Acts (and Flights) of Faith

I'm listening to Garrison Keillor just now, who on "A Prairie Home Companion" is singing a song in tribute to the crew of the US Air flight that had to ditch into the Hudson River this week, and especially to its pilot Chesley Sullenberg. Keillor will be in Richmond tomorrow, to perform at the Modlin Center and I'll be attending.

I've been thinking about the astounding feat of that pilot and crew. Raised among aviation, the world of airports and aircraft has always been familiar and dear to me. My father Michael Mudge managed operations at JFK airport for TWA In the 1970's and just out of the Air Force, just a few miles south of LaGuardia, where "Sully's" flight took off. I loved visiting my Dad at the airport, fascinated by the smells and bustle, always mesmerized by the beauty of that old terminal, (now the home of JetBlue) and I was privileged to fly often. I still love flying, though I must admit to a moment of panic on every flight---at "throttle-back," when, having reached cruising speed, the plane's engines are slowed and the speed eases off a bit. You need less thrust to keep a plane in the air than to get it there. It's a moment that profoundly scares me. Every flight. But I still love the perspective from those heights.

I can imagine the panic of those passengers and crew. Amazingly, everyone survived. My father and I have a little fun phrase we use for bumpy or upsetting flights, which here is truer than ever: any flight you can walk away from is a good flight.

You've heard by now that once they were in the water, these folks didn't panic. I remember cynical "guides" to surviving crashes that advised, among other tactics, climbing over the backs of seats (and other passengers) to be first to exit. These passengers didn't fight to get out of that sinking plane—they helped each other. Maneuvering an airbus without power at any speed is impossible. Cruising speed is more than 500mph. Of course, without engines it would be moving more slowly. Still.

Pandemonium, surely, but when that plane stopped moving, calm and caring ruled the day—for women and children, for the elderly, for each other.

Apart from the inaugural, this is the seminal story of early 2009. I'm certain the new President will mention the water landing. Many have proclaimed it a miracle. Doubtless you've heard Mayor Bloomberg's phrase: "Miracle on the Hudson." One view I heard yesterday held that the miracle was a change in perspective. That a plane could be saved. That when we're in trouble Americans care for each other. That human beings do.

Whatever your politics, it's a shift in perspective you can't help but notice, of both recollection and renewal—not only in across our great nation, but right here in our community.

Last night, most of the theatre companies in Richmond gathered in the sanctuary of 2^nd Presbyterian Church and previewed the plays of Acts of Faith, a festival of faith-themed theatrical performance this year lasting between January 16 and March 31. Some 200 people gathered, representatives of more than a dozen faith communities and others just interested in great theatre and discussions related to the very heart of what makes us human. There were so many great performances, from the ladies of the African American Repertory Theatre, to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to the Altar Boyz—too many others to highlight, all terrific.

What connects these two stories for me is the sense renewed of collaborating with and caring for each other. In a spirit I've not seen since the days following 9/11: we care for one another, we're interested in one another. In a time of challenges great and small---this is a great sign for theatre---an art from that depicts human story more tangibly than any other. Whatever your religious faith---our faith in each other seems strengthening all the time.

Good flight, Sully. Good Faith, Richmond. Good luck, Mr. President-elect.

The Richmond Shakespeare entry for this year's Acts of Faith festival is Peter Shaffer's Tony Award-Winning play, Amadeus. Talk-back discussions are set for two Sundays: Feb 22 and March 1 after the matinee performances. Tickets are available here or by calling toll-free 1-866-BARD-TIX (227-3849).

Announcing the cast of "Amadeus"

Antonio Salieri - Andrew Hamm
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Mike Hamilton
Constanze Weber - Liz Blake
Emperor Joseph II - Cynde Liffick
Count Johann Killian Von Strack - Katie Ford
Count Franz Orsini-Rosenberg - Jamie Reese
Baron Gottfried Van Swieten - Joseph Sultani
Venticelli - Jake Allard and David Janosik

Richmond Shakespeare is proud to announce the cast of our next production, Peter Shaffer's modern masterpiece Amadeus, directed by James Alexander Bond. The company is a mix of veterans and newcomers, continuing our commitment to introducing Richmond's theatre scene to fresh talents and developing the artists we have with challenging pieces and roles.

Richmond Theatre Critics Circle Award nominees Andrew Hamm and Liz Blake share the stage for the fourth time (The Taming of the Shrew, Measure for Measure, and Hamlet previously), alongside longtime Richmond Shakes veteran Cynde Liffick (more shows than we can count). Three actors are making their second appearances for the company: Katie Ford (Hamlet), Jake Allard (As You Like It) and David Janosik (The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr, Abridged). Jamie Reese makes his memorized-role debut for the company, having appeared in December's staged reading of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Mike Hamilton and Joseph Sultani once again remind us of how powerful an influence VCU's theatre department is on our local culture.

