At work in the costume shop, my boss tells me, “I need you to sew these pants.”

The true costumer knows it really means, “I need you to pin these pieces, sew at half an inch, measure the waistband three inches short of original size, make a casing for the elastic, make sure it aligns with other side, do the same for the legs, sew three button holes on each side, fit them with the buttons, and hand sew those on, too. And put a few hooks and eyes on the top.”

Putting together a garment is harder than it looks. Sewing is a complicated process that requires specific tools, a steady eye, and plenty of patience. Anyone can do it, but to be good at it, you need to speak to an expert. This is why Elaine Kauffman lives in the Light Fine Art Building (FAB) costume shop three times a week, dedicated to the integrity of uniquely local art.

Elaine, a highly renowned artist in the Kalamazoo area, distributes her time between costuming the shows in our own theatre, working with personal clients, and making feature pieces for Kalamazoo fashion shows and Art Hops. Her commitment to creating period fashion, depending on the atmosphere of the show, is displayed onstage three-fold.

Take last year’s show, Return to the Forbidden Planet, where Kauffman combined textured materials and metallic finishes to create the galactic, futuristic fashion. Her signature style relies on small details, such as the belts worn by the officers, composed of old-school Nintendo game controller belt buckles and black elastic straps. The key is to think outside the box, placing forgotten elements in unexpected places.

It turns out that Shakespeare has a signature style of his own: creating timeless pieces that can go in any direction. This year’s Balch Festival Playhouse show is The Tempest, and Kauffman chose the direction of 19^th century colonial New England. While these pieces carry a prim bone structure, Kauffman’s modern updates give them new life. She combines the conservative and unorthodox, taking small twists like mid 20^th century accessories, such as Emilia LaPenta’s mod caplet for her role as Prospera. The contemporary updates tie together on stage to create the ethereal backdrop met with stoicism.

Pilgrims with brass buttons and tie-on sleeves are dropped ashore a glistening island of amazement, mostly because of the clash of the color palette. The nymphs’ tie-dye sleepers pair with Todd Espeland’s masks and puppetry in a mischievous whirlwind, confusing the pedantic newcomers. Ariel (Grace McGookey) and Caliban (Cooper Wilson) are an exotic bird and a rainbow fish, respectively, waiting to be tamed in their gauze-covered reserve.

Costumes may be only a small part of creating a distinct world from reality, but it is a large one. Being a fashion designer requires working both the left and the right side of the brain—choosing a time period and keeping all costumes contained within it—including the type of fabric and its construction. Transferring the idea from 2D to 3D is the tricky part, requiring an understanding of conceptualizing the physical from a simple drawing on paper. Being familiar with patterns is the only way to ensure creating quality items, a skill that comes with patience and loads of practice.

Working for four hours in a row may seem like a short day in the real world, but studying and dedication to other activities causes an impossible balance between tranquility and ennui. Hand-sewing snaps, hooks and eyes, and buttons becomes a monotonous task, especially when it is the subject of concentration for several hours. Measure, pin-mark, thread needle, sew, cut string, again. And again, and once more. No talking, no distractions, unless you count listening to Creed on 103.3 fm. Torture ensues.

Yet, in the seclusion of the artificial FAB basement lighting, one discovers holistic solitude. For the dedicated designer, the amount of concentration required for a job like this eventually reaches enlightenment only known by that of Henry David Thoreau. Torture, meet transcendentalism.

Creating a show like The Tempest is seeing the panel of fabric and creating that brave new world—dyes, thread, buttons and all. If your idea of the ideal workspace is speaking less than ten words in an hour while NPR drones in the background, this job is for you. But it also means working your fingers like a prepubescent Malaysian and keeping the blasphemy to a minimum when you screw up. Either way, here’s some advice from one costumer to another: Epsom salts and warm water are your best friend.

What is interesting about this year’s iteration of The Tempest is that female characters of power have replaced male characters of power.  Prospero is now Prospera, the marooned rightful Dutchess of Milan. Antonio is now Antonia, the bitch sister who stole the throne.  Gonzalo is now Gonzalia, one of the court. Ariel, the sprite who carries out the magical wishes of Prospera, is, too, revealed to be a woman.  Penis has been replaced with vagina, scrotum with ovary, chest with bosom.  Vasa deferentia will not be needed.

