The Duchess of Malfi
Jan. 25th, 2009 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidThis afternoon I saw (and ushered for) the ASP production of The Duchess of Malfi (John Webster). It was over in Fort Point's Midway Studios again (as was their previous show), since the new Somerville Armory space wasn't ready on time. It's their first non-Shakespeare show, though it is Jacobean, so pretty much period. I didn't know a thing about the show going in; it's a violent show, more intensified in this production because the script was cut by about a quarter, with most of the quieter scenes axed.
The set was an important part of how the show worked: it was a long white runway down the middle, half the audience on each side, facing each other. The runway was bounded on each end by a pair of fancy white doors, and there were three crystal chandeliers above. The only set was a single clear plastic chair, carefully placed along the axis of the runway (easily found because there was a clear strip running down the center, between the two carpeted halves). That, plus a lot of excellent lighting, good sound effects, and some random bones thrown in the dark space under the runway, was the whole of the set, which included all the challenges of theater in the round, plus this strong axis.
There was a strong vision with the costuming, too: all the costumes were white, black, and/or red, including the red ropes in the Duchess' death scene that were the length of the stage. There was also a fair amount of corsetry, male and female, plus the most innovative use of brassieres I've seen in a long while (madmen are mad, after all). It felt mostly period, with a bit of modernizing (sheerer fabrics, some asymmetricality in sleeves, things like that), except that I could not see the two doctors without thinking of Dr. Horrible.
The basic plot is that the recently-widowed Duchess of Malfi has two brothers who do not wish her to remarry. One brother is a cardinal, the other is a powerful lord with a lot of anger. She secretly marries her steward and bears his son. When word leaks out, mayhem ensues, and in the end, it's a bloodbath, with all the major characters dead, including both brothers, the cardinal's mistress, and a henchman of the brothers. In the end, there's the hope that the baby boy will grow to take his place in society (though hopefully without any negative family traits).
It's a disturbing story, with the woman unable to defend herself even though she got married, not sleeping around outside of wedlock. It's never really explained (or I missed) why the brothers did not wish her to remarry, though later in the play there's a notion that the cardinal would be happy to marry her off again when he had the proper husband (presumably someone who would be politically or financially helpful to the cardinal). The implication I got from this production was that the younger, impetuous brother was perhaps in love with her himself, or too close somehow, as twins can be. He is so out of control that he goes mad, descending into lycanthropy. (Truly, this play has it all, from werewolves to discarded noses to poisoned bibles to inappropriate churchmen).
I couldn't tell how much of the cardinal's role was in the original script, but it was played as a rather wanton man, wearing heels and patterned hose under his robes, wanting to take his pleasures wherever and whenever he chose, ruthless when he wanted to be. And in fact, whole play was sexier than any of the Shakespeare plays.
In the scene after the Duchess dies, when her twin is lamenting her death, and using the ropes of her hanging to good effect, I wondered whether the actor had had some spin practice (poi or dart). I asked him afterward, and he hadn't; it had been generated out of what weapons were at hand. He had to learn how to control his swings; he'd taken out bits of one of the chandeliers while working on the choreography.
One of the most interesting characters was Daniel de Bosola, the henchman of Duke Ferdinand. He's placed in the Duchess' household to keep an eye on her, and he's the one who reports when he figures out that she's pregnant, then has a child. And yet, he comes to realize what mosters the brothers are, regretting his role in the downfall of the Duchess and her love Antonio. He's the one character who shows major change through the play (while keeping his sanity).
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this was definitely darker, more violent, and more sexual than whatever I'd thought it might be about. And a fascinating show. Well worth seeing.
There was a talk back session after the show, at which I learned that this was likely the first commercial production of this show in Boston ever. It's not produced much on this side of the Atlantic, though it's a staple in England. I wonder why that is.
The set was an important part of how the show worked: it was a long white runway down the middle, half the audience on each side, facing each other. The runway was bounded on each end by a pair of fancy white doors, and there were three crystal chandeliers above. The only set was a single clear plastic chair, carefully placed along the axis of the runway (easily found because there was a clear strip running down the center, between the two carpeted halves). That, plus a lot of excellent lighting, good sound effects, and some random bones thrown in the dark space under the runway, was the whole of the set, which included all the challenges of theater in the round, plus this strong axis.
There was a strong vision with the costuming, too: all the costumes were white, black, and/or red, including the red ropes in the Duchess' death scene that were the length of the stage. There was also a fair amount of corsetry, male and female, plus the most innovative use of brassieres I've seen in a long while (madmen are mad, after all). It felt mostly period, with a bit of modernizing (sheerer fabrics, some asymmetricality in sleeves, things like that), except that I could not see the two doctors without thinking of Dr. Horrible.
The basic plot is that the recently-widowed Duchess of Malfi has two brothers who do not wish her to remarry. One brother is a cardinal, the other is a powerful lord with a lot of anger. She secretly marries her steward and bears his son. When word leaks out, mayhem ensues, and in the end, it's a bloodbath, with all the major characters dead, including both brothers, the cardinal's mistress, and a henchman of the brothers. In the end, there's the hope that the baby boy will grow to take his place in society (though hopefully without any negative family traits).
It's a disturbing story, with the woman unable to defend herself even though she got married, not sleeping around outside of wedlock. It's never really explained (or I missed) why the brothers did not wish her to remarry, though later in the play there's a notion that the cardinal would be happy to marry her off again when he had the proper husband (presumably someone who would be politically or financially helpful to the cardinal). The implication I got from this production was that the younger, impetuous brother was perhaps in love with her himself, or too close somehow, as twins can be. He is so out of control that he goes mad, descending into lycanthropy. (Truly, this play has it all, from werewolves to discarded noses to poisoned bibles to inappropriate churchmen).
I couldn't tell how much of the cardinal's role was in the original script, but it was played as a rather wanton man, wearing heels and patterned hose under his robes, wanting to take his pleasures wherever and whenever he chose, ruthless when he wanted to be. And in fact, whole play was sexier than any of the Shakespeare plays.
In the scene after the Duchess dies, when her twin is lamenting her death, and using the ropes of her hanging to good effect, I wondered whether the actor had had some spin practice (poi or dart). I asked him afterward, and he hadn't; it had been generated out of what weapons were at hand. He had to learn how to control his swings; he'd taken out bits of one of the chandeliers while working on the choreography.
One of the most interesting characters was Daniel de Bosola, the henchman of Duke Ferdinand. He's placed in the Duchess' household to keep an eye on her, and he's the one who reports when he figures out that she's pregnant, then has a child. And yet, he comes to realize what mosters the brothers are, regretting his role in the downfall of the Duchess and her love Antonio. He's the one character who shows major change through the play (while keeping his sanity).
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this was definitely darker, more violent, and more sexual than whatever I'd thought it might be about. And a fascinating show. Well worth seeing.
There was a talk back session after the show, at which I learned that this was likely the first commercial production of this show in Boston ever. It's not produced much on this side of the Atlantic, though it's a staple in England. I wonder why that is.