Love’s Labours Lost in Greenwood IN
June 12, 2009
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Play 2: Complete Works of Shakespeare (abridged)(Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival)
June 6, 2009
Before we left on this trip, Ken (my father-in-law) offered me his GPS. I declined saying something about “we got our maps already from GoogleMaps” but thanked him for the offer anyway.
I love technology, but I hate the GPS. Or, better reframed: I didn’t like what the GPS represented. See, I still like the idea of books and looking up information in volumes that contain physical pages. And, I like the idea of finding the point of departure and the point of arrival and looking at a map and tracing the route. Sure, I’ll use a website map such as GoogleMaps to aid in the process, but in the end, I’ll still have an overall picture of where I’m going and something tangible to point my finger at.
The GPS seemed more like having a website write a paper for you: you just plug in the goal and presto! a product in which you had little power over and had little control of any of the variables. And honestly, to me, that just sucks the joy out of life. Besides, I’d head enough stories of where the happy GPS either gave erroneous directions that led people into a driveway that was really a lake or, the thing simply wasn’t useful anywhere with farmland (e.g. Indiana and Ohio). The GPS just seemed to be a little gadget that really was for people in big cities and big cars.
So the next morning, when Donna offered her GPS for us to use in our Lancaster excursion, I reluctantly said “Sure” to Donna (mostly because neither of us–Lori or me–knew the area that well).
Our primary stop today was President James Buchanan’s Wheatland estate and this was a trip especially for the now “All-Things-US-Presidents” son, Colin. Colin, like many children, get into obsessions. Fueled by a viewing of Night at the Museum, Colin just loved the character of Teddy Roosevelt and has been on a three-month exploration of all the Presidents. So as we travel this summer, we’re making it a point to find those places that Presidents have lived and if you are in Pennsylvania, there’s really only one US President that is native to the state: Buchanan.
Apparently Buchanan doesn’t have the best reputation. Remember, he was the guy in office when the Civil War broke out (an inevitable happening no matter who was in office). But most historians and history books place the blame for the war on Buchanan because many felt that James could have done more (or, as some say, “do something”). In fact, one of Colin’s US Presidents books says “Buchanan became a pathetic spectator as events in the country spun out of control.” So, it was going to be interesting to see how the folk in custody of Buchanan’s Wheatland (and his reputation) were going to tell the story of Buchanan in a different light.
The GPS got us to his home with no problem (damn thing) and we got out umbrellas and made the dash to the visitor’s center (a smaller house on the estate). It was an interesting tour through the house and instead of telling you everything, I’ll cut to the punchline: Buchanan was actually the tallest President (he was six foot five) and he believed that the Federal government should not get involved in the State’s right to govern. The Confederate States were the ones who pushed the nation into war against itself and after Lincoln was elected, Buchanan got a lot of stuff done. (At least that’s what I remember from the tour). It was a nice tour and time and Colin enjoyed himself and if you are in the Lancaster area, the Wheatland tour is worth the hour or so.
After driving around Lancaster for a bit and trying to find what house Lori lived in for a year or so as a child, we ate lunch at the Park City Mall and eventually made our way back to home base in Mt. Joy. Center Valley, according to my GoogleMap, was about an hour and 40 minutes away, so as relatives came for pizza, I had to do the “Hi-Bye” to Lori’s Aunt Janet and Uncle Bill. I did ask, for some reason, Donna if I could borrow the GPS (as I had found it helpful in Lancaster that afternoon) and she said “Sure” and I punched in the address and started northeast.
I found myself staring at the thing for most of the trip and the talking directions was a nice break from the long stretches of Pennsylvania road. Most of all, I looked at the “Arrival Time” in the bottom right hand corner; a time that would get later by 10 minutes because of the small town stoplights and the slower moving trucks on Highway222. At one point, 222 seemed to bypass a lot of the stoplights of a stretch of town, but the GPS didn’t recognize the new road and I decided to follow the screen than the newer sign that was before me. I did get to DeSales University in plenty of time (15 minutes before the start of the show), but like traveling to any new destination, the thought of being late for the past hour was getting a bit unnerving. Which is probably something to keep in mind: Don’t Panic, you’re going forward and eventually you’ll get there probably on time.
