Watching the Dominoes Fall: A Stunning, All-Female Version of Cymbeline at APT

One of only two Shakespeare plays American Players Theatre is mounting this season, Cymbeline has been characterized as both a comedy and a tragedy over the last four centuries. A work written later in the bard’s life, it’s also been criticized for simply mashing up the plots of several of his other plays and presenting them in a long, somewhat convoluted story that involves wrongly presumed infidelity; wagers between men about the obedience and faithfulness of their wives; stolen love tokens; sleeping potions; a failing king in his dotage; an overzealous queen who wants her own son on the throne; kidnapped royal children discovered in their adulthood; and a British rout against hostile forces, though they were severely outnumbered on the battlefield. (Any of these sound familiar?) And just for good measure, there’s no surer way to identify someone as a family member than by their distinctive moles.  

For those who desperately want to fill up their Shakespearean scorecard, seeing every single play in the folios, Cymbeline is a boon. (It’s only been performed by APT once before.) For more casual fans, it seems like a puzzling choice in a year when we should be celebrating our in-person return to the outdoor classical theater. But as they did with Pericles in 2017, American Players Theatre has found a way to make this lesser known play shine — through the work of an innovative director, extraordinary cast, gorgeous set and costumes, and a fresh approach to the material that puts women’s perspectives front and center. And in this “post quarantine” year when productions require smaller casts and there is no intern company to pull from, it’s fantastic to see this multicultural cast of eight filled with exceptional actresses from around the country.

In her director’s notes, Marti Lyons asks the rhetorical question, why isn’t this play called Imogen, after the central character? Played with piercing clarity and great force of will by Core Company Member Melisa Pereyra, it’s a very valid query. After all, it is Imogen — her loves, her thwarted romantic entanglements, and her dealings with a scheming stepmother and feeble, failing father that drive the play. Tested by the machinations of her husband, hunted, poisoned, marked for death by the men who can’t have her, and ultimately brought to her father’s court in chains while wearing the armor of his Roman enemy, it’s Imogen who rises above each slander and injustice, ultimately having the grace to forgive all who have wronged her. Pereyra portrays the princess as a very modern heroine. Rational, confident and clear-eyed, she sees through all who surround her who wish her ill. Whether it’s in royal robes, a soldier’s uniform, or a boy’s raiments, her noble, level-headed character shines through.

As two of Imogen’s love interests, Colleen Madden slides easily between a pair of male roles with the flick of her cape; she is both Imogen’s (sometimes) devoted husband Posthumus and her hamfisted dude-bro step brother Cloten. Over the course of the play, both the high and low characters curse Imogen when they cannot control her and both turn to murder when they are thwarted. As men at two ends of the temperament spectrum who come to the same violent, misogynist conclusion, Madden is an absolute delight to watch. Leaning in to both the enraged, heartbroken love who believes he has been betrayed and the testosterone supercharged dolt who warbles terrible love songs under Imogen’s window, she is magnificent. Madden portrays the passion of both men who make reprehensible decisions regarding a woman they both desire, her gender occasionally underlining their casual savagery towards the fairer sex.

Although her squeaky and saucy Queen is hard to listen to in the first act, Gina Daniels’s second act portrayal of Belarius, a wronged soldier who kidnapped the King’s son and raised him in the countryside, is rich and layered. As the doctor Cornelius, Lisa Tejaro regularly steals the scenes she is in with witty single lines, and is equally impressive as a fierce Roman general, Caius Lucius. In a collection of smaller roles, Alys Dickerson is also refreshing as a confident, unpretentious youth with an exacting moral compass. And as the fumbling aged king, Sarah day dotters through her royal duties, issuing short-sighted, knee jerk reactions to threats of any kind that others pay heavy prices for. She embodies the folly of unexamined action rather than careful contemplation. 

So does the single-sex casting work? Can an all-female cast make audiences care about the fates of men? Of course it can. Just like in Shakespeare’s day (when the players were only men) this cast proves that a good actor is a good actor. Male or female, they can make us cry, laugh, swoon, and sigh. And while there was a bit of cognitive dissonance when a female actor playing a man remarked on women’s mysterious motives and weaker natures, it was only a momentary interruption in the characters’ journeys. Apart from some unfortunate wigs and intentionally silly mustaches, the gender of the actors disappeared almost immediately into their characters. My only quibble with the production is actually the inclusion of a visually dramatic, but somewhat silly dream sequence, that is awkward in its execution and completely unnecessary. 

At the play’s end, as in most Shakespeare stories, there is a long scene of reckoning where puzzles are put together, knots are untied, and true identities are revealed. Sometimes marriages and dancing ensue. Sometimes the tragic field is simply cleared of dead bodies. I have never been struck with such an indictment of the whole cast as I was at the end of Cymbeline. Like watching a line of dominoes fall, one character after another tries to justify his actions by listing a grievance that he could not endure, which immediately drove him to revenge. That action set off another terrible act, until almost every man admits he was both victim and villain, thoughtlessly taking his rage out on those he was closest to. That line of dominoes stops squarely with Imogen, although Pereyra’s steely expression at the end of all these confessions leaves the audience to wonder until the last second if she will accept the apology that is offered. 

Artistic Director Brenda DeVita calls Cymbeline a fairy tale that has much to teach its audience, and that theme is borne out beautifully in the inventive set by Takeshi Kata and the lush, painstakingly designed costumes that capture both the historic silhouettes and the grandeur of a fictional fairy kingdom. On a stage that looks like a pop-up book with characters springing from the pages, appearing and disappearing through sumptuously illustrated sliding screens, we do find a surprisingly simple morality lesson, and one that is certainly fit for our modern predicaments: Be slow to anger. Act with intention instead of reacting with malice. Listen. Admit mistakes. Ask for forgiveness. Grant it if you can.