Cymbeline
Cymbeline By William Shakespeare
Directed by Jim Helsinger
Starring David Hardie and Carey Urban
Orlando Shakespeare Festival, Orlando Fl</strong>
What kind of comedy cuts of Brandon Roberts’ head and tosses it on stage? Well, it’s one that doesn’t get done very often and only counts as a comedy in the technical sense that the hero and leading lady are together at the end. Your first warning this might challenge the audience as well as the cast is the suspiciously large amount of exposition unloaded in the very first lines: kidnapped children, an aging king, fading roman power, false poison, bitter revenge, and unexpected reunions. It’s more of a Shakespearean sampler than a coherent whole.
King Cymbeline (Wynn Harmon) rules Britain and owes the Romans some back tribute. His brother Belarius (Johnny Lee Davenport) is banished but kidnapped two of Cymbeline’s sons on his way out. That leaves Imogen (Urban) who is madly in love with hubby Posthumous (Hardie). Posthumous heads to Rome on business and makes a bet with Iachimo (Geoffrey Kent) that Imogen is incorruptible. Not a bad start for a comedy, Iachimo heads up to jolly old England and while he doesn’t actually seduce Imogen, he gets close enough to tell a good story. Meanwhile the jealous stepmother and Queen (Anne Hering) orders up some poison to kill Imogen but the pharmacist gives her sleeping pills instead. She passes it a snivling servant (Michael Raver) with the orders to give it to Imogen whenever she’s feeling out of sorts. Soon we’re hunting with Belarius and Cymbeline’s lost sons (Bradford B Frost and Michael Shenefelt) and Imogen is pretending to be a man and not doing all that badly. You can guess what’s next – murder, mayhem and a loving reunion.
Look closely and you’ll spot a bit of Lear, a good chuck of Othello, a drop of R&J, and the lumber of all the comedies tossed in this blender. Despite the confounding plot and gruesome murder, the cast all has moment to shine. Hardie may tend toward overwrought, but he makes an effective speech closing the first act, and seems genuine hurt when Iachimo tells him about the mole on Imogen’s left breast. Johnny Lee Davenport wields yoga against the elements as the exiled royal, and while I hate to typecast Ms Hering, if I could pick anyone to attempt to poison me, I’d just as soon have her do the job. Urban as Imogen rides thought the Shakespearean antifeminist wringer – bad things happen to her, she never despairs and never asks “why me?” or even “Why at all?” All the complexity plays out on a luminous set: the center stage lift problems last week’s R&J had were greased away, and the opening scene with the Book of Cymbeline on a stand was one of the most beautiful tableaus I’ve seen.
Yes, this is a tough piece to pick through, it’s not Shakespeare’s best but it does incorporate nearly all of his tricks and techniques. It’s rarely done but if you can keep everyone straight it’s not a stock comedy that relies on improbable mistaking identities. I am glad the Shakespeare artistic director is bringing these lesser known pieces to stage, despite the difficulties in staging and viewing, they need to be set out in public for us to all enjoy. And now I only have one more comedy to see in my attempt to get my Shakespeare card completely punched.
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