Direct from a sold-out run in London's West End, the critically-beloved, Shakespeare's Globe productions of Twelfth Night and Richard III come to Broadway for a 16-week limited engagement. Two of The Bard's finest plays are performed in repertory by a remarkable cast featuring two-time Tony Award winner Mark Rylance (Jerusalem, Boeing-Boeing), Golden Globe nominee Stephen Fry (Wilde, Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows) and Tony Award nominee Samuel Barnett (The History Boys).
These classics are presented in the custom of how Shakespeare's plays were originally staged, with an extraordinary all-male company playing male and female roles; actors participating in the pre-show ritual of dressing and preparing their make-up on stage, in front of the audience; music played live on traditional instruments; and lighting created almost exclusively by 100 on-stage candles, adding to the intimate and authentic atmosphere. This is delightfully funny, timeless Shakespeare at its absolute finest, and it is not to be missed!
Richard Duke of Gloucester (Mark Rylance) is determined that he should wear the crown of England. He has already dispatched one king and that king's son; now all that stands in his way are two credulous brothers and two helpless nephews - the Princes in the Tower. And woe betide those - the women he wrongs; the henchmen he betrays - who dare to raise a voice against him. Monstrous, but theatrically electric, Richard is Shakespeare's most charismatic, self-delighting villain, reveling at every moment in his homicidal, hypocritical journey to absolute power.
Rylance's Richard III doesn't have the customarily slow burn into madness that others have taken. There are times it's hard to separate him from a buffoon, bumbling about like a twit with oddly little charisma. He gets laughs — but not scared ones — for delivering such lines as 'He cannot live' and 'I'll have her; but I will not keep her long' ('What?' he asks the audience in a humorous aside).
Rylance's Richard, if undoubtedly compelling, is more challenging. He bellows the famous opening words — 'Now is the winter of our discontent' — with a curious giddiness that quickly dissolves into sardonic self-loathing. Laughing nervously at himself, Rylance can make the murderous madman seem as wilted in spirit as he is physically.
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