James Alexander Bond (as seen on Letterman) is directing his fifth production for Richmond Shakespeare, having orchestrated some of the most compelling work the company has ever produced: Julius Caesar, Henry IV Part 1, Measure for Measure, and Henry IV Part 2. He will be returning in the summer to direct Henry V, a unique opportunity for a director to tackle the entire Henriad. Costumes for the show will be designed and constructed by RTCC award-winning (As You Like It) designer Rebecca Cairns with Anne Hoskins.

Amadeus, by Peter Shaffer, will be performed by Richmond Shakespeare from February 12 - March 8 as part of the "Acts of Faith" Festival.

Stay tuned for updates and blogs!

In Defense of the Bad Guy

If you've spent any time in a talk-back session with me, you've probably heard me gleefully admit that the only thing I might like better than creating art is talking about creating art. This blog is quite the enabler for me, isn't it? It certainly gives me a great opportunity to talk about making Measure for Measure, which has been among the most rewarding experiences of my artistic life.

Since about halfway through our production process for Measure, James Bond (the director, not the fictional spy) and I have shared a similar experience: that of defending Angelo, the assumed "villain" of the play. With friends and colleagues, at home or at the Shakespeare Association of America conference last month, in every conversation we end up in about the show, it seems like our production's interpretation of Angelo becomes central. That's a bit of a red herring; yes, we have found an approach toward the character that we can't find much if any precedent for in the show's long production history (though we believe it to be completely supported by the text), but it changes a lot more than just Angelo. The whole triangle of Angelo - Isabella - Duke is shifted if you begin with the assumption that Angelo isn't a villain.

"Wait a minute," Shakespeare Scholar objects. "Angelo condemns Claudio to death for fornication, a crime that has gone unpunished in Vienna for 19 years. He tries to coerce Claudio's sister Isabella--a novice nun, by the way--to sleep with him to save her brother, and after he thinks he has slept with her he still orders Claudio put to death. How is this guy not a villain? He's a rapist and a murderer! And besides, the Spark Notes edition lists his character as 'Angelo: the villain of the play'."

Well, first of all, that's why I hate Spark Notes and their ilk, which bring the play down to the level of the reader, rather than the Arden or Folger editions, which endeavor to raise the reader up to the level of the text.

Secondly, Angelo fails to either rape Isabella or murder Claudio. If he's a villain, he's not a very competent one. Mariana, his spurned fiancee, substitutes for Isabella in the silent darkness of Angelo's garden house, and she is far from an unwilling participant in the act. And Claudio is spared by the disguised Duke and the Provost, who substitute the convenient head of the fever-slain pirate Ragozine for Claudio's. But the point is well taken; he certainly has ill intent for much of the play.

However, he's not doing these things in a vacuum. Angelo is no Iago, who performs his deeds out of hatred and jealousy; he's no Macbeth, who acts out of ambition and wife-whipping. When presented with a position of authority based solely on the fact that he has a reputation as a strict and righteous man, Angelo begs the Duke to give him some lesser responsibility. He has no idea what to do. When presented with policy decisions, he has no background to draw on for anything other than strict interpretation of the law.

Angelo reminds me of myself. When I got my first job as actor/road manager for a Theatre IV tour, I was a jerk. I thought I needed to act like a boss; I believed that my right to manage was assumed, where in reality it needed to be demonstrated. I was terrible at the job, and I made some very nice people hate me. I was Angelo.

Then Isabella (played by Liz Blake) shows up, gorgeous and brilliant, probably the first girl Angelo has ever been this close to and the first person he's met in town who's as smart and virtuous as he himself is. Having resisted temptation all his life by removing himself from it, he now finds himself not just tempted by Isabella, but, I believe, genuinely and sincerely in love with her. And, truth be told, in a diferent play they'd be a great couple.

So Angelo is in love for the first time. He's 35 years old, he's having all the hormonal rush of a 13-year-old, and he has the power of Claudio's life and death in his hands. He simply doesn't have the experience to resist using the powerful leverage he has to achieve the powerful urges he has. Then, when Isabella returns to discuss the matter, she repeatedly, innocently, seems to be saying "yes" to his thinly-veiled offer to trade Claudio's life for her love. Finally, he's just been tuned to too high a pitch, and strung along for too long, and he snaps.

Does that excuse him? No. But it goes a long way toward explaining him.

Viewing the play's antagonist through the lens of explainable action changes everything about the characters who interact with him. Doesn't Isabella bear some of the blame for the way things spiral out of control? She meets with him alone, she eggs him on, she stays in the room long after Angelo has made his intentions clear, and she certainly has argued passionately that her brother's fornication was no big deal. Of course she doesn't deserve to be propositioned, threatened, or sexually assaulted, but she is far from blameless for the situation she has placed herself in. Some of the show's company--including the director--have even posited that Isabella's refusal to give up her virginity for her brother's life could be seen as every bit as unreasonable as Angelo's insistence that any act of fornication is punishable by death.

