Pants on Fire

Betsy Mugavero (left) as Clarice and Katie Cunningham as Isabelle in The Liar

By Kathryn Neves

When we think of mistaken identities, identical twins, disguises, and all-around merriment, we may tend to think of William Shakespeare’s plays. But he wasn’t the only one to come up with gut-busting, confusing comedy. Starting September 14 at the Utah Shakespeare Festival, you’ll get the chance to see The Liar: a hilarious French play by Pierre Corneille, with a new translation by David Ives.

As the title might suggest, the play focuses on a character who never tells the truth. Dorante, a cocky and charming young man new to town, uses his lying and manipulation to get whatever he wants— especially women. So when he first meets Lucrece and Clarice, he lies to impress them—and he lies to everyone else. And, of course, some of the funniest scenes in theatre result. But there’s one question that sticks out. Why is The Liar so funny? What makes it so interesting to audiences, from Corneille’s time to now?

No matter where you stand or what you believe, you’ve been lied to. Everyone has! Lying and exaggeration are not new to our times. For as long as people have existed, we have relied on our bluffs and our fibs to get us through our daily lives. For most people (I hope), the lies are simple: “No, you don’t look fat in that shirt.” “Yes, I will do the dishes.” These little white lies don’t usually hurt anyone. These are the kind of lies that we are used to: harmless and small.

So it seems it would be hard to relate to Dorante in The Liar. I mean, all of his lies are complex, outrageous, and even downright silly. It’s amazing. How can Dorante lie like this? How can anyone? It’s not realistic. And yet we keep watching, for centuries now! And when you think about it, it makes sense. We might not be anything like Dorante. Most of us never get the chance to lie like that. Maybe The Liar is so popular because it’s a way for us to see what it’s like to be a dirty rotten liar, and we can cheer for someone we should probably despise.

After all, who hasn’t ever been tempted to invent something, just for the bragging rights? Or who hasn’t wanted to lie to get out of an unpleasant situation? Maybe none of us lie like Dorante, but we sometimes wish we could.

Yet in the end, lies don’t work. They don’t win. Dorante might get away with his lies for a little while in this play: it’s amazing and crazy, but, for a while, the other characters believe his fibs. Clarice and Lucrece fall for him, and his father Geronte comes to believe that he has a daughter-in-law and a grandchild on the way. But by the time the curtain drops, Dorante’s lies don’t get him anywhere. In the end, it’s telling the truth that gets him the girl of his dreams and earns his father’s trust.

So is The Liar a morality play? Is it just a lesson in telling the truth and toeing the line? Or is the play a way that we as an audience can live vicariously through Dorante—a way for us to see what it’s like to be that outrageous? Who can truly say? But either way, The Liar is a wildly entertaining show that’ll have you in stitches. And who knows? Maybe Dorante will give you a few tips on how to get away that little lie you just have to tell.

Reflecting on a Season of Seeing

Actor John Ahlin with the Festival statue of the character he has been playing all season.

By John Ahlin

This is the fourth and final in a series of blog posts written by the actor playing Sir John Falstaff in this season’s The Merry Wives of Windsor.

My most vivid summer memory was at Camp Idlewild, on an island in Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. A young me and 299 other campers marched in twilight to outside the rec hall where the camp director had propped a little black and white television on the porch railing; and we all watched, or rather heard, as the fuzzy reception was barely a picture, the live sounds of man landing on the Moon. I was enthralled as we trooped back to our cabins, but within moments the other boys were back horsing around, throwing mattresses, and other assorted adolescent antics. After lights out, I snuck down to the pitch dark lakeside to watch the moonrise. It was a perfect time and place to contemplate what humans had achieved.

All these years later I find Utah another perfect place. I sense all my summers here: the smell of a thunderstorm lingering in the pine thicket, the sound of crickets underscoring nighttime imaginings, a moon close enough to touch. Looking up at the wide vessel of the Universe, all the senses reach out dreamily. But in this place, summer was made for seeing.

