Getting Drenched with Ophelia in Bryant Park

Many have heard of New York City's Shakespeare in the Park, free Central Park performances of various Shakespearean plays that run through the summer in our fair city. It's tough to get tickets for the limited seats, though (one can get in line at the crack of dawn to collect them in person or enter a virtual lottery online each day), and I have never been so lucky. There is an alternative which, though less picturesque perhaps, is no less appealing: Shakespeare in the Parking Lot. I saw this wonderful company perform Julius Cesar a few summers ago in (you guessed it) an parking lot* and they were great. Eager to see them again, I arranged to meet my friend Lia for dinner and a performance of Hamlet last Friday. This time, the stage would be set in Bryant Park.

Before the play began. Look carefully to spot Lia's smiling face on the left!

Lia and I brought dinner to the park since the weather was so nice. After eating by the fountain, we meandered toward the makeshift stage and found seats. Lia pointed out, sensibly, that it would be a good idea to use a bathroom before the 2.5-hour play began, and I groaned inwardly even as I agreed; time spent in park bathrooms in New York is time best forgotten. I googled "Bryant Park bathroom" in hopes of finding a map and was alarmed to find an article called "Bryant Park Bathroom in the News" among the search results. To my utter shock and delight, however, the article did not contain information about the number of used needles, rats, or bodies found in the bathroom in a recent investigation. Instead, it seems the bathroom was named the best public bathroom in 2011 by some online travel forum. Lia and I discovered that the bathroom was indeed something special. The line was longer than we'd have liked, of course, but inside we found an elaborate, fragrant flower arrangement on a ornamental stone pedastel, beautiful mosaic tilework, and real marble counter-tops. A fastidious park employee kept the line moving, the floors mopped, and the counters spotless. Will wonders never cease.

We got back in our seats just in time for the first lines of the play, a modern interpretation that portrayed Gertrude as an alcoholic, Ophelia as a hopelessly depressed cast-off, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as dopey frat boys. The acting was fantastic and I was so engrossed that I hardly noticed the coal-black clouds gathering overhead until the first raindrop hit my nose. Lia, ever prepared, whipped a small umbrella from her purse and we crowded together under it. To the west I could see bright sunshine over the Hudson River, but the sky above us couldn't have been more ominous. The actors admirably pushed through the end of the scene and then the director took the stage. "We think this is going to pass," he yelled, "so we're going to give it five minutes." The storm did pass, but not before soaking everything and everyone with the kind of intensity you get only from short-lived summer cloudbursts. Lia and I stayed seated (a move that kept our seats dry) but most of the people around us made a run for it to huddle under nearby trees or overhangs. Those who stayed in their chairs pulled out umbrellas or tried to find shelter under playbills, newspapers, or blankets. 

The play began again as the rain tapered off. It showered once or twice more before the final scene but not with the same vigor as it had the first time. The actors gamely pressed on despite the damp, sudden chill, and body mic outages. None reacted to the rain overtly, though Ophelia, without breaking character, busily wiped off a bench before sitting on it once, and Claudius gesticulated wildly with an umbrella he was using as a walking stick, which he then opened nonchalantly as the rain began again and used to shield himself and Gertrude.

A Shakespearean tragedy can be a rough way to launch a Friday night out in New York, so I was relieved that the company arranged for one of the actresses to end the play with a beautiful, soulful song whose words I can't remember. The tone was both wistful and hopeful, and Lia and I left the park in an upbeat mood. It sprinkled on us once more as we headed to Starbucks for hot drinks before going our separate ways. 

We were lucky to catch Hamlet, which ran for several weeks but closed the night after we saw it. Next on Shakespeare in the Parking Lot's agenda is Twelfth Night, then Othello in August. I hope to catch both, back in the usual parking lot instead of the park, alas. It's not that I will long for the pretty scenery; the performances are so good I won't notice where I'm sitting. But I will miss that bathroom. 

*The company's website explains that parking lots are perfect spaces for public performances because they're easily accessible plots of open space in a very crowded city. Benches were set up around the stage area for Julius Cesar and those who did not fit either stood or sat on the ground.