The Public Theater’s new “Richard III” — Shakespeare’s most violent tragedy — has been streamlined to the max. Edited down to 90 minutes, it has no set and few props.
But director Amanda Dehnert wasn’t after some experimental high concept: Her company had to travel light. Before opening this weekend at the Public, the show toured homeless shelters, senior-citizen centers, military bases, even Rikers Island — 18 venues in three weeks, not one of them a traditional theater.
In this case, necessity truly is the mother of invention, and this lean-and-mean Mobile Shakespeare Unit production more than holds its own against more grandiose stagings. At only $15 a ticket, it’s the summer’s best bargain.
It’s also a pleasure to see Ron Cephas Jones, in the title role, get the star turn he so richly deserves.
Last seen in John Patrick Shanley’s “Storefront Church,” Jones is a veteran of BAM’s Bridge Project, the Labyrinth Company and Broadway, where he was Chris Rock’s understudy in “The Motherf**ker With the Hat.”
Here he plays the crippled, murderous ruler with an unsettling calm — the exact opposite of Kevin Spacey’s overwrought, Daffy Duck performance last winter.
This Richard is a cunning plotter with the steadfast focus of a zealot. Jones is tall and thin, bordering on gaunt, with a skull-like shaved head and a stare that has the intensity of a mad monk’s. He also has the necessary gravitas to fully hit us with the famous “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for horse!” battle cry.
Yet when Richard turns on the fake repentance or the snaky charm, you understand how such a psycho could bamboozle his victims.
The whole of the cast isn’t always so versatile. The eight remaining actors play 18 characters, and it’s sometimes tricky to figure out who’s who.
On the other hand, Dehnert came up with a great way to help us: A family tree has been drawn on a large white sheet, and the names of the dead get crossed out in blood-red ink.
It’s a simple but clever device, and neatly summarizes the scope of Richard III’s homicidal streak.
Adding to the general sense of urgency, the house lights stay on the entire time, while the audience surrounds the small space on which the action takes place. When not in a scene, the actors, who are in stylized modern dress, sit next to us, waiting for their turn, watching. This speedy show has no time for lengthy entrances and exits — everything happens snap-snap-snap fast.
The tightened focus and lack of extraneous details force us to pay close attention. Meanwhile, it’s up to the actors and the play itself to carry the audience, as if by a strong current.
This back-to-basic thing? It really works.