Summary 
Peculiar production features offbeat directorial and design choices - from a hard-rock original musical score and modern furnishings in chrome and glass against traditional Elizabethan gowns and doublets - and proves an uneven tragedy but a daringly different character study. Strange moments of unexpected humor and some strong supporting performances make for a hit-and-miss entertainment.
Design
Directed by Barbara Gaines. Set design by Neil Patel. Lights by Robert Wierzel. Costumes by Susan E. Mickey. Sound and original music by Lindsay Jones.
Cast
Wallace Acton (Richard), Phillip James Brannon (George/Tyrrel), James Anthony Zoccoli (Brakenbury), John Lister (Hastings), Angela Ingersoll (Lady Anne), Demetrios Troy (Rivers), Wendy Robie (Elizabeth), Kevin Gudahl (Buckingham), John Reeger (Stanley/Archbishop of York), Jennifer Harmon (Margaret), Dan Kenney (Catesby), Matt DeCaro (Edward IV/Ratcliff), Mary Ann Thebus (Duchess), Brendan Marshall-Rashid (Richmond).
Analysis
Barbara Gaines begins Richard III at Chicago Shakespeare Theater with a comical stage picture as Richard and the Yorks strike bizarre poses within a suspended wooden picture frame for a family photograph. With exaggerated expressions and forced smiles, brightly lit from the sides, the horror-show portrait suggests a radically dysfunctional family but with a humorous edge that defines this quirky and unusual production. An unnamed Jane Shorr struts upstage, a curly-haired seductress in scarlet red - wearing garter belts, a bustier, and red high heels - and as the frame lifts away, she flirts seductively with a sickly-pale Edward IV. Wallace Acton's Richard observes from center stage, seated but poised like a serpent as if to strike.
Gaines opts for the decidedly offbeat, perhaps to echo the fractured mentality of her title character. The language and costume design are that of Elizabethan nobility, with layers of rich fabrics - velvet, silk, and brocade - suiting a more typical production of Richard III. But the chrome-and-glass furnishings - mostly tables and chairs - have a jarringly contemporary style to them, and the musical scoring is decidedly modern, an awkward 1980s-style thunder of hard-rock guitars and heavy-metal drumming. Acton's slinking Richard suits the staging well, intellectual but reptilian thin, with the feminine mannerisms and pretend toothy smile of an aging rock star. Even his hump is exaggeratedly large, a gruesome bulge on the shoulder, as is his limp, which makes him walk with a comically hip-swiveling gait. Acton portrays Richard not as an intimidating brute but as something of a physical wuss: he wears black hose and a puffy white shirt and so resembles a waggish pirate; he appears tiny and frail beside the portly Hastings; when an impish prince playfully jumps upon his back, Richard buckles and collapses to the stage; in 5.3 he echoes Anthony Perkins in "Psycho" with his borderline-babble argument against himself, turning back and forth to excitedly confront himself over and again; and his sobbing "my kingdom for a horse!" in 5.4 is a defeated snivel rather than a defiant command
Gaines' offbeat Richard III keeps its audience off balance with a series of peculiar but only sometimes interesting choices. Clarence's assassins are played for campy humor with a hammy kind of inarticulate stupidity that draws nervous laughter within the creepy tower prison cell. Some of Gaines' choices entertain - the minor characters Rivers and Dorset are a prancing pair of exaggeratedly gay royal brothers - while some illustrate an interesting concept - Jane Shorr dallies with Hastings just before his arrest, something like a sexy scarlet harbinger of tragic doom - and some seem deliberately off-beat for the sake of keeping the audience on edge, e.g. the unusual doubling of Edward IV with the murderous Ratcliff and George with the child-killer Tyrrel. A few of the choices only confuse the audience - like the zombie-like ghost of Henry VI appearing in the balcony while his body is visible in its casket - or so odd as to diminish the emotional impact of the scene, as when the ghosts who curse Richard ("despair and die!") before the battle all arrive together in a glass-and-chrome enclosure that rises from a trap like a fog-enshrouded elevator from hell.
