Excerpted from the review by Robert L. Daniels

Monday, October 17, 2005

Spare and incisive staging dominates Shakespeare Theater of New Jersey 's rattling good production of "Julius Caesar," mounted by director Brian B. Crowe with an admirably clear and accessible flourish. Shakespeare's bloody account of Roman historical intrigue swells with an unnerving sweep, as the production offers a keenly well-balanced cast and a far more visually palatable treatment than that of the recent Broadway rendering.

Robert Cuccioli's honorable Brutus is played as a man of considerable principle and lofty expectations. The numbing chill of his studied intellectual approach makes for a compelling study. He never raises his voice until a final disagreement with fellow conspirator Cassius (Richard Topol), only then providing a glimpse of the regret and guilt he clearly harbors.

Marc Antony is acted by Gregory Derelian with the youthful gusto of a student participating in a high school debating contest. That's not to say it falls short of the required fury. His funeral oration is fueled with spiraling strength.

William Metzo just may be the only bearded Julius Caesar in memory, but no matter: His dictator is one of authority and regal stature.

Topol's Cassius . . . provides a good contrast to Cuccioli's ambitiously mannered Brutus.

 . . . notable is the boldly blunt performance by Leon Addison Brown as the envious Casca, the first to stab Caesar.

Crowe has not overlooked the vividly drawn smaller roles, such as Patrick Toon's crippled Soothsayer and the riotous masked citizens of Rome who gather in the aisles with restless fury. The wives of Caesar and Brutus were given short shrift in the Bard's political drama, but Jessica Ires Morris as the dictator's concerned spouse, Calpurnia, effectively conveys the fears of her ominous dreams. Roxanna Hope offers a touching scene as Portia, the traitor's suicidal wife.

The unified costumes of the Senate are for the most part white robes and scarlet scarves over casual modern blouses and slacks. Veteran fight director Rick Sordelet has choreographed the thrusting daggers and swords for Caesar's bloody assassination, and the assisted suicides of Cassius and Brutus draw considerable audience gasps. The death of the latter is particularly graphic and chilling.

Henry Feiner's imposing set is marked by a row of towering granite slabs draped with banners that suggest Roman grandeur and strength. Karin Graybash's sound design turns a crashing thunderstorm into a rumbling omen of dark deeds.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005
By Peter Filichia
Star-Ledger Staff

At Shakespeare Theatre, 'Julius Caesar' like it ought be

The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey is showing how powerful "Julius Caesar" can be, even when Denzel Washington isn't in the cast.

Though Broadway got a woeful revival of the classic tragedy last spring, Madison is offering a riveting production, courtesy of director Brian B. Crowe.

From the play's first moments, as two of Caesar's henchmen endeavor to quiet the crowd, Crowe makes a case for the conspirators. Traditionally, these tribunes are portrayed as annoyed lawmen who disperse the masses in a business-as-usual fashion.

Crowe has Jonathan Brathwaite and John Pieza play them as utter fascists. They'll judge every citizen guilty, possibly even after he's proved innocent.

William Metzo is a megalomaniacal Julius Caesar, who isn't above grabbing an opponent by the hair and pulling hard to get his way. Nevertheless, audiences will leave with great respect for the emperor, for Crowe doesn't have him immediately fall and die. He fights, sometimes taking on two at a time, and goes down swinging, giving credence to Antony's line, "Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?"

As for Antony, Gregory Derelian renders the famous "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech in a refreshingly understated way. Many an Antony has concentrated on the delivery rather than the words, and winds up sounding like a British statesman. Crowe takes a more conversational approach, creating a genuinely bereaved Antony instead of a member of the debating club.

Robert Cuccioli plays Brutus as a deeply troubled man, even before he becomes involved in the plot to assassinate his friend. Cuccioli successfully shows Brutus' internal struggle, and the soul he wears on his sleeve. He feels badly that he's even considering what he's doing -- and feels worse afterward.

Cassius is sharply portrayed by Richard Topol. When he quotes Caesar, he mocks the man in a mealy-mouthed voice -- then looks around to see if anyone's been eavesdropping. Topol creates a middle-level executive who believes that given the chance, he'd do a better job than his boss. By play's end, he becomes a man who realizes the devil he knew was his superior.