Beholding wonder and connection in every direction, the scope of what can be seen is limitless. For starters, Utah has indescribable vistas—near mountains, no two alike; far mountains, vague and enticing; canyons, boldly hinting at wonders within; and wide welcoming valleys saying “come explore.”

Peeking out at the audience before a show, I marvel that so many people come to the Utah Shakespeare Festival. In my vast experience, these are the best audiences in the country. I see them waiting for the Shakespeare play to start, sitting at the edge of humankind’s potential. Shakespeare lets us peer back at the humans of his day, and, similarly, he showed the people back then the future—he showed them people for all time. We’re still us.

Looking into a car full of fun-loving senior Arizona ladies on their annual summer jaunt, who pulled over upon seeing me walking home after The Merry Wives of Windsor, only to gush how thankful they are this theatre exists, I tried to gush back my gratitude for them. But even Falstaff couldn’t out gush five fanatical Flagstaffians. 

Gazing upon the wide universe of Falstaff is something I’ll never tire of. He’s the most hopeful Shakespeare character, I believe.  His massive intelligence surely tells him the world can be a wintry dark place, but in all three of his plays his hope springs eternal, right up to his fall. But it is summer he seeks—warm, relaxed, full of gentleness and rest.

Seeing long-gone events is impossible, but if I could look through time, I’d search for that moment when John Heminges and Henry Condell, two of Shakespeare’s actors, thought to posthumously collect all of his plays into the famous First Folio. In their introduction to the book, they said they did it “only to keep the memory of so worthy a Friend and fellow alive as was our Shakespeare.” I wish I could see that insightful moment when they brilliantly saw to it to preserve “our Shakespeare.” I’ll bet it was summer.

An Iliad Q&A with Brian Vaughn

Brian Vaughn as The Poet in An Iliad

Utah Shakespeare Festival Artistic Director Brian Vaughn is playing the role of The Poet in this season’s largely one-person show, An Iliad*. We were recently able to have a question-and-answer session with him about the challenges and rewards of such a demanding role in such a powerful play.*

In An Iliad you take on many roles as The Poet. Which character that you portray is the most interesting to you?

Interestingly, I have an affinity for all of them. What is dynamic and interesting about the piece is that The Poet’s voice folds into all of them. So that is the one I identify with the most overall. Also, I think what’s fascinating about the piece is that Hector and Achilles both have these traits that are so human and admirable—and also questionable. I sort of bounce back and forth between them. And I think that’s the author’s intention, really, to see things to admire in two remarkably heroic men, who become foes and become the centerpiece for the war itself. They become the archetypes. So, it’s hard to pick just one, because both of them I feel are an amalgamation of one. These two figures embody all of us.

This is a very demanding role for you, physically, mentally, and emotionally. How do you prepare for this role? And how do you handle the enormous demands of the role?

It is really challenging. I try to get as much rest as I can. I look over my script before every performance. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in a show that’s just me out there, by myself; it’s a sort of roller coaster ride that I just get on and let it take me and you where it’s going to take us. That part of it has been both rewarding and ultimately challenging, because there’s no safety net. I’m kind of free falling at times. So I really try to just pace myself and try to get as much rest and stay as focused as I can. But it’s very rewarding ultimately. That’s what I love about the piece; even though it’s a huge endeavor, a monster, and a mountain to climb, it’s extremely rewarding.

Do you think this is an anti-war play?

Yes. I do. I think this play is about the dissection of rage, and how we, as human beings, have a choice to breathe through that rage, to not go down that path toward rage, to hopefully find serenity and peace and harmony and love. And if that means this is an anti-war play, then I would say yes, it’s an anti-war play. I think what is fascinating about Homer’s The Iliad is that this is a poem that has lasted for centuries, examining conflict and all the reasons we have conflict: pride, honor, jealousy, envy. . . . We, in a modern context, can relate to a poem that’s centuries old, that is just as resonant now as it was then. And at the center of that is our appetite for rage. If you can breathe through that, to find acceptance, listening, understanding, dialogue, and ultimately peace and harmony, then I would say, yes, this is an anti-war play.

