Cody Clark

The 2008 summer season of the Utah Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City features three of the 37 known plays written by William Shakespeare: "Othello," "The Taming of the Shrew" and "The Two Gentlemen of Verona." Three additional productions -- Edmond Rostand's "Cyrano de Bergerac;" "Fiddler on the Roof" by Jerry Bock, Sheldon Harnick, and Joseph Stein; and Moliére's "The School for Wives" -- cast the spotlight on the Bard's more recent peers.

The summer season runs through Aug. 30, with at least three plays in performance every day, Monday through Saturday.

The most-expensive seats at the festival are only $60 (with a seat cushion, blanket, complimentary bottled water and early seating privileges), and you can save money by attending weekday performances or buying ticket packages. Children younger than 6 are not admitted to any shows, though the festival provides child care at a cost of $15 per child ($10 per sibling after the first child), per play.

• All reviews are by Daily Herald film critic Cody Clark.

Shakespeare looks good wearing World War II in 'Shrew'

Let's talk about the good, the bad and the ugly effects of director Jane Page's bold, engaging decision to shift the setting of William Shakespeare's beloved "The Taming of the Shrew" forward in time to Italy during the years of its brief post-World War II Allied occupation.

First, the good. The old dog, now in performance at the Utah Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City, is inarguably invigorated by its new tricks. Jo Winiarski -- who's three for three at the Randall L. Jones Theatre this year, having also created the downtrodden, lived-in resilience of "Fiddler on the Roof" and the colorfully jaunty ambience of "The School for Wives"-- has outdone herself with the versatile, atmospheric, wholly inviting Italian village square, circa 1946, that is the play's featured setting.

(And wait until you see how nimbly the square becomes a remote army camp.)

Add in costume designer David Kay Mickelsen's breezily fabulous threads, and even people who aren't picking up all of the dialogue will be staring raptly at the stage.

And, setting aside the one or two strategic substitutions necessary to accommodate the new context -- strapping American G.I. Petruchio declares himself "Born in the States" instead of "Born in Verona" -- Shakespeare's wordage has scarcely been ruffled. Some of it even sounds like it was written with World War II in mind.

"Have I not heard great ordnance in the field / And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?" says Petruchio. If Nostradamus had jotted that couplet, we'd be giving him credit for predicting the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Normandy invasion, the Apollo 11 moon landing and Michael Bay's "Transformers" movie.

So the fresh perspective is fun, and almost certain to make the bluster and brawl of "Shrew's" timeless battle of the sexes more accessible to people whose eyes tend to glaze over at the mention of Shakespearean theater.

Substituting a motorized scooter for a horse and Army-issue khakis for breeches and floppy hats, on the other hand, has the bad effect of emphasizing the play's ugly subtext.

Sexual politics haven't progressed nearly so much in the last four centuries that we can't still wink and smile at the physical, sporting nature of Petruchio's determined courtship of Katharina, the aggressive, unwanted elder of the play's two sisters, who must be wooed, won and wed before the more charming Bianca is deemed eligible. But it's decidedly jarring to see a Petruchio garbed like your grandfather curb his wife's spirit as though saddle-breaking an unruly mule.

Then we have newly temperate Kate scolding her sister and the saucy widow Marcella: "Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper / Thy head, thy sovereign," and reminding them that, "Such duty as the subject owes the prince / Even such a woman oweth to her husband." We tend to shrug at the casual sexism of 400 years ago, but it's a different sensation when the same attitudes are trumpeted in a timeframe that's only as long ago as young adulthood for some in the audience.

Or maybe all of that is merely overstating a minor imperfection. The all-new "Shrew" received the warmest and longest applause of any of the six plays I attended, and it's not hard to see why people have a taste for this classic vintage in its new bottle.

Both Grant Goodman, as Petruchio, and Melinda Parrett, as Katharina, are fearless, energetic performers. Michael David Edwards is a hoot as prissy, aged Gremio, perhaps the least suitable of Bianca's many suitors, while Bianca herself, played by Lisa Ferris, is a giddy, apple-cheeked ditz more than a little reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe.

There are some great comic flourishes. Newly arrived Lucentio, having devised a scheme that requires him to assume the identity of his servant, Tranio, begins to eagerly "uncase" himself in the middle of the square. (His pants hit the stage, and then there's a perfectly timed beat as it dawns on him that he's standing in the center of town at midday.) And Petruchio's extended and energetic pursuit of the dyspeptic damsel whose dowry holds the key to his heart is still one of the great revels in all of Shakespeare.

