Elizabeth Rex Returns

Back in April, the innovative Production Company Nicu's Spoon undertook one of their most ambitious projects to date and presented the New York premiere of Timothy Findley's masterpiece Elizabeth Rex. The production, while admirable, was flawed: the direction was too loose, the acting spilled over into overacting, the staging was awkward, the emotion tended to wane.

But rather than cave under the problems of that initial, and very brave, production, Nicu's Spoon decided to learn from them, and has resurrected Elizabeth Rex for a longer run--their first off-Broadway outing.

And yes, some of the problems remain. Joanne Zipay's direction is still too slack, letting several scenes drag rather than crackle. Some of the actors still tend to overact in some scenes, turning the drama into melodrama. But despite its flaws, this Elizabeth Rex has recaptured some more of the intensity and power that Findley's script offers, becoming a genuinely moving-- and even exciting-- evening of neo-classical theatre.

A quick summary for those too lazy to look up the review of the April production who've forgotten: In 1601, Queen Elizabeth I ordered the execution of the treasonous Earl of Essex, Robert Devereaux. Essex was one of her favorites at court, and widely believed to have been her lover. On the night before the execution, she summoned William Shakespeare's acting troop, The Lord Chamberlain's Men, to distract her with a play. In Findley's re-imagining of history, the queen goes backstage after the performance of Much Ado About Nothing to find that the Beatrice of the evening, Ned, is also doomed: He has syphilis, and doesn't know how to face his own looming death with dignity. In order to play women onstage, Ned has destroyed everything about himself that is masculine. In order to successfully rule England for forty-five years, Elizabeth has destroyed everything about herself that is feminine. Each one finds in the other the qualities that he or she needs, and so the two strike a bargain: If Ned will teach Elizabeth how to be a woman, she will teach him how to be a man.

The rest of the play is a battle of wits, and therein lies its greatest strength and weakness. In the right hands, a verbal joust can be thrilling. But as much as Ms. Zipay's direction has improved since April, there are still several lengthy pauses that let the energy ebb and several moments that teeter into melodrama.

But the four-month respite has also allowed the cast to mellow into their roles and smooth out some of April's rough edges. The actors work together with powerful chemistry, playing off of each other's energy with skill. Stephanie Barton-Farcas still has some trouble finding Elizabeth's voice in the beginning of the play, but becomes genuinely regal as the Queen is forced to examine her life and her heart. Michael DiGioia occasionally struggles with balancing femininity and camp, but has managed to even out the two into a genuinely moving portrait of a tortured and anguished soul while never losing his sense of humor. Scott Nogi makes a very appealing Shakespeare, wry and witty and sad all at once, and infusing his narration and exposition with good amounts of emotion. As Shakespeare's leading man, Andrew Hutcheson has become more confident and cocky, making his character's defiance in the face of the queen much more dramatic. Among the new cast members, Erwin Falcon is all sweetness and innocence as young Harry Pearle, providing a much-needed balance to the anguish of the rest of the characters, and Ruth Kulerman is a quietly dignified Countess of Henslowe.

Rien Schlecht's costumes are impressively effective (and seem to have become more elaborate since April), and Steven Wolf's lighting has evened out to become much more evocative. With a better stage to work with than the April production, John Trevellini and Gabrielle Montgomery's barn set has become more atmospheric, with plenty of dark shadows to enhance the mood.

Elizabeth Rex is a sprawling monster of a play that could best be described as the smart kid sister of Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. One doesn't need to know lots of Shakespeare or English history to appreciate the play. This is a play about hearts and souls, about love lost and connections found, about sacrifice and duty and honor and passion. Nicu's Spoon has taken on a great challenge in giving this play its New York premiere, and in bringing it back for an extended run. Considering the improvements between the April run and this current stretch, one can only hope that there will be a third time to make it absolutely perfect.

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