This is an adaptation of Homer’s masterpiece, The Iliad. What about this adaptation is different, and what do the differences bring to the performance?

It’s interesting that it’s called An Iliad, versus The Iliad. A lot of people have asked me, are you just doing a recitation of the entire Iliad? And I was like, no way on earth would I do that! It would be so challenging. So daunting. What is great about An Iliad is that it really irises down to the central conflict, between the Trojans and the Greeks, and the two foes who are the centerpiece for that, who become the archetypes for each army; and that is Achilles and Hector. An Iliad takes that idea and puts it into a modern context, with a Poet as our central narrator through the course of the evening.

There is a timeless feeling to this production— it’s not just Greek and Trojan; it goes beyond that and references wars that have happened within the course of our lifetimes. What is the significance of that?

That, I think, is the purpose of it, to sort of pull the rug out from under the audience and say, “Look at this. Look at how this has endured over time. And look at the repercussions, and the loss that has become of it, which is essentially the loss of civilizations and of people and of mankind.”

We can see this conflict from both sides: the Poet helps us to understand both Achilles and Hector. Is there a “good guy” and “bad guy?” Who or what, if anything, is the real “villain” of this play?

The fascinating thing about the play is that you can admire both of the men, and they both are both honorable, and then they also both embody pride and jealousy, and that is human. Who are they? Are there things you like about each of them? Yes. Are there things you dislike about each of them? Yes. And that is what makes them ultimately human. I think the villain of the play is rage. Anger. One of my favorite moments in the entire show is when Priam goes to Achilles, and we see the actions of someone who is no longer embodying rage. It’s full of all the things that we as human beings need to be living by, which are love, and caring, and compassion, and understanding, and acceptance, and seeing both sides of the conflict and understanding the human being on the other side of that conflict, and showing love. And it’s so beautifully poetic to me, and so necessary in our world. That to me is the message of the whole thing. The Villain is Rage, and the Hero is Love.

The only other person on the stage with you is The Muse, a concept that was very important to ancient Greek writers, artists, and philosophers. Why is The Muse present, even in this very timeless retelling of the tale?

Well, The Muse is the inspiration, you know. The muse obviously is a goddess, too, which I love the idea of that, because it’s lasting and always present. It’s something that’s unattainable. But it is beauty personified. The Muse identifies with The Poet by taking this idea of literature and art and music, and capturing emotion and human condition. It helps the listener identify with what is being heard, in other ways that are going to capture other elements of their senses. And that is through song, and lyricism— where sometimes a word might not get to you, but a strand or a string of music will hit you to the core. How they work in harmony, I think, is really beautiful.

Why is it important for us to see this play now? What about its themes and concepts makes it important today as opposed to any other time?

I think it’s important for people to see it because it’s theatrical. It’s present. It’s about us. It’s about me, and you, and everybody else. I think some people might be afraid of it because they think it’s huge. The story is epic. But what’s really great about this piece is that it takes that epic story and puts it in your lap, and says, “How can you, as a playgoer, impact change in your own way of thinking, in your own life?” There’s a thread that runs through the course of this show: “Do you see? Do you see?” And I love that there’s a repetitive quality to it, because it allows you as an audience member to step back, and to ask your own self, “Do I see? Do I understand? Do I pause before I leap, when maybe the repercussions of leaping could hurt many people?” That, to me, is ultimately human, and worth reviewing and seeing. It gets to the foundation of what we do as theatre artists, which is storytelling. “Let me tell you a story to make you see yourself, and feel, and cry, and laugh, and reflect, and (hopefully) leave you with a little bit of impulse to impact change.”