It was a cautious crowd, or that’s the vibe I picked up on as I took my seat in the front row of the smaller, maybe 200-seat theater with audience on three sides of the stage. I hadn’t decided on this performance until a week ago when I looking for a “Complete Works” became more difficult than I had anticipated. I figured it was still a popular show and that several smaller, summer theaters would be producing it. I also had made a decision to not repeat a venue twice, but now that I was in Pennsylvania and there was a production less than two hours away, I made an exception to my rule and ordered the tickets online for this performance (which, by the way, isn’t always a pleasant user experience–ordering tickets online–but that’s another post).
So, here I was: at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival and here I was in the front row (slobbering distance from the actors) and by the time I sat down, I wasn’t sure if I was going to like tonight as much as I liked last night. See, unlike a Shakespeare play which there are very few good video recordings, I only have known this play by the original troupe, the Reduced Shakespeare Company’s DVD of a Vancouver taping with Reid and Austin and Adam. This is a DVD that I show my students and it’s a play that I really like. Now I’d be faced with an updated version done by people I didn’t know or trust. And so, I chanted my little mantra for this summer: Soak in what you see now and don’t compare with other performances. You are not a critic, you are an audience member.
Right before the opening announcements, an older couple was seated to my left and one of the people who had a “Volunteer” name badge on, moved toward the stage with a clip board and began to give announcements. I immediately realized that this was their way to start the show and immediately looked around to see if I could find the “Adam” character (one of the actors who sat among the audience until it was his turn to give some historical background on the Bard)…couldn’t spot him
The opening sequence seemed tight and it took awhile for the audience to warm up to the production. From what I understand about live comedy, you gauge the material by audience reaction and the laughs were “somewhat” until the Shakespeare’s Comedies section. It took me awhile to get used to these three completely different people saying the lines that I was used to on the RSC version. More current material was added to make the production relevant to the audience and there were obvious local concerns woven into the performance. But still, there was an apparent reserve to this crowd and I think I found out why during intermission.
For me, I did want them–Chris Faith, Christopher Patrick Mullen and Shawn Fagan –to succeed and win the audience over. I had heard this discussed on the RSC podcast about this interplay with audiences and even which crowds were better than others (according what day of the week it was). Perhaps the most challenging audience was the opening day audience when VIPs from major sponsors would be in attendance along with other official-looking people. And as the first part of the show unwound through the Romeo and Juliet scene it became apparent that this was indeed an opening night crowd and this crowd was a bit more “important” than the usual crowd. (And I say “important” only because sometimes there are people who give generously and the usual perk is complementary tickets to the shows and good seats. These are the patrons of the theater and, though perhaps not the mainstream audience, are the folks who keep the show going).
After the intermission, I decided to say “Hey” to the older couple to my left as a way to make up for not saying much to the people at last night’s performance. The older woman didn’t look pleased with the performance as I asked if she came to this festival much.
“Yes,” she said. “My husband was one of the founders of this festival.” She motioned to the man to her left. She went on to inform me that she didn’t know why the Church had to be so accepting of homosexuality and that this production was more racy that when it was performed a couple of years back. She also called over the house manager (I think it was, and apparently the older couple were VIPs because the house manager calmly explained with the actors mispronounced he older woman’s husband’s name).
I think the homosexual reference came when Fagan playing Juliet came over to our side of the stage and was making some reference to some nicely dressed women sitting right behind us. Then, he leaned on my knees and said “What are you doing after the play? Oh, you look like a young John Kerry” which I though was pretty funny, mostly because I’ve been told that before…the John Kerry part, that is. DeSales University is a Catholic university and I’m wondering if all Catholic universities were still recovering from the heat that Notre Dame was taking over inviting President Obama to speak at commencement a couple of weeks ago.