The gender swapping of characters is the key to the performance, according to Dramaturg Laura Fox’s program liner notes.  This invites a feminist reading of the play, placing a particular emphasis on the performance’s depiction of the relationship between gender and power.  The play is presented as a direct rejection of the patriarchal notions present in productions of the play applying the original script.  Women playing originally male roles, however, is nothing new at Festival Playhouse.  The company’s presentation of Hamlet two seasons ago featured an all-female cast.  Yet while in that production, women played to stereotypical notions of men, lowering their voices and drawing their swords on crusades to avenge slain fathers, in The Tempest, the women of power are portrayed out of the shadow of perceived notions of masculinity.

Emilia LaPenta’s Prospera is the starkest example of this rejection of traditional masculine-sourced power on stage.  While the scripted lines remain unchanged from those of Prospero, Fox writes that “Miranda’s one parent is no longer a tyrant father, but a matriarch who wields her power over everything and everyone on the island, including Caliban.” How does one wield power “over everything and everyone, including Caliban” without being a tyrant?  By being really passive-aggressive and relatively nice about it.  While she may not shriek or bellow as a tyrant may suggest, Prospera still partakes in all the tyranny of Prospero, fucking with everybody on a whim, exercising control over her daughter Miranda’s (the wonderfully deranged Arkham-worthy Kelly Campbell) prospective love life, and making Caliban feel as small and pathetic as a partially-human being can feel.

Prospera maintains the entirety Prospero’s masculine power, but adds a touch of hostess charm and femininity without ever compromising the Dutchess’s political virility.  This suggests the application of a new lens through which to claim notions of power and control.  Her character is the very opposite of Michael Chodos’ wonderfully power-mad Prospero in last year’s Return to the Forbidden Planet.  While Chodos is nearly six feet tall and appears much larger than in life on the stage, Lapenta is not physically imposing by any means, dwarfed, in fact, by her giant phallus of a staff.  While Forbidden Planet‘s over the top Prospero was costumed in flowing black and gold robes inciting notions of radioactive metal, Prospera is dressed in pink, and wears an Amish-looking bonnet that covers her head.  Furthermore, LaPenta’s delivery is in contrast to Chodos channelling his sonority through his imposing stage presence in order to coerce his minions.  While stern and calculated, Prospera foregoes the overbearing volume and projection one might assume would accompany an all-powerful ruler hell bent on returning to their rightful throne.

LaPenta stands not only as a rejection of Chodos’ tirading patriarchal sorcerer, but also to Michelle Myer’s taciturn, darkly clad dominatrix of a Queen Gertrude in the aforementioned all-women production of Hamlet.  Simply stated, traditional assumptions and projections of power have been left out of The Tempest, intentionally so, and with great affect.

As for the other half, the men of the island are all hopeless fools–and thankfully so.  The prolonged boredom of writer William Shakespeare’s long-winded scene-setting dialogue is not aided in its tediousness by Director Karen’s Berthel’s decision to block Prospera and Miranda upstage, at almost the farthest point from the audience.  They never really move throughout the entirety of their lengthy initial scene, and at times it is difficult to hear them.

Theater is added to the play as in stumbles Stephano, (a convincingly drunk Chodos) and Trinculo, a Fool, played with fantastic jest by the slick and quick-witted Sam Bertken. Trinculo unwittingly couples with a recumbent Caliban, who, upon being discovered and given wine by Stephano, worships the drunk as a god.  The three stumble about their newfound kingdom of an island, and they and their source of power are ultimately and understandably mocked by the rest of the cast.

The only male character with any real claim to power is Alonso, King of Naples, and he is mainly a sap.  Played by Stephano Cagnato, who was absolutely brilliant in this Winter’s Tragedy: A Tragedy, Alonso delivers his lines like giving a satirical news report, and is about as imposing of a ruler in his Thanksgiving dress up like a pilgrim hat as wet cardboard.

Other male characters include Calder Burgam’s Sebastian, who steals all scenes with confidence and acting chops, but who wets his hubris at the tricks of Grace McGookey’s bothersome Ariel, the Airy Spirit.  Rounding out the men is the Dwight Trice’s effeminate Ferdinand.  Trice, however, is far too caught up in preserving some unwanted vestige of presumed masculinity to notice that he’s just a little kid all wrapped up in puppy love.