"Julius Caesar" has always had second-act problems. After the wild citizens of Rome kill the wrong man as a scapegoat, not much drama occurs. Crowe doesn't succumb to just getting through the script, but builds the inevitable conflict between Brutus and Cassius until it crackles.

The director also did his homework concerning Caesar's wife, Calpurnia. History states she was born in 67 B.C., which means she was all of 23 when her husband met his fate. Though Calpurnia is routinely cast with middle-aged women (Greer Garson, in the 1953 film, was pushing 50), Crowe wisely chose the much younger Jessica Ires Morris. She has the air of a trophy wife.

In conjunction with Crowe's modernistic approach, C. David Russell's costumes are both Edwardian and futuristic. The production is played in front of Harry Feiner's handsome if simple set of stone columns, which are more versatile than they first appear.

Too bad Broadway audiences didn't get the chance to trade Denzel for the dazzle of this "Julius Caesar."

Friday, October 21, 2005

Excerpted from the review by William Westhoven

Special to the Daily Record

Blood and politics. It must be an election year.

The two have gone together for millennia. They were popular sport in Shakespeare's day as well and the Bard fed his audience's bloodlust back then with historic dramas like "Julius Caesar."

Of course, being Shakespeare, he added layer upon layer of tragedy and intrigue, not to mention the kind of language that will hopefully be appreciated long after we have learned to abhor violence in any form.

All of which is represented in abundance at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, which is staging the first professional production of "Julius Caesar "in more than a decade. Since we have yet to sate our own bloodlust and thirst for action, director Brian B. Crowe's production surrounds the audience with bloody murder, suicide and riotous rabble rousing from masked masses.

"Being a Brian Crowe production, you'll want to pull your limbs and body parts in from the aisles," artistic director Bonnie J. Monte warned during her opening-night remarks on Saturday, which also marked the first day of her 16th year at the theater.

Raucous performance

Sure enough, entrances and exits through the audience ruled during this raucous and riveting performance. The aisles were more crowded than Costco at Christmas, with soldiers marching to and fro and plebeians (wearing flesh-colored masks that distorted their faces) cheering on the many speeches, including the famous "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears" homily by Mark Antony that incites the masses to revolt against Caesar 's assassins.

Crowe at times even positions actors in the balcony, where they could be heard, if not seen, from the floor seats, and must surely have surprised balcony-dwellers not used to the experience.

While the entire theater was in play, the impressive stage set demanded your visual attention. Rectangular, monolithic columns of marble rose to the rafters, with royal red banners hanging from the middle three proclaiming the names of the First Triumvirate -- Crassus, Pompey and Caesar .

But if you don't know Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar ,"it's important to point out that this is not the story of the title character's rise to emperor of a society that prided itself as a democratic republic.

Crassus and Pompey, in fact, are dead before the first scene, and it's no secret that Caesar himself does not survive till intermission.

No, Shakespeare found more drama by focusing on the noble Romans who conspired to assassinate Caesar before he got a chance to flex the crown and feed his personal ambition.

The conspirators are led by Caius Cassius, whose motives are somewhat ambiguous, and Marcus Brutus, who reluctantly goes along with the plan, not because he doesn't love Caesar , but because he loves Rome more.

 . . Robert Cuccioli, who dies a lot on this stage (leading roles in " Antony and Cleopatra,""Macbeth"), enjoys . . . success in the skin of Brutus. Never relying on his leading-man aura, Cuccioli acts with his eyes, dark and sunken deep into the furrowed brow of a principled man conflicted by the prospect of committing murder, then having to justify the deed to his beloved countrymen.

Subtle acting

Cuccioli also favors subtlety over broad gestures, which further separates him from the pack of lesser leads who tackle Shakespeare with booming oratory.

As Mark Antony, Gregory Derelian seems to follow Cuccioli's lead, literally, onto the towering podium for his climactic funeral speech, which is delivered with the measured cadence of a man who carefully chose his words.

The 17-man and two-woman ensemble ( Rome was apparently something of a gentlemen's club) keeps busy and pounds the stairs of the theater with abandon. The more memorable among them include William Metzo as an aging, but spunky, Caesar , Leon Addison Brown as the glib conspirator Casca and non-Equity newcomer Michael Littig as Brutus' sleepy servant.

The visually stunning production is colored by C. David Russell's striking costumes, a somewhat abstract mix of 19th and 20th-century business attire topped by lengthy white cloaks and long scarves.