Gaines delivers her best scenes with the aid from excellent supporting performances, especially Angela Ingersoll as Lady Anne, a pretty young princess with a kicky modern hairstyle, wearing a tight bustier top and richly layered blue and purple skirts. She sports a black scarf and fingerless lace gloves, grieving over her father, his corpse wrapped in clear plastic upon a bier. After Acton's wooing Richard forces a kiss, she spits in his face, but is finally overwhelmed by his veiled threats, and when she surrenders with a tremble, she touches his cheek and bids him farewell more in momentary self-preservation than in defeat. Later, she stands motionless within a glaring spotlight as Elizabeth hands her the crown and a royal stole is placed around her shoulders. The curser Margaret is a witch-like hag spewing venom from the steps deep within the audience, approaching the stage amid rumbling sound effects and rising lights, and she exits to spontaneous applause.
Other moments are similarly effective and dramatic, such as when George's killers roll him into a plastic shroud to rising rock guitar chords, or when Catesby and Ratcliff prowl through the audience, menacing patrons by slapping weapons on their palms to intimidate a positive response from the townspeople scattered among the seats. Kevin Gudahl's strident Buckingham, glowering and wearing a jet black goatee, is particularly effective, especially when he kneels to implore the supposedly devout Richard to accept the crown but is greeted by a silent crowd of observers, so he must implore Ratcliff to urge an "amen" from the people. Later, in 4.2, Buckingham is denied his promised title by Richard, and recognizing his impending doom, tears a flowing scarlet curtain from its moorings.
Acton's intellectual Richard has his share of memorable scenes as well: he confides directly to an audience member that he has killed both Anne's husband and father; he shoves an impish prince into the arms of Buckingham; he leaps atop the glass table to rail - "If!" - at the soon-to-be-executed Hastings; and he yanks the newly crowned Anne from her throne so he can sit beside his fellow conspirator Buckingham Later, he peers comically around the imploring Buckingham to gaze at the audience, and he reacts with violence at Buckingham's taking him by the elbow. His 4.4 scene with the short-haired Elizabeth is particularly dramatic, including a brutal shoving match that ends in her slap of his face. Richard grasps her by the arm and drags her to the edge of the stage before pulling her close for an ugly kiss, but Elizabeth spits and wipes her mouth as she exits.
Gaines' unique vision features scattered highlights - a glam-rock Edward all in white; the surprise appearance of George's ghost upstage when the Princes are sent to the Tower; Hastings kneeling in a spotlight to pray before his beheading; a choir singing as Richard is joined in the balcony by devout acolytes wielding Bibles - as it moves towards its ghostly conclusion. A young and handsome Richmond - played as earnest and forthright for a stabilizing effect upon the entire quirky production - rests stage left at Bosworth Field. Richard reclines stage right and has his nightmare (upon the arrival of the elevator from hell), as the cluster of white-faced, dark-eyed ghosts emerge zombie-like - arms crossed over their chests - from the enclosure to render their curses in echoing amplification. After the battle speeches, each made from atop glass-and-chrome platforms that rise from traps, a shimmering mirror-like scrim falls upstage and the battle begins. Richard arms himself, turning to frighten himself at his own reflection, and when he finally engages in single combat with Richmond, the ghosts reappear in a long stage-wide line, their silhouettes visible behind the curtain. As more of the incongruous hard rock score blares, Richard gains the upper hand on Richmond, but is startled by the appearances of the ghosts of the Princes downstage facing him. In an abrupt but satisfyingly graphic conclusion, Richmond rallies to stab him in the back. As Acton's Richard squirms and struggles, his body is heaved into a stage trap hole as if plunged into the depths of hell, an impressively dramatic final image in a decidedly unusual version of the play.