Festival Adds An Iliad Performances

Katie Fay Francis (left) as The Muse and Brian Vaughn as The Poet in An Iliad

CEDAR CITY, UT — In an effort to make what many are calling “the favorite production of the season” even more available, the Utah Shakespeare Festival has announced additional performances of the spellbinding play An Iliad. The largely one-person show, featuring Artistic Director Brian Vaughn as The Poet, is currently playing in the Randall L. Jones Theatre, but numerous additional performances have been added in the intimate Anes Studio Theatre beginning September 4 and continuing until October 13.

“In a season of great performances, An Iliad is becoming the favorite of many of our guests,” said Tyler Morgan, director of marketing and communications. “And we believe it will be even more powerful and thoughtful in the 200-seat Anes Theatre.”

Matt Adams of Front Row Reviewers Utah raved about the show: “To be honest, I was a bit apprehensive about attending An Iliad. This is a different kind of play than what I usually seek out,” he said in his review. “Soon after the production started, I found that I had not needed to worry. This is a lively and riveting production, and the story is accessible and impactful.”

Then he concluded with the following: “Good theater stays with you long after the performance ends, and at least for me, this has been the case with An Iliad. Don’t miss your chance to be impacted by this powerful piece.”

In this modern retelling of Homer’s classic, the Trojan War is over, and The Poet has seen it all. He lived through the unquenchable rage and endless battles, not just of this epic war, but of war through the ages. As he tells his tale in modern language, it at times threatens to overwhelm him; but he continues because he hopes, by shining a light on the history of man’s attraction to violence, destruction, and chaos, he can perhaps end it.

Of course, An Iliad is only one of seven plays onstage at the Festival right now, including Henry VI Part One, The Merchant of Venice, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Big River, The Foreigner, and Othello.

Tickets are now on sale at bard.org, by calling 800-PLAYTIX, or by visiting the Festival ticket office.

Thanks for the Great Company

Some of the actors in The Merry Wives of Windsor pose backstage before the show.

By John Ahlin

This is the third in a series of blog posts written by the actor playing Sir John Falstaff in this season’s The Merry Wives of Windsor.

It’s good to share the stage with great people. One of the funniest things I have even seen happened a few shows ago during The Merry Wives of Windsor. I, as Falstaff, deliver two pieces of bad news to the thinly disguised Master Ford,played by masterful Geoffrey Kent. Geoff takes a big gulp of sack, and does two quite funny spit-takes, one after each piece of news.

But on this intermittently rainy night the temperature and dew point collided and Geoff’s first spit-take condensed into a very visible cloud and floated away on the gentle breeze. I was looking away but turned just in time to glimpse the cloud and hear the audience laughing heartily at so odd a sight. Geoff and I mutually knew, with another spit-take coming, to let things simply play out. I again turned away, delivered piece of bad news two, heard the spit-take, and turned back only to see a brilliantly lit, eight-foot tall vaguely human-like vapor moving at me. I calmly stepped aside as the graceful apparition crossed the stage and exited down the stage left ramp into the night. The audience was in hysterics, leaving me plenty of time to play “What the hell was that?!” and myriad weather-related mimes. It ended with huge applause, but it was the silent communication Geoff and I had, born of seventy years of combined experience, which delivered the greatest spit-take of all time.

And not only that, after countless missed entrances in the history of showbiz, it was the first mist exit.

The honor of working with so many seasoned, gifted, and generous actors is one of the great pleasures of being a guest artist with Utah Shakespeare Festival acting company. Equally joyous is being around the young actors. They will often inquire of me what it takes to “make it,” but if they only knew how much they inspire me. In them, in a very pure form, I see the desire and passion that I can say, after all these years, is the key to a life in the theatre. 

An actor is his or her own toolbox. Most everything needed to succeed is within him or her.  Gratitude is one such tool, and so to express thanks to the young artists I’ll list just a few of the tools I’ve learned are very useful in “making it.”  

*Curiosity:*It is the fuel of the artistic life. Think, ponder, wonder, imagine. Bill Watterson, the Calvin and Hobbes author, loved his wife for understanding that when he was staring out the window, he was at work. 

