Theatre in Review: The Winter's Tale (Pearl Theatre Company)

	Tom Nelis, Dominic Cuskern, Peter Francis James. Photo: Richard Termine

The Winter's Tale in a dining room? Well, why not? Even if it is one of the more stageworthy of Shakespeare's so-called problem plays, it is nevertheless an anthology of fantastic stage devices, wildly improbable plot twists, and 180-degree tonal shifts played out against a whole series of Southern European locations with an indeterminate time frame. No wonder it spells "open season" to concept-minded directors.

At first glance, the decision by the director, Michael Sexton, to stage this adult fairy tale in an haute bourgeois dining room, complete with beautifully carved chairs, an imposing breakfront, and floral green wallpaper, seems more than a little perverse; this is, after all, the play with the most famous of all stage directions: "Exit, pursued by bear." In practice, however, the setting, combined with a number of psychologically acute performances, plays a central role in what is certainly the most coherent Winter's Tale in my experience.

Brett J. Banakis' set, which exudes a sense of upper-middle-class comfort, provides a most apt setting for the action of the first half, in which the marriage of Leontes, King of Sicily, and Hermione, his queen, is ripped apart, thanks to his unreasoning jealousy. Inflamed by Hermione's familiarity with his best friend, Polixenes, King of Bohemia, Leontes falls into a rage, imprisoning Hermione and ultimately inducing her death, as well as that of their son, Mamillius. These scenes are a challenge, largely because Leontes goes from charming host to raving monster in only a few lines, but somehow this largely domestic dispute plays better in a domestic setting.

The first half is also dominated by the superb work of Peter Francis James as Leontes. For years a valuable utility player in the Public Theater's Shakespeare productions, here he gets a role worthy of his talents and assured technique, creating a frighteningly convincing monster. At first, his Leontes struggles -- physically -- to contain his rage, but the battle is all too quickly lost. When he spits out the line, "My wife is slippery," you can practically taste the venom yourself. When Hermione is pulled from her captivity to defend herself -- a closet door is opened and the actress Jolly Abraham is revealed, looking like the victim of a kidnapping or a terrorist act -- and Leontes says to the woman he loved so recently, "You had a bastard by Polixenes," James' reading of the line reverberates with a fury that will not be appeased. And when Leontes' questioning of Hermione is interrupted by a message from the Delphic Oracle, insisting on the lady's innocence, he crumples the paper and mutters, "The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood," it is a stunning moment, the total destruction of hope.

James has fine partners in Abraham, who delivers Hermione's proud defense with an almost intimidating degree of power, and Rachel Botchan's Paulina, the Sicilian noblewoman who drives much of the plot; her denunciation of Leontes is a study in unchecked fury until, demonstrating the reason that the king lacks, she pulls herself back from the brink. This act ends in the notorious scene in which Leontes and Hermione's baby daughter is left abandoned when her caretaker, Antigonus, is devoured by a bear. This dauntingly difficult scene is imaginatively realized using a bear's head, several fur coats, a long table, some alarming sound effects, and a light aimed in the audience's eyes; it is a total success.

Having whipped the tragedy into a fever pitch, the second half of The Winter's Tale jumps ahead 16 years and makes a U-turn into rustic comedy. Perdita, the lost infant, has been raised by the Shepherd and is being courted by Florizel, son of Polixenes. These scenes, which in my experience never work, focus heavily on Autolycus, a roving musician and thief, and one of the great dud roles in classical literature. Steve Cuiffo does his best trying to create a lovable rogue, but the role simply won't budge; also, Bradford Cover and Tom Nelis, who are otherwise fine as Polixenes and the nobleman Camillo, are, hoping to spy on Florizel, forced to don beards and behave like old codgers in some of the least amusing scenes ever to flow from Shakespeare's pen.

Even here, however, there are moments of revelation; for example, Cover's outrage when Polixenes discovers Florizel wooing Perdita, whom he believes to be a farm girl, becomes an intriguing mirror of Leontes' first-act rampage. And the production moves confidently to the final scenes in which everyone is reunited and Paulina produces the eerily lifelike statue of Hermione that leads to one of the more improbable, if satisfying, happy endings in dramatic literature. Sexton's direction has an interesting way of connecting the play's psychological dots in a way that makes the unmotivated and out-of-left-field story developments seem less troublesome than usual. His is a remarkably clear vision: Parent-child conflicts flare up time and again, jealousy rears its head repeatedly, always with ruinous results -- and, in the end, forgiveness is the only available method of healing.

In addition to those already mentioned, James Udom makes a strikingly impetuous Florizel, and Dominic Cuskern is a stalwart Antigonus. Imani Jade Powers gives Perdita a nicely assertive quality, but her voice could use a little more poetry. Adam Green wrestles manfully with the role of Clown, one of those Act II rustics.

Banakis' set is beautifully handled by Bradley King's lighting, which pours a variety of moods and colors through the stage right windows and creates spooky footlights-and-shadows effects for the reveal of the statue of Hermione. Tilly Grimes' modern-dress costumes and John D. Ivy's sound design are both solid, the latter providing reinforcement for Raymond Bokhour's lovely original music.

Ultimately, a director doesn't stage The Winter's Tale; he or she makes a case for it, seeking out ways to knit together its improbabilities and turn its weaknesses into strengths. Sexton's approach is about as good as it gets: He and his company find the profound power in this parable of revenge and reconciliation. By the finale, you may feel that the act of forgiveness can produce magic results. -- David Barbour