“The Winter’s Tale” is widely classified as one of Shakespeare’s “problem plays.” It’s classified as such because it can’t be neatly labeled into the categories in which The Bard’s tales are typically sorted. The first three acts feature a dark, psychological tragedy, but the final two acts are comedic and magical.
This sudden change in tone can, understandably, pose a challenge for theater companies. In their production of “The Winter’s Tale,” Great Lakes Theater proves up for the challenge.
The story begins when King Leontes of Sicily begins to suspect his best friend, Polixenes, King of Bohemia, is having an affair with his wife. The wife in question, Hermione, is already mother to Leontes’s son, Mamillius, and is heavily pregnant with the king’s daughter. Sure that he is being cuckolded, Leontes orders that his servant assasinate Polixenes, that his wife hang for her supposed infidelity and that his newborn daughter, Perdita, be abandoned in a desolate place in an act of infanticide.
This has all the trappings of a tragic tale. Hermione is a much-beloved queen, which is easy to believe thanks to actress Gina Daniels’s graceful portrayal. The young prince Mamillius is an adorable Dylan Lee Tanks (opening night performer), whose actual youth infuses true sadness into the boy’s fate. Even Polixenes is played by a very likeable Derek Garza. As these three suffer from the king’s accusations, others argue for their innocence. The most outspoken is noblewoman Paulina, played by a stern and wise Laura Perrotta, Lord Antigonus, a cautious Ian Gould and Camillo, an honest and grounded Matthew Wright.
Yet, their pleading falls on deaf ears. It should be easy to hate Leontes for his actions, but not so with Nick Steen’s portrayal. As Leontes, Steen is vulnerable and broken. In his hands, Leontes’s sudden and unfounded suspicions do not exclusively feel like the acts of a tyrannical, jealous king, but of a man experiencing a mental crisis. The fissures in Leontes’s mind are displayed with great mastery by the cracks in Steen’s voice and expressions, making him sympathetic–and therefore, more worthy of forgiveness.
After intermission, 16 years have passed. We enter Bohemia to learn that the abandoned baby princess, Perdita, has grown up in the care of an old shepherd and his son. She’s also fallen in love with Bohemia’s prince, Florizel, who is determined to marry her even though she is seemingly a peasant. What follows is a return trip to Sicily, a reunion, redemption and a bit of magic.
All of the aforementioned actors double as Bohemians, including Gould as a rickety Old Shepard. A radiant and warm Janiyah “Jai” McAllister embodies Perdita, while her love interest, Florizel, is played by a starry-eyed Ethan Flanagan. In Shakespearean fashion, there is comedic relief in the form of a Clown, portrayed with bro-ish ridiculousness by Jodi Dominick, as well as in the hijinks of Autolycus, a sly, singing vagabond played by Sean Patrick Doyle.
Tonally, the story shifts from broody and somber to playful and light-hearted with little warning. And director Tracy Young does not attempt to soften the transition between the pre- and post-intermission acts; instead, she leans in. The two halves of the show are treated like two sides–albeit very different sides–of the same coin. Sixteen years have passed in which kings have mourned, children have grown and joy has proved possible with the evolution of time.
Alex Jaeger’s costume design is as contrasting as the tones. The Sicilians are adorned in gorgeous brocaded gowns and coats in lush fabrics. The Bohemian peasantry wear fuzzy Crocs, hairy boots, sheep hats, tinted Windsor glasses and even a Gumby T-shirt with suspenders and pantaloons. Many are cleverly constructed so that they can be discarded by one character just to be donned in a different way by another. The clothes are both visually interesting and weird, but when coupled with the Bohemians’ bawdy behavior, it sometimes feels as if we’re really punching down on the peasants.
The set by William Boles is a simplistic semi-circle made of wooden planks with embedded lights (reminiscent to me of designs used in Great Lakes Theater’s last couple of Shakespeare productions). Most interesting is the way the creatives utilize an imposing, iron chandelier. Lit by Rick Martin, it pulses during Leontes’s ramblings, revolves like a clock during the passage of time and shines like a bright sun over the fields of Bohemia. All the while, designer Jane Shaw provides ambient sounds to back the action.
It’s important to note that the script performed is a modern verse translation penned by the director in partnership with Play On Shakespeare. The verse is certainly less straining on the mind, and in my opinion, still thoroughly enjoyable. Although I found the addition of songs like “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” to toe the line of cheesy, some audience members will delight in the tunes.
“The Winter’s Tale” is a “problem play” because it’s hard to define. It does not fit neatly into a box, but neither do the feelings of jealousy, repentance and forgiveness that are explored within the play. In an age where so much is cast as black and white, where we are so quick to divide and define ourselves and our errors, a tale of tragedy turned happy and hopeful is most welcome.
“The Winter’s Tale” runs through Oct. 11, 2026, at the Hanna Theatre, 2067 E 14th St, Cleveland. Visit www.greatlakestheater.org or call (216) 241-6000 for tickets, $17-103.
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