Will #1: Shakespeare. I’m not a Shakespeare scholar, although Hamlet is my favorite story of them all — Hamlet and Moby Dick vie for first place in my heart. When I was in graduate school, I had a giant poster next to my desk in my lab that had the entire play written out, and I memorized Act I (oh, the things one will do to avoid writing a qualifying paper). I prefer the tragedies. The only Richard III I’d seen before was the movie, with Sir Ian McKellan as the wicked king and he wickeded the hell out of that role, as you can imagine. Oh, that moment he turns and speaks directly into the camera…..goose bumps. So I don’t have a frame of reference for Richard III beyond that; the movie placed the story in World War II and took a lot of license with the details.

But last night at BAM, Kevin Spacey played Richard and they took no license with the details. This was Richard III in every word and deed. Sam Mendes directed, and the production was breathtaking. But first, that opening scene — “Now is the winter of our discontent.” The entire play, Spacey kept his right leg turned and twisted and it must have been physical hell. In the opening scene, he’s sitting in a big chair, saying his speech, and then he begins unfolding, somehow — arms equally akimbo as that twisted leg, coming up and out of him. I got a wave of chills and thought “he looks exactly like a malevolent spider,” completely unaware that throughout the play they’d be referring to him as a spider. His performance was evil, and twisted, and chilling, and cunning, and also very funny. Very funny. Some of the humor came from an occasional delivery of a line, or a facial expression, but it also came from the words themselves.  Shakespeare was a hilarious writer.

The multiple murders and executions were done in a stunning way, too. Each time someone was murdered, Queen Margaret, who had cursed Richard and most everyone else, appeared upstage and clacked a couple of sticks (maybe they were meant to be bones), then she walked over to one of the dozens of doors that lined both sides of the stage, and drew a giant X on one of them, which would also have a spotlight on it. The murderer would lean forward and close the eyes of the one he was killing, and a screeching metallic sound filled the theater at the same time, followed by a darkening of the theater and a huge bang on a giant drum. It was extremely effective. When Richard III crowns himself late in the play, he’s standing in the middle of that gauntlet of doors, each with a big black X on it. It was just so well done.

And a thing I always love about the theater — the audience and actors bring it into being together. It’s so obviously being created by hand, in front of us; the audience witnesses actors carrying tables and chairs onto and off the stage, sets are being moved, we even see the sets from above, if we (like me) sit in the nosebleed section. But we bring it all into being together, and it becomes so real, realer than in a movie, in some way. In one scene, Hastings’ head is brought to Richard in a box; the audience only sees the box, and Richard takes the lid off but we don’t see what’s inside — we just know it’s Hastings’ head in that box. When Richard suddenly jabs his cane into the box…into Hastings’ severed head…the whole audience gasped. We were shocked and appalled, jamming a cane into the stump of a severed head. [except, of course, it wasn't.]

The scene that was so brilliantly produced and directed and made the whole thing relevant in this moment was when Richard had finally killed everyone who stood in his way, and he was ready to crown himself king. He and two advisors leave the stage with candles in hand and monks’ robes draped over their arms, and Buckingham steps to a microphone to exhort the crowd to join him in pleading with good Richard to become their king. Suddenly a giant screen at the back of the stage turns on and it’s as if we’re witnessing something private going on in a back room….it’s Richard, kneeling at an altar between two monks, and he’s praying. He has his little prayer book in hand, and the candles are burning. He turns around, “what? Oh, no, not now, I’m just praying.” Buckingham pleads, Richard says no, no, I’m not fit to be king, oh no, leave me to my prayers. The monks lean their heads into the shot — we’re praying right now — Buckingham pleads, Richard says no, no, finally ah, if you insist, I never wanted this, please don’t make me, now let me go back to my prayers please. It’s a brilliant piece of staging, and I guess politics and hypocrisy have been bedfellows for centuries.

The only bad thing about the long play was that the chairs are incredibly uncomfortable, up in the balcony, and the play was nearly 4 hours long. They’re tall straightbacked chairs, so tall you can’t put your feet on the floor. You have to rest them on this little footrest. The seats are very hard, the backs very straight, and my back was killing me by the time it ended but I didn’t care. Every detail of the performance was just amazing, and if you live here and can get a ticket, GET ONE IMMEDIATELY. If you can afford a ticket downstairs rather than in the balcony, it’s probably more comfortable.

Then, after the play ended, Will met me — my Will, Will #2 of this tale. We rode the subway together back into Manhattan, chattering the whole time, and went to his favorite little dosa joint. Oh my, Hampton Chutney, you won my heart. Mine was filled with spinach and sauteed red onions and goat cheese, with a roasted tomato chutney on the side, and it was just wonderful, though not as wonderful as the view across the table, of my dear son. We enjoyed our dinner and then went to McNally Jackson and poked through the shelves and tables, making each other laugh and talking about the various books that caught our interest. I love talking with him; he’s smart, and hilarious, and he feels like home to me. My time with him was too short, but then it always is.

I bought a couple of books — one about writing, and one this funny little book of “curious lists.” You as the book’s owner are meant to fill them in, so I thought I’d toss them out and see what you guys can help me come up with. Help me with this one, from p78:

“Impolite ways to request more salt.”

I have one in mind, but if something comes to you, leave it in the comments!