I went to a production of one of the history plays last night. There was so much going against the production that I should have hated it. The set was kinda “clichéd modern Shakespeare unit set.” The costumes often had those kind of frayed edges that old clothes never have- only costumes that have been torn to look like they’re frayed. The staging was uninspired – you know, Kings stand in the same place for long periods of time talking and little else. The leading actor was all wrong for the part and some of the actors were guilty of “Shakespeare as performed by flight attendants.” You know, where they point to everything that they’re talking about so that you have a clearer understanding of where the sun is, where the prince just exited or how the flotation devices work?
But it was great- and you know why? Because the actor playing Falstaff was wicked awesome. That’s all it took (oops, I guess I just gave away what play it was). It was just such a lovely performance in, what I consider to be, one of the hardest roles to play. It’s so easy to play the universal symbol of Falstaff (or Puck or Stanley Kowalski or any number of iconic roles) rather than as a person. It's kina like Santa- isn't it? Instead of actors connecting their own humanity to that of the character, they tend to put on the Falstaff suit and just play this kind of “roly poly” (my friend Theresa chose those perfect words) guy that laughs a lot while slapping him tummy. Not this actor. He gave a very sweet “honor” speech. He was funny, warm and just great.
There were other good performances too and, rhythmically, the director got it right too. But usually I don’t believe that a couple of good performances can make a satisfying production- but in this case, I was wrong. Maybe the director did such a good job with the arc of the play that it could withstand some less than perfect elements.
Or maybe that actor was so damn good that it didn't matter about anything else.
