Elisabeth Ahrens, center, lets her hair down as Rosalind in the all-female Queen's Company's As You Like It |
The Queen's Company at Walkerspace
written by William Shakespeare
directed by Rebecca Patterson
A
pair of stumps and a tree in silhouette could set the stage for half
a dozen of Shakespeare's plays. So it's the action—and not an
elaborate, conceptual design—that defines Rebecca Patterson's
all-female production of As You Like It.
Each time someone leaves the dark, paranoid court for the Forest of
Arden, their violent impulses dissolve. The constant stream of
converts lends a harmonious atmosphere to the sylvan utopia of
bumpkins and exiles. Folks have time to kill in this forest, and they
spend it debating the nature of the world while noting the process of
time. Patterson has edited the script, minimizing its raucous
clowning and cutting a difficult, equivocal hunting scene. Her
stripped approach suits AYLI
well, bringing out its philosophical spirit as well as a communal
theme.
Patterson
balances her abstract design with a realistic style of
performance. Her actors speak the verse as dialogue, not poetry,
which stifles any impulse to overact. As Rosalind, Elisabeth Ahrens
delights in the ardor of her partner Orlando but can't help teasing
him for his exuberance. Opposite her, Virginia Baeta is so passionate
about love that it's no surprise he doesn't see his paramour is right
there disguised as a boy. Unfortunately, the duo don't have enough
chemistry to kindle their love-play into flames. As for the cast as a
whole, they play off each other comfortably, and their enthusiasm for
playing Shakespeare—and not just the female roles—makes up for
any rough skill. Rather than overplaying their parts, they let the
dialogue enhance their simple characterizations. Just as the set
could serve for Shakespearean dramas, the company could easily mount
a full repertory of classic English comedies.
No
surprise, then, that the one major flaw in AYLI
involves specificity. Patterson and designer Anna Licavita costume
the court as if it were the corrupt government in a Reagan-era banana
dictatorship. Like most attempts to reset Shakespeare's plays in
another time and place, '80s Latin America fits uncomfortably around
this play. The Miami Vice
outfits, floofy cupcake nighties, and aviator sunglasses are funny
but add nothing that the actors and script haven't already shown us.
Much
better are beats in the second half when the action pauses for
characters to rock out to '80s pop music. The Queen's Company loves
using this entertaining, idiosyncratic device to express passionate,
inexpressible moments like “love at first sight.” The quirky joy
of these moments epitomizes the company's approach to their mission.
The company casts only actresses in classic plays, but a political
agenda is subtextual and secondary. Their motivation, rather, seems
to be more artistic: why shouldn't women play these great roles? The
programming sticks to comedies, by Shakespeare and others, plays
which rarely depict sexual activity except in the most abstract way.
That fact, plus the tropes of disguise and rebellion against parents,
the exceptional fake beards, and the earnest cheese of those musical
interludes all give their work the undertone of a romantic fantasy
enacted by girls at a pajama party.
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