*Hard Work:*You achieve the greatest height by toiling upward in the night. You won’t be on Broadway tomorrow, but you can start working towards it tomorrow.

*Tenacity:*Don’t give up. Dr. Seuss’s first book was rejected twenty-seven times. ‘Nuff said.

*Humility:*Assume you are no better than anyone, but know you are no worse. Your opinions have more value the less you express them.

Reputation: Acting is a profession with so many facets you can’t control. Who you are is something you can.

Courage: Know skeptical fish live the longest, but be brave and say yes to the seemingly impossible; otherwise you’ll never know what’s possible.

*Devotion:*Care, truly care, about the thing itself, whatever it is you choose to do. 

The Simpsons Writer to Visit the Festival

CEDAR CITY — Mike Reiss, writer and producer for the wildly popular animated television show The Simpsons, will be at the Utah Shakespeare Festival and Southern Utah University August 29–31. While here, he will be workshopping his hilarious play Shakespeare’s Worst! A Play on a Play as part of the Festival’s Words Cubed new play readings, as well as participating in a lecture/presentation and book signing sponsored by SUU’s premier event series, A.P.E.X.

Reiss’ new play will be presented as a staged reading in the Eileen and Allen Anes Studio Theatre on August 29 and 31 at 9:30 a.m. This hilarious and irreverent play, co-written with Nick Newlin, features a small town theatre company performing The Two Gentlemen of Verona. But one of the cast members is very unhappy: his career is going nowhere, he’s tired of the show, and he wants out—now. The reading will be followed by a discussion between the playwright, actors, and audience members.

Tickets are $10 at the Ticket Office, online at bard.org, or over the telephone at 800-PLAYTIX.

Next, SUU’s A.P.E.X. event series will feature Reiss in a one-hour presentation at 3:30 p.m. August 30 in the Great Hall at the Hunter Conference Center. It is a fun-filled presentation, loaded with rare cartoon clips, as Reiss shares the stories, secrets, and scandals from the long-running series. Afterwards, he will conduct a short question-and-answer session.

Then, he will move into the Great Hall lobby and sign copies of his book Springfield Confidential: Jokes, Secrets, and Outright Lies from a Lifetime Writing for The Simpsons. Copies of the book will be available for sale.

Reiss has won four Emmys and a Peabody Award during his twenty-eight years writing for The Simpsons. In 2006, he received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Animation Writers Caucus. He has also written nineteen children’s books and jokes for such comedy legends as Johnny Carson, Joan Rivers, and Garry Shandling, as well as for Pope Francis! For his comedic contributions to the charitable group Joke with the Pope, in 2015 the Pope declared Reiss “A Missionary of Joy.”

Festival to Unveil Lady Macbeth Statue

A life-size statue of Lady Macbeth will soon join eight other Shakespearean characters at the Utah Shakespeare Festival. The latest installment in the Pedersen Shakespeare Character Garden will be unveiled August 21 at 11:30 a.m. The garden is located between the Randall L. Jones and the Engelstad Shakespeare Theatres on the Festival grounds.

The statue was made possible by contributions from State Bank of Southern Utah (SBSU), and it was sculpted by Stanley J. Watts.

The public is invited to the short program which will include a welcome by Executive Producer Frank Mack, as well as remarks from Festival Founder Fred C. Adams and SBSU President and CEO Eric Schmutz. Special presentations will be made by Adams and Donn Jersey, Festival development director. Officials from SBSU will perform the unveiling.

The beautiful bronze statue captures Lady Macbeth holding a candle and wandering the corridors of the castle, stricken by her role in the murder of King Duncan. A plaque at the base of the statue quotes a gentlewoman who sees the forlorn lady wracked with guilt: “Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise.”

Other statues in the character garden include William Shakespeare, Juliet, Sir John Falstaff, King Lear, Hamlet, Henry V, Cleopatra, and Titania (located at the west entrance to the Randall Theatre).

