An Odd Dick New takes on Shakespeare in Buckfield BY AMY MARTIN
	RICHARD 3 By William Shakespeare | adapted by the Oddfellow Theater | with Mike Miclon, Matthew Tardy, Ann Latham, and Casey Turner | At the Oddfellow Theater, Buckfield | through Saturday, Oct 29 | 207.336.3306

Even if you know very little about Shakespeare’s Richard III, you probably at least know that Richard was a physically deformed manipulating tyrant with a giant hard-on for the crown. For example, after murdering Lady Ann’s husband, he charmed her panties off at his funeral. Richard is a despicable pig, yet somehow has the charisma to make you pity him at times. Some actors who play Richard can actually have the audience on his side, wanting Richard to have the crown and excusing his murderous ways.

This irony is what makes the dark and serious tragedy perfect for a humorous re-scripting. But how would that be possible, you ask? Anything is possible at Oddfellow Theater. Literally. Even a hi-tech dream sequence, a kitchen-utensil battle, and a mid-play script rewrite. But we’ll get to that later.

Let’s get back to Richard. Mike Miclon, who plays Richard, is a goddamn comedic genius. His Richard keeps with the original elements of deformity and manipulation, but in more of a humorous sketchball way rather than as a regal maniac. He’s kind of like Austin Powers: repulsive, but somehow confident and witty. He’s very obvious about his scamming, but no one cares because he seems so ludicrous. (Kind of like when my mother would ask me what I had done over the weekend, and I would blatantly tell her I’d been tripping on acid and having casual sex, and she would laugh like I’d made some joke.) You can’t wait to hear what he says or does next. And neither can the other characters.

Richard, along with his sidekick Buckingham (played by the outrageously silly Matthew Tardy), pepper every scene with pinches of belly laughs. The plot has been snipped down to the basic play description: Richard wants the crown, so he does whatever is necessary to get it. In between ridiculous scenes of Richard and Buckingham scheming and murdering, the narrator fills in the plot. Well, that is, until Richard has the narrator killed — because he likes killing people.

He kills everyone, even the big-assed, bitchy Queen Elizabeth, who isn’t killed in Shakespeare’s version. Richard offs her by rewriting the script, which is on a podium, stage right, for any last-minute changes. And by last-minute, I mean during the scene where Richard can’t decide how to get rid of her, so he pencils in her death. Immediately, the queen drops dead on stage. Realizing he can make anything happen, he writes in "Richard gets Skittles." The candy takes flight from backstage, followed by an eruption of laughter (well, on the night I saw it — it was mostly coming from my seat — I love Skittles jokes).

With Amy Latham as Lady Ann and Queen Elizabeth and Casey Turner as Mad Margaret, the ladies often steal the show. Latham plays the fat-bottomed, Long Island version of royalty who isn’t fooled by Richard’s wooing or rancid foolishness. Turner’s Queen Margaret is a slightly less-crazy and jollier version of Aunt Bethany from Christmas Vacation. You see, Mad Margaret has a tendency to randomly appear throughout the play. Just when you forget about her, she shows up as Round One girl — bikini over her house robe and all — during the battle of Richard and Richmond.

Most impressive and humorous about the play is the dream sequence, where the newly crowned Richard is visited by the dead. At this point, the production goes from simple to hi-tech without sacrificing any laughs. All the characters Richard has murdered or had murdered, including the narrator, Shakespeare, and the young prince’s stunt double (brought in because Richard suddenly felt a tinge of guilt about poisoning a child), magically appear, foreshadowing Richard’s inherent doom.

Indeed, Richard finds his doom by the sword of a wigged-out Richmond (played by Tardy), but not before he stabs Richmond, leaving the crown unowned. Because of the element of improv, I assume the crown goes to someone different each show — this time it goes to George, Richard’s quietly comedic ally. Feasibly, you could attend each show and watch a slightly evolved version of the actual altered version of Shakespeare’s Richard III.

In the case of Oddfellow Theater, you’re watching Richard Cubed, three times as naughty and triple the fun, which was terribly good this past weekend and well-worth the hour-long drive from Portland. As a matter of fact, I may just return for the last showing, which I assume will be the best.

Amy Martin can be reached at amartin@phx.com