The biggest culprit, in my mind, is the Duke (played by Dave White), our supposed co-protagonist with Isabella. First, he places Angelo in a position of power for which he is completely unprepared. Next, when things start falling apart, the Duke doesn't jump out of his disguise and set things aright; he chooses instead to remain concealed and concoct a series of elaborate plans to hook Angelo up with his ex and send him a substitute head. Most dastardly is his decision to keep Isabella ignorant of the fact that Claudio's life has been saved, holding onto that information for a later time, when he will delight her with good news just in time to ask for her hand in marriage.

This, to my mind, is every bit as nasty as anything Angelo does. How is the Duke's manipulating Isabella's love for her brother in order to get her as his wife any better than Angelo's manipulating Isabella's love for her brother in order to get her as a one-night stand? Certainly, the Duke is no "villain." He does save the day in the end; no one is executed or raped, and everyone (except the unrepentant Lucio) ends up in some degree of happily-ever-after. But it's very telling that Isabella has no lines after the Duke proposes to her. For such an intelligent, verbose character to have nothing to say is not an accident for a writer such as Shakespeare.

As an actor, I always want to love and understand the character I'm playing. Loving Angelo the manipulative strict attempted rapist is obviously harder than loving Angelo the lovestruck helpless broken-hearted screw-up. It's much more playable to wrap my head around the idea that he's a generally good guy in way over his head who makes terrible, terrible decisions and feels awful about them afterward. And he is devastated by his choices, separating himself from Shakespeare's true villains with a soliloquy at the end of act four wherein he expresses profound regret for his actions despite the fact that he is convinced he will get away scott-free. Even at the end, when he has been forgiven by Isabella and pardoned by the Duke, he still apoligizes, "crav[ing] death more willingly than mercy."

To my mind, that's no villain. And I don't think that's just better for the actors; I think that makes for a better audience experience. We see something of ourselves in Cassius, in Hotspur, and in Bolingbroke, something much more approachable than the unrepentant villainy of Iago, Aaron, and Richard III. I think we've all gotten ourselves into bad situations from which we couldn't extricate ourselves. We've all lied and been caught in it. And in the end, we've all been in that moment where maybe we would rather just be caught cleanly than get away with what we know we did wrong.

I've been Angelo. I've been the bad guy. I think we all have.



Disagree? That's what the "comments" link is for, my friends. And we have two more Acts of Faith discussions scheduled, after the shows on Sunday, February 17, and Friday, February 29. Or, if you just want to tear my head off after the show, I can easily be persuaded to argue the point over a pint at Penny Lane after any show.



Photos by Eric Dobbs.

Times-Dispatch: "Measure" "Offers Much to Chew On"

From the Richmond Times-Dispatch:

A comedy wrestles with morality
Richmond ensemble takes on tangled plot of Shakespeare play
Sunday, Feb 10, 2008 - 12:08 AM Updated: 02:49 AM
By SUSAN HAUBENSTOCK
SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

Richmond Shakespeare's entry in the Acts of Faith Festival, Shakespeare's comedy "Measure for Measure," offers much to chew on in the areas of morals and ethics.

The Duke of Vienna has been lax in applying stringent societal laws; he pretends to head out of town and gets his deputy Angelo, a much tougher enforcer, to take his place while he's gone. Angelo promptly condemns one Claudio to death for fornication -- a crime that has typically gone unpunished by the duke.

Claudio's sister Isabella, a novice nun, begs Angelo to let Claudio off, but deceitful Angelo is willing to do so only if Isabella sleeps with him (with Angelo, that is -- confused yet?). The duke is hanging around Vienna disguised as a friar, and when he learns of Angelo's treachery he devises a plot by which Angelo will be tricked into thinking Isabella has submitted to him. So Angelo has sex with a substitute girl, but he still demands Claudio's death. The execution is faked, the duke reveals the truth and metes out justice, and then he asks Isabella to marry him.

It's fairly complicated, morally as well as plot-wise, and Shakespeare has blended serious matters with comic ones throughout. No one is quite blameless here, though several characters are shameless, or hiding their shame.

In Richmond Shakespeare's production, director James Alexander Bond upholds the company's high standard of spoken verse and pulsing energy as realized by a terrific five-actor ensemble.

Each actor plays at least three roles, and all the characters are well-distinguished. Liz Blake plays Isabella, lovely and innocent, brave and outraged. Andrew Hamm, as Claudio, has a classic scene with her in which he begs her to sacrifice her virginity for his life. He's also perfectly tuned as hypocritical Angelo.

John Moss is amusing and animated as Lucio, Claudio's friend, and Julie Phillips is strong in several smaller roles. David White does a fine job with the role of the duke. It's a lively performance that lends heart to the production.



Thank you to Susan Haubenstock! One of the great things about doing plays with universal lighting is seeing Ms. Haubenstock's mysterious Mona Lisa smile in the audience during a show.

Matinee today at 2:30. Come out and join us!