At the close of the Milwaukee Rep’s high-octane production of Shakespeare’s Othello, Iago is found kneeling in chilly silence at the edge of the stage. The bloody spoils of his work surround him, and he himself has been roughed up a bit, a prelude to the violent death he’ll experience as soon as the lights go down.
But for now, he is silent—no repentance, no explanations. Instead, he seems filled with exhausted pride, looking out at the audience with eyes that say, “See, I told you I could do this.” And even more chillingly, his cold stare seems to say, “And you all would have done the same if you could.”
It’s one of the quieter moments in Mark Clements’ Hells Angels approach to the play, which turns Shakespeare’s Mediterranean clans of the 17th century into modern motorcycle tribes. It’s a giddily appropriate translation, the gang culture embodying the play’s military codes of honor and loyalty, as well as reflecting the time-honored idea of Venice as a site of debauched permissiveness—“What happens in Venice, stays in Venice.”
And it satisfies our hunger for the spectacular. Instead of men in leather jerkins with rampaging rapiers, we get bikes and bikers in full regalia: leather vests emblazoned with club swag, sawed-off shotguns and switchblades. They exist in a rusted out industrial world, celebrate victories with bottles of Jack Daniels and lines of coke, and live to a soundtrack of roaring Harleys and heavy-metal interludes.
But it’s the acting, particularly Gerry Neugent’s Iago, that makes this production work so beautifully. Not imposing physically, he instead is a scrappy fighter with a touch of the clown. Always in control and in character, Neugent shows him to be Shakespeare’s greatest tribute to the power of acting—proper dissembling can go far beyond merely catching the conscience of the king, but can topple a mighty warrior’s entire empire. Lindsay Smiling’s Othello is both noble and accessible, a man who wields power through respect and proper politicking. He skirts the temptation of many actors who intone Othello’s lines in a basso profundo; instead his cadence puts him between the Elizabethan world and the gritty streets of the production. Mattie Hawkinson plays Desdemona with a fresh and fragile vulnerability. Deborah Staples gives Emilia a scrappy street-girl presence, and Reese Madigan finds the warmth in Cassio without turning him into a fawning prig, a temptation of many productions.
The supporting cast is first rate, and it all adds up to a powerful thunder of a production. But even when the music is pitched to rafter-shaking levels, it’s still outdone by Iago’s frozen silence.
There isn’t a lot of roar and mayhem in Next Act’s quietly compelling world premiere, One Time, which spins the template of an acting exercise into a rewarding romantic comedy-drama. Two actors, one park bench. Instead of the exercise’s opening gambit—“You’re late”; “I know”—the play starts with a story: “One time, I….” We eventually gather that Sonia and Mason have agreed to meet at this bench every week to trade a single story from their past.
From the beginning, the banter has a palpable flirtatious edge, even though the couple are card-carrying AARP members. But as we see more and more meetings, the couple’s age becomes essential to the relationship and to the tension that develops in their story. There is urgency; there is restraint. And there are surprising revelations.
Chicago-based playwright Richard Lyons Conlon doesn’t pull any fast ones here. One Time is both structurally neat and emotionally surprising. He trusts that his characters will get under the audience’s skin, and they do in the best way.
It helps to have a director—David Cecsarini—who has a subtle and sure hand with the material. And two intelligent actors with great rapport. Linda Stephens conjures a stillness of spirit that connects you with her life story even before you know the details. And Jonathan Gillard Daly creates a delightful Mason, charmingly belligerent and impatient, but also witty and engaging. All together, playwright and artists have created a beautiful and human story about people that could easily be the man or woman next door, showing that there is great drama in the everyday here and now, as well as in the majestic stories of old.