All of this started to come together as the second part began with the Hamlet reduction: This was an opening night crowd at a Catholic university with a lot of VIPs and these three guys were performing something that really demands a lot of timing and reliance on each other for cues. I’m not making any excuses for them, but Faith, Mullen and Fagan did a pretty good job adjusting to the audience while pushing some content that would probably not make the audience laugh out loud. For instance, the Othello rap is just a fun piece and it seems that the audience would eventually clap to the beat and sort of motion along with the players. Not this crowd. We smiled. The Comedies portion is done as a reader’s theater in the original script, but in this version, it was performed as sort of a puppet show (with faces of celebrities on tongue depressors). The piling on of characters and what they represent reached the ridiculous level and, finally, the audience (perhaps carried on by the younger people in the crowd) caved and started to trust the actors. Like I mentioned before, the second act with the reduction of Hamlet was a more reactive crowd and I think people left with more than a smile on their faces.
Or perhaps it was the champagne that was offered to us as we walked out of the theater to toast the opening night performance of Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Either way, I think it would have been interesting to see how different things would have played out on another day with a different audience.
One of the things that struck me after I did a quick review via uterli and I turned on the car and the GPS and drove out of the parking lot is that this audience knew the actors and the knew this festival. Though this was the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival, it was also a community festival with a history. People in the audience knew one another and people in the audience knew of the references to other past festivals that the actors (and director) cleverly included for the audience. In a way, I realized that though I was a part of the audience, I was still an outsider: in the beginning stages of a trip to dozens of places where there is already a relationship between the cast and the audience. I felt a little sad about this. Not only because I’m not a part of that relationship (much like when you are the new kid in a new school you’re trying to break into some of the social circles), but because I don’t have that back in my hometown of Goshen. We don’t have a Shakespearean festival or Shakespeare in the Park currently. I already miss what do not have, but hope to appreciate that vibe throughout the summer.
I ignored the GPS’ advice of heading back through all of those stop lights and instead followed the clearly marked signs before me for 222 that would eventually reconnect me with the original road. At one point I looked over at the car beside me who seemed unsure where they were going (that slow down thing that we do when we are unsure of where we are). And then I saw the GPS and I’m sure the driver and passenger were a bit concerned as I was earlier that evening if the physical sign should override the virtual one in the GPS. I could just hear that “R-Calc-U-Lating” impatient tone from their GPS. Eventually I sped on ahead and they turned off and heading toward the GPS-direct route. I turned on the Mamma Mia soundtrack and would be back in Mt. Joy in just over 70 minutes.
We left Saturday for another stop in Pennsylvania, in Chambersburg where Lori’s other grandmother lives. Both Lori and I ran some of the hills in the area as we’re both running in a race in San Francisco in late July and most people know that Northern Indiana is not known for its change in topography. Before we left though, Uncle Jay cooked me one of the best omelets I have ever tasted and we were piled full of containers of various deserts that were baked, and served over that the past three days. We made our way over to I-81 and the trip really took a half an afternoon and we visited and ate and slept at her grandmother’s apartment. We were out the door by 6 a.m. Sunday and enjoyed a fairly uneventful trip home. We did stop at the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential home in Fremont, Ohio (about seven miles off the turnpike) to look around. We decided that we should come back another day so we could take the tour and all. The grounds of this Presidential home was a bit more celebrated than the one of Buchanan, at least that’s what I felt.
Play 1: Cymbeline (Harrisburg, PA)
June 5, 2009
I got lost in the language right away, the same way I get lost in a play in Stratford. Nothing about the production was distracting and I was smiling and laughing at all the laugh-line parts with the louder lady to my left.
In a way, I was relieved.
Getting there wasn’t much of an issue: My directions from Google Maps were great in getting me to Reservoir Park; finding the right pavilion, well, I take the blame for that one (as I should have written down the directions from the website). Anyway, I drove around the hill and by a Civil War museum and then eventually found the pavilion, parked the CR-V and got my lawn chair, my backpack, and my umbrella and headed toward the side of the hill where groups of people had set up their camps of chairs and blankets and food.
