ROSENCRANTZ & GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD—WELL, ACTUALLY, RESCHEDULED

Look, just because Tom Stoppard is my all-time favorite playwright, don’t think you automatically get a good review by staging Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I once saw a production of Arcadia that had me wanting to commit suicide just to get out of the world in which that show was running.

But if you know what you’re doing, it certainly doesn’t hurt.

Enter Alive Theatre, who, within the small confines of the black-draped Naples Fine Art Center, successfully bring us both the funny and the depth that Stoppard so skillfully infuses into R&G.

Unfortunately, what a spokesperson for the Alive Theatre called “regrettable and uncontrollable circumstances” forced the cancellation of the Nov. 12, 13 and 14 performances as well as shows on Nov. 26 and 27.

The theatre may extend its closing weekend through Dec. 4.

Anyone who has already purchased tickets for cancelled performances can either exchange them for any remaining scheduled shows or receive a refund. For information about refunds, reservations or the status of the show call (858) 361-8196 or (562) 818-7364.

You probably already know this, but Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are two minor characters in Hamlet, childhood acquaintances of the eponym sent for by the uncle-king and mother-queen to find out what’s up with the popular but understandably troubled prince of Denmark. Slimy but not necessarily meaning ill, they get in over their heads—and as a result, quite literally lose them.

Stoppard’s conceit in R&G is to keep our eye on them, with the action of Hamlet running on and off stage (“every exit [is] an entrance somewhere else”), discombobulating them as they puzzle over existence and their—and all of our—inscrutable roles within it. As Guildenstern repines, “Wheels have been set in motion, and they have their own pace, to which we are…condemned. […] We act on scraps of information…sifting half-remembered directions that we can hardly separate from instinct.”

Since Stoppard’s showing in R&G is largely in the telling (the influence of Waiting for Godot is at one point almost made explicit), the play pretty much turns on how well the two leads plus The Player can handle their pithy repartee, much of which comes down to understanding what they hell they’re talking about—often a tall order, as Stoppard never rests his wit and constantly shifts the shades of meaning, both knownst and unbeknownst to the characters.

Fortunately, this lynch pin holds, as Aaron Van Geem and Eric Pierce play each of their characters with proper distinctness: Van Geem’s Rosencrantz is believably pleasant and occasionally obtuse, while Pierce’s Guildenstern succeeds as the cynical, cerebral big brother[i] trying to find a way out of their fait accompli entrapment. Pierce never fails to play it straight and direct. It’s the right choice, even if perhaps he might do well not to have all of his lines quite so ready. For his part, Van Geem probably yells overmuch (think Robin Williams), sometimes flattening out the dynamics of his lines, but he’s duty-bound to get the biggest laughs, and get them he does. Since we know from Van Geem’s springtime starring turn in Eugene Ionesco’s A Hell of a Mess, or Oh, What a Bloody Circus that he’s got no problem toning all the way down to completely understated, he’s quite capable of making a mid-run adjustment in this direction, if he sees fit.

Meanwhile, Stephen Dedola plays The Player with exactly the knowingness the role demands. “I’ve been here before,” he says to the protagonists, “[a]nd I know which way the wind is blowing.” Truly, he is the only entity seemingly with a foot in both the experiential world of the duo and the world around them ever so maddeningly just beyond their ken. Dedola seems to be on to the fact that The Player shares the audience’s predicament: we are removed enough to have a clear view of the import of what plays out onstage, and yet we ourselves can never get clear of being in the midst of the philosophical action. The Player is simultaneously voyeur and participant, and he knows it.

The rest of the cast is solid in support. The Hamlet cast are wooden and lacking a bit of credibility as people—exactly what Stoppard has in mind, and part of what throws the protagonists off (especially when they find themselves mechanistically joining in); and the Tragedians momentarily steal their scenes when called upon to do so, giving excellent comic relief in the middle of already-funny goings on.

Director Andrew Eiden is to be credited particularly with the latter choice, and generally with making sure his characters are talking and listening to each other. Such heady dialog could easily come off as being recited, but we rarely lose the feeling that we’re privy to a genuine universe of unfolding lives, however fey that unfolding may seem.[ii]

Alive Theatre has done less with more here, keeping the sound and lighting cues to a minimum but making them count. Of exceptional note is a slow fade at the end of Act II.[iii] It’s slightly different than Stoppard writes it—and I dare say that, at least for the theatrical context here, it’s more effective.

If Eiden makes a misstep, it’s with the exits of the Hamlet cast, as often they are still making their way offstage as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are discussing what just transpired. A little more patience would increase the effectiveness of the lines that follow hard upon; as it is, we’re a little distracted.

I’m also mildly annoyed that Alive have chosen to abridge Stoppard’s script. It’s not that they don’t do so in such a way that it goes down smoothly enough—but what, more of a good thing would’ve killed ya?

But as it is, Alive’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is a good thing. That’s enough, I guess.

ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD ALIVE THEATRE • NAPLES FINE ART CENTER: 5700 E 2ND ST (AT RAVENNA) • LONG BEACH 90803 • 552.818.7364 ALIVETHEATRE.ORG • FRI-SAT 8PM + SUN, NOV 14 @ 2PM • $18; $15 FOR STUDENTS/SENIORS; DISCOUNTED RATES FOR GROUPS; CANNED-FOOD DRIVE DISCOUNT $1/CAN (LIMIT 5); PAY-WHAT-YOU-CAN NOV 19 • THROUGH NOV 27

[ii] And isn’t that what makes life simultaneously so life-like and yet so strange? It’s really happening, but doesn’t it all seem a bit intractably off?

[iii] The play is three acts, with intermission coming after Act II.