ARTS & EVENTS

Vengeance For All: 'Spanish Tragedy'

Photo courtesy Keven Hollenback
BEAUTIFUL, STRANGE, AND violent, "The Spanish Tragedy" is a feast of revenge. Though the 16th- century play's author, Thomas Kyd, is little-known today, his lyrical masterpiece remains immediately familiar, largely because William Shakespeare, writing a few decades later, flagrantly imitated it.

Performed in the round, with almost nothing by way of costume or set, the Rude Mechanicals' production is essentially two hours of skillfully rhymed drama about death, grief and conspiracy performed in street clothes, and it is therefore more dependent on the strength of its actors than many productions. The troupe — anchored by David Dubov as the aggrieved Hieronimo and Brian Harrington Moors as the nefarious Lorenzo — meets the challenge, delivering the antique verses with skill.

Kyd's plot progresses about as subtly as a freight train full of déjà vu (thanks for giving it away, Shakes): After being killed in battle, the spirit of Andrea (Donald Cook) returns to the mortal realm with Revenge (winningly personified as dark, beguiling and amused by Jaki Demarest) to settle his score. A study of the perils of wish-fulfillment ensues: Andrea's girlfriend, girlfriend's family, BFF, BFF's family and sundry other characters knock each other off, marching toward a final cascade of blood. The fight scenes, gunplay, hanging, suicides and so on are nicely done.

"Tragedy" conveys a timeless message: Revenge is a dish best not served.
»St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, 4512 College Ave., College Park; through Jan. 31, $12-$15; 301-317-7964. (College Park)

Written by Express contributor Tim Follos
Photo courtesy Keven Hollenbeck

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COMMENTS (1)

  • 1) Decades before Shakespeare? No. Spanish Tragedy, mid to late 1580s; first Shakespeare, 1592.

    2) This was one of the shoddiest productions that I have ever seen. Everything about it, from the box office staff and the crew occasionally wandering in and taking a seat to the excessively bloody yet completely obvious and literal-minded "special effects," was amateurish in the worst sense of the word. Moors, whom you laud, wouldn't know acting if it bit him on the butt. His every (over)reaction is a cliche: boredom is indicated (incessantly, broadly, painfully) by eye-rolling and foot-tapping. If had been able to twirl his mustache, he probably would have. None of the performers could deliver a speech without Moors gesticulating wildly in response. Dubov is better, spoke the verse well, but ultimately did not illuminate the character. All of the performers forget (or perhaps never knew) that acting is not just saying words prettily; it's doing the hard, hard work of creating a living, breathing human being, someone that we might recognize from our own lives, someone with whom we might identify. There were no human beings here. And so whatever the play has to say about human beings (the reason we go to the theatre, after all) was lost, a victim of this crushingly wrong-headed production.

    By Theatre Goer , Posted February 1, 2009 3:01 AM
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