And if, in spite of it all, your nostrils are tainted by the oily reek of male chauvinism, get a ticket to see "The School for Wives." It has all of the same attitudes, but Moliére is wholeheartedly mocking what "Shrew" tacitly deems worthy of emulation.

The Utah Shakespearean Festival's production of "The Taming of the Shrew" will be presented three or more times each week at the Randall L. Jones Theatre in Cedar City through Aug. 29. Tickets can be ordered online at www.bard.org or by calling 1-800-PLAYTIX.

Enjoyably lighthearted 'Two Gentlemen' tainted by edgy ending

I haven't done the research to bear this out, but my educated guess is that William Shakespeare chose the title "The Two Gentlemen of Verona" because "The Offensive, Ridiculous, Unwarranted Redemption of a Pustulent Popinjay Named Proteus -- No, Really, Are You Kidding Me? It Flies in the Face of All Logic and Sensibility" would have taken up too much space on the playbill.

As a compromise measure, perhaps we could all start calling this play "The One Gentleman and One Feculent Scoundrel of Verona." And at this point, I really should stop and mention that the fault in the play is an artifact of its creation, and not a reflection on the Utah Shakespearean Festival, which has applied its characteristic energy and polished showmanship to the current production of "Two Gentlemen" in Cedar City.

The approach taken by director Jesse Berger is lighthearted and clever, and the play incorporates some truly fine performances. Even Matt Burke, whose Proteus is the less temperate of the titular duo, plays his part with aplomb.

Proteus is at least problematically weaselly even before his character arc verges into monstrous infamy. How are we supposed to latch on to a guy, really, who, after pledging undying devotion to his hometown sweetheart, transfers his affection willy-nilly to his best friend's girl, and then finks out the best friend to the girl's powerful father to pave the way for his own courtship?

And that's just the warm-up to a series of machinations that eventually ends with Proteus, after having been patiently but firmly rebuffed by the lovely Sylvia at every turn of events, resorting to forcible sexual assault to get what he wants. Not only does this happen right before the eyes of the former best friend, Valentine, and the former hometown sweetheart, Julia, but both of them forgive Proteus within minutes of his attack.

Not only THAT, but Valentine decides that, if it'll help to mend the fences with the guy who just, oh, got him banished from the kingdom and tried to rape his true love, then he's willing to stand aside and allow Proteus to pursue his interest in Sylvia. WHICH PROTEUS IS TOTALLY READY TO DO.

Except that Julia, who's been going about disguised as a pageboy, finally reveals who she really is, and Proteus has a moment of the ol' Blinding Shakespearean Insight, where his brain is essentially short-circuited back to the moment when Julia was the center of his world. Valentine renews his love for Sylvia, who manages not to kick him in the future generations for nearly fobbing her off on the rapist, the couples kiss, and the audience remembers to clap.

So, yeah, I know, lighten up, it's a comedy. None of these events are exaggerated for the purposes of satire, however, and there simply isn't a place, in 2008, for attempted rape in light comedy. Besides which, nobody's buying what you're selling when you suggest that two couples are going to happily pass around the bygones and go back to their original alignments one hasty apology and five or six minutes after Please Don't Make Me Say It Again.

Shakespeare's text gets altered all the time, so maybe next time around Valentine could just pop out of the bushes after Proteus says, "In love / Who respects friend?" but before he gets to "I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end / And love you 'gainst the nature of love."

This time around, there are plenty of other reasons to enjoy "One-and-a-Half Gentlemen of Verona," which establishes an ideal tone for 98 percent of its breezy running time just by the manner that Berger has chosen of having the cast members troop onto the stage.

There are numerous scenes of truly excellent comedy, including a tussle over a love letter between Julia and her maid, Lucetta; an ineffectual serenade; a discussion between Valentine and the Duke of Milan over methods of conducting secret romantic assignations; and the wordless disposal of a discarded love letter and rope ladder.

As Julia, Lindsey Wochley demonstrates a knack for comedy that she doesn't get to reveal as the doomed Desdemona in Othello, and Timothy Pyles fleshes out a brilliant performance as incompetent suitor Turio with deeply funny body language and a very expressive snort. Brian Vaughn, so triumphant in "Cyrano de Bergerac," drops in for some inspired physical and verbal comedy as Lance, the dog-keeping servant of Proteus, while Kevin Kiler is a stitch as Valentine's nimble page, Speed.

