Falstaff (Dean Paul) with Hal (Alessandro Juliani) in Bard on the Beach's production of Falstaff.David Cooper
Falstaff
- Written by William Shakespeare
- Adapted by Errol Durbach
- Directed by Glynis Leyshon
- Starring Dean Paul Gibson and Alessandro Juliani
- At the Studio Stage in Vancouver
Why, from the encyclopedia of characters that Shakespeare doled out, does fat, bibulous, loud-mouthed, discourteous Falstaff keep topping our list of favourites?
We love him because he teaches us how to mine for gold in the dishonourable dark where we spend the majority of our lives. When Bard on the Beach veteran Dean Paul Gibson takes on the character, the result is an utter success. Gibson tromps around the stage, a wench tucked in each armpit, volatile, tender, and undeniably human. John Lahr, over at The New Yorker, has argued that Falstaff is the single greatest comic creation for the stage, and you get why when you're watching Gibson at work. There are so many happy-sad shades to his Falstaff that you never know whether to pity him or envy him.
The occasion for Falstaff's appearance is the world premiere of a new, condensed adaptation of Shakespeare's two-part history play Henry IV. Errol Durbach, the University of British Columbia professor and sometime playwright, has stuffed Shakespeare's history of the wayward Prince Hal's succession to his father's throne into a nearly three-hour evening. Durbach plays very fast and loose with the original text, cutting and stitching as he pleases, adding words to solder transitions, or changing phrases and sequences. It's a thrilling bit of transgression. But I can't call it entirely successful. While there are several fine moments to be had, my enjoyment of the work was piecemeal; it lacked the kind of structure that delivers real catharsis.
King Henry (an oddly awkward Kevin McNulty) has usurped the throne of Richard II. And Henry's son, Hal, needs to be lined up for his new future as a sovereign. Falstaff is the meddling influence, a secondary, drunken father-figure capable of distracting Hal from his shiny new future. The theme of fragile lineage was apropos: When Shakespeare was writing, that notion about the "divine right of kings" was starting to waver.
Against the calculated political world that Henry is trying to woo his son into, there stands Falstaff's world - full of prostitutes, drunkards and bawdy humour. A Dionysian counterbalance to the court's extreme tact. If kings are perfected "heads" of state, then Falstaff is the gut, the liver, the spleen. Alessandro Juliani's Hal starts off as a simpering, half-sad boy, who loves his boisterous Falstaff. Juliani does great work transitioning from that peer into an emotional traitor as he eventually takes the throne. The 19th-century critic William Hazlitt called Hal "a very amiable monster." And we do see that slick and corruptible side of the character in Juliani's portrayal; he shows us the stabbing effect of disloyalty, eventually taking on his royal dress and telling Falstaff he doesn't know him at all.
Those squeamish folk that exclaim about the "sanctity" of Shakespeare's words will miss out on a great deal if they worry about Durbach's wrenching at the original text. Besides, Durbach is hardly the first to mess around with Shakespeare's portrait of Falstaff. Verdi's Falstaff opera is even more promiscuous; it incorporates elements from The Merry Wives of Windsor, Henry IV, and As You Like It. And then, in My Own Private Idaho, Gus Van Sant gleefully transposed the Henry IV plays into a modern story of male hustlers.
Falstaff himself would approve of such tampering. He knows no rules, is an inglorious figure and, in the god-awful, tradition-bound marsh one has to wade through just to understand what's going on in most Shakespeare productions, he serves as a sabre of common sense and humour, slicing through the bog, hitting on home truths.
Falstaff runs at Vancouver's Studio Stage until Sept. 22.
Special to The Globe and Mail