Katelyn Spurgin

Theatre Artist, Scholar, Lover of Words

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  • Let Us Sit Upon the Ground and Tell Sad Tales…

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    Richard II at Bridge Theatre – 19 March 2025

    Richard II is a rarely staged play – no battles, little comedy – that runs more towards political, psychological drama. Bridge Theatre knew how to fill seats for the lesser-known play. Put Jonathan Bailey in the titular role. It worked. Seats filled with Bridgerton and Wicked fans. For many, it may have been their first Shakespeare play, and it was Richard II. That thought made me smile as we took our seats, and I laughed a bit on the inside. I truly love this play. It contains some of Shakespeare’s most beautiful speeches and well-known lines. It also contains one of the most daring scenes – the deposition of a king – for an early modern play of the time. And now, Bailey took on the role of king with gusto. Richard II, though dark and perhaps even dull in some places, found new breath with effective staging and strong performances.

    It’s tricky to balance the absolute entitlement of a character and still be engaging and likeable enough to get the audience on your side. Bailey managed to portray Richard as spoiled, selfish, and the kind of person you’d want to punch in the face, while also offering some levity, intensity, and, at the end, vulnerability. Supported by the strong performance of Royce Pierreson as Bullingbroke, the push and pull of the relationship between these two men was palpable. I must also give a shoutout to the small but strong portrayals of Green and the Duchess of York by Amanda Root. An actress I’ve long admired, Root’s track was memorable and a nice contrast for her. Her Duchess (alongside Michael Simkins as the Duke and Vinnie Heaven as their son Aumerle) found both the gravity and comedy of the heated yet humorous scene with Bullingbroke surrounding their son’s treason.

    The intimacy of the Bridge Theatre plus the use of an extreme thrust stage (the website said it was in the round, but there was a door at the back where scenery could change so I cry foul) brought the play into the audience, and the audience into the play. As an early modern scholar, when a thrust stage is in use, I must sit on the side. I’m glad we did. There were some long moments of “back-ting” for those sitting at the front. The little voice inside me said use more angles, but the stage was so narrow and long I don’t know how much it might have helped. The hydraulics of the stage allowed for seamless set changes and quick transitions – something I think is crucial to keep pace in any play, but particularly Shakespeare. Actors left through the audience, even going up to the gallery seats when Richard addresses Bullingbroke from the walls of Flint Castle.

    The scenic elements were carefully designed. The opulence of Richard’s court at the beginning of the play was perfectly mirrored in the second half, but replaced with plain office furniture for Bullingbroke (now Henry IV). The parliamentarian modernism of the look brought strong contrast to the earlier extravagance of Richard’s, further demonstrating the regime change. Men in suits almost comedically popped out of the audience during Henry IV’s parliament, calling each other out and throwing down gages (in this case, not gloves but what appeared to be a crest or badge of some kind). No knives or swords to be seen in this modern production, and Richard’s death at the end was done using a hypodermic with who knows what kind of poison in it. His last words repeated “with a little pin;” words from the famous “hollow crown” speech about death coming for a king. A realization at the end. Perhaps on the nose, but the choice made sense in the world of the play.

    The actors had the challenge of a play with only its verse to commend it (some may fight me on that, that’s fine). But with no battles, songs, and hardly any comedy, the verse was vital to add color and movement to an otherwise stark and dark play – to demonstrate the family and the political drama. On the whole, the actors delivered. Sometimes the verse seemed challenging, sometimes it flowed with vibrancy. Ultimately, the combined efforts of scenery, intimate space, and strong performance created an engaging production of an underdone play.

    NOTE: Thoughts and reflections of a professor and practitioner; they are my own opinions and, as with art, you don’t have to like or agree with them.

    ~Katelyn Spurgin

  • There was a star [or two] danced…

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    Much Ado About Nothing at Royal Theatre Drury Lane – 18 March, 2025

    The theatre buzzed as it filled, Jamie Lloyd’s dance party playlist and moving lights giving a club vibe to the historic Royal Theatre Drury Lane. Two A-list actors about to grace the stage as my favorite Shakespearean couple, Beatrice and Benedict. This Much Ado production was the instigator of the trip we were on – not riding too much on it as I always try to curb expectations – but my expectations were perhaps a bit higher than normal. Tom Hiddleston (historically, as my sister likes to remind me, the only celebrity I would wait in line to meet) and Hayley Atwell are actors I’ve admired since long before their Marvel days, though their Marvel characters had meta-theatrical moments in this production, appearing as cutouts (unnecessary in my opinion). Period dramas, Shakespeare – I’ll see them in those genres before I’ll see another Marvel movie.

    Lloyd’s simple staging (literally, the stage was empty, you could see the roll up door at the back) with only a few chairs and a million pieces of pink confetti was the first clue; this was not your “typical” Shakespeare. It was practically a musical (though with no sign of “hey, nonny nonny”) with song and dance interspersed frequently throughout. Ten actors graced the stage, with Hiddleston and Atwell at the core. It was tight, playful, and daring.

