A "Richard III" That Just Limps Along

People have been going to the theater to see stars since Thespis broke out of the chorus in the 6th century, barnstormed the cities of ancient Greece and gave his name to the acting profession that he is credited with creating.  And I’m just as eager to see a star onstage as generations of theater lovers have been ever since.

So, despite having seen Richard III more than a half dozen times over the last 10 years, I signed up for the entire season at BAM just to make sure I didn’t miss out on getting a ticket to see Kevin Spacey put his trademark sardonic spin on the most wicked—and most wickedly entertaining—of Shakespeare’s villains.

The production that opened at the Harvey Theater last week marks a reunion between Spacey and the director Sam Mendes, who not only worked with the star on the 1999 Oscar-winning movie "American Beauty" but is the guiding force behind The Bridge Project, the transatlantic partnership that has brought British and American actors together to perform classic works.

Richard III is the final of the Bridge productions and the Spacey-Mendes take on the tale of the hunchbacked miscreant who manipulates the deaths of his brother, nephews and wife to gain the throne of England has drawn raves in London and here (click here to see some of those reviews). 

But, as was the case with the initial Bridge production The Cherry Orchard back in 2009 (click here to see my review) the show failed to work for me.

It gets off to a good start with the sight of Spacey sprawled on a throne. Clearly pissed off by the celebration going on around him as his elder brother gets the crown (or, to be more accurate, the celebration that is being projected on the screen above him) Spacey's Richard snarls out the play’s famous opening line, “Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer by this sun of York..” 

Spacey never loses his prodigious intensity but the energy around him quickly dissipates and although, as I’ve said, I’ve seen the play a lot, it was hard to follow what was going on.

Mendes clearly means to comment on the nefarious ways in which political leaders use the media to manipulate the masses but, ironically, he seems to have put more thought into coming up with ways to use video projections than in developing his theme.

His other choices are just as off the mark.  It’s become uncool to do Shakespeare in period dress and so he has designer Catherine Zuber put all the men in chic Mad Men-era suits and contemporary military garb. 

They look great but they also all look alike.  So, despite the decision to project the names of the major characters on a screen as they appear onstage, it’s hard to tell who is whom or on whose side.

Paul Pyant’s lighting doesn’t help either.  I thought he and Mendes might have been making a point when the spotlight failed to illuminate an actor until he was almost finished speaking but after it happened a few more times, I decided that even if the choice had been intentional, it was annoying, particularly in such a large house.

The sound design went in the opposite—and more emphatic—direction. Two percussionists played big Japanese taiko-like drums to punctuate the action and at various times, the actors strapped on drums and beat along (John Doyle-style) with them.   

This, too, is stylish—and it helps to keep the audience awake—but it also drowns out the dialog, which is already compromised in the acoustics-challenged space of the Harvey. 

But, I hear you thinking, isn’t it worth it to put up with all of that just for the chance to see Spacey in the flesh?  Well, I’m not sure it is. He certainly goes all out, which, with Spacey, is saying something. 

The brace he wears and the limp he affects as the crippled Richard made me worry about his future orthopedic health. But the inner life of the character isn't as sharply delineated and it was never clear why anyone would believe or trust this twisted Richard.

Besides, even a star of Spacey’s magnitude needs some help, particularly in a production that runs three-and-a half hours. Back in 1955 when Laurence Oliver, filmed my all-time favorite version of Richard III, he was wise enough to recruit a supporting cast that included John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson and Claire Bloom.

Of course, you don’t always have to have big names to make a good production.  When Classic Stage Company did Richard III five years ago, Michael Cumpsty lead a cast filled with CSC regulars and that production was funny, moving and memorable (click here to read my review).   

None of which, alas, I can say about the current one.  In fact, I was so disappointed by it, that for the first time I can remember, I left my Playbill at the theater.

Support for the Strike and for "Richard III"

Like many theater lovers, I have mixed feelings about the stagehands' strike that is now in its fifth day. On the one hand, I totally support the stagehands who deserve their share of the record-breaking ticket sales that The League of American Theatres and Producers keeps bragging about and I'm delighted that most of the public seems to feel that way too. "I definitely understand that people work hard and need an increase because of the cost of living," one mother told the New York Times on Saturday morning, the first day of the strike, even as she comforted her young daughter who was disappointed about not seeing Dr. Seuss' How The Grinch Stole Christmas!. My husband K, a pit musician and a member of the musicians' union Local 802, also spent Saturday on the streets of the theater district showing his support for the stagehands. Local 802, to the dismay of K and many of our musician friends, stayed out only four days when its contract talks broke down during the holiday season of 2003. But the stagehands, apparently seeing how little the musicians got for playing nice, have built up a $4 million war chest and say they are prepared for a long siege. Right on, as we used to say back in the '70s.

On the other hand, I hate to see a dark theater. And street after street of them is depressing enough to make me want to down something strong like a double shot of Dewar’s, and I don't even like Scotch. The brightest spot in all of this is that off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway shows are still open. There's nothing like a Broadway show but there is some terrific stuff to be seen in the smaller venues too. Last weekend my friend Ellie and I went to see the Classic Stage Company's production of Richard III. It opens the company's 40th season and as we waited for the show to start, Ellie, a former actress, fondly remembered auditioning for CSC when she first got to New York. Ellie now teaches literature and writing to college kids but the folks at CSC are still her kind of people: actors and directors who love the classic canon and who love making it come alive for contemporary audiences. My relationship to the canon, particularly to Shakespeare, is somewhat more ambivalent than Ellie's. I'm usually eager to see what people do with one of the Bard's plays but I'm also often disappointed after I've seen what they've done. But I wasn't disappointed this time. In fact, I had one of the most enjoyable evenings I've had in the theater in months. And as regular readers know, I go to the theater a lot.

The evening didn't get off to a great start. The curtain was held for nearly half an hour while the crew worked on an electrical problem. And while they labored, the audience had to stand outside in the theater's small lobby down on East 13th Street. But then, to make the waiting easier, staff members passed around complimentary glasses of red and white wine and cups of espresso and latte. You don't get that kind of treatment on Broadway. What could have been a surly crowd turned into a festive group. Nearly everyone was in a good mood when the doors finally opened. As it turns out, the show would have been worth the wait even without the libations.

Richard III may be the theater's greatest villain. He's totally evil but, in the right hands, he's also totally entertaining. Michael Cumpsty, an actor who deserves far more recognition than he's gotten, is as sure-handed as they come. For starters, he doesn't declaim the lines, as too many actors do, he just speaks the words as though he were telling you something you want to hear, and as a result you listen and are glad you did. Cumpsty also serves as the production's co-director and he and Brian Kulick have put together an excellent cast, lead by Roberta Maxwell's searing Queen Margaret, the vengeful widow of the king Richard and his brothers deposed and killed; and Michael Potts as the steadfast but ill-fated Duke of Buckingham.

Mark Wendland's simple but elegant set also gives literally brilliant support. Chandeliers are raised and lowered throughout the performance, a mirrored wall slides up and down at the back of the stage, both provide just the right lights, shadows and reflections to illuminate the play in every way. It's a low-budget production and so there's a doubling and tripling of roles that is sometimes confusing and there's some hokey audience participation but not hokey enough that you don't want to participate. All in all, though, it’s the kind of show that gets you involved on every level.