THEATER REVIEW: THE LION IN THE WINTER

 

Henry II (John Rafter Lee) and Eleanor (Diane Hurley) in The Lion in the Winter.

The roar-all arse court

By Ed Rampell

The latest production from the Sierra Madre Playhouse, James Goldman’s The Lion in Winter is an actor’s actor piece of theater. John Rafter Lee and Diane Hurley -- two veteran legit thespians -- deliver bravura performances as the Henry II and his imprisoned, estranged wife Eleanor, whom Henry has permitted to leave her house arrest during the Christmas holidays of 1183. She joins Henry at the royal court in his castle in Chinon, France (the French-born British monarch presided over an empire), where their three sons are gathered as the 50-year-old grapples with the thorny issue of succession. The lads vie with one another to become the heir to the throne -- the eldest, Richard Lionheart (Adam Burch); the overlooked middle child Geoffrey (Clay Bunker); and teenaged John (James Weeks). Despite being the youngest and the least sharp rapier in the scabbards, John for some reason seems to be the affection-starved Henry’s favorite. (Of course, it never crosses their noggins that maybe the peasants should, you know, like vote on who shall lead them.)

Joining this big, if not so happy family are France’s King Philip (Macleish Day) and Henry’s mistress, the French Princess Alais (Alison Lani, here making her auspicious L.A. stage debut), whom the conniving if convivial Henry hopes to marry off to one of his sons. Thrown into the mix, this makes for a most combustible concoction, as they scheme with one another over who will be the man who would be king, who will wed Alais and so on. Above all, the devious Eleanor and Henry match wits, as they eternally plot against one another.

It all plays out like a Eugene O’Neill drama set in the Middle Ages, although the relatives in question have vast powers and domains at their disposal, as their family business is a kingdom. So, in addition to love between spouses, parents and children and the like, the temporal stakes are far greater than, say, for the Tyrones in O’Neill’s masterpiece, Long Day’s Journey into Night. But beneath it all are all too human frailties, not least of all being the need to be loved, although it is all writ large because the throne is at stake.

This all makes for plenty of sparks a-flying and witty dialogue (the play is much funnier than the film version, which I remember as a drama). Although based on actual historic personages, Goldman’s lines sometimes seem very contemporary and ahistorical -- for example, did the English in 1183 really know there were apes in Africa? Perhaps, but I’m not so sure.

In any case, after almost three hours (with one intermission), the conspiratorial verbal one-upmanship becomes somewhat tedious. However, this is not the fault of the acting, as the ensemble is ably directed by Michael Cooper. I think the problem lies with the type of characters portrayed.

During the Middle Ages European royalty reigned due to “divine right monarchy,” which more or less held that those born of “noble blood” were pre-ordained to rule by god. (Well, la-de-dah!) But what The Lion in the Winter's action, characterizations and dialogue reveals is that, rather than somehow being superior to the rest of us mere mortals, the monarchs are instead merely more bloodthirsty and avaricious than ordinary people are. Like today’s one-percent, they may think they are our social betters because they are smarter than the 99 percent, while in reality they’re not more intelligent -- just more cunning than the masses because they’re motivated by greed, lust for power, etc. Ever has it been so, from before 1183 to our own Gilded Age of wild wealth disparity. What kind of person needs to constantly trump others, from King Henry, Eleanor of Aquitaine to Donald Trump? So, it does become tiresome to watch these “Type A”, alpha personalities compete for dominance for nearly three hours, because truth be told, they’re just a pack of royal assholes.

Albeit, as said, well-acted ones. Having vented the above tirade I nevertheless highly recommend this production on the boards of the new rake stage at the Sierra Madre Playhouse, which is sloped upwards away from the audience, making the players seem truly larger than life. After three Greek tragedies in a row without a toga in sight, the period costumes designed by Carlos Brown delight the eye.

Sammy Ross’ cleverly designed lighting imparts the sensation of flickering candlesticks, which is period appropriate. Gary Wissman’s set likewise helps audiences to willingly suspend disbelief, although the backdrop of a plain curtain becomes a bit dull, and a faux tapestry would serve better (wrote the blithe critic who doesn’t have to pay for it). Also, sitting near the front, when the actors “poured” wine it was apparent there was no actual liquid flowing into those handcrafted ceramic goblets by Joan Aebi, which undercuts the realism of an otherwise naturalistic show.

The play has a gay theme that I didn’t remember from the 1968 film -- perhaps because as a kid this just flew over my head. In any case, Cooper told this reviewer that it was indeed in the movie -- but “downplayed.” Like the movie I saw long ago, this theatrical production is memorable. This The Lion in the Winter's roars, providing lovers of live performance with a rip-roaring, uproarious night of theater that transforms the Sierra Madre Playhouse into a veritable lion’s den of drama amidst the jibes.


The Lion in Winter runs through Nov. 16 at the Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre, CA 91024 For more info: 626-355-4318; www.sierramadreplayhouse.org .

 

THEATER REVIEW: THE ROYAL FAMILY

A scene from The Royal Family.

