October 16-22, 2003

theater

Power Play

by Toby Zinman

It is always interesting when a fine actor can reveal the meaning of a play -- or what suddenly becomes the meaning of the play. Joe Guzman’s brilliant Cassius becomes the tragic center of Julius Caesar, the man who "thinks too much," a man who, acting with what seems to be deep intelligence and genuine moral outrage, "misconstrued every thing." Guzman’s portrait is seamless -- every glance, every suspicion, every handshake, the delivery of every famous line. The play becomes the tragedy of the ardent liberal, the true patriot who fears his society will be destroyed by an egomaniacal despot. He might have been right, but assassination as a solution proves him wrong, just as his co-conspirators prove to be false or inadequate or self-interested, and just as the Roman public proves to be tragically swayed by Mark Antony’s sound bites and their dead king’s tax rebates.

Despite the program notes that would insist on obvious Relevance, and despite the blood-chilling speech by Mark Antony, Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war, this is a play, as Shakespeare's plays always are, about people. The agenda may be the failure of political leadership and the collapse of democracy, but it is people who make a mess of governments, and the huge institutions that control the fate of men are grounded in human fallibility.

We are always more interested in the way men are seduced by power than by power itself, and Joe Muzikar's Julius Caesar is wonderfully self-enamored -- his slightly swish arrogance is the very portrait of absolute power.

We are always more interested in the false friend than in treason, and Neil McGarry's Brutus presents a man who is as self-deluded as he is deluding; he is the people's -- and Julius Caesar's -- darling who believes his own rep for virtue, unable to grieve his wife's death but willing to die to preserve his honor.

We are always more interested in the talker than in the talk, and Jared Michael Delaney’s Mark Antony is a smug manipulator who is all talk -- he has almost no presence except when he is working the crowd.

Even in small roles we see people, not just agents of dialogue: John Zak as Casca is always a little too eager for violence, and Stephen Fletcher's Octavius is an imperious and vicious brat.

Director David Howey creates vividly distinct atmospheres, shifting from the sunny forum to the plotting at night to the battlefield. Some of the best directorial decisions come in the pauses, as various characters stop speaking and look cautiously, guiltily around. But his decision to have Caesar's dead body rise during Mark Antony's speech pulls focus at a dramatic moment and seems corny rather than spooky, just as it does when Caesar reappears at the end.

The costumes (Hiroshi Iwasaki) are simply awful, sometimes merely pieces of frayed fabric tied around somebody's shoulders. Ian Rose does a fine job as fight choreographer.

JULIUS CAESAR

Through Nov. 16, Philadelphia Shakespeare Festival, 2111 Sansom St., 215-496-8001

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