Bard on the Beach’s “Timon of Athens” is Shakespeare at its best. Director Meg Roe has taken a script that is convoluted, difficult to decipher, and, many scholars believe, actually unfinished, and turned it into a meaningful and thought-provoking commentary on 21st-century life.
At first, Timon (played by Colleen Wheeler) is generous and fun. She’s the hostess with the mostess, a rich socialite who showers lavish gifts upon her circle of friends. Following her friends’ refusal to pay off her debt, however, she becomes livid, an anger that quickly turns to self-pity when she decides to shun society and die in a cave. Her refusal to take back her friends and rejoin society suggests a sense of entitlement, an “I wasn’t able to get what I want, so I will completely abandon society and sulk” mentality. Shakespeare’s Timon was justified in his behaviour – but that was 1606. 2018 and Timon’s rage at being slightly rebuffed feels like an example of “I’d like to speak to a manager” entitlement: the well-to-do white woman who demands to speak to a manager when something in the store is not to her liking.
The classic read, of course, is that Timon’s self-imposed exile was justified, the only reasonable reaction to a group of less than perfect friends. Transposing the same storyline into a 21st-century context allows the viewer to reevaluate Timon’s behaviour. The fact that Timon literally rips apart her apartment when her friends do not give her money? Why is she being, in 2018 speak, so extra?
Adding to the texture of Roe’s drama is Timon’s relationship with Apemantus. Apemantus is wary of Timon’s friends from the beginning, insisting that they are only Timon’s associates because of his wealth. Apemantus is part of this echelon of society, and yet she is also removed from it, watching the story’s events unfold with a scathing and cynical eye. Near the end of the play, after Timon has retreated to her cave, Apemantus pays Timon a visit and the two women exchange insults. In the midst of the insults, Timon calls Apemantus (played by Marci T. House) “slave”. There is a pause, while Apemantus takes this in, and then she turns her back to leave. When Timon spits “slave” we are no longer in 1606, when the play was written, but in 2018. Timon – white, wealthy, and used to getting her way – reveals her true character: in a moment of frustration, she spits out a denigrating racial slur. In Roe’s version, this is the moment of Timon’s deepest failure: by the time the show comes to a close, Timon is using her hurt as a justification for hurting others.
It is rare, in my opinion, to see a piece of Shakespeare done new. Roe’s “Timon of Athens” is a commentary on the way we live our lives. It was no accident that the actors could have been attending a production at the Howard Family Stage: when the cast ventured into the audience, as they did at various points throughout the play, it was almost impossible to differentiate between actor and theatregoer.
Timon and her friends are us, and Roe’s “Timon of Athens” forces us to scrutinize our own behaviour.
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– Elana Mabrito