Timon, the Teacher

Timon of Athens is easily the most difficult of Shakespeare's plays. One gentleman I know has even referred to it as "one of the problem children."

So many times in the past I've gotten halfway through the script and closed it with grimace. But I've been revisiting Timon lately and have developed a new, if somewhat grudging, respect for it. Both Timon and Alcibiades, another major character, were actually historical figures. Timon was a philosopher noted for his misanthropy (Apemantus, a philosopher who appears in the play, foreshadows Timon's fall) and Alcibiades, another major character, was an Athenian military leader of rather mutuable patriotism. But it goes deeper than mere biography.

The play on one level is a depiction of Timon's fall from wealth and generosity to bitter, impoverished exile in the woods outside Athens. I initially found this storyline alienating so I had never really explored it in depth. Now as I review it, I see not just the objective process by which Timon lost his wealth but the thought processes as well.

On the esoteric level, I think Shakespeare was using the text of the play as a prosperity lesson. Timon behaves like a prosperity student gone horribly wrong. He starts out fine -- wealthy and generous, he shares all he has. But there are flaws and problems inherent in his thoughts -- he refuses repayment when it is due and expresses poverty thought throughout the beginning of the play. Toni Stone, my prosperity teacher, would point out that Timon is literally turning money away.

In prosperity training, we learn to manage our thoughts and words. In this light Timon's very words are suspect - to his friends he says:

"...more welcome are ye to my Fortunes
Than my fortunes are to me."

Later on he says to his friends,

"Why I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you."

This is one of his fatal flaws -- he cannot be in relationship except when he is needed or when he needs. But deeper than that, he seems to wear his wealth with discomfort and there is an underlying anxiety to his generosity. This reflects in his words -- try as he may to manage his thoughts, saying, --

"...Never speake, nor thinke,
That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sinke."

It's not even that his friends are untrustworthy, the problem is with his focus, it's way too narrow. He expects his generosity to come back from these very people, a score-keeping mentality, whereas in reality you never know where the answer will come from. This is where the problem frequently gets worse before it gets better, a process called "chemicalization" by Emilie Cady, a writer affiliated with Unity Church. Emilie Cady was a Christian theologian, but I find her ideas correspond well with any philosophy.

Chemicalization, as the prosperity teachers explain it, is actually part of the process, the problem working itself out, rather like a pimple that becomes bigger before it pops. This is the challenge, to stick to the action, thoughts and words that create value.

Timon, on the other hand, falls into poverty thought and vengeance. This is the fall from grace that destroys him. It's a complete and total loss of faith. He stages a mock-feast, raging against his former friends, then embraces a self-imposed exile. Before he leaves, he delivers a series of scathingly bitter curses outside the walls of Athens, full of imagery that disrupts the natural order.

Even when he finds gold later on, he's so destroyed that he cannot turn from his course of action. The gold he gives away to the enemies of his former home. Even in his misanthropy, he cannot keep anything for himself.

Timon has proven himself to be one of my deeper teachers. Even the "problem child" plays have something valuable to say.

Tooth Fairy, Othello and Dr. Shakespeare

I can say with conviction that the Actor's Shakespeare Project's current production of Othello is worth getting up early the day after a tooth extraction because I just did it. I was scheduled to usher for the 10 am performance and my dentist suddenly rescheduled my appointment. I couldn't say no to this dentist because God knows when I'd get a new appointment and I couldn't strand my house manager.

It was worth it, it was so worth it!

Part of it was my dentist and her team had done a great job so I had minimal pain and drama. The other part was that the production of Othello was so absorbing that it overrode every other consideration.

Othello is one of my favorite plays and I've seen it done several times. And we all know it, we know how it ends. It takes a great deal of craft to bring a classic play to life in a fresh way, in a way that restores its sense of surprise. Judy Braha, the director, made excellent choices so that many of the familiar moments took us unawares. Even the fight choreography, seamlessly folded in to the staging by Robert Najarian, was character-driven and appropriate to each personality.

