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Review: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead Again This FridayBy Derek Mong - May 01, 2008
Special to iBerkshires
The last time I attended student theater, I almost did so unwittingly. My fiancée had purchased the tickets, marked the show time, and nudged us through dinner so we'd not lose our seats. This sounds pushier in print than it was in practice. We live five minutes, by foot, from the '62 Center at Williams College and I'd agreed, on several occasions, to go.
It was, however, four minutes into that amble that she confessed the nature of the show: an undergrad playwright directing student actors in his black-box premiere. Needless to say, her timing seemed suspect, and I found myself both proud of her cunning and ashamed that I made for its easy target.
But as we left at intermission, two in a tide of disgruntled whispers, I took no delight in having predicted the outcome. The production wasn't simply amateurish but occasionally offensive, and to watch left one embarrassed for all involved.
And that's the problem with bad theater: decorum prevents you from expressing outright disapproval, so you're left rubbing your brow, readjusting posture, till the house lights come up. Bad novels let us mock them in the margins, comfortable in the knowledge that the author's elsewhere, asleep in an easy chair, managing a divorce. A crumby play holds us like a traffic light that just won't turn green.
Thus, when the lights went down on "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" (it premiered April 25 at the Center Stage), I was a ball of nerves. Would the best of intentions lay waste to a Stoppard classic? Could students handle such roles, or would their characters outsize them, as if they'd worn Dad's blazer to school? Should I note my exits before sitting down?
'Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern
Are Dead'
Play by Tom Stoppard
Directed by professor David Eppel
Center Stage, '62 Center for Theatre and Dance, Williamstown
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Thankfully, the answer was no, and I found myself leaning into the action, anticipating the scenes I most enjoyed in college. For those of you unfamiliar with the play, its premise is genius: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, those bumbling pawns from Shakespeare's "Hamlet," wake to find themselves, well, in a play. They remember little, feel all their actions predetermined, their fate sealed. When a Polonius or Gertrude enters, they act as if Shakespeare were back in charge.
And it's the pair of actors portraying Rosencrantz (Terry Tamm) and Guildenstern (Ilya Khodosh) who make the show. Like "Waiting for Godot," its existential forefather, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern" is driven by the comic interaction between its lead men, and Khodosh and Tamm quibble and quiver like old, paranoid friends.
When a coin turns up heads 87 consecutive times, Tamm places the latest flip on his head in the hopes it'll change. Khodosh sneaks behind him, peaks over, and pauses. For a moment they resemble a totem pole trying to grow, but then the coin shines (heads again) and they tumble back down.
Likewise, Katie Edgerton (as the Player) delights with her band of ne'er-do-well tragedians, though one wonders about the costume choice that's left her more swashbuckler than stage-star. Still, she's a semi-sultry foil to Tamm's outbursts (made more boyish by his floppy, blond hair) and Khodosh's mortal fears.
At one point the latter objects to an actor's death scene: "You die so many times; how can you expect them to believe in your death." She responds with a flourish: "On the contrary, it's the only kind they do believe in." The play's rich with such lines, and can be enjoyed on multiple levels: meditation on free will, meta-narrative of the stage, analogy for the weak in the face of world powers.
To the director's credit (here, David Eppel), the actors tackle this material earnestly, pushing the comic when needed, but never letting the play devolve into farce. There's an occasional sop to baser humors (sword held as phallus, mimed sex on the stairs) but they're the only time the actor's youth shows through.
Eppel's aided by Julie Seitel on lights and David Morris, the scenic designer. Following the production, I had the chance to view some of Morris' constructions, including the three, seemingly bottomless boxes that feature prominently in Act III. I won't divulge his secret here, but alongside a massive sailing flag and crates stenciled IKEA (Hamlet is from Denmark) he does the trick.
Seitel paints the infamous pirate scene in warm, explosive colors, and hides a silhouetted Hamlet behind a beach umbrella, backlit — perhaps the spookiest use this item I've ever seen. Between their two approaches, the production's thoroughly professional, and yet the ticket's still cheaper than a gallon of gas.
"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead" will close this Friday, May 2, at 7:30 p.m. With "Travesties" (May 1 and 3 at 7:30) it comprises Theatre 306's "2 by Tom Stoppard." |
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