Back in the late 16^th and early 17^th centuries, with printing presses in their infancy, actors in plays by Shakespeare et al did not work from entire scripts. They were given their parts with just a few words of cue leading into their speeches. But they did ‘con’ their parts as homework and they did rehearse, as evidenced by ‘the rude mechanicals’ in A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act I Sc 2).

Late last century I was in a Fringe production of The Comedy of Errors predicated on the erroneous idea that its original actors didn’t rehearse together, but just learned their own lines and cues, rehearsed them a bit independently, then winged it together ‘on the night’. Of course once we had struggled through the first performance, aided by the printed scene orders and synopses posted backstage, the premise expired and it inevitably got better and better over the six-performance season.  

Suddenly Shakespeare goes backward from there. Staged by Kickin Rad Productions – which comprises members of the Wellington Improvisation Troupe (WIT), but isn’t – it asks the audience to choose from three Histories (last week in was Comedies; next week, Tragedies). When Henry V gets the nod (over Henry IV Part I and Richard III), producer Lyndon Hood randomly casts audience volunteers to join them. The total cast is about 20. As a critic I figure I can represent the experience better by being in it and score the role of Fluellen.

Those with well app-pointed i-phones / smart phones / i-pads / tablets find Suddenly Shakespeare’s edited version of the play on line, others (like me) are given phones by the team, and we select our allotted roles. All scenes are listed, only those who enter or exit get that information and only our own speeches show up with a few words of cue. Fortunately a ‘prompt’ is on hand with the entire text to help out if anyone (like me) inadvertently taps something that makes it all vanish. 

So here we go, sight-reading Shakespeare according to no credible precedent whatsoever. “I hope it’ll be a bit like a karaoke party,” says producer Lyndon Hood, in the media release, “only classier and slightly less drunken.” But of course you only choose karaoke songs you already know well. And they last about three minutes, not two hours.

With improv, the players are challenged by knowing the givens they have to deliver and responding to each other’s offers with alacrity, no matter what. The audience, knowing the rules, is entertained by witnessing their efforts and often a well-committed stuff-up is just as entertaining as getting it right.  

With Suddenly Shakespeare the drama is fully scripted and the players’ primary task is to watch their hand-held screens for their cue then sight-read and speak aloud the Shakespearean verse or prose as characters in situations they are simultaneously trying to comprehend and incorporate.  The audience, knowing the constraints, is entertained by witnessing the players’ efforts and their inevitable stuff-ups (the audience players, at least, having had no practice or training in this, unlike the players of improv games).

Yet somehow, this time anyway, the players become sort of attuned to the text and almost intuit when their cue will come, thus managing to make a bit of eye-contact with others and – probably more for the audience than for the players – the substantive story sort of gets through. And being an epic exercise (just over two hours including an interval), there is a shared sense of satisfaction when the end is reached.  

Especially fascinating is the how well the scene works where the French princess, Katherine, is being taught English by her waiting woman, Alice. Both actresses seem fluent in French but most of us wouldn’t know; we hear a flow of foreign language then the odd English word and the comedy of it works a treat.  

Even so, I don’t think the Suddenly Shakespeare format will become a regular gig on the fringes of Wellington theatre. The Bard is badly served, the players are all too aware how much better it could be if they’d practiced, let alone ‘conned’, their parts and the audience gets little return for their investment.

Whichever way you look at it, there is no method in this madness. Mind you, having missed last week’s Comedy, I predict next Saturday’s Tragedy will be the most entertaining of all. 

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