For sustained tension, rich exotic lyricism, and diabolical wit, no Shakespearean tragedy pleases me more than Othello. Yet until last year, no homegrown production of the classic script had appeared in Charlotte during the Loaf Era. Even up in High Point, home of the NC Shakespeare Festival, The Moor of Venice hasn’t been seen since 1983. In the intervening years, the Bard’s Much Ado, Shrew, Merry Wives, and Tempest have all been revived three times each.Last year, April Jones took a brave stab at the Moor in an abridged reading stage presentation at the legendary “Othello-thon” co-produced by BareBones Theatre Group and Chickspeare. While missing the military bluster of the proud chieftain, Jones pierced the heart and humanity of the hero who “lov’d not wisely, but too well.”
But the true difficulties of doing Othello emerge starkly in the current Actor’s Gym production now playing at SouthEnd Performing Arts Center. You need three compelling performers at the core. Othello and his nemesis, Iago, are among the largest male roles in the Shakespearean canon as is the chaste Desdemona among Will’s women. So much action is concentrated on these three that, between them, they utter more lines than the Bard wrote for all of Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Tempest, or Macbeth.
Or they do before a director discreetly snips and cuts. Gym founder Tony Wright does a fine job bringing the evening’s work to conclusion in well under three hours. And if his portrayal of Iago isn’t quite a tower of seething, perverted fury, the cunning of Othello’s ensign — and his gift for manipulation — come through brilliantly in Wright’s performance.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t help John W. Price in the most demanding role of his career. His eternal struggles with Othello’s lines made this one of the most painful two hours and 40 minutes I’ve ever endured at a Charlotte theater. At his best, Price captures the nobility of the Moor with a rich sound and a proud bearing that recalls Olivier. At his worst, long stretches pass where you don’t get two full sentences without a pause or a bobble. More than a couple of long speeches come out sounding garbled. Othello’s epileptic fit was a shambles when Price belatedly arrived there.
Casey Gogolin, beguiling as ever as Desdemona, often seemed unnerved by her stammering lord. Glenn Hutchinson also seemed thrown off, but his Cassio came across more vividly. Hank West as Iago’s rich patsy, Roderigo, prospered nicely having so little to do with Othello. Linda Aguirre makes an adequate Emilia under the trying conditions, and Wendy Edwards is a seductive baggage as Cassio’s doxy, Bianca.
The stylishness of the military berets worn by the guys is undercut by the drab, symmetrical set. One of the lowest points occurs when Iago rouses Desdemona’s father, Brabantio. With Don McManus every bit as unsure of his few lines as Price, the confrontation between Othello and the hoodwinked Brabantio is an unforgettably ugly piece of theatre.
Nobody transports us more frequently to Africa and the jungle than Children’s Theatre — and nobody does it better. African Tales of Earth & Sky bunches three fanciful tales explaining the origins of things. Last Saturday at the Morehead Street fantasy palace, a houseful of children and their parents sat mesmerized as they discovered why lions roar, why mosquitoes buzz, and how lightning and thunder came to the sky.This trio of tales is framed, like Arabian Nights, by a fourth tale that introduces us to our storyteller. No, she isn’t a princess like Scheherazade. She’s Mmoatia, the Fairy Men Never See, captured by four sly villagers with a device very reminiscent of Uncle Remus’ tar baby. To earn her freedom, the impish Mmoatia must delight those villagers with her stories.
With CL’s 1999 Newcomer of the Year, Adrienne Nixon, wearing the fairy wings, Mmoatia’s freedom is royally earned. Artistic director Alan Poindexter is eminently fair in distributing Nixon’s charms, dispatching his star to stage left for her first tale, stage right for the second, and centerstage for the finale.
Behind her, Poindexter gathers a frisky quartet to impersonate the various animals and demigods. Their pathways to our funnybones are cleared by the imaginatively stylized costumes designed by Sandra Gray. From the humble Ant Heap to the mask for the queenly Wife of Lion — with two funky Mosquitoes and two adorable Rats in the middle of the food chain — each of Gray’s outfits delivers fresh surprise and amusement.
Jill Bloede makes the most of her comical opportunities as Wife of Rat, Thunder, and Ant Heap. April Jones unveils the wickedest snarl as Wife of Lion. Nor does she disappoint as Mosquito, Snake, and Elephant. Mark Sutton is most funny as Rat before donning Lightning’s silver jumpsuit and the gilt robes of Nana Nyame, ruler of the skies. Nicholas Johnson rounds out the cast as a regally henpecked Lion and one of those Tinkertoy mosquitoes.
Linda Daugherty’s script is winsome, but it’s greatly enhanced by CT’s Team Africa. Besides the design exploits of Gray — costumes, masks, and scenery — there’s flavorful music from Roger Davis wedded to Delia Neil’s sprightly choreography. As usual, lighting whiz Eric Winkenwerder puts his special sheen on the jungle magic.
Moving Poets Theatre of Dance keeps moving in fruitful new directions artistically. Although missing the video spice of earlier productions, Without Borders tackled the scourge of AIDS with its strongest blend of text and choreography.Taking his cue from the humanitarian work of Dr. Jeffrey Sachs, Mike Harris has produced a lean script that bluntly asks the key questions. And with the US spending billions to avenge the 3000+ deaths at Ground Zero, our neglect of the AIDS epidemic in Africa — killing more than 6000 daily — becomes increasingly puzzling.
The Poets have had actors who get their drift — Harris, as Sachs, is one of them — but they finally have a writer who can take them effectively beyond the delusion that they must speak poetry. Till Schmidt-Rimpler continues to freshen his idiom as a choreographer, enlisting the ritual riffs of Donnell Stines to take Borders convincingly to Africa.
Poets’ excursion to Dana Auditorium at Queens University — the antithesis of intimacy — was not nearly as felicitous. Big and formal don’t suit Poets like decadent and funky.
This article appears in Apr 9-15, 2003.
