Reviewing The Production of William Shakespeare's Play Julius Caesar by Bryn Boice

Picture, if you will, a realm not unlike that of Themyscira, home of the Amazons. Now, picture a group of similarly remarkable women engaged in political warfare, ultimately electing to overthrow their leader through assassination—women who are equally capable in both battlefields of diplomacy and morality. This is the world of the Actors’ Shakespeare Project’s Julius Caesar, as built under Bryn Boice’s direction. Boasting a surprisingly condensed cast of 9 talented actresses, this production promises to transport its audiences to “an alternate universe Rome,” in which womanhood pervades every aspect of this domain. While the all-female ensemble could easily have come off as a hollow nod to modern notions of feminism and inclusivity, nothing about this decision seemed ill-thought-out. Featuring actresses of ranging ages, the clearly-defined generational conflicts between characters grew increasingly muddled, thus asking its audiences to reflect on the ideas of toxic masculinity and the circularity of history.

This production features the same Shakespearean characters we hate to love and love to hate. While their names remained unchanged, other liberties were taken to substitute strongly gendered nouns and pronouns in the script with their feminine or neutral counterparts. Although the purist within me was initially apprehensive about such adjustments, as they disturbed the metrical rhythm of the Bard’s iambs, this unease soon washed away. The actresses carried these slight linguistic shifts in stride, imbuing every action with the same traditionally male bravado that the language no longer directly communicated. These were not actresses merely attempting to don a mask of masculinity and channel a caricatured man; these were women. Complex women who were as resolute and misguided as they were gentle and sincere. Cloaked primarily in black, the words and deeds of these women took center stage, tossing ritualistic undertones into the mix alongside the mysticism behind and uncertainty of Rome’s fate. There was no underlying condescension regarding which of the women was the “ideal,” making this rendition of Julius Caesar both timely and moving.

Between these 9 actresses, we see generational differences come into play as well, adding to the poignancy of every scene and inviting us to further question each character’s motivations. Boice masterfully steers us away from finding stock figures in this play: The distressed Mark Antony (played by Marianna Bassham) weeping over Caesar’s corpse later turns the tide against the conspirators, earning the Plebeians’ favor whilst feigning her alliance with Cassius (Bobbie Steinbach). The very same Cassius and Brutus (Marya Lowry) who were instrumental in Caesar’s violent death share a sentimental bonding moment, shortly following an argument that leaves both women in joviality. Their sisterly bickering also calls to mind how we perceive male relationships, how shows of affection between men are often read as homoerotic, whilst the same expressions between women are interpreted differently. All this is additionally exemplified by the various roles each individual ensemble member carries, marked with subtle changes in their costumes and props. A conspirator becomes a poet, who then reappears as a messenger, alluding to the cyclical nature of our civilization.

The simplistic design of the play overall carried its weight in strengths and flaws. The costumes, although conscientiously tailored to each character’s personality, seemed to tip towards absurdity for the messengers: Ninja-like figures shrouded in black swaths of fabric, whilst masks muffled their speech and thick woven rope looped around their wrists restricted their range of motion. Transitions between certain acts were marked by bizarre musical interludes, resembling pre-show movement exercises devised to improve connectivity between newly-cast ensemble members, rather than that of a professional company. Paired with jarring music, these moments only served to distract from the play’s building emphasis on the importance of spatial awareness and physical contact. However, the minimalistic industrial setting, represented by thin sheets of black plastic adorning the walls and pipelike scaffolding lining the edges of the stage space, added to a “caged animal” effect. The lighting design toyed with shadows and illumination, storm scenes marked by harsh white squares penetrating through utter darkness, while the actresses straddled the line between the seeable and the unseen.

All in all, Bryn Boice’s image of a Rome led by a troupe of Amazonian women creates a poignant glimpse into how we view womanhood and its place within political affairs. Turning the Elizabethan concept of the all-male cast on its head, whilst simultaneously retaining vital aspects of masculinity, the Actors’ Shakespeare Project’s adaptation and production of Julius Caesar is a resounding success. Although certain creative decisions made remain questionable in my mind, this piece nonetheless generates numerous discussions pertaining to feminism, ageism, toxic masculinity, free speech, the role of revolution, and more. The cast and creative team work in harmony to address the gray areas of humanity in a divisive era of black and white, welcoming audiences to step beyond their preconceived notions of Shakespeare and society, as well as Shakespeare in society.