Summary 
A dark fairy-tale romance with sinister overtones and little humor. Outdoor production benefits from an impressionistic battle sequence, cleverly played with costumed sculptures in pulsating light, an effectively creepy bed-chamber invasion scene, and the pyrotechnic intervention of Jupiter. Good entertainment, despite Shakespeare's muddled themes.
Design
Directed by Calvin MacLean. Costumes by Dan Wilhelm. Set by John Stark. Lights by J. William Ruyle. Sound by Roderick Peeples. Fights by John Sipes.
Cast
Kim Ataide (Queen), Kelly AuCoin (Iachimo), Michael Behrens (Cloten), Rob Cook (Caius Lucius), Geoffrey MacKinnon (Cymbeline), Patrick O'Gara (Belarius), Roderick Peeples (Pisanio), Thomas Anthony Quinn (Posthumus), Karen Renee Raymore (Imogen), Steve Young (Cornelius, Philario).
Analysis
Cymbeline presents a difficulty of continuity onstage, with its smattering of fairy tale comedy intertwined with hatred and jealousy in a context of looming war. In this outdoor production, director Calvin MacLean underplays the lighter moments until the finale, although some humor is still evident, especially during scenes involving the wicked stepmother and her son. The Queen, dressed in flowing layers of sheer black and silver, seems to have arrived from Snow White with all her plots and poisons. Portrayed as publicly benevolent, her voice lilting, and as privately evil, when her voice becomes acidic and plummets to comic depths. The buffoonish prince Cloten stomps and struts throughout the play with an amusing sneer constantly on his face. The long 5.5 conclusion, with all its implausible revelations, is played as the tongue-in-cheek denouement of a predetermined happy ending, with fortune having already smiled and the gods having already intervened. While the plot twists continually amaze the onstage characters, laughter erupts from the audience during commentary such as Cymbeline's, "Does the world go round?" and Cornelius', "O gods!/I left out one thing."
MacLean subordinates humor to dark sequences of potential violence and tragedy. Posthumus' 2.5 soliloquy, delivered with bitterness from the gallery, concludes the first half of the production with the grisly possibility that the hero will become murderous or suicidal, or both. Posthumus is double spot lit from side angles to elongate his shadows, which are clearly visible upon the walls on both sides of the stage. As a result, Posthumus' gestures of anguish are given double amplification by the presence of the flanking shadows that also serve to mock his jealousy. During the horrific 4.2, Imogen embraces Cloten's beheaded corpse and smears herself with blood - "give color to my pale cheek" - from the hemorrhaging stump. 5.3 is presented in grim visuals rather than spoken. The battle is depicted by barely visible specters in black body suits who rush about the stage carrying towering "battle sculptures." The sculptures are abominations of cross-angled spikes draped with red and black cloth and connected by irregular pieces of gold-plated battle armor. Lit in pulsating flashes, the sculptures are waved to simulate the clashing movement of soldiers - the red of the Romans, the black of the Britons - while the spikes are pounded on the stage in dissonant rhythm. The capture and ensuing rescue of Cymbeline are shown within a frenetic blur of these disturbing sculptures.
The set is bleak, the walls painted grey and black and striated with vertical spikes like prison bars. The stage of pepper tiles is bare except for a scatter of boulders. The Britons are robed in sleek black and reflective silver to contrast the Romans, who are wrapped in togas of red velvet. Two characters are distinctive by their yellow color: Iachimo is distinguished by his attire - a yellow tunic beneath a golden robe - and his villainy is visually connected to the malevolence of Cloten, who has shoulder-length blond hair.
The incongruence of the tragicomedy is considerably smoothed by MacLean's emphasis on the romantic storyline, with its requisite danger and excitement. Eccentricities are accentuated and twists of fate are heightened to lessen the emotional impact of the threat of tragedy. MacLean threads several striking set-pieces of visual romance across the play, all of which, in combination, establish the defining theme as romantic. The 1.4 bath house scene provides a colorful contrast to the somberness of Cymbeline's palace and a sense of fleshy Roman immorality to counter the stark repression in Britain. In swirls of steam, a pair of white marble slabs with orange streaks are pulled down from the stage walls. From the darkness beneath the gallery, Iachimo slides onstage upon another slab. He cradles a golden wine goblet as he is given a body massage. He is joined by four friends, all of them naked except for white towels wrapped around their waists. They are attended by silent, bowing young women who pour wine and carry baskets of fruit.
Kelly AuCoin portrays Iachimo as an anti-innocent man confident in the corruptibility of human beings. His wager with Posthumus over the honor of Imogen is depicted as an attempted lesson for the Briton in the ease of corruption rather than as a device for profit. AuCoin's Iachimo is lean and handsome, with slicked hair and heavily darkened eyes. The 2.2 bedchamber scene effectively extends to Biblical proportions Iachimo's function as tempter. He emerges from the trunk behind Imogen's bed with snake-like fluidity, his arm writhing from the opening to grasp the opened book he somehow knows is resting on the lid. He rises from the trunk like a vampire from a coffin and emits an amplified, preternatural sigh. Iachimo's pre-recorded lines are conspiratorial whispers delivered as an interior monologue via the sound system. AuCoin slinks about the bedchamber amid eerie background music, his motions carefully timed with the monologue. He adroitly slips back into the trunk and replaces the book exactly where it had been as he disappears beneath the lid.
The 5.4 appearance of the ghosts and the arrival of Jupiter - in a literal deus ex machina - are staged with aural flash and visual splendor. After Posthumus is chained downstage upon a rock by black-robed captors, the black and silver ghosts emerge upstage from backlit fog. They slowly move forward to stand over Posthumus, and they wear black-screened masks that reveal indistinct facial features. Their lines are pre-recorded and amplified, and the obvious disconnection of voices from bodies is appropriately eerie, as are their visible but indiscernible faces. Jupiter's sudden intervention is stunning because the god does not appear as expected in the gallery, but on a hidden platform high above the stage. The set is peaked with a facade of vertical spikes consisting of doors that swing wide to reveal the spot-lit god. In glittering gold from head to toe, including a gleaming mask, Jupiter is silhouetted against the evening sky. His thundering voice is angry and booms from speakers. He extends his arm to throw an invisible thunderbolt and delivers the prophetic tablet to Posthumus in a yellow spark of flash paper and a blast of smoke.
The pyrotechnic grandeur of the Jupiter scene lightens the play and fuels the spirit of forgiveness that characterizes the final scene. MacLean imbues this production with theatrical romance to accentuate the grace and mercy of the finale. With suddenly renewed lightheartedness, the production concludes with sweeps of humor amid the reunions of friends, of lovers, and of fathers and sons.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published as a season overview in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.14, No.4, Fall 1995.