This Week in New York Theater.

1.  So they’re casting for the Spider-man musical, and I’ve got say that I’m excited about the potential of the whole project.  If you haven’t heard, Julie Taymor is directing/creating, and U2 (or at least Bono and The Edge) are doing the score.  I’ve heard good things from folks involved.  The casting notice is interesting for a couple of reasons, first of which is the line “all ethnicities are encouraged to audition.”  Now, while my friend Burl would make a perfect Spidey (and I’ve got the pictures to prove it), are we really going to see a Spider-man or even Mary Jane of color?  The fanboys wouldn’t stand for it, I don’t think.  (Although if Stephanie Beatriz was Mary Jane, I’d be there, no questions asked.)

The other weird tidbit from the casting notice is this mysterious “Principal Woman,” described as “Sinead O’Connor with a Middle Eastern/Bulgarian/Greek twist.”  Okay.  I have absolutely no clue what that’s all about–a new villain?  Should they really be adding to the cannon like this?  Maybe a Spidey fan will read this and school me on how this character fits into everything, and I definitely will reserve judgment, but I’m already questioning where they’re taking this.

2.  Whoopi is the new Rosie, as she signs on to join the cast of Xanadu shortly after doing a good job hosting this year’s Tony’s (go back and check out the running diary if you haven’t already).   The difference, of course, is that Whoopi already has a Tony.  I was pretty excited about seeing Xanadu even before this announcement, and I’d like to see it with Whoopi in it, but I’ll probably wait out the crowds and check it out after she leaves.  Xanadu is an interesting case right now–the theater is almost full every night (at least as of the latest Variety charts), but ticket receipts are only about half of what they could be.  Lots of discounted tickets to that show.  So Whoopi would, it would seem, allow them to start selling more full price tickets, hopefully while maintaining that seating capacity.  I hope Xanadu keeps doing well–I didn’t want it to win the Tony (for obvious reasons), but it sounds like a fun little show.

3.  Tickets are still available for Passing Strange’s closing weekend, including the two shows Spike Lee is going to film.  Seriously.  Buy tickets.  See the show.  Be there for the taping and/or the closing.  I’m looking into it myself.  You’re going to be real sad when you watch the filmed version and realize you could have been there.

4.  My boy Rajiv wrote a play about origami.  Yes.  Origami.  It’s called Animals Out of Paper, and it’s pretty damn good.  Full disclosure: I recently wrote a piece about this play for the Brooklyn Rail (should be out soon), and I served as the (super informal) “hip-hop consultant” for the show (I didn’t write the rhymes, just discussed them, and basically just quoted Eminem lyrics at that).  So yeah, I’m biased.  And one of my favorite actors in the world, Utkarsh Ambudkar, is in it–you may remember him as Nelson from The Lark production of Welcome to Arroyo’s.  Either way, this is a play with a lot of heart, some great performances (from what I saw in the first reading), and a deceptive simplicity that pulls back to reveal incredible emotional complexity underneath.  It’s like origami, come to think of it.

5.  Also happening right now in NYC is 12 Ophelias by the wildly prolific Caridad Svich.  If you saw Aya Ogawa’s Oph3lia, you kind of have to see this one, if only to make it a total of 15 Ophelias this summer (plus, of course, Lauren Ambrose, who makes 16–sixteen Ophelias!  *cue Count Von Count’s thunder*).  It happens to be free and site-specific in Williamsburg’s McCarren Park Pool (or as El Puente students would say “MacCarrien Park” — there’s an awfully inside joke for you), and it features bluegrass and a Hamlet with a black eye, so go see it already.  Here’s a blog review of it if you haven’t made up your mind.

I know there’s a lot more, but I’m stopping there–oh wait, no I’m not.

6.  Hair.  It’s in Central Park starting July 22.  I’m a little bummed about only having ten days or so to try to see it (and my birthday is right in there, so that knocks a bunch of nights out of the realm of possibility), but I am going to find a way to make it happen.  It’s Hair, people.  And it’s in Central Park.  Outside.  And there’s a war going on–a war with a “back-door draft.“  I’m not going to tell you about the virtual line, because (a) I’ve already written about it (I think) and (b) I don’t want you beating me to the punch.  I’ll link it all up after I’ve seen it, suckas.

7.  This last one isn’t theater, but it’s the biggest deal in entertainment this summer.  I will be seeing the IMAX.  Somehow.  Possibly at 2am next week.