Desire the Spleen: Bringing out the Humors in Falstaff

John Ahlin backstage about to make his first entry of the evening as Sir John Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor.

By John Ahlin

This is the second in a series of blog posts written by the actor play Sir John Falstaff in this season’s The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Before nervously charging “over the top,” English World War I soldiers would often recite Henry V’s “Once more unto the breach” speech quietly to themselves. Likewise before entering a funny scene, a jittery actor will sometimes mutter the old quote “dying is easy . . . comedy is hard!”

Oddly, it wasn’t some great comedian or clown who expressed that sentiment, but distinguished English actor Edmund Gwenn. Famous for portraying Kris Kringle in the classic (but not quite laugh-riot) Miracle on 34th Street, Gwenn, on his death bed, reportedly suggested playing comedy is more difficult than shuffling off this mortal coil, and then died.

Being funny on demand is like trying to get the hiccups on purpose—difficult. So imagine the butterflies an actor feels, about to enter as Falstaff, knowing the knowledgeable Utah Shakespeare Festival audience is sitting there thinking “Oh boy, here comes the funniest character in all Shakespeare.” And worse, a knowledgeable actor knows that Falstaff’s first scenes in both Henry IV Part One and The Merry Wives of Windsor are not particularly funny. (Falstaff’s first scene in Henry IV Part Two, however, is hilarious.) 

Backstage before a comedy, some actors will want to draw up both knees and go fetal, but to me the trick is to grab those knees, yell “Cannonball!” and jump right in. Be fearless. Here are a few other quick tricks I use to get to Falstaff’s funny:

Go big, but go real.  I was trained in the Method and in the Catskills. Borscht Belt comedy is famously big, like Falstaff, but the last step in technically building a larger-than-life, loud, humorous character is, ironically, the first lesson in Method acting: truth. I explore, find, and play the realities of Falstaff—not comedy of comment or clowning, but comedy of behavior.

Cough up a hairball. That first laugh is vital, so I construct a small (but truthful) moment early on to tell the audience it is okay to laugh.  For example, as a just-awakened Falstaff in Henry IV Part One begins his groggy, arcane banter with Hal, I’ll comically cough up some reminder of the previous evening’s drunken carousing. This familiar “wait, what happened last night?” reality hopefully elicits a laugh while also detailing who Falstaff is, and where he is, in life.

Ask for the tea. Lunt and Fontanne, the famous American acting couple had simple advice: “Don’t ask for the laugh, ask for the tea.”  In other words: trust the material.  Once at a Twelfth Night talkback for students, I was describing how Shakespeare would often put humor in sad scenes. I told them a very funny Gravedigger was found in Ophelia’s grave, and a whole row of high school girls shrieked in unison. Then one cried out, “She dies?!” It turns out they were reading Hamlet in class and hadn’t got to that part.

I must remember to trust Shakespeare. He’s on my side. It’s natural to forget how comical The Merry Wives of Windsor is after many rehearsals, but its twists, turns, and surprises will be fresh, alive and humorous for the audiences seeing it anew. It hasn’t lasted 421 years as one of Shakespeare’s funniest comedies by accident.

The Liar: A Summary in Verse

Brandon Burk (left) as Cliton, Betsy Mugavero as Clarice, and Jeb Burris as Dorante in The Liar.

 ### By Kathryn Neves

Editor’s Note: Kathryn Neves has been writing blog posts and news releases for the Festival for several months now, and decided with this assignment to stretch her creative wings a bit. Her clever synopsis of The Liar, is written in rhymed verse, the same style as David Ives’s translation of the play being presented at the Festival.

