Shakespeare must be rejoicing.
With simplicity that reveals complexity, subtlety that reveals nuance, economy that reveals textural riches, vocal skill that reveals the majesty of soaring verse while remaining conversational and accessible, and commentary that reveals careful study and keen comprehension of his subject, Patrick Page illuminates McCarter’s Berlind Theatre with unending, indelible brilliance as he introduces, explains and portrays about a dozen Shakespearean characters, most of whom are among drama’s most famous villains.
In both conceiving and performing his one-man piece, “All the Devils Are Here: How Shakespeare Invented the Villain,” Page excels at each level of the pyramid that makes up theater’s “Three E’s.”
He entertains. His acting of all characters has a clarity and contemporaneity that immediately informs who they are and what they’re up to. Page doesn’t recite or use his magnificent, versatile voice to do the heavy lifting. He finds the perfect tone to endow each villain with a sound and cadence of his or her own.
He doesn’t have them declaiming or overemoting for effect, except when and where it is appropriate. He grants each figure his own personality and individuality. He has them talk. Simply talk, as humans do.
These characters do as Shakespeare would have them do: speak to make their points, announce their plots, spin their webs, spout their duplicity, smile through their excuses and tell you everything you need to know about them in language that flows and is never encumbered by Elizabethan vocabulary, poetic imagery or properties of verse.
Oh, they’re all there. Page is too much of an artist and too faithful an artist to hide or minimize the gifts Shakespeare provides. He just uses these gifts while being consistently conversational, communicating what characters from Richard III to “The Tempest’s” Prospero may say in a way that erases all barriers people complain keep them from Shakespeare and makes every single one of their words, thoughts, confessions and dedications to evil exactly what it is: a person talking.
This ability to serve Shakespeare and make his characters sing with reality and purpose not only thrills, or chills, when the text calls for it, but pegs the characters being assayed as villains and also as people.
First and foremost, Page emphasizes the humanity of his characters and all it means to them. He has them plainly state their cases but does so while creating the intensity and drama intrinsic in what they have to say. Iago is almost joyful as he lures Othello into suspecting Desdemona of infidelity and escalates his game by fomenting revenge.
He gives Shylock full leeway to tell why his despising of Antonio, the titular merchant of Venice, deserves to meet hate with hate, contempt with contempt. Iago is given easy charm to help him entice. Shylock is given rage that explains why he chose a pound of Antonio’s flesh for his bond, but also the pathos to exact some sympathy for the man spurned only because he is a Jew, an outsider in Renaissance Venice and Elizabethan England.
Whatever the character, Page renders him or her as a living, breathing being rather than a representative, type or device. In doing this, he conveys the scope of humankind in the manner Shakespeare did. Page concentrates on the moments his villains reveal their perfidy to the audience or experience self-revelation, as Claudius and Macbeth do.
He makes it all so immediate. Shakespeare’s characters, with their motives and intent, match people one could meet on a street today. They may have been written 410 or more years ago, but they speak through the ages, for all time.
At least as presented by Patrick Page.
Second “E.” Page educates.
Wittily and with pith, never pedantically like some teachers and lecturers who ruined Shakespeare for so many.
Page doesn’t make Shakespeare or his verse medicine to parse and analyze dryly.
He gleefully shares his scholarship, his study of “All the Devils Are Here’s” villains and his conclusion that the complete works of Shakespeare, a red-bound volume of which he uses as a prop, are one long work in progress from the “Henry VI” trilogy to “The Tempest.”
Page relies on more than Shakespeare for the wealth of information he economically imparts. He cites writers from Henry James to Ann Rule, who worked with serial killer Ted Bundy and wrote a book called “The Stranger Beside Me.” He cites a checklist, allegedly the first and only one of its kind, that delineates the traits of a sociopath and self-effacingly checks boxes that might pertain in some percentage to many of us.
Page’s patter about villainy, sociopathy and Shakespeare’s role in developing and evolving the villain from the pouty Richard III and angry, vengeful Aaron the Moor to the conscienceless Iago and the villain who knows what’s right but chooses wrong, Macbeth, is funny, especially in its contemporary cultural references.
Page is as compelling a lecturer as he is a performer. His joy of discovery from poring over Shakespeare and revisiting plays he’s performed and hasn’t is as clear as the traits and intentions he uses so deftly while acting his various parts.
