Tattered paint peels off the walls. A smoky haze fills the room. A luxurious yet torn red velvet curtain takes center stage. This decadent late-1930s Austria, teetering on the verge of fascist annexation, sets the backdrop for the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production of Measure for Measure, expertly directed by Jonathan Munby.
The show opens as the late-night crowd pours into one of Vienna’s cabaret shows—rich young men fill the seats, cross-dressers croon on stage, and “The Sisters” strip out of their habits into lingerie to the delight of all involved.
As the show reaches its peak in a swinging, partner-switching dance, an older man standing in the corner gropes a young black man clad only in black leather straps. The scene suddenly changes as the older man panics mid-embrace, pushes the other man off of him, and throws a chair across the stage. As the patrons flee, the man crumbles in his own shame and reveals himself to be Duke Vincentio, deftly played by Kurt Rhoads.
Munby’s interpretation of Measure for Measure hinges the Duke’s actions on the shame he feels for being gay in a fascist government where Catholicism permeates all aspects of society. After 14 years of prostitution, liberal sexuality, and decadence, Vienna stands in a state of moral depravation. This setting spurs the Duke’s decision to abandon his position and leave Austria in the hands of a supposed moral puritan, Angelo (Scott Parkinson), who takes it upon himself to enforce the law with undue severity.
The action focuses on the plight of Claudio (Avery Clark) who, labeled with a scarlet F for fornicator, is sentenced to death under the harsh morality laws for impregnating his fiancée Juliet (Katie deBuys). Claudio sends the fabulously foppish Lucio (Cameron Folmar) to implore Isabella (Miriam Silverman), his sister and a novice nun, to intervene and save his life.
Isabella’s attempts to plead Claudio’s case reveal Angelo to be a man of inner vice and wicked lust himself, since he only agrees to save Claudio’s life if the nun will give up her virginity to him.
Through a plot involving the Duke disguised as a Franciscan friar, Angelo having sex with his own ex-fiancée who he believes to be Isabella, and the beheading of a man whom looks enough like Claudio to pass, the action comes to a head at a trial where the truth finally comes out.
Munby’s decision to place Shakespeare’s play in the overtly Catholic, fascist Vienna with the jazz cabaret scene as a hidden backdrop sets the stage for a confrontation between public appearances and private realities. The director weaves this conflict throughout the play, bringing to light discrepancies between characters and their social perceptions, allowing the audience poignant glimpses into the inner sense of shame many feel at their personal failings. These feelings become palpable in scenes such as Angelo’s self-flagellation after first lusting after Isabella.
Munby stages shame most fully through the Duke’s homosexuality, as ordinary moments are transformed by a singular gong, the flash of red stage lights flicking on, and the sudden appearance of the same young man from the jazz cabaret.
This staging allows Munby to portray Catholic guilt on a personal, as well as societal, level, transforming Shakespeare’s ambiguous final lines with a simple shake of the head and a single red light.
Lansburgh Theatre
shakespearetheatre.org
Sept. 12 – Oct. 27
$18 student tickets