So Hamlet.

I’m not sure I have a whole lot that I want to say about the Shakespeare in the Park production of Hamlet, but I did say I’d come back and write about, so let’s see what comes out. And I guess that this is as good a place as any to get started: I don’t think I like Shakespeare.

Now yes, I respect Shakespeare and his works. I see great value in his work being produced and read and studied. But here’s the thing: I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Shakespeare that wowed me. Hell, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Shakespeare that wowed me. The work is the work and the words are the words and there’s a lot that’s impressive about it, of course, but does it still strike me as great theater? Rarely, if ever.

Now granted, I’m pretty particular in what I like onstage, and my tastes tend to run to works that are (a) relatively accessible, (b) containing some kind of young person energy, and (c) by or about contemporary folks, especially folks of some kind of color (and maybe in another post I’ll write about how insufficient that phrase feels to me, but how I can’t think of anything that better expresses what I’m trying to say). Shakespeare, no matter how you slice it (fitting choice of words for the last scene in this production), no matter how you jazz it up and reimagine it, is none of those things.

And yes, there is a timelessness to Shakespeare’s work, and I understand the idea of universality, and Shakespeare is important because he speaks to everyone, and it’s not about race or creed or color, or even about specific issues, because the plays are about big themes, big ideas–I get it. I understand the argument. And I believe the argument, up to a point. I think kids should be reading Romeo and Juliet. I think Iago is the baddest dude on the theatrical planet (although watching Hamlet again reminded me of how evil Claudius really is). I’ve even seen a really good production of Cymbeline (at the Pearl, many years ago) that spoke to Shakespeare’s effectiveness as well as any production I can remember.

But I mean, seriously. Enough.

Enough for me, at least. Part of my problem is structural–Shakespeare’s plays are five acts, and they climax in weird places. The main character dies, and we’ve still got speeches left to be told. We spend big chunks of time on subplots and disconnected thoughts that don’t do it for me–not that I think neoclassically and want unity of time, place, and action, but I do want continuity and connection and steady forward movement. That’s not what Shakespeare’s game plan was. He’s got a different pace (and really, all classical theater does, and really, all theater that is of its own time–that is, all good theater–is operating at a pace specific to its time period. It’s written for its audience, not an audience 400 years later), a more languid pace at times, more about language and poetry, which is all well and good (I mean, I write 1000 word blog posts about punching monkeys, so you know I’m not afraid of language), but really, seriously, enough already.

So that said (545 words before getting to the point), any production of Hamlet is starting out in a hole with me. I’d rather be seeing a production of a new play. And yes, I understand the economics, and that Shakespeare sells tickets, but that doesn’t change my personal preference. So that’s the hole any production has to dig itself out of with me: proving why this show needs to be done now. And I can’t say that this particular production made itself feel especially essential to me, even though I certainly didn’t hate it, and probably even kind of liked it some, if not many, levels.

What I definitely liked was, maybe surprisingly, all the TV actors. Sam Waterston was hilarious, Andre Braugher is a bad ass still, and Lauren Ambrose is, as we previously discussed, one of my favorite actors ever. They all brought good natural feels to their roles, regardless of how small those parts might have been. But Hamlet obviously lives and dies with Hamlet, and I’m not sure how I felt about Michael Stuhlbarg (and I haven’t read the Times article on him yet, which might provide some insight into how he approached the role). His Hamlet felt kind of legitimately crazy–not putting on airs to lull his enemies into submission before attacking–and I think that it hurt my overall connection to the show. It’s an interpretation, of course, a choice in acting and directing, and it’s completely legit as a choice, but I couldn’t help feeling that if Hamlet felt less crazy, then Ophelia’s legit madness would feel more tragic, and everything else would fall into place to have more of a moving impact.

But honestly, I’m not sure I even agree with what I just wrote.

(NOTE: I wrote this post a few days ago.  Since then, I have read the Stuhlbarg article in the Times, and didn’t find much of anything to change my view.  Then today, Brantley’s review came out, and I can’t say I disagree with any of it, really.  The moment he’s referring to did indeed inspire a reaction from me, one of those verbal “huh.” things you make when you appreciate an impressive beat.   And the “actor, direct thyself” bit — I couldn’t agree with that more.  In fact, I think I predicted a version of that line in the review as soon as I saw the scene.  It was hard not to see it coming)

Ophelia.

