Summary 
Present day version of Measure to Measure plays within the black-and-white military regime of a Vienna government. A rock-music and coffee shop youth movement rebels against the moral rigidity but with a licentiousness and ennui that lacks sympathy. Strong when focused on the conflict between Angelo and Isabella.
Design
Directed by Calvin MacLean. Set by Michelle Ney. Costumes by Jeanette deJong. Lights by J.William Ruyle. Sound by Roderick Peeples.
Cast
Eric Kramer (Duke), Philip Johnson (Angelo), Christopher Johnson (Escalus), Timothy Kane (Lucio), Tandy Cronyn (Mistress Overdone), Steve Young (Pompey), Brad Johnson (Claudio), Erin Schneider (Juliet), Rebecca MacLean (Isabella), John Fischer (Froth), Deb Heinig (Mariana).
Analysis
Calvin MacLean directs a modernized Measure for Measure set within the urban glare and depravity of today's Vienna. MacLean excels in the first act at contrasting the tawdry neon sensuality of city street life with the rigid sterility of a moral dictatorship.
Amid the shadows of dark columns and pillars are garish street advertisements for NachtKlub, Casano, and Revue. Stained glass adorns the top of the shadowy stairs at stage right, but the glass as well as the stage walls are disfigured by spray-paint graffiti. The murky stage walls are mottled with dark shades of yellow, green, and red. A two-dimensional church bell rests high atop the gallery like a crown.
The production begins with a wordless encounter between Claudio, wearing the fatigues and beret of a soldier, and the young Juliet, who wears a flowery mini-dress and chunky high-heels. The two embrace to pulsating rock music, and, as their embrace becomes passionate, Claudio lifts Juliet in his arms. The two disappear beneath the gallery as the Duke's soldiers rush onstage. Pointedly, Claudio and Juliet's music is overwhelmed by the noise of marching feet and the whir of helicopter blades. The soldiers wear black-and-white camouflage uniforms, black belts and black boots, their white helmets emblazoned with the silhouette of a black eagle. The departing Duke is played as a military commander-in-chief rushing off to his private helicopter. He wears an officer's cap, dark sunglasses, white gloves, and a cape-like overcoat as he gives Angelo officious last-minute instructions.
Once Angela has assumed authority - and his troops have secured the stage - the production gives way to the color and swagger of the night-life denizens of Vienna. The stage crawls with young men in tank-tops and biker shorts and women in halter tops and mini-skirts. They wear sneakers and high heels, rubber and leather, and they slither and strut to the bang and crash of loud rock music. The contrast to Angelo and his soldiers' austere black-and-white attire - and manner - is clearly established.
MacLean draws the seedy characters with memorable flash: the nine-husbanded Mistress Overdone wears a red mini dress and red high heels and displays a tattooed breast; the blustering pimp Pompey, long-haired and ear-ringed, wears a beret and a silk suit with scarves of purple and green; and the omnipresent if usually silent Froth, with spiked hair and dark sunglasses even at night, stomps about the stage in his green T-shirt, brown vest, and black-and-white cowboy boots.
The urban garishness is overseen by the rake Lucio, played with a scenery-chewing hamminess. In his purple shirt and black suit, he represents well the seedy crossroads of straight-laced appearance and moral depravity. Pinky-ringed and ear-ringed, the mannered Lucio displays a series of sniffs, winks, and poses, admiring himself in the reflection from his cigarette case.
MacLean illustrates the central duality with a dazzling series of images as soldiers arrive and the denizens flee the streets. To the sound of marching soldiers and orders barked from bullhorns, as well as sirens, whistles, and hovering helicopters, eight-man patrols armed with automatic rifles run in precision across the stage. Spotlights search the emptying stage in a frenzy until all clears, and, in the sudden quiet, Isabella appears to kneel and pray before a religious shrine that emerges from a mini-stage beneath the gallery. In the gallery above, the Duke and the Friar discuss the state of Vienna while the as yet unsworn Isabella prays below.
Isabella exudes a serene earnestness and simplicity of spirit. Her focus and intensions are plausible, portrayed with gentle desperation. Angelo's lust for Isabella seems to corrupt his intellectual control. Angelo's steely self-control is evident during the long 5.1 interrogation and revelation scene, as he barely moves or changes expression. With his and Lucio's villainy central to the conflict, this lack of dynamism - Lucio postured, Angelo stoic - dissipates some of the tension in the second half of the production.
The lighting becomes a harsh white glare in every scene in which Angelo participates. The pivotal scenes involving Isabella's pleas for mercy are starkly staged, continuing to present the sterility within as a contrast to the neon nightmare without. To the sound of organ chords and ethereal vocals, Angelo works at a table upon a mini-stage at stage center. After the first encounter with the virtuous Isabella, Angelo throws his clipboard and pen aside, loosens his tie, and removes his coat. Literally and figuratively abandoning his decorum, he falls to his knees and listens again to the conversation with Isabella that he has secretly - and disturbingly - tape recorded. He then throws the tape recorder across the stage so he can pray, but when Isabella returns, he offers her "sweet uncleanness" in exchange for her brother's life. Isabella, on her knees in votive headdress, her hands clasped in prayer and clutching a rosary, contrasts with the kneeling Angelo, who holds his own hands together while urging her to sin. When the scene concludes and the stage becomes dark to signal the end of the first act, the nightlife signs - NachtKlub, Casano, and Revue - light up in different shades of flashing neon.
In part due to a slow pace and in part due to the vibrancy of both image and sound with which MacLean opens the production, the second act limps toward its conclusion. To MacLean's credit, he does manage sparks during the difficult finale. For example, the executioner Abhorson is freshly played as a clean-cut, officious businessman. A slight man, he wears a gray three-piece suit and carries an attaché case chained to one wrist. He speaks of "the mystery" of his profession with cool detachment, and, in an homage to Pulp Fiction, he exposes the contents of the briefcase to Pompey, who nearly doubles over in revulsion at the sight. Rather than a comic intrusion upon the tale of corruption, Elbow is played as a blinking, bespectacled, dumbfounded Everyman who seeks justice. His blustering contrasts with the intellectual stateliness of the dutiful Escalus; both portrayals are likeable due to their Isabella-like sincerity. Also interesting is the musical Mariana, here a moping regular at the Café Haweika. To the tune of Marcy Playground's "Sex and Candy" - "and there she was" - the despondent and bare-midriffed Mariana dumps sugar into a coffee mug at her table while listening to music on ear-phones. She wears a plethora of rings and bracelets as well as purple fingernail polish, and her self-pity and complacency - at one point she exits to purchase a pack of cigarettes - reveal the narcissistic sense of entitlement within the young counterculture.
The production concludes with the Duke scurrying about in his friar's robes and hood to conduct his implausible - and at times inexplicable - machinations. Claudio and the pregnant Juliet are reunited joyfully, in contrast to Angelo's stiff surrender to a reunion with Mariana. The promised union of the Duke with Isabella disturbs due to the her obvious discomfort and distress with his public overtures. At one point, the Duke pulls the habit from her head and tosses it aside in disgust. The production ends as the "problem" play Measure for Measure should end - with uneasy solutions and troubling intentions - but, after the stunning vibrancy and clarity with which MacLean established the play's duality and conflicts, the "usual" conclusion ultimately disappoints.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.16, No.4, Fall 1998.