drama.ca

Shakespearean Bloodsports by Robert Ormsby
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“Shakespearean Bloodsports”
July 05, 2003

“Shakespeare’s Gladiator Games” is Upstart Crow Theatre’s third sportive foray into Fringe Shakespeare. Using the framework of a day at the games in the Roman Coliseum —as “broadcast” by Upstart Crow Sports Network—the piece splices together the Bard’s Roman and Greek plays, working its way through Julius Caesar’s assassination, all the way up to Octavius’s victory over Mark Antony.

As director and co-author (with Matt Toner and William S.) Chris Cocoluzzi (who also plays the referee Shakespeare) explains, the piece also attempts to follow the sequence of events at Roman spectacles: “I researched gladiatorial combat and things started falling into place. The morning activities included the animal hunt, and it is funny how the hunting imagery of ‘Coriolanus’ married the form so well—the hunting of Coriolanus by the mob, is here done by the animals. The hunt was usually followed by a re-enactment of a battle, and we couldn’t think of a better one than the siege of Troy, using the plot from ‘Troilus and Cressida’ for that. Then you had the criminal executions and, again, that seemed to marry well with ‘Titus Andronicus,’ and all its imagery of maiming and dismemberment. Then you hade the gladiatorial combats in the afternoon, which was the big pugilist event.”

The device can work very well, but the better you have brushed up your Shakespeare, the more you are likely to glean from the production, as it cuts away from the time of the Caesars (“Julius Caesar” and “Antony and Cleopatra”) to cover some of the playwright’s less familiar work, including “Troilus and Cressida,” “Timon of Athens” and “Coriolanus.”

If you get anything out of Timon bursting into the banquet scene from “Titus Andronicus” crying “Uncover dogs and lap!”, or if you understand the significance of Timon showing his backside to those in the emperor’s box when they ask for a coin to toss, or if you know who Achilles chases off the field to indulge with amorous embraces, award yourself an “A.” (Although the greybeard enthusiast to my left nearly expired from mirthful recognition of each iamb, it was unclear to me whether the callow youth in the second row was reassuring his friend or himself when he announced “So, these plays are, like, by Shakespeare, right?”)

Cocoluzzi points out, however, that the piece is not only about getting the allusive jokes: “I wanted both the scholar and somebody who is just into sports and knows very little of Shakespeare, or hated it in high school, sitting next to each other and enjoying it. First and foremost it is a visual spectacle, and we always try to match the Shakespeare and the cerebral humor with that visual spectacle.”

Much of the finest cerebral humor is provided by the commentary of Ovid (Rob McKee) and Pseudulous (Stephen Flett), who toss off choric zingers over the PA system. Their timing is, for the most, bang on. Particularly fine is their understated contempt for Coriolanus when confronted by his mother Volumnia. “Move out of her basement,” says Ovid. “I hear she does his laundry” proffers Pseudulous.

Again, such comments are even more deflating if you know that Coriolanus is undone, in part, by his mother’s badgering guilt trips. Still, there are plenty of jokes about things like multiculturalism in Toronto, and an endless supply of physical humor tending towards the violent and the bawdy. When Timon rears up for the coin toss, for instance, Ovid quickly calls “Tails it is.” The cramming of the stuffed phalluses (an apparent nod to ancient Greek comedy) into Tamora’s mouth, however, was the highlight for me.

Popular culture also abounds in the play, and those not inclined to the large and small screens (their ranks are sure thin) may find themselves at a loss from time to time. See if you can spot the following: Captain Kirk’s own gladiator theme song; the “American Idol” gag (before it gets too obvious); the “Spinal Tap” serviette routine; the Weathergirls’s most fabulous hit; the “Life of Brian” and “A Clockwork Orange” numbers; the Abbott and Costello bit; the Taymor intertextuality; etc.

This citation is often very clever, and is best when the performers do not dwell on it. Indeed, keep your ears open, since much of finest verbal material passes by very quickly, such as the fleeting squealing of pigs before the animal hunt begins, or the understated disgruntlement of the performer who belts out “Circle of Life,” wishing she were working for the Mirvishes instead.

On top of all this, Upstart Crow unleashes a continuous stream of physically strenuous performance, from gladiator fights (the best and most thrilling are towards the very end), to Helen of Troy’s fatally saucy belly-dance, to a sort of dragon-dance incarnation of Antony’s disastrous sea battle at Actium.

The director notes that, like Upstart Crow’s previous Shakespeare Fringe shows, this one, with a cast of thirty, required a lengthy and arduous rehearsal schedule: “In previous years, we have had a two-month rehearsal process. For the month of May it was about learning a sport and getting in shape, and then we put the show together in June. This year, May was spent getting in shape, and we had most of the principal fights choreographed and down by the end of May—we had to. A lot of the big spectacle numbers were also down by the end of May. June was spent blocking the overall show, getting the movement all together, working outside and getting a feel for the space.”

Yet, while the company packs a lot in here, they have trouble keeping the comedic pace going at times. Occasionally, the stage business is rather over the top, as when the Greek and Trojan battle resembles the last five minutes of “Blazing Saddles” (picture the homoerotic mayhem without the top hats and tails).

Often, though, there are too many people moving into too many spaces to maintain the focus and timing of the physical humor. Part of this is because they have staged it in the round (reflecting the desire to give it the feel of a gladiatorial bout), and part of it is due to the size of the piece of Trinity College field they have chosen to work on. This use of space dissipates the energy that many of the performers seem able to supply (the “death by Christians,” piece, especially, is good material just waiting to work wonders).

To be fair, playing in the heat we have had is excruciating, and, given a couple of run-throughs (I saw it opening night) with enthusiastic Fringe audiences, the rough edges will likely even out, and the combatants will live to fight—and entertain—another day.

“Shakespeare’s Gladiator Games” runs nightly at 8pm at Trinity College Field, next to 15 Devonshire Place until July 13. For tickets and information call the Toronto Fringe Hotline at 416-966-1062.