On Sunday night I won tickets to see Hamlet at Shakespeare in the Park. I used the “Virtual Line” option via publictheater.org, and I highly recommend it. I know at least one other person who won tickets Sunday on only his second attempt; it was my second attempt too. If you’re going to go see the show (or the second one this summer, Hair–I’ll definitely be there for that), go with the online option as your first choice, and if you don’t get tickets, show up at the theater a little bit before and see if they’ve got empty seats. The theater was maybe 75% full, and that was before the thundershowers at intermission.

The last time I saw Hamlet was a few years back in London, and it was not at all a good experience. I spent a sizable chunk of the performance fantasizing about how, if I for some reason had to jump onstage and conduct an impromptu fight scene, take out the most people in the least moves. After that production, I told myself this: “Hey, I don’t like Shakespeare. I mean, really. It’s not fun. Even when it’s good, which this production here in London is not, I don’t really like it much. At all.” So I decided not to go see Shakespeare anymore when I could help it.

And then the Public cast Claire Fisher as Ophelia, and I didn’t have much choice.

Claire Fisher = Lauren Ambrose of course, star of Six Feet Under. Claire Fisher also = my favorite female TV character of all-time, and maybe my favorite TV character of all-time, up there with Eric Cartman, Ryan O’Reilly, and 75% of the cast of The Wire. Last year, she played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, and I was in Cleveland, so I missed it. I knew I had to make time to see her in this. The thing I didn’t really consider was this: Ophelia has got to be the weirdest character in theater.

She does nothing. She wants nothing. She reacts. Constantly. And then she goes crazy. And that crazy scene lasts forever, but all she’s doing is singing doggerel and, in this production, drawing a grave in chalk (which is a pretty cool image). It’s not exactly the kind of role that highlights Lauren Ambrose’s talents, although there was one moment that almost made the whole thing worth it: when she leaves the stage for the last time, she says goodbye–and it’s haunting, and it’s deep somehow, and it changes her from crazy and completely lost to somehow aware of her madness, to somehow resigned to her fate and even in charge of it. I can’t really explain how she does it, but there’s this thing Lauren Ambrose does (she did it all the time in Six Feet Under, and she even did it in Can’t Hardly Wait, which is a super-underrated teen movie) where she throws levels of desperation underneath a tough exterior. This isn’t that, but it’s similar; she’s working in complexity to every word, even with a character that hardly offers opportunity to do so.

And it’s kind of funny that her final moment is the highlight of her performance here–if you’ve seen Six Feet Under all the way through you know that the final sequence of that show–built around Claire Fisher–is the best thing that happened on that show, and one of the best things that has ever happened on television. She comes up big down the stretch, which is not always the case with most actors and/or shows.

Ophelia is particularly interesting to me right now, because my friend Aya Ogawa is about to open her play Oph3lia at Here. I was around at the beginning of this piece a few years back (when we both, along with Christina Anderson) were Van Lier Fellows at New Dramatists. I’ve seen a few incarnations of the piece, and it’s kind of thrilling (especially in terms of stage pictures and choreography), but I’m going to have a different connection to heart of the play now after having seen Hamlet again.

I’ll write more about Hamlet in another post. The short of it is that I’m not sure how I feel about the lead performance or, for that matter, the whole thing. And it’s long. And it’s Shakespeare, which I don’t like. I’m not ashamed to admit it. BUT…if you don’t have a self-imposed Shakespeare ban, it’s worth checking out.

You Know The Semester is Over When…

1.  You finish a test, go straight to a bookstore (SHAKESPEARE AND CO, WHAT!), and buy three brand new books that are in no way school related.  Junot Diaz and Chuck Palahniuk are the best celebrations of a completed school year that I can imagine.

2.  You start a brand new blog that you will undoubtedly struggle to update regularly throughout the summer, and almost certainly abandon by the time school starts again in the fall.

3.  The semester isn’t really over, but there’s only that one last take-home essay/final that you’re confident you can bang out in an hour but will probably take several hours and you’ll be cursing your overconfidence all the way through.

4.  You’ve already gotten an A for a class you don’t think you deserved an A in.

5.  You’re making plans, big plans, to explore the fuck out of New York City all summer long, and these plans include puppets this week, Lauren Ambrose in Central Park sometime soon, the Brooklyn Cyclones as often as possible, and of course, a new digital camera.

I won’t yet tell you what my plans are for this blog, but I have plans, which is unusual for me.

I’ll try to stick to them.