced with the choice of where—and how—to establish themselves as adults in the world. It’s a tried-and-true comingof-age tale, and the audience follows along with laughter (and sometimes sympathetic embarrassment) as each fumbles forward through their first moments of independence. As in All’s Well, the hope for a happy ending rests on whether love and loyalty carry enough weight to bear forgiveness, too.
Coriolanus asks similar questions, though on a grander (and darker) scale. In addition to the exploration of intimate relationships, such as those between a mother and son, Shakespeare here puts community and politics on display. What does the government owe its citizens? A thorny question to be sure, and one that cultures across the globe have grappled with for centuries.
If you read the directors’ and dramaturgs’ notes for each of these stories—and you should!—you’ll note that, while Shakespeare asks all this and more of his characters and audiences, you’ll be hardpressed to find a clear and concrete resolution to any of his questions. They aren’t easy to answer, of course; which is one reason they make such prolific thematic elements in the Bard’s work. It’s why his work has resonated for centuries.
Enter The Book of Will: not by William Shakespeare; it’s about him. More importantly, Lauren Gunderson’s script imagines the true story of his closest friends’ work to ensure his legacy prevails, even after he is no longer around to do so himself. Rodney Lizcano—making his Rippon directorial debut, but you’ll recognize him from recent CSF roles as Oberon, Andrew Aguecheek, the titular Richard III— says this play, a love letter to theatre The lessons offered here on stage resonate for shifts happening inside the Colorado Shakespeare Festival as well, as leadership continues to pursue a more equitable and inclusive organization.
“Tim [Orr] and I are always trying to figure out how to be better leaders,” says Franz. “Every year, we feel further away from the experience of the younger generations we are hiring. We’re continuously holding strategic conversations about new groups who have different expectations for their jobs and the world and how we can connect with them.
In this way, The Book of Will ties each story together this summer. It helps illustrate why audiences return time and time again to the pages of Shakespeare’s work, seeking outside perspectives and potential solutions to some of our most human dilemmas.
“The Book of Will looks back across the big arc of Shakespeare’s work and of being a company and surviving as a company. Audiences will really get a feel for the longevity and timelessness and seeming indestructibility of Shakespeare’s work,” says Orr. “It’s also a remembrance of people we’ve lost. That’s a big, loud ding of the bell for me as well, given what we’ve experienced as a community in recent years. That’s the power of theatre.”
By William Shakespeare Directed by Anthony Powell
Artistic team
Director Anthony Powell+ Scenic Designer Kevin Nelson Costume Designer Janice Benning Lacek Lighting Designer Katie Gruenhagen Sound Designer Jason Ducat^ Dance / Movement Choreographer Erika Randall Fight Choreographer Benjamin Reigel Dramaturg Heidi Schmidt Voice and Text Coach Mare Trevathan Stage Manager Christine Rose Moore* Assistant Stage Manager Teresa Gould*
+ Member, Stage Directors and Choreographers Society ^ Member, United Scenic Artists
* Member, Actors’ Equity Association, the Union of Professional Actors and Stage Managers in the United States
Cast