Vaughn and Kiler are so much fun, actually, that you almost wonder whether they're the twosome the title is truly referring to. Maybe ol' Bill from Stratford knew what he was doing with that after all.

The Utah Shakespearean Festival's production of "The Two Gentlemen of Verona" will be presented three or more times each week at the Adams Shakespearean Theatre and the Auditorium Theatre in Cedar City through Aug. 30. Tickets can be ordered online at www.bard.org or by calling 1-800-PLAYTIX.

A sinister vengeance crushes two good hearts in 'Othello'

Don't make Iago angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry. Or maybe you would. The spurned soldier who schemes to destroy his captain in William Shakespeare's "Othello," now in performance at the Utah Shakespearean Festival in Cedar City, is fascinating in the same way that headlights are fascinating to a deer, or a coiled, buzzing rattlesnake to a traveler on a forest path.

The captain who excites such anger is open-hearted Othello, and to say that the hero of Venice doesn't see his downfall coming, or at least doesn't see it coming from Iago, would be putting it mildly. Othello describes Iago as being "honest" or "just" so many times that he's practically composed a three-page letter of reference by the end of the play.

The bone of contention between them is that Othello, charged with appointing a new lieutenant, passes over shrewd, battle-tested Iago in favor of the less distinguished Michael Cassio. "Mere prattle, without practice, is all his soldiership," Iago seethes. And not only that, but, adding insult to injury, Othello keeps Iago at his side, as his personal aide.

Instead of doing his own dirty work, however, Iago exerts his imagination to a breathtaking degree to devise a plan by which Cassio and Desdemona, Othello's lovely young wife, a radiant creature who's both doting and doted upon, eventually (and unwittingly) turn Othello against his own happiness. The knife, so to speak, is in Othello's hand -- all Iago does is goad him to wield it.

This year being the Year of Red Flags at the festival, this is probably as good a place as any to mention that Othello is an ethnic Moor, a dark-skinned island in a sea of white faces. His race is mostly relevant only to Act 1, Scene 3, in which Desdemona's father, Brabantio, accuses Othello of casting a love spell on his offspring, because of course there's no other way daddy's little girl would have consented to marry one of Those People.

Given the play's historical context, it would be foolish to charge Shakespeare with overt racism, but the content may nonetheless be disturbing to viewers of delicate sensibilities.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled review: The set for "Othello," at the Adams Shakespearean Theatre, is another minimalist triumph, suggesting the play's Mediterranean setting mostly with sliding mesh screens. And since the story is essentially one long descent into despair, the open-air environment -- on the night of the performance I attended -- provided coincidental ambience from the throaty calls of nearby crows. Carrion eaters, of course.

In that sense and two others, James Newcomb's brilliant performance as Iago could be said to have a birdlike quality. Newcomb has perfected a chirpy, leering laugh that suggests a devilish delight at each tragic turn of events, and he frequently seems to lurk at the edges of the action, waiting to swoop in and pick the bones clean.

There's also an imposing disparity of stature between Newcomb and Jonathan Earl Peck, as Othello. Peck is broad-shouldered and several inches taller than his co-star, meaning that Othello's antagonist frequently has the appearances of hovering when the two of them are together.

For his part, Peck does an excellent job of laying out the pre-Iago state of Othello's affairs in just a few key early scenes. The joy he takes in his marriage to Desdemona is almost boyish, and he doesn't even appear to resent his father-in-law when a mollified-but-still-stung Brabantio tells him, "Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see / She has deceived her father, and may thee."

Othello's sincere (and sincerely ironic) reply is, "My life upon her faith!" The crux of the play, then, is the long scenes in which Iago and Othello are alone together, permitting the former to sow the seeds that sprout rank weeds of discontent in the latter's heart. The logic of these interludes is cruelly perfect and their execution, superb: Peck and Newcomb give their all to the slow, winding path by which Iago leads his commander into gross misperception of his marriage.

As the "major" Shakespeare of the 2008 season, "Othello" is one more feather in a cap that has so many of them already it could pass for a peacock. The cover of the 2008 souvenir program is a closeup of Peck, his horrified expression accentuated by the track of a single tear over his cheek. There's so much emotion and storytelling just in that one frozen moment that it's almost worth paying a small admission fee just to watch the program cover.

The Utah Shakespearean Festival's production of "Othello" will be presented three or more times each week at the Adams Shakespearean Theatre in Cedar City through Aug. 29. Tickets can be ordered online at www.bard.org or by calling 1-800-PLAYTIX.