    Hiddleston’s Benedick delighted from the get-go. He played to the comedy of the character, but revealed a beautifully intimate, vulnerable man in his speech after the gulling. It reminded me of his St. Crispin’s speech in Henry V. Not large and over the top (a la Branaugh), but rather honest and personal. It was quite lovely. Atwell’s Beatrice was snarky, sexy, and also vulnerable. After the humor of Benedick’s gulling, in stark contrast, hers was simple and compelling. You didn’t see Margaret or Hero at all. They were hidden behind the only set piece, a giant pink inflatable heart. Beatrice was center stage, and we got to see all the reactions to her hearing about Benedick and how she cannot love. Her eyes welled with tears as she heard herself censured. It was a veer away from the comedic opportunity, but so often Benedick’s gulling outshines Beatrice’s, so why not make a different choice? The A-listers did not disappoint.

    I appreciated that, even though the theatre had a traditional proscenium stage, actors still came right down to the edge and talked to the audience. Slight fan-girl moment, I’m not lying when I say Tom Hiddleston looked right at me in his pre-gulling monologue, said “one woman is fair,” and gave me a little click of the tongue and a finger gun. Yes, I will tell people that Tom Hiddleston called me fair. Fan girl aside, I was pleased to see that the needed audience interaction of Shakespeare’s plays was not entirely lost in Lloyd’s production.

    Another loss grieved me, however. About halfway through the first half, I leaned over to my sister and said, “I wonder what they’ll do about Dogberry?” Too soon, as I flipped through my program at the interlude, I discovered the truth. Lloyd cut the entire Dogberry plot. Instead of the joy of the B plot, a single line from Margaret leads Borachio to confess. No Dogberry or Verges, no Watch, not even Conrad. Lloyd’s dance party Much Ado excluded those who could’ve made the party even better. To be fair, the cut worked, it still made sense. But Dogberry was sacrificed for the A-listers. It was the Beatrice and Benedick show, or rather, the Tom and Hayley show. For the fans who came just to see them, it was probably worth it. For those who came for the play too, there was a feeling of loss. While Hiddleston and Atwell certainly deserve praise for their work (truly, they did a lovely job), it came at a high price. Dogberry.

    NOTE: Thoughts and reflections of a professor and practitioner; they are my own opinions and, as with art, you don’t have to like or agree with them.

    ~Katelyn Spurgin

  • I’ve Got a Sinking Feeling

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    15 March 2025

    Hamlet at The Royal Shakespeare Company

    When a countdown to tragedy flashes at every scene change, you expect a rise in everyone’s stakes, to use the theatrical term. Trapped on a sinking ship Elsinore, the Danes of the court focus so strongly on their own personal problems that they fail to take in the full tragedy sinking around them. At each scene change, ensemble members’ anxiety heightens, from concern early on, to panic by the end. The tilting stage lends to the figurative and literal imbalance happening in the play, further upending the physical space with each scene. Through it all, Hamlet (Luke Thallon) broods in much a familiar manner. A tough role to step into, he endeavored to breathe new life into Hamlet, though sometimes to the detriment of a line, taking some rather dramatic pauses at odd moments. Unhurried by the tragedy surrounding him, he drew out moments that could have clipped more, though perhaps the goal was a contrast to the chaos as it unfolded. Jared Harris’ Claudius was almost nonchalant at times, ebbing and flowing in and out of his scenes, confident in his new role and wife. This shifted in the final scene when he became almost like a caged tiger, caught at the bow of the sinking ship with nowhere to go and no weapon as Hamlet advances. Poor Ophelia (Nia Towle) barely got a chance to be known – a fate for many of Shakespeare’s female characters. She roamed the ship, seemingly with no purpose but to hover at her father’s side and make side long glances at Hamlet. There was one sweet family moment with Ophelia, Polonius (Elliot Levey), and Laertes (Lewis Shepherd) as Laertes prepared to leave (apparently you can just take a lifeboat or tender out from Elsinore? Maybe the ship is closer to land than we think…) Polonius’ advice was received as if it weren’t the first time he’d given it; Ophelia and Laertes even joined in at the end. He’s a flatterer, a groveling courtier, but he also gave lightness and humor to his character and showed a real fatherly side in this moment. His tender moment with Ophelia, pretending to break an egg over her head, returned for a tragic refusal before her setup encounter with Hamlet, signaling an end to that form of their father/daughter relationship. Polonius the courtier had won over Polonius the father. Some may wonder, how do grave diggers discover the skull of Yorick on a ship? The famous skull appeared in the suitcase of the Player (Anton Lesser) who happens to be trying to disembark (or jump?) upon Hamlet’s return to the sinking Elsinore. The grave digger dialogue rather included the Player and a sailor preparing Ophelia’s body for a sea burial, an ode to the start of the play with Old Hamlet’s body being sent over the side. Additional odd breaks in the world included the use of a gun to kill Polonius and a gory show of the blood that follows, but traditional foils for the final duel, no blood in sight. The duel was the final refusal to see the end. Or meeting it, perhaps? As each person died (save Claudius) they all dramatically slid down the deck a la Titanic. Claudius fights to save himself to the very end, holding on at the highest point and rail until the last. Hamlet slits his throat, leaving his body leaning against the rail pointing to the sky. As Hamlet dies, rather than sliding down like all the rest, he stands and slowly starts walking down the steep deck, accepting his fate and the tragedy at last.

    NOTE: Thoughts and reflections of a professor and practitioner; they are my own opinions and, as with art, you don’t have to like or agree with them.

    ~Katelyn Spurgin