All in all for a night of Theatre, The Tempest is a lot of bang for your buck. It effectively presents the opportunity to redefine what it means to have power, and what it means for power to be in relationship with gender.  Another impressively intricate display by Festival Playhouse, Shakespeare’s classic work will wow you into a world of mystery and ambition.

*                          *                          *

The Tempest continues as part of the Festival Playhouse at Kalamazoo College, Friday and Saturday, May 21 and 22, at 8:00 pm at the Nelda K. Balch Playhouse and on Sunday May 23 at 2:00 pm.  Tickets, $5.00 for students.

Editor’s Note:

The Kosmopolitan Online would like to formally apologize to master builder and Production Design chief Jon Reeves for spelling his name on what might be upwards of seven instances with an “h”. “He might not even be a Jonathan,” we are told.  In a token of repentance, the extraordinary Mr. Reeves will receive a commemorative replica of the one millionth dollar bill donated to the Kosmopolitan Online Charity Foundation.

A ten-minute play

CAST:

Sebastian Riverson, A 24 year old graduate student

Bill Harold, A 66 year old Episcopalian minister

Sheila, about 19 years old, a waitress

TIME: Summer of 2009

PLACE:  Madison, Wisconsin.

( At curtain, there is a small outdoor café with three or four tables positioned on a concrete floor.  SEBASTIAN sits at a table close to the house reading a number of papers spread out chaotically over the table.  More jut from his adjacent book bag.  After a few moments of this, BILL enters from stage left and stands in front of SEBASTIAN.  SEBASTIAN does not notice BILL at first.  BILL is not dressed in clergyman’s clothes, but in a flannel shirt, khaki pants, glasses and brown shoes.  SEBASTIAN wears a rumpled suit coat and jeans over wingtips)

BILL:

Ahem.

(SEBASTIAN looks up)

SEBASTIAN:

Oh, hi Bill.  I didn’t see you there.  Sit down.

BILL:

Thank you, Seb.

(BILL sits across from SEBASTIAN and untucks a cigar box from under his arm.  BILL and SEBASTIAN start setting up a chessboard)

SEBASTIAN:

How did the service go today?

BILL:

Good, good.  We spoke about Saint Francis.  Thought it would be relevant, considering your upcoming debate.

SEBASTIAN:

(Vaguely) Uh-huh.

BILL:

Who, of course, urged forgiveness and acceptance even to those who have done terrible things.

SEBASTIAN:

(setting up the pieces) Yeah.

BILL:

And who claimed that people who run for office in the state of Wisconsin should be nailed to a wall and beaten with their own badly-written speeches.

SEBASTIAN:

(Finishes the setup of the pieces) Yeah.

SEBASTIAN:

(Beat) Wait, what?

BILL:

(smugly) You’re sure you’ve got the wits to run for office?

SEBASTIAN:

Fuck, Bill.  I’ve had a long day, and that’s not funny.

BILL:

Uh-huh.  You wouldn’t know if I was lying to you about St. Francis on the best day of your life.  You’re not really much of a hagiographer.  And watch your language.

SEBASTIAN:

And you’re not much of a chess player, but here we are.  And watch your ego.

(BILL sticks his tongue out at SEBASTIAN. The board is now set up.  SEBASTIAN is playing white, and BILL is playing black.  The two begin playing as they talk.  SEBASTIAN digs out a small chess clock from his book bag.  There is a pause as they make their first moves)

BILL:

(Slyly) Is that waitress still here?  The one that you like?

SEBASTIAN

Yes.  And no.

BILL:

What?

SEBASTIAN:

Yes, she still works here, no I’m not interested in Sheila.

BILL:

(slyly) Oh, no, of course not.  You have no interest in the waitress whose name you are so familiar with.

SEBASTIAN:

(sheepishly) She wears a name tag.

BILL:

(chuckles as he makes his next move) You young people and the games you insist on playing.  I don’t know why you can’t just be… (makes an obvious long move across the board) Direct.

SEBASTIAN:

(curses softly at the move) Crafty old man…  And anyway, she’s cute and everything but now’s not the time to look for a relationship.  The campaign is taking up all my time, and I only split up with–

BILL:

You split up with Sara six months ago, Seb.