Jason Bowen brought a stern sense of command to the title role within the first few minutes of his entrance. This was clearly a seasoned military man, not easily disturbed, a big-hearted, courageous man. Portrayed by Bowen, it is these vitues and his integrity that makes him a pawn for Ken Cheeseman's Iago who plays him like a fish on a hook. But it's like landing a marlin -- this Othello is not an easy mark. This Iago has to work for his prey -- the watchfulness in Cheeseman's eyes makes us wonder if maybe this time Othello will get away. And because Iago has to work for it, we lose our certainty of the outcome - it's like seeing the play with fresh eyes. The sense was not that we were here to see a great albeit well-worn classic, but rather to see something that has never happened before.

The craftsmanship in Bowen's Othello revealed the process of his destruction -- we could literally see the moment where he began to doubt Desdemona. His Othello spoke to the universal experience of jealousy and loss -- anyone who had every been betrayed in love could bleed with him.

For an Othello of this power to fall, the actor playing Iago must be equally strong and much, much subtler. It's no accident that the phrase "heart on my sleeve" comes from this play -- although the line belongs to Iago, this is exactly what Othello does. Othello is not a subtle man, he is a man of heart and action. Ken Cheeseman's Iago, on the other hand, seemed to be following the advice from another well-known play, appearing like the innocent flower while being the serpent underneath it.

There was a worn quality to this Iago, we could see a man who had worked long and hard then been denied in a way that fueled his rage. Standing in formation with the rest of Othello's officers he was perhaps a bit less crisp and polished than they were, revealing a weariness of long-standing discipline in his body language. His military mannerisms were deeply ingrained and the product of long habit. Another facet he revealed was an earthy glee reminiscent of a Dennis Leary, a bad-boy sense of delight. He could even be...likeable. He was dangerous, even to the audience, because he could enroll us in his cause.

The supporting characters are usually treated as an afterthought, pawns in Iago's game. Even Desdemona, who is so pivotal but has very little stage-time -- as most of Shakespeare's women. Here she was played with passion and a good deal of lively spine by Brooke Hardman. When Othello's affections suddenly turn, her shock and confusion is so truthful, she brings a truthfulness beyond the standard Shakespearean heroine and reveals a living, breathing woman who can understand why her relationship has suddenly turned abusive. But this is no delicate flower -- Ms. Hardman's Desdemona is playful, willful -- one kick-ass lady who fights first for her convictions, later for her life in the final confrontation. Between her spirit and Othello's moments of ambivalence, we think she might pull through. So again, an old story becomes suddenly new and when we see the choice, it comes as a shock.

Paula Langton was also a suprise -- it wasn't until I read the program that I realized she was cast in dual parts. As the Duke, she carried her authority with grace and held such polish, I didn't recognize her as the same actress when she reappeared as Emilia, Iago's wife. Where Desdemona is dealing with the shock of her man's behavior suddenly turning, Ms. Langton's Emilia shows us a survivor of long-standing abuse and neglect who somehow still hopes it will change. There is an undercurrent of sadness to her, a woundedness. Her theft of the hankerchief holds a sudden logic, it becomes something that could possibly earn her some emotional currency -- or at least attention -- from her husband. She is clearly caught between the remnants of her love for her husband and her protective affection for Desdemona. Ms. Langton walks the tightrope of loyalties with tremendous elegance.

Then there is Cassio, played by Michael Forden Walker. Usually Cassio is just a pretty boy. Walker's Cassio has a touch of darkness -- we sense he has a drinking problem, rather than a naive unused to liquor. In the scenes with Bianca (the sinuous Denise Marie) we see that he is feeling more than he would like to for a powerful, playful woman as well a touch of inappropriate attachment to Desdemona. Since he seems much more self-aware than the average Cassio, these blind spots give him more depth.

With these characers so well fleshed out, Iago's job becomes harder and he becomes more interesting. Ken Cheeseman definitely rose to the task. This is a play about shattered trust and its victims. The set echos Othello's splintered self and fluidly leads us from one scene to the next. It's playing till the end of this week and I recommend it highly.