ROMANS Caius MARTIUS, later Caius Martius CORIOLANUS Gareth Saxe* VOLUMNIA, mother to Coriolanus Kathleen Turco-Lyon* VIRGILIA, wife to Coriolanus Madison Taylor YOUNG MARTIUS, son to Coriolanus Grace Gruber COMINIUS, consul and general Jihad Milhem* MENENIUS Agrippa Brik Berkes* Titus LARTIUS Ryan Omar Stack SICINIUS Velutus, tribune of the people Topher Embrey Junius BRUTUS, tribune of the people Matthew Schneck* VALERIA Jessica Robblee* HERALD Jo Hoagland Head of the Roman Senate Sam Sandoe OFFICERS of the Capitol Griffin Nielsen, Ryan Omar Stack ROMAN CITIZENS Topher Embrey, Jihad Milhem*, Jessica Robblee*, Benjamin Reigel*, Sam Sandoe, Matthew Schneck*, Ryan Omar Stack, Madison Taylor ROMAN SOLDIERS Jo Hoagland, Griffin Nielsen, Madison Taylor, Christian Tripp SERVANTS Jo Hoagland, Ryan Omar Stack, Sam Sandoe Caius Martius as a boy Grace Gruber VOLSCIANS Tullus AUFIDIUS, general Benjamin Reigel* VOLSCIAN LIEUTENANT Jessica Robblee* VOLSCIAN SOLDIERS Topher Embrey, Griffin Nielsen, Matthew Schneck* VOLSCIAN LORDS Matthew Schneck* , Christian Tripp VOLSCIAN COMMONERS Topher Embrey, Jo Hoagland, Jihad Milhem* , Griffin Nielsen, Sam Sandoe, Ryan Omar Stack ENSEMBLE Brik Berkes*, Topher Embrey, Jo Hoagland, Jihad Milhem*, Griffin Nielsen, Benjamin Reigel*, Jessica Robblee* , Sam Sandoe, Matthew Schneck*, Ryan Omar Stack, Madison Taylor, Christian Tripp, Kathleen Turco-Lyon*, Grace Gruber SWINGS Ilana DeAngelo, Jordan Pettis UNDERSTUDIES Topher Embrey, Jo Hoagland, Jihad Milhem* , Griffin Nielsen, Jessica Robblee*, Sam Sandoe, Ryan Omar Stack, Christian Tripp
Sponsors
• Alpine Hospital for Animals • Hazel’s Beverage World • Wright Water Engineers • Elevations Credit Union • Martin/Martin Consulting
Engineers
Director’s note
Part political satire and part portrait of an utterly driven army veteran returning to civilian life, Coriolanus is a strange and powerful work that defies easy categorization. George Bernard Shaw puckishly called this play “the greatest of Shakespeare’s comedies,” and while there’s no denying that the script is filled to brimming with deliciously sly humor, Coriolanus moves back and forth between hilarity and heartbreak with dizzying speed.
Unsettling family dynamics abound, and Coriolanus himself—”a thing of blood,” as he is called—remains one of Shakespeare’s most troubled (and troubling) creations. He’s a man who thrives on carnage, a military hero unable to function normally during peacetime. And while Coriolanus is widely acknowledged as being one of Shakespeare’s most explicitly political dramas, the Bard’s personal views prove stubbornly difficult to pin down.
Coriolanus was probably the last tragedy Shakespeare ever wrote, and for much of its production history the play has been successfully co-opted by both the political right and left. Members of each camp have routinely claimed Coriolanus for their own, but Shakespeare himself wisely abstains from taking sides and simply lets the satiric arrows fly. But then, that’s the essential nature of this fierce and funny tragicomedy: Nothing is sacred and everybody’s fair game—even if his name happens to be “Caius Martius Coriolanus.” —Anthony Powell, director
Rome is in crisis. The starving citizens blame the patricians for the high cost of food, and a gang of them come looking for the imperious war hero Caius Martius. The altercation is interrupted by news of military threat by the Volscians, an enemy at the edges of Rome. Martius heads to war while his wife Virgilia worries and his mother Volumnia celebrates his bravery. After victory against the Volscian general Aufidius at Corioli, Martius is renamed Coriolanus.
In Rome, the Senate chooses Coriolanus for consul and he controls his unruly tongue long enough to win over the citizens to his election. Tribunes of the people Brutus and Sicinius, however, plot against him and convince the citizens he was mocking them with faux humility. The citizens change their minds; Coriolanus is enraged at their fickleness and ignorance. The tribunes accuse him of treason against the people and succeed in banishing him from Rome. As Volumnia curses the tribunes, Coriolanus leaves Rome and seeks out Aufidius in Antium. The former enemies agree to conquer and destroy Rome together. Rumors of the alliance reach Rome, causing general panic and regret over the banishment. As the armies make their way to Rome’s gates, Aufidius questions the alliance, suspecting his own men’s loyalty may have shifted to Coriolanus.
