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    ‘Arden of Faversham’ Review: An Elizabethan Noir Lost in the Fog

    Red Bull Theater’s attempt to update this 1592 true-crime story falls flat.“Arden of Faversham,” a 1592 play that some speculate was written by Shakespeare, is an early example of a true-crime narrative, tracing the real murder of Thomas Arden by his wife and her lover. This production by Red Bull Theater aims for a contemporary parallel, but its staging, noirish and to the point, fumbles the original’s balladry and lands cold instead of coldblooded.The story, adapted by Jeffrey Hatcher and Kathryn Walat, has numerous gears, and they all seem to be turning in different directions. Shortly after being granted a lordly wealth of land, Arden (Thomas Jay Ryan) travels to London while bemoaning the fact that everyone knows his wife, Alice (Cara Ricketts), is cheating with the lowly tailor Mosby (Tony Roach). What’s less known, though not by much, is her plan to kill Arden, for which she separately recruits his servant, Michael (Zachary Fine, a comically anxious live-wire), and Clarke (Joshua David Robinson), a painter who knows of poison oils.For fun, Alice pits Michael and Clarke against each other; whoever kills Arden first will get to marry Susan (Emma Geer), her maid and Mosby’s sister. For overkill, Alice brings onboard the Widow Greene (a Medusa-eyed Veronica Falcón) who, smarting after the recent loss of her land (to Arden) and husband (to death), hires two bumbling henchmen to go after her new landlord as well.The plan humorously goes awry. And this production, staged by Jesse Berger at the Lucille Lortel Theater in Manhattan, doesn’t fare much better in its efforts to juggle Renaissance tragedy and crime noir, à la a Coen brothers-esque farce with feminist angles.Some of the thematic retooling pays off, like the flipping of Widow Greene’s gender (from the play’s original male Farmer), creating a kindred desire between Widow Greene and Alice to survive in a male-dominated world. Reza Behjat’s lighting nicely evokes Old Hollywood crime.Other updates, mainly playing up Alice’s agency and self-awareness, come with a price: We lose a caricature and gain a realistic portrayal, but cede the foundation upon which the initial narrative is built. In her portrayal of Alice, Rickett’s lust is palpable, but Alice and Mosby do not have a likable, or even pervertedly alluring, relationship, so their supposed crime of passion seems anything but that.There’s not only discordance in Greg Pliska’s music, which flips from jazz to period music, but also in Mika Eubanks’s costumes: a thematic free-for-all that, in one scene, throws Arden’s pinstripe suit into battle with his wife’s heavily corseted get-up. With its high wooden beams, Christopher and Justin Swader’s appealing single set recalls both a Western hunting lodge and an Elizabethan thrust stage.But in a story with as high a potential for farce, this “Arden” misses most opportunities to capitalize on its built-in momentum. Alice’s fits of rage, as she grows impatient with each failed murder attempt, should be funny for the audience. Yet Berger’s direction has little sense of comedic positioning or calibration. Alice’s outbursts, like the production, leave us feeling mostly indifferent.Arden of FavershamThrough April 1 at the Lucille Lortel Theater, Manhattan; redbulltheater.com. Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes. More

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    Review: ‘The Alchemist,’ a Play in Search of Comedy Gold

    Red Bull Theater brings on the cons and their marks in this adaptation of the 17th-century Ben Jonson work.Let’s face it: Some people don’t just ask to be conned, they practically beg for it. Their greed, be it for money, sex or power, makes them vulnerable to the most extraordinary fabrications: the more outlandish the promises, the harder they fall for them. Conveniently, their hubris and self-confidence shelter them from the fact that they are gullible idiots.Such perfect marks are matched with perfect swindlers — shrewd, resourceful, prone to fart jokes — in the Ben Jonson comedy “The Alchemist,” now being revived by the Red Bull company. Naturally, shenanigans and slapstick ensue, spiced with an abundance of saucy double, and sometimes single entendres.For the occasion, Red Bull has reunited the team behind its 2017 hit adaptation of Nikolai Gogol’s “The Government Inspector”: the playwright Jeffrey Hatcher, who translated Jonson’s dense Jacobean text into a vernacular that is easier on 21st-century New York ears, and the director Jesse Berger, who seems to have never met a door that could not be slammed in a hurry. The pairing is felicitous, though the result is not as consistently funny as their earlier show, especially in the slack second act. Admittedly, very little is.After his master leaves plague-infested London for his home in the country, “for he could well afford to,” the butler, Face (Manoel Felciano), and his accomplices Subtle (Reg Rogers) and Dol Common (Jennifer Sánchez) use the now-empty city house to entertain a series of visitors ripe for the fleecing.There is, for example, Dapper, who wants a good-luck charm to improve his gambling odds and is made to believe a simple flea, conveniently near-invisible, will do the trick. The expert comic actor Carson Elrod fleshes out Dapper with a veritable arsenal of mimicry and affectations that make his every appearance a delight.Other targets are more satirically pointed, like the pious Ananias (Stephen DeRosa), who is from “a Protestant sect banished to Holland for the crime of being perfect,” or the excellently named Sir Epicure Mammon (Jacob Ming-Trent, in fine form), who covets the philosopher’s stone that could turn any metal into gold — Jonson’s approach is here very similar to that of Molière.From left, Jacob Ming-Trent and Manoel Felciano in “The Alchemist.”Carol RoseggSir Mammon’s appetites are boundless, and he is bewitched by the suggestion that a single mystery word can trigger the comely Dol into a carnal frenzy. “He that makes the stone must be virtuous, he that buys it, not really,” he says. “Tis the genius of Capitalism.”Hatcher dispenses such anachronisms judiciously — a joke referring to the James Bond universe is milked for all it’s worth, especially visually — but mostly he avoids the trap of over-relying on them for easy laughs. (The modern model of a classic play being jolted into the present remains David Ives’s “The School for Lies,” a dizzying rewriting of Molière’s “The Misanthrope.”)The dialogue often zings, and Berger orchestrates the farcical comings and goings on Alexis Distler’s bi-level set at the requisite madcap pace — at the performance I attended, the excellent Rogers (who played the director of the musical-within-the-musical in “Tootsie”) ad-libbed a line about all the stairs he had to climb.But the show is better at setting up the plot than at resolving it when we return from intermission — it is, after all, easier to throw a bunch of pins up in the air than it is to juggle them.Luckily, the cast members continue to exert themselves relentlessly in the service of laughter, from mere exaggerated inflections to all-out clowning. If acting is a form of conning, theatergoers, too, are willing victims.The AlchemistThrough Dec. 19 at the Red Bull Theater, Manhattan; redbulltheater.com. Running time: 2 hours. More