Which brings us to the third “E” — enlightenment.
Page imbues Shakespeare’s characters with vivid life. As they become transparent, all Shakespeare knew about human behavior comes to the fore and makes a strong impression.
By heeding Shakespeare and being neither bombastic nor too tame, suiting the action to the word, the word to the action, as ’twere holding a mirror up to nature, Page assists the Bard in letting his audience see how observant Shakespeare was and how completely and skillfully he translated what he saw to the stage.
Showing Shakespeare’s villains for who they are and explaining along the way how each subsequent villain is a further evolved offshoot of his or her predecessor goes beyond fine acting. It speaks about the legions of people we have in the world, none perfect, but all varying percentages of evil or lack of conscience, all living up to what Shaw’s Hesione Hushabye says: “People don’t have their virtues and vices in sets; they have them anyhow, all mixed.”
Shakespeare saw the degrees and enactment of evil. Page provides the same perspective and proportion.
In a conversation Page and I had while he was rehearsing “All the Devils Are Here” — the title comes from “The Tempest” — we agreed we’d each arrived at the same conclusion, that Shakespeare was the original psychologist and certainly the first to apply psychology to drama.
Page not only says that as part of his patter but proves it markedly in his portrayals of Richard III, Aaron the Moor (“Titus Andronicus”), Shylock, Antonio (“The Merchant of Venice”), Claudius (“Hamlet”), Edmund (“King Lear”), Angelo (“Measure for Measure”), Iago, Othello, Macbeth, Lady Macbeth and Prospero.
From beginning to end, Page and “All the Devils Are Here” mesmerize yet remain so plain and real. Page casts such a spell and moves so smoothly from one sequence to the next that the audience has no opportunity to applaud. It sits rapt, waiting for more. Interestingly, Page resists doing long passages to convey what he’s saying about Shakespeare and putting evil on stage, Shylock and Iago being the exceptions. He finds the most potent passage, performs it brilliantly and seals his point. As well as our admiration.
While Page is on stage alone, he is well abetted by director Simon Godwin, who certainly reinforced Page’s mirror up to nature; stage managers, who had props in convenient places, such as the Gothic cross Page knocks over when Claudius realizes his words, or prayers, fly up from his chapel, but his thoughts remain below, guilt-ridden and too insincere to reach heaven; and a cavalcade of enhancing decisions by lighting designer Stacey Derosier.
Derosier’s lighting was like a series of co-stars for Page, whose face and image changed sequence by sequence in significant ways because of her artistry. Derosier’s work affected perceptions of Page’s age and features at times. One stunning effect had Page, as Macbeth, holding a light, perhaps a pulsating light, close to his face. Not only did it amplify a speech in which Macbeth admits his culpability and his attitude toward it, but it took away Page’s beard and other features, which made Macbeth eerily lost in the complexity of perceptions and Page seem like a second actor, except for the quality of his reading.
Arnulfo Maldonado’s brightly lit red curtains created an authentic classic tone for “All the Devils Are Here.” Costumer Emily Rebholz’s peel-away layers added to Page’s ability to make all characters separate yet equally compelling. Darron L. West’s sound design is as precise and carefully crafted as the work of his colleagues.
Page’s brilliance impressed so much, I broke habit to do something I never do: stay for a post-play discussion. The reward was listening to him speak of his experiences and hearing more about his ideas about Shakespeare’s work and all they mean in the context of drama, literature, culture and man’s understanding of man.
Patrick Page and “All the Devils Are Here” are gems to be enjoyed, savored and lauded while they are in our midst.
For Shakespeare fans, seeing this production is imperative. For those who decided Shakespeare is not for them, Page will change your mind. Just Page’s elegant voice and its symphonic dexterity are enough to make “All the Devils Are Here” a must-see.
Yes, there’s room for a fourth and fifth “E,” for elegant and exquisite.
“All the Devils Are Here: How Shakespeare Invented the Villain” runs through Sunday, August 30, at the Berlind Theatre at McCarter Theatre, 91 University Place, Princeton. Showtimes are 7:30 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday and 2 p.m. Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. Tickets range from $35 to $130 and can be obtained by visiting mccarter.org or calling 609-258-2787.