Specialist makes sure 'Macbeth' gets the violence just right

IF HE was alive today, William Shakespeare could conceivably be an in-demand writer of action movies. After all, so many of his most-famous works include a heaping helping of violence, much of it in the form of sword fights.

For instance, there's "Macbeth," which was scheduled to open last night at Old City's Arden Theatre Co. (it runs through April 19).

"The Scottish Play," as generations of superstitious thespians have referred to it, is one of Shakespeare's monumental works - a timeless tale of maternal manipulation and back-stairs skullduggery. Swordplay, both group and mano a mano, figures prominently in the story.

The various skirmishes in the Arden's presentation have been plotted as precisely as any Twyla Tharp dance number by Paul Dennhardt, a theater professor at the College of Fine Arts of Illinois State University, and one of the nation's leading Shakespeare fight choreographers.

According to Dennhardt, staging the scenes is far more than a matter of merely giving actors their marks and suggesting a few motions.

"The first thing [director Alexander Burns] and I did was talk about what specifically the story of the violence would be," he explained, during a recent phone call. "He wanted an opening battle sequence that told, in physical action, what is told in Shakespeare's play in terms of a report on the opening battle about how valorous Macbeth and Banquo were.

Burns, he continued, "wanted a . . . colorful, physical moment, and so we talked about the storyline of that and how it was important to see that Macbeth and Banquo were equal in terms of valor and also were great friends who looked out for one another.

"As I choreographed the fight, I looked for opportunities where I could establish that 'we've got each other's back' fighting style with Macbeth and Banquo."

As for the climactic duel pitting the title character against his nemesis, Macduff, he and Burns "talked about the action of the fight beat by beat, including who attacks first? Who attacks in the next beat of the action? What's the difference in the fighting style between Macbeth and Macduff?"

In addressing the question about who initiated the battle, Dennhardt took his cue directly from the Bard. "Right before where Shakespeare writes, 'They fight,' Macduff says, 'I have no words, my voice is in my sword,'" he said. "It seems pretty clear to me that he's attacking."

Dennhardt understands that when it comes to Shakespeare, words tend to make more of an impact than actions, and that audiences likely give little thought to the challenges inherent in staging fight scenes.

"One thing the public probably doesn't understand is the length of time it takes to put together a staged fight, and the incredible amount of time you're going in almost Tai Chi slow motion, and making sure the actors are giving the impression they're trying to kill one another without actually, in fact, trying to kill one another," he said.

"It's a fine line to walk. If it's too fake, then the audience is disengaged. And of course, if it's too unsafe, the audience is disengaged because they step out of the play and start worrying about the actors.

"You have to have the appearance of reckless abandon, and yet be meticulously choreographed to be believed eight times a week."

How far would you go for a good laugh? Make that a zillion good laughs. Hopefully, Ambler, Pa., is within your funny zone, because it's worth the schlep to the wilds of Montgomery County to catch Act II Playhouse's sublimely silly "Unnecessary Farce."

Running through March 29, "Unnecessary Farce" is a classic example of the genre, complete with nutty, but engaging, characters, a twisty-enough plot, a basketful of misunderstandings and misconstrued situations and, of course, a nonstop barrage of doors being opened and slammed shut.

Author Paul Slade Smith's piece starts with a planned police sting in a motel where two well-meaning, if somewhat bumbling, cops (Anthony Lawton and Karen Peakes) are looking to bust the mayor of an unidentified town who is suspected of embezzling $16 million. With each scene, the story gets more manic and goofier, never more so than when it introduces a kilt-clad hit man who works for a Scottish organized-crime family and whose modus operandi is death by bagpipe.

The only people who appeared to have more fun than the audience at Wednesday's matinee were the seven cast members, all of whom do a swell job of keeping the laughs - verbal and physical - coming at breakneck speed. All survey their roles, under the supple direction of David Bradley, with perfect pitch, ably capturing the accelerating inanity of the piece.

If we have to highlight one performance, it would be that of Jake Bloch as the aforementioned gangland enforcer who, when angered, speaks in a thoroughly unintelligible (and extremely comical) Scottish burr. But all the actors (including veteran Tom Teti as the affable, slightly befuddled mayor) absolutely crush it.

As a result, this month, if someone asks you, "What's so funny?" you now know how to answer.