Twins, disguise, and maidens who conspire
Are all a part of this season’s The Liar!
Now, all these shenanigans might make you dizzy;
So let this rhymed synopsis keep you busy.
We open with Dorante— a lying jerk,
And Cliton who just can’t make lying work.
When sly Dorante first meets the cute Clarice,
He thinks that she’s her BFF, Lucrece!
And Cliton falls in love with Isabelle—
Not knowing that she has a “twin from hell.”
Meanwhile, Dorante’s old dad comes into town
To get his son to wed and settle down.
He makes a deal with afore-mentioned Clarice
(Or, as Dorante might know her, sweet Lucrece.)
“No, don’t!” Says Dorante, thinking on the spot;
“I have a wife! And I love her a lot!”
The ladies have been watching this whole spiel.
They’ll meet Dorante. They’ll find out his weird deal.
But just in case, they’ll do a switcheroo.
It’s now “Lucrece” Dorante will come to woo!
Now Dorante courts “Lucrece” and not “Clarice,”
While Clarice acts as Lucrece’s mouthpiece.
And if you think it’s real confusing now,
Just wait. Dorante gets in a real row:
A fight with Clarice’s fiancé, Alcippe.
And now the real Lucrece loves Dorante. Eep!
Will dad find out that Dorante lied?
Will Dorante ever find a bride?
Will identities be unswapped?
Can this comedy be topped?
The Utah Shakespeare Fest has all of this!
Come and see. It’s not a play to miss.

Words Cubed New Plays Scheduled

The Utah Shakespeare Festival’s Words Cubed program for new plays is set to introduce audiences to two very different plays this season: Gertrude and Claudius, a prequel to Hamlet, will play August 24, 25, and 30 and September 1. Shakespeare’s Worst! A Play on a Play, a hilarious retelling of The Two Gentlemen of Verona, will be performed August 29 and 31.

“Being part of the birth of a new play is an exciting experience, and Words Cubed offers Festival audiences an opportunity to witness and participate in these amazing, original creations. The two plays under development this summer are fantastic, but in very different ways,” said Frank Mack, Festival executive producer. “Mark St. Germain’s new adaptation of John Updike’s novel, Gertrude and Claudius, is an innovative theatrical invention that will appeal to Hamlet fans, and anyone who likes great stories. Shakespeare’s Worst, by Simpsons writer/producer Mike Reiss is full of hilarious jokes, and getting to see and respond to the invention of comedy this good is a rare opportunity for Festival audiences.”                                             

Gertrude and Claudius is adapted by Mark St. Germain from the novel by John Updike, one of only three people to be awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction twice. It will be directed by Jim Helsinger, artistic director of the Orlando Shakespeare Festival. Gertrude and Claudius brings a new point of view to Hamlet, Shakespeare’s classic tale of guilt and revenge. The infamous couple serve as the villains in Shakespeare’s work, but this is a story of good intentions gone wrong. With ominous hints at the familiar story to come, this play shakes up what you thought you knew about Elsinore and the conflicted young prince.

Shakespeare’s Worst! A Play on a Play is written by Mike Reiss with Nick Newlin. Reiss is a writer for the animated television series The Simpsons. It will be directed by popular Festival actor Quinn Mattfeld. This hilarious and irreverent play features a small town theatre company performing The Two Gentlemen of Verona. But one of the cast members is very unhappy: his career is going nowhere, he’s tired of the show, and he wants out—now.

The staged readings of these plays will be in the Eileen and Allen Anes Studio Theatre at 9:30 each day, followed by discussions between the playwright, actors, and audience members. Tickets are $10 at the Ticket Office online at bard.org or over the telephone at 800-PLAYTIX.

Words Cubed is designed to nurture the new work of nationally-recognized playwrights and allow them to workshop their plays in front of an audience and then receive feedback from the actors and audience.

Tickets are now on sale for all Festival plays: Words Cubed readings of Gertrude and Claudius and Shakespeare’s Worst! A Play on a Play, as well as regular season full productions of The Merry Wives of Windsor, Henry VI Part One, The Merchant of Venice, Othello, The Foreigner, Big River, An Iliad, and The Liar. For more information and tickets visit www.bard.org or call 1-800-PLAYTIX.