Coriolanus and Aufidius arrive outside Rome; the Romans ask Menenius, a former friend and confidante to Coriolanus, to visit the camp and beg for mercy for Rome. His pleas fail to sway Coriolanus. Volumnia, Virgilia and Young Martius (Coriolanus’ son) arrive at the camp. His mother convinces him to spare Rome and Volumnia returns to the city in triumph. Coriolanus returns to Antium with Aufidius, and to a final confrontation when Aufidius names him a traitor to their cause. —Heidi Schmidt, dramaturg Julius Caesar, the most familiar of Shakespeare’s Roman plays, takes place in the late Roman Republic—a Republic on the verge of Empire. For Coriolanus, we backtrack nearly five centuries to the infancy of that Republic.
The birth of the Roman Republic is usually dated to 509 BCE, when the monarchy was abolished. Part fact, part legend, the story goes something like this: The last Tarquin king, Tarquin the Proud, reigned as a tyrant after murdering his father-in-law for the throne (and murdering many others to keep it). His son Sextus developed an obsession with his cousin’s wife Lucretia, raped her while her husband was away, then threatened to kill her as an adulteress. Lucretia survived the attack, secured a vow from her husband to avenge her and destroy the Tarquins, then killed herself. (If this sounds familiar, it’s the subject of Shakespeare’s narrative poem, “The Rape of Lucrece.”) This last straw sparked a revolution in which the Romans expelled the Tarquins and founded the Republic, rooted in a deep mistrust of centralized power and of kings. (Contrast this with the dominant political philosophy in Shakespeare’s England—the Divine Right of Kings.)
Far from a universal democracy, the early Republic was dominated by class conflict—the Struggle of the Orders, as it’s often called. In the first years of the Republic, power was highly concentrated among a handful of aristocratic families, the patricians, who created the Republic and controlled its government. In place of a single monarch who would rule for his lifetime, the patricians elected two consuls at a time to serve terms of one year. The plebeians, however, were unsatisfied with patrician rule and often nostalgic for the Tarquins, who (for all their sins) better met the needs of the common people. The plebeians had three key demands for the patrician leadership of the brand new Republic: debt relief, access to land, and representation in political and religious office. When the senate and the consuls failed to meet these demands, the plebeians seceded from Rome in about 494 BCE. They created their own government, including elected tribuni plebis, or tribunes of the people, to lead them. There were at least two tribunes (later standardized to 10), whose primary responsibility was to protect the plebeians from the patricians— including the consuls. This parallel government was eventually incorporated into official Roman political structure, but conflicts over representation continued.
Coriolanus, based on the historical Gnaeus Marcius Coriolanus and actual events from 495-490 BCE, takes place against this backdrop. —Heidi Schmidt, dramaturg
By Ben Jonson (1572-1637) Actor-managed by Kevin Rich
Artistic team
Actor-manager Kevin Rich Scenic Designer Inspired by David J. Castellano^ Costume Coordinators Megan Keenan Phi Le Audrey Lewis Lighting Designer Zoe McCracken Keelin Connolly Sound Designer Wes Halloran Props Coordinators Olivia Allen Camryn Lang Fight Director Benjamin Reigel Dramaturg Heidi Schmidt Stage Manager Paul Behrhorst* Assistant Stage Manager Kaylyn Kriaski*
Cast
SUBTLE, the alchemist Sean Scrutchins* FACE, the housekeeper Shunté Lofton* DOLL COMMON, colleague of Subtle and Face Madison Taylor DAPPER, a clerk Griffin Nielsen DRUGGER, a tobacco-man Topher Embrey LOVEWIT, the owner of the house Kevin Rich* EPICURE MAMMON, a knight Matthew Schneck* SURLY, a gamester Jacob Dresch* TRIBULATION, a pastor of Amsterdam Sam Sandoe ANANAIS, a deacon of Amsterdam Chloe McLeod KASTRIL, the angry boy Jessica Robblee* DAME PLIANT, a widow, sister to Kastril Ilana DeAngelo NEIGHBOURS Topher Embrey, Ilana DeAngelo, Griffin Nielsen OFFICER Ilana DeAngelo PROMPTER Heidi Schmidt MUSICIAN David Willey
^ Member, United Scenic Artists
* Member, Actors’ Equity Association, the Union of Professional Actors and Stage Managers in the United States
Sponsors
• Jason Trow • Alpine Hospital for Animals • Hazel’s Beverage World • Wright Water Engineers
Lovewit has abandoned his house in the city until the plague subsides. In his absence, his butler Face, along with co-conspirators Subtle and Doll Common, are scamming Londoners; they convince a series of gullibles that they’re experts in all manner of occult arts, particularly alchemy. A lawyer’s clerk (Dapper) wants a “familiar spirit” to ensure his gambling luck. In exchange for a generous upfront fee and a share of his winnings, the trio promises the favor of the queen of the fairies. A nearby tobacconist (Drugger) hopes for magical advice to make his shop prosper—and for a little help to marry Dame Pliant, the beautiful, rich widow next door. Sir Epicure Mammon fantasizes of the wealth he’ll soon have, despite his friend Surly’s deep skepticism. Mammon continues to provide funds and insists Subtle is about to deliver the promised “philosopher’s stone” and he’ll turn everything to pure gold. A pair of pious pastors, Tribulation Wholesome and Ananias, have also paid handsomely for the not-quite-ready philosopher’s stone, hoping that untold wealth will help their religious cause. Dame Pliant’s brother, Kastril, hears “quarreling” is fashionable in town and wants to learn how to win.