SEBASTIAN:

(makes his next move carefully, cautiously, holding the piece above the board.  He speaks softly) Bess died two years ago, Bill, and you still wear a wedding ring.

(Bill sits up a little straighter.  He doesn’t allow concern to move across his face, but he slowly moves the hand with the ring on it into his pocket.  The two play in silence for a few moments, but are soon interrupted by the arrival of SHEILA.  She is wearing a turtleneck and jeans with a waitress’s apron over the front.  A large button reading “De Soto” is pinned to the front)

SHEILA:

Hello Pastor, Hi Seb.  What will it be today?

BILL:

Hi.  I’ll have lemonade, please.

SEBASTIAN:

(pointedly does not look up at her) Coffee, please.  Thanks.

(Sheila walks off with their orders and the two play on.)

BILL:

Is that why you don’t want to talk to her?  The De Soto button?

SEBASTIAN:

She can support whoever she wants.

SEBASTIAN:

(mocking) Even if who she supports happens to be a reactionary and a psychopath, who would sooner see the lower-third income bracket fall into abject poverty than question the apparently carpal-tunnel infested Invisible hand of the market.  Oh no, who am I to judge?

BILL:

Okay, I kind of thought so.  But there’s no need to be touchy.

SEBASTIAN:

Touchy?  Bill, the man has called me everything short of a traitor and smirks about it!  Just because I’m not running as a fucking Democrat or a motherfucking Republican he thinks I’m just there to be mocked, to be made fun of!

BILL:

(soothingly, the game temporarily forgotten) You don’t need to defend yourself to me, Seb.  I don’t think you’re a traitor or a revolutionary or whatever.  And can we take it easy on the blasphemies, just once, for me?

SEBASTIAN:

Right.  Sorry, Bill.

(They resume playing.  Quietly, Sheila comes back with the drinks and they nod to her, or to each other.  They each make a few moves, and look up at each other once in a while, as if wanting to talk. SEBASTIAN reaches for his pocket, suddenly, and pulls out a cell phone.  He looks at it for a moment, and then stands up.  He makes a move.)

SEBASTIAN:

Uh, I’ll be right back, Bill.  I have to take this call.  You go ahead and make your move.

BILL:

Sure thing, Seb.  I’ll be here.

(SEBASTIAN exits stage left, talking on his phone. Bill doesn’t make a move, but sits and contemplates the board for a while.  After a moment, SHEILA walks in carrying a coffee pitcher.)

SHEILA:

More coffee, Sebastian?  I thought that because of the debate that you might be—oh!

BILL:

He just went to answer a phone call, miss.  If you want, you can wait here with me until he gets back.

SHEILA:

Well, I don’t know.  I should get back to the other tables soon.

BILL:

Really?  It doesn’t seem very crowded today.

(In fact, the restaurant is deserted except for the two of them.  SHEILA shrugs her shoulders, sits down in the chair opposite BILL, and examines the chessboard.)

SHEILA:

You two almost always bring this chessboard with you, huh?

BILL:

Yeah, it’s kind of nice to have it there as a distraction, otherwise Seb and I and up killing each other over politics and religion. Laughs

SHEILA:

Laughs back. Ha-ha, yeah.  Sebastian certainly is focused on his campaign, even to the point of ignoring the people he cares—

(Long pause, and BILL looks uncomfortable.  Awkwardly, SHEILA attempts to recover her misplaced line about SEBASTIAN)

SHEILA:

I mean, even the people that he’s known for a long time.

BILL:

Yes, I know what you mean.

(Pause as the two sit on opposite sides of the chessboard.  SHEILA pours herself a cup of coffee while BILL fiddles with a queen.  BILL opens his mouth several times as if to speak, but doesn’t.  Finally, he shifts in his chair and turns directly to SHEILA)

BILL:

So, um, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but, well, I was wondering.  You seem to get along so well with Sebastian and he with you, so I just wanted to know why you don’t support him for office?

SHEILA:

Oh. (Pause) Well. (Pause) I guess I don’t have a reason, exactly.

BILL:

(Gently) Sheila, I’m not a member of Sebastian’s campaign.  I’m not an interrogator.  I’m a pastor, and you don’t have to be afraid of talking to me.

