With our gender roles up for grabs, we would-be moderns are naturally fascinated by historical figures who had to negotiate—and, often enough, trade away—their sexual identities. The female historical figures in particular. Cleopatra is one, as indicated by the fuss Stacy Schiff provoked last year with her biography of the legendary Egyptian. England’s Queen Elizabeth I is very definitely another.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Henry VIII’s youngest daughter has become a trope, ironically, for becoming a trope. Writers like to deploy her as a metaphor for the tension between private and public selves, desire and statecraft, falling in love and ordering executions. Think of Judi Dench as the wised-up monarch in Shakespeare in Love, saying, “I know something of a woman in a man’s profession. Yes, by God, I do know about that.” Consider Cate Blanchett as the lively young queen in Elizabeth, becoming less and less herself until she disappears completely under the red wig, white greasepaint, and formidable ruff that define what might be called the Elizabethan brand. Same overall style as Bozo the Clown, yet far from funny.
Elizabeth has condemned her beloved Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, for leading an attempted coup d’etat against her government. On the night before his beheading, Findley has her trying to distract herself by ordering Will Shakespeare’s company, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, to perform a play—Much Ado About Nothing, as it happens, in which sophisticates Beatrice and Benedick must maintain public poses that preclude admitting their passion for each other.
But at the center of it all are D’Aquila’s Elizabeth and Steven Sutcliffe’s Lowenscroft. The former is a somewhat baffled bull in an emotional china shop, the latter, well, a consummate actor—simultaneously filigreed and raw. Gaines has never been known for her minimalism, and there are some annoyingly self-conscious gestures in this production. Still, her work is unusually clean and clear overall, allowing the performers to perform. It works out beautifully.
Through 1/22: Tue-Fri 7:30 PM, Sat 3 and 8 PM, Sun 2 PM, Chicago Shakespeare Theater, 800 E. Grand, 312-595-5600, chicagoshakes.com, $44-$75.
