Travelogue: A Shakespeare Marathon | The San Diego Shakespeare Society

Gordon Gidlund at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis reconsidering his latest undertaking.

My last marathon was the 2000 Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in San Diego. So, twenty-four years later, it was about time for another, and I heard tell of a Shakespeare marathon somewhere in the Midwest. Wunderbar. Instead of running past bands on elevated stages along the route, I could wheeze on while catching glimpses of Antony declaiming, Macbeth hallucinating, or Lear wailing. But wait, upon further investigation, it turned out this would be a sit-down marathon. The Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis would be staging three history plays, Richard II, a combination of Henry IV, Part 1 and Part 2, and Henry V, all in one day.

I had to do it, but how to train? Whereas I previously worried about my iliotibial band and the best flavor of energy gel, now I worried about succumbing to the shade of Morpheus. How would I stay awake through all three plays? A few years ago, I totally conked out at the end of Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette, being rudely awakened only by the concluding applause. But everyone falls asleep at the opera, right? The Henriad was certainly more compelling and invigorating. Just to be safe, though, I researched the matter and read a blog by a student who fought off sleep during boring classes by using muscle contraction techniques. It was worth a try.

The Guthrie Theater is a highly regarded regional theatre established in 1963 by Sir Tyrone Guthrie and others disenchanted with Broadway. Over the years, it has featured such luminaries as Christopher Plummer, Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Morgan Freeman, and Julianne Moore. Now, with its company of twenty-five actors, this ambitious 13-hour marathon event would be staged only on two dates; such an event had last occurred at the Guthrie in 1990, with the current director, Joseph Haj, appearing in that cast.

My wife and I arrived in Minneapolis two days before the event to meet with old friends but also to adjust ourselves to the local time and climate (n.b., wind chill factor). We were terribly impressed by the neatness of the downtown and the convenience of its skyway system. (And of course, we had to partake of that Twin Cities delicacy, the Juicy Lucy.)

The day before the marathon, I attended a conference for continuing legal education credit, also at the Guthrie Theater, entitled “William Shakespeare, Esquire: Was the Bard the Greatest Legal Mind of All Time?” It was sponsored by the law firm of Fredrikson & Bryon P.A. and the organization Monumental Shakespeare.

In the morning session, various speakers described how legal terms and concepts fulsomely permeate the canon. Interspersed with these presentations were selections from three plays, Henry VI, Part 2; The Merchant of Venice; and Hamlet, performed by an amazing set of actors. The 2H6 segment was followed by a talk on Jack Cade’s rebellion and the infamous “let’s kill all the lawyers” remark, with reference to an opinion by Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens. The recitation of Portia’s quality of mercy speech led into an explanation of how a play set in Venice depicted a development in England regarding the difference between the common law courts and chancery courts, a matter with vestiges to the present day. And Hamlet’s graveyard scene served as a commentary on a case, Hales against Petit, contemporary to the drafting of the play.

The afternoon session featured the world premiere of Emmy-winning author Hank Whittemore’s one-person play Shake-speare’s Treason, performed indefatigably by Steven Sabel, noted Shakespearean theatre director and actor and host of the podcast Don’t Quill the Messenger. Not for the nervous (or hidebound), the play explored the theory that Queen Elizabeth I bore a child by Edward de Vere, the 17^th Earl of Oxford and authorship candidate. That child was Henry Wriothesley, who eventually became the 3^rd Earl of Southampton and plausibly the “Fair Youth” of the sonnets. The play’s argument was advanced by otherwise inexplicable historical events and by a close reading of the sonnets with special appreciation of their legal allusions.

Race day, April 13^th, dawned clear and crisp. And just like running marathons, my fellow participants were from all over: 28 states and five foreign countries. At 10:00 a.m., we were off with Richard II. A lithe, effete Richard (Tyler Michaels King) faced off against a burly, practical Bolingbroke (William Sturdivant). The arrogance, denial, and final acquiescence of Richard were fast paced. A wonderful production overall, Richard’s soliloquy in his cell being especially moving. (My only quibble was with the scene where the Duchess of York pleads for her son’s life, which was a tad overdone.)

After a quick hotel nap and a five-year-old granola bar, the combined Henry IV kicked off at 3:00 p.m. As has been typical for centuries, Falstaff (Jimmy Kieffer) garnered most of the attention. (When Henry IV was staged at the Old Globe in 1995, John Goodman played Falstaff with a specially designed doublet containing a miniature air-conditioning device.) The swordplay at the battle of Shrewsbury was dazzling. Only toward the end did I have to stifle a yawn, so the muscle-flexing ploy seemed to be working.

After a light dinner seated at the bar of a nearby restaurant, it was Henry V at 8:30 p.m. In a clever reversal, the play opened with most of the cast trooping forward onto the stage as if to receive the closing ovation, causing some of us by-now-punchy playgoers to consider whether we’d somehow fallen into a fugue state for over two hours and missed all the action. But the trick was for the inspired purpose of having each cast member speak a line of the Prologue, a tremendous stroke. Like the other two plays, Henry V was somewhat truncated but still advanced the general themes well. (Only one scene was truly surplusage, that of the Welsh and Irish captains bickering, which was positively incomprehensible.) King Henry (Daniel José Molina) was an especially energetic warrior in counterpoint to a particularly preening Dauphin (Dustin Bronson). One surprising effect was how the speech threatening the defenders of Harfleur felt more rousing than that of St. Crispin’s Day.

Well, Marathon Day naturally ended with the foretelling of doom after Henry’s death, which made me think back hours earlier to Bishop Carlisle’s prophesy in Richard II. So, this was an excellent preparation for the Old Globe’s upcoming Henry VI project.

By 11:15 p.m., we were streaming out. I had won my medal and done it with just a few yawns and no shin splints.

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