Wise-eyed Geer

 

By Ed Rampell

 

George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber’s 1927 The Royal Family is a love letter to the act of acting, and, in particular, to the actors and actresses who trod the boards and appear onscreen. Modeled after the Barrymore clan, The Royal Family'sCavendishes are the first family of America’s thespians. Greasepaint coursing through their blood they are theatrical in every sense of the term, as well as free spirits similar to the Sycamores in the anarchistic screwball comedy You Can’t Take It With You, which Kaufman co-wrote with Moss Hart for the stage in 1936 and with Robert Riskin for the screen in 1938 (co-starring a certain Lionel Barrymore, BTW).

 

Who better to incarnate this dynasty of performers than members of the House -- or, rather, amphitheater -- of Geer, a real life line of stage of screen artistes, descended from legendary, lanky Will Geer (1954’s The Salt of the Earth, 1972’s Jeremiah Johnson, and ultimately as America’s beloved über-grandpa from 1972-1978 on TV’s The Waltons)? Ellen Geer, the venerable Artistic Director of theWill Geer’s Theatricum Botanicum, plays Fanny, the aging, ailing, grand dame of the thee-a-tuh and matriarch of the Cavendishes. Ellen’s sister, Melora Marshall -- a shape shifting actress known, among other things, for her gender bending roles (she portrays the male character Grumio in The Taming of the Shrew, one of the other plays this troupe is presenting in repertory this summer) -- here plays Fanny’s daughter, actress Julie Cavendish. Willow Geer -- who, offstage, is Ellen’s actual daughter and Marshall’s niece -- portrays ingénue Gwen Cavendish, the onstage child of Julie at the beginning of her acting career.

 

The Geers’ in-law, Abby Craden, depicts Kitty Dean, who is dissed and disdained by the Cavendishes for committing the unforgivable, heinous crime of being a lousy actress. This presents an artistic challenge for Craden -- who has portrayed Cleopatra and Queen Elizabeth in Theatricum Shakespearean productions and also appeared in numerous plays presented by the A Noise Within company -- because Craden actually is quite a good player.

 

The Royal Family's action takes place entirely in the Cavendishes’ sprawling home. Comebacks, romances, premieres and more things than are dreamt of in your philosophy are hatched on the premises in this madcap comedy and merry meditation on the nature of celebrity. The Cavendishes are fiendishly funny, hammy, scenery-chewing, attention seeking troupers, for whom the play’s the thing (along with the moolah, adulation, and gratification applause brings). If Fanny is patterned after Ethel Barrymore (who threatened to sue the playwrights and after Royal’sBroadway premiere “only nodded coolly to Kaufman when the two met at parties,” according to Howard Teichmann’s biography of the writer), then Tony Cavendish is clearly inspired by that matinee idol, John Barrymore.

 

The estimable Aaron Hendry’s two-fisted Tony steals ever single scene he’s in, like Winona Ryder let loose in Saks Fifth Avenue. Hendry, who also plays Petruchio this season in the Theatricum’s Taming of the Shrew, portrays his swashbuckling character with great panache, and is heaps of fun to watch in every scene he steals, dashing from brawls, paparazzi and lovers seeking to serve him legal papers for “breach of promise” lawsuits. Both playwrights knew Drew’s forebears, the Barrymores, but there is scant if any mention by Kaufman and Ferber of the carousing John Barrymore’s legendary, prodigious drinking. Their farce focuses on the foibles of actors by trade, and in particular on the few who attain stardom and are firmly fixed in the public eye.

 

The stage and screen credits of Kaufman, of course, include the Marx Brothers’ The Cocoanuts, Animal Crackers, A Night at the Opera and A Day at the Races, as well as Dinner at Eight (with Ferber), Nothing Sacred, The Man Who Came to Dinner and other classics. Ferber, who likewise was a mid-Westerner with a German-Jewish and newspaper background, was also a novelist who wrote the books Show Boat, Giant and Cimarron, which were adapted for the screen. A film version of their The Royal Family was directed by George Cukor in 1930 and in 1977 there was a TV movie version. Given today’s snaparazzi and the TMZ, tabloid press with TMI about celebs, it would be a hoot to update this 86-year-old play.

 

In any case, Susan Angelo ably directs what is now a period piece, with a cast that includes Theatricum alum Alan Blumenfeld as Oscar Wolfe, a commercial theatrical producer who yet dreams of producing at least one play with redeeming artistic value. Tim Halligan drolly depicts the over-the-hill Herbert Dean who dreams of returning to the limelight. Andy Stokan and Bill Gunther both play the long suffering suitors of, respectively, Gwen and Julie, who have the impossible task of competing for their affections with the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd.

  

The Royal Family is delicious fun with the Geers in fine form and moving in high Geer. This is a rollicking, royal romp full of Bohemian bonhomie, an ode to those who have been bitten by the acting bug -- and to those of us who enjoy watching them prance about on- and offstage in their not-so-private lives.

 

 

The Royal Family runs through Sept. 28 at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum: 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga, California, 90290. For repertory schedule and other information call: 310-455-3723 or see: www.Theatricum.com.