
Shakespeare is the GOAT, but his plays can be tough going today. Their archaic language, extended soliloquies (easier to read than apprehend onstage in real time), our lack of cultural context, and maybe above all, their sheer length can discourage some contemporary theatergoers, especially newbies.
As Stephen Greenblatt’s fascinating Will in the World shows, the plays were originally conceived as extended, evening-length entertainments (sometimes accompanied by bear-baiting and other jollities), and those audiences’ expectations mightn’t jibe with contemporary contexts, needs, or attention spans.
Theaters have known this for literally centuries, of course, leading to multitudinous attempts (notably in the ambitious Play On project, which began at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and continues independently) to update the canon via modernized production design, language, and other gambits. Some left little of the originals. Most seemed unlikely to last much beyond their time, which is maybe the point. Occasionally, some even work.
Add Sarah Lynn Brown’s sleek, scintillating new Richard 33 to the short list of updated Shakespearean successes. The contemporary Nebraska playwright’s tight take on Richard III requires only three actors (hence the title) playing multiple roles, and retains only the scenes and excerpts needed to propel the story to its tragic climax. Yet (à la The Princess Bride), it not only preserves the good parts — which, this being Richard III after all, means the bad (evil) parts — of the original Tricky Dick’s bloody tale. It does so using almost entirely Shakespeare’s original, immortal words, the occasional interjected “Oh shit” notwithstanding.
That combo of classic power and contemporary approach makes R33 appealing to both dedicated Bardolators and to wary Bardophobes like my companion for this show, who attended mostly to support Bag&Baggage’s always compelling vision, especially this season’s winning streak of all premieres. She was pleasantly surprised. “I came for a mercy fuck,” as she put it, metaphorically, “but I actually had an orgasm.” (Yes, her line is used by permission.)
Adeptly attuned to our attention-attenuated TL;DR 21st century, Brown’s streamlined version also clocks in at a mere hour — a third the length of many productions of the original. Which leaves room for a whole ‘nother original: Her Femme Ending enlists the same trio of intrepid actors to embody some of Shakespeare’s women (both on and offstage), who deliver a decidedly modern, feminist appraisal of what his plays, and history, omitted or obscured about them. Because of a snowed-out earlier weekend, Baggage & Productions’s world premiere run has been extended through March 8.
Murder Most Fun
As ever, Shakespeare’s Richard offers plenty of drama, tension, psychological insight and the rest, all thankfully alive and kicking here, even in abbreviated form. The original script, the program informs us, is his second-longest, with 52 named characters. One bonus of this slimmed down version’s pulsating pace is the sheer ingenuity and intensity on display.
The three actors (Jacquelle Davis, Signe Larsen, Mindy Mawhirter, all excellent, each distinctive) switch off among a score of different roles, from the titular sociopath (sometimes played by two or three actors at once, dividing the lines among them), to various rivals, villains, lords, queens, doomed young prince, citizens who function like a chorus.
They convey a knowing, ironic cast, often mugging or winking to the audience, meaning this Richard draws unaccustomed laughs for what’s normally a dark political drama. ’Tis murder most fun. Mawhirter especially impressed as seductively sly and cynical Richard, even when not speaking, while Davis drew audience snickers as a delightfully devious and deadly Ratcliffe, and Larsen shone in a variety of female royal roles. They’re almost always onstage, in character, and in motion, whether dancing or dueling or deceiving, and director Melody Erfani’s deft blocking and choreographed movement keep it all flowing smoothly and swiftly, without feeling busy or breathless.
Costume changes happen frequently and briskly onstage, usually just the addition or subtraction of a shawl, a crown, a sword etc. Suiting our multi-track world’s simultaneous bombardment of info sources and styles, much is conveyed by movement and gesture, and not just subtext: When they’re playing Richard, for instance, the actors display a withered arm and slight hunchback. It’s true minimalism: just the essentials needed to let us know who’s who and what’s what. Still, the story remains intelligible both to Richard rookies and revisitors alike.
The smart production design helps by including a kind of scoreboard upstage, listing the characters the actors are portraying at each moment, the names color-coded to each actor’s respective mono-colored costume. Genius! But so expressively were they played, I often didn’t need the help.
Instead of set pieces, Kyra Sanford’s effective projections establish atmosphere and setting (throne room, palace, prison, bedchamber, battlefield). The mood and modern sensibility are enhanced by an evocative sound design, mostly percussive electronic effects and wordless vocals, supplied by erstwhile Portlander and now NYC denizen Ash.
Richard 33 takes the best of the Bard’s tale and adapts it to 21st century rhythms and attentions, without bastardizing, diluting or dumbing down Shakespeare’s glorious original. Naturally, much is lost in the shrinking, but Shakespeare’s OG version will always be there for those who want the full course.
Brown has made a Richard, if not for the ages, at least for this moment. A welcome antidote to our present winter of discontent, it’s one of the most entertaining and original Shakespeare adaptations I’ve seen in years.

Feminine Critique
The second half of this Shakespearean double-header is about the Bard rather than by him. And instead of a conventional play, it’s more declaimed than dramatized. Our three hard-working performers portray a series of historical females associated with Shakespeare, from characters in his plays to women IRL (including the famous, mysterious Dark Lady of his sonnets) and even, for some reason, Joan of Arc.
It’s a bit reminiscent of the musical Six, in which the wives of Henry VIII dish to the audience and each other about you know who, and more. The female characters here get to express out loud — often poetically — what they couldn’t on the original stages. Others comment incisively on what the patriarchal canon omits and distorts about these and really all women. There’s info about iambic pentameter and more tangential tidbits.
Again, projections and constant choreographed movement enliven the action. Familiar Shakespearean lines and phrases flit in and about, providing Easter eggs for Bard nerds. There’s even a smidge of fun, gentle voluntary audience participation/interaction, and an aleatoric moment. And despite the light tone, the insights unleashed are generally informative, sometimes surprisingly powerful, usually sharp, witty, and funny.
Still, there’s no avoiding that the audience is being lectured to, albeit entertainingly, as Brown parcels out the lines among the three players, who again deliver them with crack timing and obvious interpersonal chemistry. Such shows almost invariably suffer from the distancing that happens when we’re not immersed in a drama among characters interacting with each other, rather than talking at us. Though it’d benefit from a ten-minute trimming, its other merits and B&B’s excellent production make Femme Ending well worth experiencing, especially for Shakespeare stans.
As a pair, Beginnings & Endings provides a real treat for Shakespeare vets and newbies alike. I hope both shows make it to Ashland someday, but I’m elated that the world premiere is onstage now in Hillsboro for Portland metro types to catch them first.
***
Bag & Baggage Productions’ Beginnings & Endings runs through March 8 at The Vault Theatre, 350 Main Street, Hillsboro, just steps from the Max Blue Line and several bus lines. Tickets and info. Read more stories about Hillsboro arts.
So well written, Brett