'Antony': Kahn Gets to The Heart of It

At the news that her celebrated lover has deserted her for another woman, the Cleopatra of Michael Kahn's pleasurably well-rounded "Antony and Cleopatra" goes into the kind of tailspin of incredulity we have come to associate with telegenic desperate housewives of the modern day.

She is by turns stunned, sad, dismissive, apoplectic. Unaccustomed to being dumped, the queen of the Nile also wants to know every detail about Octavia, the woman who has supplanted her: what she looks like, how she walks, how she talks. Cleopatra is consoled by the damning replies of the terrified messenger -- until she makes the error of asking her rival's age.

To the report that Octavia is a mere 30, actress Suzanne Bertish registers a hilarious look of pained deflation: the armor of a world-class seductress has been pierced. (Cleopatra is 38 at the time of the betrayal.) It's a moment both funny and endearing, and emblematic of the variety of dextrous portraits of nobility -- rendered here as incisively, vulnerably human -- by the Shakespeare Theatre Company.

"Antony and Cleopatra" is Shakespeare's spin on the passion that consumed a Roman ruler and an Egyptian queen and ultimately cost them their power and their lives. Kahn's production -- running in repertory in Sidney Harman Hall with another of Shakespeare's Roman plays, "Julius Caesar" -- does dance a few of the portrayals of historical figures up to the edge of saucy eccentricity. But often, this comes in rightful service of the comedy in a masterly work that demands a balance between light and dark.

The pairing of the plays makes a lot of dramatic sense. "Antony and Cleopatra" picks up on the story of Mark Antony (Andrew Long), the general who triumphed over Brutus and Cassius in "Julius Caesar" and now, several years later, is on an extended Egyptian holiday in the arms of Cleopatra. A single cast is used for both plays, a device that helps to solidify the continuity. For example, Krystov Lindquist's Soothsayer, who offers up an ominous mid-March forecast in the Rome of "Julius Caesar," shows up again as a more enfeebled seer at Cleopatra's court.

Lepidus (Ted van Griethuysen) and Octavius Caesar (Aubrey K. Deeker), which are slightly bigger than bit parts in "Julius Caesar," graduate to the rank of major in "Antony and Cleopatra," as they join Mark Antony in the triumvirate that comes to power after the emperor's assassination. One sees in retrospect that the groundwork for the intense enmity between Octavius and Antony in "Antony and Cleopatra" has been laid, astutely, in "Julius Caesar," in the exchange of a few contemptuous sidelong glances between Deeker and Long. (Touches such as these bolster the argument for seeing "Julius" first.)

But if the realm of "Julius Caesar" is the civic-minded man, "Antony and Cleopatra" turns its attentions to the less predictable rhythms of the public man's heart. Kahn steers his actors to evocative embraces of their characters' flaws and weaknesses. To wonderfully comic effect, van Griethuysen manages to embody a foolish, ineffectual aspect to third-wheel Lepidus, whose inability to broker a truce between Octavius and Antony threatens their collective rule. The fine Deeker, meanwhile, makes of Octavius the coldest sort of warrior, a supercilious prig who looks down his nose at virtually everything, including the lusty preoccupations of his ally-turning-adversary.

The trio's divergent natures are detailed in the raucously entertaining galley scene, on the ship of erstwhile thorn-in-their-side Pompey (Craig Wallace). As Lepidus collapses in a drunken stupor and Antony happily eggs on the drinking, Deeker's Octavius stands apart, sober and humorless. Though Octavius's eely side comes to feel a bit overstated, it does provide both a foundation for the irrevocable break with Antony and a compelling contrast with the more natural leader and his indulging of earthier desires.

Octavius's almost villainously superior air adds a further degree of sympathy for the on-again, off-again affair between the tempestuous Antony and Cleopatra. Though it's a tale of doomed lovers, the play is not tragic in the star-crossed sense of "Romeo and Juliet." These are two mature people (and Kahn may be making a statement by casting a pair of older actors) who throw responsibility to the wind and suffer the consequences.

Bertish and Long's early scenes together are suffused with the amorous self-regard of those who think they have found the perfect mate. Bertish's Cleopatra flounces coquettishly, but her neurotic brand of silliness may catch audiences off guard. Don't expect a temptress in the sultry, come-hither vein; she makes herself irresistible by virtue of will and authority. The actress, whose work with the Royal Shakespeare Company included a consummate trio of portrayals in the original 8 1/2 -hour "The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby," makes a powerful progression here from worldly woman, thriving on vanity and romance, to one mournfully shouldering the harsh mandates of defeat.

As her formidable partner, Long is a man of action driven to palpable distraction. If "Julius Caesar" reveals his cunning, his instinct for survival, "Antony and Cleopatra" exposes a conquerable aspect of his nature. The softer side comes through in a stirring moment Kahn devises to end the first act. With Bertish silhouetted on a platform above him, Long meltingly delivers the words that assure Antony's departure from the realm of duty: "In the East," he declares, "my pleasure lies."

Dan Kremer's sturdy Enobarbus, Kaytie Morris's swanlike Octavia and even Scott Parkinson's walk-on performance as the knee-knocking messenger all aid in the effective telling of the story. In their own ways, too, the warm tones in Martin Desjardins' score and the flattering cut of Jennifer Moeller's costumes help us to locate where the evening's other pleasures lie.

Antony and Cleopatra, by William Shakespeare. Directed by Michael Kahn. Set, James Noone; costumes, Jennifer Moeller; lighting, Mark McCullough; composer, Martin Desjardins; sound, Daniel Baker; voice and text, Gary Logan and Ellen O'Brien; fight director, Rick Sordelet. With Kurt Rhoads, Dean Nolen, Tom Hammond, Michael Sharon, Kim Martin-Cotten, Nancy Rodriguez, Peter Stray, Kevin Pierson. About 2 hours 50 minutes. At Sidney Harman Hall, 610 F St. NW. Call 202-547-1122 or visit http://www.shakespearetheatre.org.