I've gone to a lot of Shakespeare this summer, four plays in a month, but nothing had me more curious than the Old Vic's transatlantic production of The Winter's Tale. It's one half of the Bridge Project, which combines British and American actors in productions that appeared first in New York and now in London. Winter's Tale alternates with Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard, and although various critics prefer one over the other, all agree that Simon Russell Beale, as King Leontes, has been stellar. He would almost have to be, given the impossibility of the role. Othello's jealousy seems improbable to many, spurred as it is by a stolen handkerchief embroidered with strawberries, but Iago's malice ignites it and keeps it burning.
The summer festivals have been proceeding creditably, but now the Important Events are beginning to turn up, mostly in New York State, it seems—not that a cycle of Beethoven violin sonatas by Christian Tetzlaff isn’t important! First came the Oresteia at Bard, then Rossini's rarely performed Semiramide, and now, once again at Bard, Giacomo Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots. Probably the most popular opera of all during the nineteenth century (It exceeded 1,000 performances at the Paris Opera), it fell rapidly from favor with, it seems, the First World War.
If I was at all distracted during the three intensely focussed performances at Bard's Fisher Center, it was to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. Gregory Thompson's production of Aeschylus' Oresteia seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime experience—a satisfactory production of ancient Greek drama in English. In fact it was more than satisfactory—far ahead of anything else I have seen. In fact if I have to qualify my estimate of its success in any way, it is for purely technical reasons: Mr. Thompson concentrated on the surviving element of of Aeschylus' work, the text, and ignored dance and music almost entirely. On the other hand he was perfectly right in deciding on this solution. Whatever dance and music one might bring in would be either an insufficiently documented reconstruction or a modern recreation in a modern idiom, and Aeschylus' verse is sufficiently rich and complex to make it advisable to concentrate on that alone. Every actor delivered Ted Hughes' lucid, noble, and colorful English with supreme clarity and ease, so that the audience could make close contact with the meaning and beauty of the language, as well as the elegance and expression of the actors' delivery. The power of this brilliant production lay in its honesty and directness.