SHEILA:

(A little defensive) Well, it isn’t that I don’t like Sebastian, I do!  And it isn’t that I think he’s all wrong about what to do in Madison, because he isn’t!  I just… I… I don’t know.

BILL:

(After a pause) I know how hard it is to think about the faults of the people that you care about.

SHEILA:

Well, it’s like, have you ever met a really, really happy couple?  You know, the “hold doors open for each other and split the bill and make pet names for each other” sort of couple?

BILL:

(amused) Well, I can’t say I do, but I suppose I get the idea.

SHEILA:

Right, right.  Anyway.  You always kind of feel bitter towards them because, you know, you’re not part of their happy little world.  And that’s how I think Sebastian feels.  He can’t understand what it means to believe in something that isn’t politics, so he feels angry towards the people who do.  Like he can’t have his beliefs and someone else’s.  Like he has to choose.  (Pause).  Am I making sense?

BILL:

(Quite softly, and a little shakily) Yes.  Yes, I suppose so.

(The two sit for a while longer, and then SHEILA looks up suddenly and grabs her coffee and pot.  She smiles at BILL and walks away off stage right.  Sebastian soon enters from stage left and sits back down.)

SEBASTIAN:

What’d I miss?

BILL:

(As if awaking from a reverie) Hm?  Oh no.  No.  I haven’t made a move yet, that’s all.

SEBASTIAN:

(smirks) I give you all the time in the world, and you still can’t decide.  I’ll have you for sure this time, old man.

(The two play on for a little while longer, in silence, which quickly grows oppressive.  BILL looks up first).

BILL:

Is there something else the matter, Seb?

SEBASTIAN:

(After a pause, but the words come steadily) Yeah, there is. Every other speaker, politico or clergyman in this town has picked either me or De Soto to back in this election.  You’ve been the one that’s stayed quiet. Why is that?

(Bill remains silent.  It’s his turn but he doesn’t move).

BILL:

Well…  (pauses)

SEBASTIAN:

Well, what?  You owe me an answer!

BILL:

(nettled) Well, come on Seb!  You called politicians of faith “betrayers of our heritage”.  You said Tom Paine and James Madison, of all people, would be ashamed of us!  Those are strong words, Seb. (makes a move)

SEBASTIAN:

(reacts immediately to Bill’s move) Yeah, okay, I have tough rhetoric.  Sue me.  I have to make myself noticed.

BILL:

(getting a little more upset, counters the move from Seb) Noticed?  Seb, you can’t just dismiss the beliefs of thousands of citizens as irrelevant!

SEBASTIAN:

(getting worked up himself, now, he moves again) Can’t I?  People need to wake up to the harsh realities that are killing this city!  People need to think objectively about their problems, and what I’m telling them is that I can help them fix those problems!

BILL:

(quietly, but angrily) What you’re telling them is that there is no reason for their suffering.

SEBASTIAN:

When did this become about suffering?  Or meaning for that matter?

BILL:

You are the one that talks about oppression all the time, comrade.

SEBASTIAN:

Don’t make fun of me.  Hell’s bells, Bill, you know how much I’ve staked on this election!  You know what a disaster this city’s become!

BILL:

(after a pause) Yes.  I know.

SEBASTIAN:

Then how can you stay so damn quiet? How can you let me lose?

(Bill doesn’t have an answer.  They make a few more moves in silence.  Slowly, SEBASTIAN’S head sinks to the level of the pieces and he shakes it.)

SEBASTIAN:

Damn it to Hell, Bill, I’m gonna lose.

BILL:

(softly) You don’t know that for certain.

SEBASTIAN:

Bullshit.  Who do I have supporting me, huh?  A pack of radical students and a few professors that were too stoned to get sent to ‘Nam?  The local food co-op?  Campaigns don’t run on organic radishes for Christ’s sake.

BILL:

Seb, calm down.  And I told you to watch your mouth.  There could be children in this restaurant.

SEBASTIAN:

Oh God damn it Bill, stop trying to bully me with your piety.  My damn thesis is on the resurgence of socialism in America, not the inevitable defeat of the Godless commies by the good, Christian scions of the free market.  If I lose, what am I supposed to do?  What can I say?

(Bill doesn’t respond)

SEBASTIAN:

(pauses and makes a move) Bill, why won’t you endorse me?  You’re one of the U’s favorite lecturers, and if you had to pick someone in town that was a “pillar of society” you’d be a good choice.

