The lasting effects of jealousy have rarely been so searingly explored as in The Winter’s Tale, one of Shakespeare’s most complex and inscrutable plays, one which asks a lot from any cast and director. Admittedly it’s a very bumpy ride even in the most capable hands, as when director Sam Mendes’ Bridge Project came to BAM in 2009 with a production illuminated by the magisterial Rebecca Hall as the wronged queen Hermione. 

 

Set in the neighboring kingdoms of Sicilia—where Shakespeare brilliantly sets up the dramatic conflict of King Leontes’ unhinged accusations against his faithful (and pregnant) Hermione of infidelity—and Bohemia, The Winter’s Tale is filled with betrayals and deaths, humor and heartbreak, reunions and even a resurrection of sorts, along with what might be the most famous—or infamous—stage direction in all of theater.

 

At the Delacorte, director Daniel Sullivan lingers over too many scenes, making it an exceedingly slow-going evening (this staging lasts 3 hours and 20 minutes), especially in the ponderous Sicilia scenes. Even a first-rate actor like Raúl Esparza intoning Leontes’ lengthy and self-justifying monologues about why he wants his pregnant wife put to death for treason can’t move things along. Conversely, the boisterousness of rustic Bohemia—personified by the rogue Autolycus (an amusing but overdone Steven Skybell)—is underscored with a wearying bluntness; a little of this sort of “fun” goes a long way.

 

On the plus side, Sullivan has Matthew Eby, who plays Leontes and Hermione’s tragic child Mamillius, also play Time, which gives the play’s crucial jump of 16 years a new twist. Sullivan pulls off the inevitable “exit, pursued by a bear” moment so cleverly that some members of the audience missed it completely, and he adroitly stages the final coup de theatre that, for better or worse, is what most audiences remember about The Winter’s Tale. 

 

The acting, aside from Esparza, is a mixed bag. Marsha Stephanie Blake makes a forceful and funny Paulina, the queen’s most honest defender, but Hermione herself is played by Lily Rabe, who gives a one-dimensional and shouty performance, robbing this viewer at least of the necessary sympathy for her fate. Rabe does, however, memorably freeze into a statue-like pose of surpassing stillness, a not unimportant aspect of her characterization.

 

Chuck Cooper is an unalloyed delight as the Old Shepherd, and if Gilbert Owuor is a bit too stiff as Bohemia’s king Polixenes, two able young performers—Daniel Kyri and Isabela Ferrer—are full of effervescence as Polixenes’ son Florizel and Leontes and Hermione’s daughter Perdita, respectively.

 

Maruti Evans’ scenery, Linda Cho’s costumes, Bradley King’s lighting, Brian Ronan’s sound design and Tom Kitt’s music all handsomely contribute to this bumpy but entertaining night of theater in Central Park.