I found a place somewhere in the middle left and unpacked my stuff , grabbed a program and looked around.
“Oh, is this going to be a Renaissance Fair crowd?” I thought. Some college students were in front of me and there was a family eating their dinner behind me. I didn’t see much Starbucks nor anything fast food here. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from the crowd, let alone from the production.
See, that last two Shakespeare in the park productions were very homey, but not easy to watch. What I mean is that the production of Midsummer Nights Dream in Mishawaka, IN and Two Gentlemen of Verona (Bloomington, IN) were good on intent, but not great on telling us the story. I say that cautiously because I have never performed Shakespeare in the park nor have I ever performed or acted as an adult (though I might contend that teaching is part classical theater and a lot of Improv). Â I remember liking the family feel of the audiences while also remembering the awkward pauses as an actor tried to remember a line. These were my experiences and I was looking forward to seeing a play that I have only heard of in a class on Shakespeare and other vague references.
Tonight, though, I loved Cymbeline and I liked the crowd and I liked all of the cast. It was the same feeling that I’ve had when I’ve watched Shakespeare in Stratford, Canada, but a bit more intimate. Whereas during both performances I could close my eyes and enjoy the language and wacky story of Shakespeare, here in Harrisburg I could reach over a grab another Twizzler from my red backpack. After the performance last night (right as the rain began to fall) I could take a few steps and shake the hand of Imogen or Pisanio or Posthumus or Philario. This was really what free Shakespeare in the park is: a community of friends and family enjoying the talents of a few who have the ability and skill to translate Shakepeare into breathing words of characters in the kingdom of Cymbeline.
I think I need to take a rhetorical break here and explain that my purpose this summer is not to be a theater critic: that was never my intent as I wrote the proposal nor do I possess the skill or muster up the energies to care about critiquing performances. In fact, I would make a horrible critic because I don’t like comparing between performances of the same play or trying to come up with something witty (though I do like my words sometimes). Every year I chaperon a trip to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Canada for our students and I avoid the intermission critique of the performances. It’s just not something that I enjoy and I’d rather get a cup of strong coffee than try and sound all expert-like over art. Instead, I like to talk about what I saw and what moved me. I’m a fan of the Reader-Response read and should find that I’ll do much the same here as I talk about performances.
One other break from narrative: I think I will wait to reread the play after the performance. Waiting to see the performance first of Cymbeline proved this point for me again: you have to see Shakespeare first and then, if you are so inclined to be studious, then go ahead and read the play. I think this is one reason why we kill any hope for kids to even appreciate Shakespeare’s plays (or any play): We force students to read this thing we call “Literature,” make those kids understand the play by giving worksheets and historical background and projects and tests and then, if we have time, we might get a chance to watch it over a week’s time (having felt compelled to pause the film every 10 minutes to “process” the story thus far).
Roll over, William Shakespeare…and Tennesse Williams and Ibsen and the rest. One day we’ll view and appreciate the art and honor it as art instead of an option on a standardized textbook exam.
Now, back to Cymbeline.
I think any production that you can’t follow the main plot line is probably one where something isn’t being translated well from the actors. I was reminded of this when we recently saw the Barbara Streisand version of Hello, Dolly! and figured out that there was really a reason why all those waiters were dancing and singing to her in the restaurant. We always sort of despised Hello, Dolly! because the live production we saw a couple years ago was slow and confusing and it seemed that there wasn’t that something moving the story along.
Not last night though. The Harrisburg troupe defined their characters by not only their speeches but by their interaction with one another. Entrances were right on cue and not distracting (even when I could see Pisanio or Imogen or Postumus walking around the side of the pavilion, they were in character and their entrance looked like it was supposed to happen). I think one of the things I love about theater is when you forget you’re in a park in a lawn chair eating Twizzlers and you get lost in the story: the story becomes real and the illusion created by the playwright is embodied in the actors playing the parts. Sure, a siren or child crying might break the spell, but as the play goes on, so does the magic.
