Summary 
Stately modernization of the late romance features interesting allusions to an affair between Hermione and Polixenes as well as a dramatic thunderbolt shattering a glass sculpture when the oracle is denied. The production weakens considerably when action moves to Bohemia, however - a rap group Chorus, a press conference miracle - and the tension and entertainment are never fully recaptured.
Design
Directed by Michael Bogdanov. Set by Derek McLane. Lights by Robert Wierzel. Costumes by Claire Lyth. Sound by Scott Myers. Compositions by Alaric Jans.
Cast
John Reeger (Leontes), Barbara Robertson (Hermione), Zach Gray (Mamillius), Greg Vinkler (Camillo), Tony Dobrowoslki (Antigonus), Susan Hart (Paulina), David Perkovich (Cleomenes), David Lively (Dion), Ronald Keaton (Archidamus/Jailor), John Lister (Polixenes), Brian Hamman (Florizel), Johanna McKenzie Miller (Perdita), Robert Scogin (Old Shepherd), James Fitzgerald (Autolycus), Joe Foust (Time/Old Shepherd's Son).
Analysis
Michael Bogdanov, founder of the English Shakespeare Company, returns to Chicago Shakespeare Theater to direct the notoriously difficult Winter's Tale. Bogdanov modernizes the romance to an undefined early twentieth-century time, with Sicilia lit in harsh white lighting and its inhabitants wearing stylish black-and-white formal wear. A series of looming rectangular frames serve to capture the onstage action within picture-book vignettes, and the stage itself features an ornate crystal-glass sculpture. The atmosphere is severe, almost Victorian in forbidding mood. In a brief prologue featuring an unpregnant Hermione and a smiling Leontes, the cast sings Gustav Holst's "In the Bleak Midwinter." The production continues with a displaced moment from 2.1, with Hermione whispering to Mamillius that she would like to hear a fairy tale. The actors freeze in mid-motion and a frame opens to reveal the grand interior of Leontes' parlor.
Bogdanov continues the stately frame around seething drama with a 2.1 performance of a violin solo at a rather stiff cocktail party hosted by Leontes. Leontes, a stern-looking gentleman in black goatee and black tuxedo with an olive paisley vest, sits side by side with a now-pregnant Hermione upon a stage right loveseat, both apparently content if not comfortable with one another. When Polixenes, in his white tuxedo jacket and comparatively easy manner, supplants Leontes at Hermione's side, the regal Leontes shifts stiffly away, his mood souring as he begins to scowl. In a nuanced interpretation, Bogdanov invests the Polixenes and Hermione relationship with genuine physical intimacy - they link arms and laugh together, and a few moments later Polixenes kneels and rests the side of his face against Hermione's pregnant belly - to provide the jealous Leontes with some legitimate reason for anger. The isolated emotion within the sterile but sumptuous environment recalls the film version of The Age of Innocence, with the obvious impropriety - and subtle hints at a deeper relationship - lending some sympathy to the fuming Leontes.
Bogdanov's consistently elegant approach to the family drama takes a dramatic turn with the trial of Hermione. Barbara Robertson, her Hermione weakened by the birth of Perdita, struggles to defend herself, her hair down, her voice quavering with emotion. John Reeger's Leontes displays a grim focus and a disconcerting lack of regard for Hermione's impassioned pleas. The proclamation from the oracle regarding Hermione's innocence - in this production presented as an important legal document locked within a business brief case - is summarily dismissed by Leontes. Leontes' error is vividly signified by a deafening sound effect and thunderbolt flash that shatters the glass sculpture. The moment is jaw-dropping in its intensity, easily the show's highlight, but the production falters as the story then veers into pastoral romance, only briefly returning to the personal drama of the first act.
Bogdanov transitions to the Bohemian romance of The Winter's Tale with a non-textual image of the ghost of Hermione upstage as Antigonus recounts his 3.3 tale of the woods and the abandonment of Perdita. The scene concludes with the projected shadow image of a looming bear - "exit: pursued by a bear" - its mouth open to bite, and an amplified growl that draws scattered laughter from the audience. When the production resumes for its second act, a clown-like Time leads a modern musical group through a dancing rap regarding the sixteen years passage of time that may be entertaining for some but is also decidedly jarring and anachronistic to the point of silliness.
Polixenes' kingdom of Bohemia is warmly lit in sunshine-like tones of yellow and red, the Bohemians wearing much looser-fitting clothes than the Sicilians of act one, and with much more freedom and expressiveness of movement. Most of the action takes place within the wood-slatted walls of a rural barn, and a live band - Bohemian fiddle rather than Sicilian violin - plays with gusto (and hoots and hollers) from an upstage loft. The atmosphere, while decidedly different from the austere elegance of earlier scenes, seems strained and artificial - like the twanging southern American accents - and detracts from rather than enhances the story. Polixenes and Cleomenes, now fully bearded, strut around the stage like wise old farmers, Polixenes wearing knickers and an odd woolen Sherlock Holmes-like cap, and Art O'Lucas (a dreadful variation on "Autolycus") is played as a fast-talking Irish con-artist, peddling his songs in the countryside for quick cash. The scenes play at an unwieldy pace, redeemed somewhat by the banter (and flirting) between Perdita and Polixenes' son Florizel - a well-wrought echo from the first act - and a prelude to the Romeo and Juliet-style reconciliation of the feud, with burgeoning romance between two teenagers from different sides reuniting the two sundered families.
The concluding scenes return to Sicilia but without the same naturally-paced, well-evoked emotions and tensions. The stage is dominated with a large cross - Leontes in his elder years has become rather devout - with the amplified sound of a boys' choir singing and chanting in the background. 5.2 plays as a modern-day news conference with a rapid-fire press release - again the anachronisms tend to distract - but then the "statue" of Hermione is brought downstage behind a billowing, circular white curtain. While Robertson's Hermione holds her pose in front of the audience for several long minutes, Paulina engineers the happy conclusion. Bogdanov veers from the typical, as he did with the improper behavior in the first act, with the shocked Leontes - rather than being thrilled - outraged at the deception of (and duplicity involved with) Hermione's return. As the others exit to an apparently happy conclusion, Leontes remains in silhouetted profile upstage, refusing to join, and the strains of "In the Bleak Midwinter" are heard once more. Soon, however, he relents, more probably due to his feelings and a change in heart - and obviously not due to the contrived "miracle" - and he finally joins the rest of the cast offstage.
Bogdanov's The Winter's Tale clearly unravels when distanced from strong first act dramatics, and these early moments - especially Reeger's glowering Leontes and Robertson's impassioned Hermione, who may or may not have wronged him - remain the most memorable. The odd middle section of the show significantly encumbers the overall production, and it fails to return to the same level of thematic continuity or entertainment value.