Timon Now On His Feet

The great thing about volunteering with a theatre company is you get a deeper look at their work than the average spectator. You go deeper into the text and make discoveries that you would miss by just seeing the show once. For a theatre student, this is invaluable.

Timon of Athens is now on his feet. That is, the play is on its feet, Timon himself falls apart during it.

It's really something to see the progression from running lines and hearing an actor's insights, to seeing the show on its feet. So far I've seen the dress rehearsal and ushered a preview performance and the show has developed in ways I couldn't have predicted. I've been chewing this text over and over -- for a play I didn' t initially like I now find it haunting me.

Once again I saw the importance of good casting -- each actor brought their part to life with nuance and elegance. This production seems to have more ensemble work than the others I've seen. The minor characters emerge from the ensemble and dissolve back again, with just touches of costuming to differentiate -- voice and body posture primarily signal the transformations. This gives a contemporary feeling to the show. At times it's like Shakespeare meets the Marx Brothers with the Three Stooges thrown in.

There's also an unintentional hommage to Buster Keaton at the end of Act One that triggers one of the most amazing scene changes I've ever seen in live theatre. I'm not one to go out "whistling the scenery" but I was impressed. And in a show as well done as this, it is not a reason to see the play, but it's a nice bonus.

John Kuntz, who was so brilliant as Peter Quince in Midsummer, was playing the poet, among other characters. He balances between mastery of the verse and total irreverence. He is clearly one of our sacred clowns, in his willingness to play he guides us into the text so we can understand it without being overwhelmed.

The tragedy of Timon is not that he loses his wealth, by this point I feel the core tragedy is he becomes incapable of recognizing the ones who truly love him. He loses his wealth, he finds new wealth. The money is not the point. And it illustrates one of my favorite prosperity points -- money comes from known and unknown sources. He finds enough of a fortune to restore his lifestyle -- and chooses not to. He seems to engage in a process of purification. He is harsh and unsparing in his hatred of the flattering courtiers who disappointed him. The three people who geniunely care for him show up - Captain Alcibaides, Apemantus and Flavius the steward (changed to a woman's role for this production) cannot break through his isolation. Flavius almost succeeds -- there is a genuine affection between the two. Timon appears to acknowledge it but ultimately sends her away. He gives her gold, which she rejects, throwing it back to him. He gives it to her again and she rejects it again.

Personally I think that's a mistake. I don't know whether it's the direction or the actress' choice. From the director's point of view (which is usually how I look at things) I honestly don't think that Flavius would/should reject the gold. I agree that she would put up an initial struggle. But the gold is ultimately a token of Timon's affection toward her and I would think she would accept it under those terms. She should accept it for Timon's sake, not out of greed. If nothing else, the wounded look on Timon's face should change her mind.

But nobody asked me.

It dawned on me -- it was not rejection, Timon is not about rejection, but purification. He is on the path of non-attachment. First he was at the effect of his wealth (his constant avoidance of Flavius' warnings shows that he never really mastered it) then at the effect of his bitterness. He suffers because he was attached to the wealth and flattery. Then, at the end, he is free - "Nothing brings me all things" -- he has attained an almost Zen attitude.

I was pre-disposed to enjoy Allyn Burrows' performance as Timon after all the work we'd put in. I thought - mistakenly - that it would hold few surprises. I had forgotten that the process of running lines is largely intellectual and a performance will take on a life of its own - especially with Shakespeare. It was a perfect counterpoint - the humorous, frequently manic ensemble provides a backdrop for Allyn's Timon to unravel against. And unravel he does -- from dignified affluence down to the depths of bitter madness. There are flashes of danger in his performance along with the Shakespearean attitude of joy through all emotions. Another lesson for me that acting is not about the words - even when the words are this important. That acting takes place through the words and in the silences.