Like in other comedies, I got caught up in the main love-couple and was happy that all was sorted out in the end. At least in my Riverside Shakespeare, Cymbeline is in a miscellaneous category of “Romances” along with The Tempest and a few other plays. These seem to be the plays that don’t fit the wedding at the end template that the other comedies have and that the news of two deaths at the end of the play do cast sort of a “Bummer, dude” smoke ring despite wrongs being righted. The characters that seemed to get a lot of the laugh lines were Cloten (which seems to be just a fun part to lay it all out there and whine and pout and eventually get your head chopped off) and Philario (the schemer and the one who gets reprimanded in the end despite everyone else living “happily ever after”).
I’m still not sure, though, what to think of King Cymbeline (the character, not the actor). I wasn’t sure if I felt bad for the guy because he was under the spell of an overbearing, nagging and just bad partner of a Queen. I did like it when King Cymbeline finds out about his Queen’s death, he says  after the report from Cornelius:
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery, nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious
To have mistrusted here; yet, O my daughter,
That it was follow in me, thou mayest say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
And, that’s about all the sorrow that is expressed for the Queen: she dead, let’s move on.
I noticed the sprinkles during the last speeches  and we were able to see the whole of Cymbeline on a day forecasted to rain a lot. Many of us were heading to our cars after the performance with some lingering around afterward. If I have one regret, it would be that: to linger a little and inhale just another bit of the evening’s performance. I regret, honestly, not staying behind and telling the actors “Thank you” and to shake their hands. I know, it’s sort of silly isn’t it? That whole receiving line that we feel obligated to work our way through at weddings and funerals and local high school drama productions? But this was one time that I wanted to really, sincerely, say “Thanks.” But I didn’t… though I can say it here:
Thanks to all those involved in the Harrisburg Shakespeare Festival production of Cymbeline; thanks for starting  me out on the right road in this summer-long pursuit. Good luck on the rest of your season. Peace.
Oh the places you stay
June 4, 2009
And We Begin in Ohio
June 4, 2009
Day 1: From Goshen, IN to Girad, OH
309 miles (price of gas: $2.75 (IN), $2.55 (OH)).
We weren’t really stressed about leaving right at 3 p.m., but that was the agreed upon time that I suggested to Lori that I’d like to leave. I also added that I would pack the car and help the boys get packed and make the sandwiches for dinner and other planning stuff.
I got a call on my trip to Ace Hardware for a fuse. It was Lori.
“Now no one is going to panic, but my last child canceled and I’ll be home at 1:20 instead of 2:20,” she said.
“Oh,” I said.
“Now, there’s no rush or anything and no one is going to panic…it’ll be okay.”
I got defensive.
“You know that I was planning on you being home at a certain time and that not all of the stuff that I have on my list is done just yet,” I said.
“No one is panicking and we’ll just leave whenever we need to leave,” she replied.
And I think I repeated my last sentence and then in an irritated tone let her know that I had stuff to do.
Pause.
“Okay, bye,” she said.
I had this whole conversation while paying for the fuse by debit card and I always told myself that I wasn’t going to be one of those people who have to be talking on the phone when really you should be saying “Hello” to the clerk and being human with the person in front of you. Instead, I finished the conversation, wanting to apologize to the Ace Hardware clerk, but he was gone helping someone else.
Oh, and I had the 8-year-old with me too.
“Come on, Colin,” I said as I grabbed his hand.
“Was that Mom?”
“Yes Colin, that was your Mother. She just informed me that she was coming home an hour earlier than she had promised,” I said.
“So she’s coming home earlier?” he asked, obviously missing the sarcasm in my last statement.
“Yes, she’ll be home in an hour and twenty minutes and we’ve got a lot of stuff to do,” I said.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Let’s eat first, then we’ll take it from there,” I said and we got in the car and drove home.
We did get something to eat and the boys did their chores and I got my list done and we even made the boys practice their piano lessons and we still were able to leave around 3 p.m. (That’s even with a visit from her folks).