Shenanigans, disguises—including Surly pretending to be a Spanish don in order to gather proof of fraud—and false promises ensue until Lovewit returns home unexpectedly and hears his neighbors tell him of strange doings in his absence. Face denies all, and as the victims arrive one by one, insists there must have been a jailbreak at the local madhouse. Face confesses to Lovewit but promises that forgiveness will get him wealth and a wealthy widow. Lovewit promises he’ll return all the stolen property to the victims—as long as they get a court order. Unwilling to publicly declare how badly they’ve been fooled, they each slink off. Lovewit, disguised as the Spanish don, marries Dame Pliant. Meanwhile, Subtle and Doll are getting tired of Face, and plot to run off together after they con the young widow out of all her jewels. Before they can, Face tells them Lovewit knows all, officers are coming, and the best they can hope for is to escape with the clothes on their backs. —Heidi Schmidt, dramaturg It’s been a pleasure serving as “actor-manager” of CSF’s Original Practices (OP) production for a fourth year. In Shakespeare’s day, productions weren’t led by a director in the way they are today; actors came together knowing only their own lines to collectively stage the play in a short amount of time. Theatre is a collaborative art form in general, but these rehearsal practices take it to another level. What you’ll be seeing today is truly the product of a team.
After eight years of producing Shakespeare in the OP slot, this year we’re turning our attention to a contemporary of Shakespeare’s: Ben Jonson. One of my favorite things about the Original Practices project here at CSF is the opportunity it provides to experiment with the staging practices that both Shakespeare and his contemporaries incorporated into their plays. It has been illuminating to perform Shakespeare’s plays as they were written to be performed, with audience engagement, actors playing multiple roles, lightning-fast costume changes, onstage musicians and line prompters. I’m very interested in applying these practices to Jonson’s work as well, which is quite different than Shakespeare’s.
To compare Shakespeare and Jonson is to consider a country heart versus a city brain. Shakespeare sides with his characters; Jonson lampoons his. Shakespeare’s comedies often feature characters who flee the court and experience some degree of redemption or transformation; Jonson’s satires expose and criticize the human flaws that never change. In The Alchemist, it’s greed he’s targeting—and gullibility, too—as our three conspirators Face, Subtle and Doll Common work together to deceive their neighbors into believing that they’ll all become millionaires overnight through alchemy.
We’re performing his most celebrated satire on the set of The Book of Will, which includes Jonson as a character in the play. (This play is timely for other reasons, as well, as the action takes place during a pandemic; the owner of the house, Lovewit, is absent because he’s gone to the country to quarantine!)
You’ll notice that the audience doesn’t have flags to wave for this OP production, as this is not a history about England vs. France; instead, we’re leaning into a different way to engage the audience by seating some audience members on stage, as they were seated in Shakespeare’s day. We are delighted to be sharing this brutally funny play with you, which in many ways is as relevant as ever. —Kevin Rich, actor-manager
