It’s not often that a night at the theater gives you permission to get mad as hell alongside a room full of strangers.
But by the end of the first act of Cincinnati Shakespeare Company’s “Network,” that’s exactly what happened. What began as a remarkably polished recreation of a 1970s television studio had transformed into something much more visceral: a communal release that blurred the line between audience and performance and made a nearly 50-year-old story feel startlingly immediate.
Maybe that feeling of being completely swept up in a performance shouldn’t have surprised me. Cincinnati Shakespeare Company has been doing that to me for decades.
My best friend Vicki and I have a long-standing history with Shakespeare. Earlier this month when we saw a preview performance of Cincinnati Shakespeare Company’s production of “Network,” she reminded me of that. Back in the day, her parents were more than happy to introduce us to arts experiences including the free Shakespeare in the Park productions each summer. As we waited for the show to begin, memories flooded back from our experience seeing “Midsummer Night’s Dream” at President’s Park in Edgewood in the late 90s. It started a fascination for both of us in live theater and Shakespeare’s canon.
Of course, “Network” is not part of Shakespeare’s canon; this production is part of the company’s mission to bring not only Shakespeare to life, but also “the classics.” Based on Paddy Chayefsky’s 1976 Academy Award-winning film of the same name, “Network” tells the story of Howard Beale, a veteran TV news anchor who has “had enough.” Even without iambic pentameter, Vicki and I were bought in from the moment the lights when down.
Because this was a preview performance, members of the crew could be spotted watching from the audience. I occasionally observed them taking a note or two, but they mostly sat back and enjoyed the show: a testament to how prepared the team was to open later in the week.
I can’t compliment the production quality enough. The entire stage of the Otto M. Budig Theater was transformed into a working television set, straight out of the 1970s. Having so much eye candy to observe pre-show made for interesting conversation: and it was simply beautiful. Everything was immersive; you felt like part of the live studio audience. After consulting the program, I see that Brave Berlin was a part of the production which comes to no surprise.
That attention to detail extended beyond the set. The entire production embraced and carried out the era spectacularly, down to the costumes, hair and grainy video production quality. The entire ensemble brought it, from the tech crew to the “hair and makeup” department . . . each scene was authentic. They all felt plucked from the era and were perfectly cast in their respective roles.
When I was learning acting, my professor taught us that whenever our character is in a scene, there’s a reason for it. We don’t know that it isn’t our story, so whenever we’re on stage, we should act as though it is our story. That has stuck with me in how I show up onstage and how I direct other actors. Not everyone believes this methodology; some directors think it can steal focus from the important action of the scene. But my argument is . . . if the character wasn’t important to see, why would the playwright include them in the scene at all? The “background” actors in this show made it theirs; they were living the action just as if it were really happening in front of them. The overall production greatly benefited from their commitment and the vision of the director.
At the center of that committed ensemble, Jim Hopkins as Howard Beale was enthralling. I hope it’s considered a compliment to compare him to actor Tracy Letts, who I know from “Homeland” and as being married to Carrie Coon. They share the kind of classic actor bravado needed to carry such a role.
That bravado made the end of Act 1 one of the best outros into intermission I’ve ever experienced . . . and I mean it. The scene draws the room into its momentum until the usual boundary between audience and action begins to feel surprisingly thin. I won’t tell you exactly what happens next, but trust me, the cathartic release is much-needed, unexpected, and unmistakably communal; Shakespeare would be proud.
And then there’s the uncredited special appearance by a super-famous actor.
After the show, we were fortunate to find ourselves part of a talk-back with select actors from the production as well as the director. This was a much-welcomed deeper look behind the scenes of this regional premiere and gave us the opportunity to ask more about the celebrity appearance. I was able to ask Phillips how that relationship came to be, as my assumption was that his appearance was part of a “show package.”
“He auditioned like everyone else,” was Phillips’ response. If you do your homework, you can probably guess the actor to which I’m referring (think pork pie hat or a hazmat suit), and although I was given explicit permission by Phillips to name him, I just can’t bring myself to share such a blatant spoiler. So, you’ll just have to go see it to confirm whether your guess is correct. My friend and seatmate for the evening, Vicki Lorenz, said, “This was an amazing show. The catharsis at the end of the first act was very special, and I shared that feeling with the whole audience. The way the cast interacted with (famous actor name redacted) was highly impressive and creatively executed.”
Obviously, there’s so much more to see than a random celebrity cameo.
That audience response speaks directly to the timeliness of this show and its message. If you know anything about the movie or have seen any preproduction promotion for the show, you know the phrase “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” is a major part of the story. I don’t know about you, but I’ve uttered this phrase internally for months . . . and it was freeing to be able to externalize the sentiment, thanks to this show. This is one of those shows where you look around and see people leaning toward their seatmate and whispering, nodding and gesturing passionately with their hands.
Whenever I write a critical review, I try to abstain from giving you, the reader, a book report. I want to tell you how the show made me feel rather than recount the story because I want you to experience that part for yourself. Fortunately, Resident Dramaturg Tamara Winters provides a well-researched closer look at the world of “Network,” including its story and era, in the program.
Admittedly, having been a part of many productions myself, I am often a very harsh critic. I have very little, if anything, to complain about in this show and plenty to recommend. If you have been feeling a little mad lately, maybe even mad as hell and feel like you may not be able to take it anymore . . . take a night to immerse yourself in this fabulous production and let “Network” remind you just how cathartic it can be to get mad as hell together.
Network is running from now until September 26. Get your tickets here.