Leaving is not a pretty event in our house and there is some incredible stress storm that brews the night before any trip we take that requires any type of packing. It seems calm the morning before, but you can feel a tension squall in the back of your head (much like the sinus headaches some people when a storm front comes rolling in). By the evening before, we are chanting some mantra about how peaceful the morning will be and serenity will save us. Then the morning comes and one thing gets said or implied and there are clenched jaws, slammed doors, children cautioned and some tense rhetoric exchanged. It really is all over the relative feature of time and sometimes we’re better and sometimes we’re just at a point where there’s no talking in the car until we break for some coffee or someone says “Sorry.”
We know it’s a silly thing and I wonder sometimes if it’s our way of acting out in reaction toward our own parents. Lori’s parents used to be 15 minutes early to which ever time that they would travel with us; my mom is time-impaired and even after having to lie to my own mother that the movie really did start in 30 minutes, we still happened to walk in during opening previews (that, after a few walks out to the car and a “oh, I forgot something”). At our wedding photos, with family, Lori’s relatives were 15 minutes early; we were waiting for the Judson clan to walk in 10 minutes late.
We think we’ve mellowed each other out in regards to time, Lori and me. We usually can agree on times and not get wigged out when the other might not be right on time. And though we both agree that eating dinner at 4:30 p.m. is really the best time to eat, we sometimes get concerned that our older son, Evan, isn’t mellowing as much as we are. He sometimes gets visibly upset with a friend says that he’ll be there at 2 p.m.; he gets a little wigged out when it’s 2:05 and we have to remind him (in an apologizing tone) that not everyone lives by the clock like we do, that it’s not a right or wrong issue–being on time–it’s just how things are.
I think I was the one who was really concerned about being on the road at 3:16 p.m. but Lori was the one with the mantra: “It’s fine, we’re not in any big rush to get to Ohio.” And so, we made a stop for gas and then headed to I-80 via CR 17 (with its annoying road construction by Six Span bridge).
Besides Colin’s ulcer sore in his mouth that kept him from eating his sandwich for dinner (the sore that apparently was not affected by the handful of gummy bears stuffed into his mouth 40 minutes earlier), we found our way to Girard, Ohio fairly easily (thanks to Google Maps). It was a Travelodge off Priceline.com (two stars) and we usually get good rooms for a good price. I wasn’t aiming high in my bid, and Lori admits that she’s been spoiled the last few times we’ve stayed in hotels. Kevin, the General Manager, did switch our rooms from a single King bed to two Queen beds and we slept as well as one can sleep in a hotel/motel room: periods of waking up and falling asleep and not ever getting used to the bedding situation. Lori got to hear a younger couple getting quite intimate with one another…as much as that intimacy can happen with walls such as those in Girard, Ohio. I think several people were quite happy for the couple and I apparently, slept through the show.
O for a muse of fire… We begin
June 3, 2009
School’s out and I hit the road
June 2, 2009
Today was the last day of school and tomorrow we pack up the CR-V and head toward Pennsylvania for the first two plays of the journey. We’ll be stopping tomorrow at Youngstown, OH and the drive the rest of the way to Lancaster.
I’m only down to the last four plays:
- Henry VI Parts 1, 2, 3
- Roz and Guild are Dead
Hoping to get these planned out in the next week or so.
Henry V and Richard II penciled in
May 13, 2009
For the past two weeks I’ve been starting to spend money like crazy. The Oregon trip is bought and paid for, as also all the plays in June and the July trip to the MidAtlantic.
I was hoping to see Henry V at the Independent Shakespeare Company in LA, but like many performances, there’s only weekend shows. That means that I take a long weekend in June to see Hal and friends in Richmond, VA (Richmond Shakespeare Festival).
Also, I’m writing in a read aloud of Richard II in July coordinated by the folks the Nashville Shakespeare Festival; this brings the total number of plays to find to seven (7):
- Henry VI Parts 1, 2, 3
- Two Noble Kinsmen
- TImon of Athens
- King John
- Henry IV Part 2