(Bill doesn’t respond)

SEBASTIAN:

People are asking me questions.  “Why can’t you even get Pastor Harold to help you?  How can it be that even he won’t support you?”

(Bill remains silent, and unmoving.  He hasn’t taken his hand out of his pocket.)

SEBASTIAN:

God damn you, Bill Harold, say something!  Stop punishing me!

BILL:

I can’t do it!

SEBASTIAN:

(long pause) Why?

BILL:

Because…  (he makes a slow, careful move) Because if you beat DeSoto, it’s an admission that all of the problems here, all the drugs and the deaths and the misery, it’s all just people torturing people.  There’s no reason or purpose to any of it.

SEBASTIAN:

(awkwardly) Bill, it is just people hurting people.

BILL:

(defiantly) No.  I don’t believe that.  I can’t believe that.  And neither will your voters, Sebastian.  They need to believe that there is a meaning behind the madness.

(Long pause as Seb holds a knight over the board)

BILL:

I need to believe that.

SEBASTIAN:

(with force) I didn’t kill Mom, Bill.  And neither did you.  It was a fucking road accident.  You don’t need to go looking for reason and justice in this.  You don’t need to sacrifice me to your religion.

(He sets down the knight)

BILL:

(dryly) You could of taken my queen just there.

SEBASTIAN:

Yeah, I know.

BILL:

(Pause) Why didn’t you?

SEBASTIAN:

Why didn’t you hit me earlier?  You know my defense is awful, you could have rolled over me with a blitzkrieg fifteen turns ago.

BILL:

Well, I didn’t because– (pauses for some time)

SEBASTIAN:

Because?

BILL:

(softly) Because it’s more important to make your friends happy than to teach them a lesson.  More important to help them than to punish them, even if you think they’re wrong.

SEBASTIAN:

Oh.

(Pause as the two make a move each)

SEBASTIAN:

I’m not your enemy, Bill.

BILL:

I know.

SEBASTIAN:

I’m not God’s enemy, either, Bill.

BILL:

I know that too, Seb.

(Long pause as the two stare at the board)

BILL:

Do you think the Badger Herald will let a non-student publish?  I mean, it is a UW newspaper and I graduated a long time ago.  But it seems a fitting place to write an editorial.

SEBASTIAN:

Yeah, I think they’ll be okay with it.

BILL:

Good.  That’s good.  I’ll call their office tonight.

(SEBASTIAN looks at his cell phone)

SEBASTIAN:

I gotta go, Bill.  I have to meet a volunteer for the pamphlet drives, or something.

BILL:

That’s okay, Seb.  It was nice to see you.

(BILL makes a final move and smirks at SEBASTIAN)

BILL:

It was nice beating you, too.

SEBASTIAN:

(grumbling good-naturedly) Yeah, well, you won’t be so lucky next time.  Lucky old man, that’s all you are.

BILL:

And you’re just a foul mouthed little punk.SEBASTIAN:

Fogy.

BILL:

Whippersnapper.

(They smile at each other.  SEBASTIAN puts some money on the table as BILL gathers up the pieces.  SEBASTIAN takes his papers and his chess clock)

SEBASTIAN:

Bye, Dad.

BILL:

Take care, Sport.

(SEBASTIAN exits stage right.  BILL sits sipping his drink for a while, and SHEILA passes by.)

SHEILA:

Can I help you with anything else, pastor?

BILL:

Hm?  Oh, no thank you, miss—Sheila.

(SHEILA starts to walk away, but BILL suddenly sits up and calls her back)

BILL:

Actually, Sheila, there is one thing.  Next time that my son comes in here, would you talk to him?  He likes you but he’s a little shy.

SHEILA:

You mean Sebastian?  He likes me?

BILL:

Yes, he’s the one.  Just a nice word or two would really lift his spirits.  He’s been a little blue lately, and I worry about him.

(SHEILA smiles and nods to BILL and then bustles off.  BILL finishes his drink but doesn’t leave the restaurant.  After a moment, he takes his hand out of his pocket and slips the wedding ring off his finger.  He looks at it for a second, then sets it down, and spins it on the chessboard.)

(Lights down).

END OF PLAY