Jared McDaris

The Magistress (Lauren Miller) assertively escorts Cordelius (Jack Sharkey) to the Festival, as ‘Dame Joanne’ (Adrian Garcia) looks on, amused, in Act 3 Scene 2 of The Wayward Women

Cordelius, so used to doing what he wants when he wants, experiences a sharp reversal of fortune on the matriarchal isle of Amosa, where his reputation as a young man of “looser virtue” places him under the supervision of Dame Anu, who promises to “guard what chastity remaineth” to him. His objections to his lack of agency are somewhat ironic, since we learn from Julian that Cordelius has never been one to exercise much control over his own life.

Still, Cordelius’ lack of authority over his own life is evident in the structure of his lines. The play itself opens with his monologue, practically a soliloquy, where he bewails his misfortune. He ignores Julian’s advice and even engineers the plan that is the impetus of one of the play’s main plots. Once they enter Amosa proper, however, Cordelius no longer has any say in anything that happens. People talk about him frequently, but no one heeds his opinions on anything. He has no soliloquies, while Julian often begins or ends his scenes with them. Cordelius is rarely even allowed to enter or exit alone, and it’s only after proving his independence with sex (as many of Shakespeare’s women do, such as Juliet, Bianca, Jessica, and of course Queen Margaret), that Cordelius is allowed to enter without a woman chaperoning him.

In Act 2 Scene 2, Cordelius tries three times to assert his dominance via displaying tropes of male superiority. His first, a discourse with the Magistress, ends in patronizing dismissal. His second, a “friendly” sword fight with Dame Anu, ends in humiliation. His third, an interlude with Aquiline, ends in his own objectification, of which he does not even seem to be aware.

With echoes of the Wife of Bath, Cordelius’ journey is not so much a quest to regain his power, but rather a journey to decide which woman should possess him. As with love-torn damsels throughout literary history, the thought of not choosing a woman never seems to enter his head. Cordelius only achieves completion (and is finally allowed another quasi-soliloquy) after choosing the woman who has fought most earnestly for his affections.

Cordelius’ complete lack of agency is perhaps best demonstrated at the end of Act 3 Scene 2, where the Magistress literally, physically removes him from the scene and takes him where she wants. He objects twice to her casual abduction, and each objection is met with equally casual dismissal. Yet Cordelius, thoroughly chastened and already accustomed to following the lead, offers no physical resistance, and goes where he is led. It is particularly interesting that this sequence comes at the end of the first man-to-man moment we have seen since the play’s opening. A brief moment of two boys squabbling over a girl is interrupted when a woman reasserts her own narrative. Cordelius’ utter disbelief leaves him powerless, while Julian’s desire to maintain the power his gender-deception permits him leaves him likewise unable to affect the course of the plot.

In fact, it only now occurs to me that if there were some sort of reverse-Bechdel test, this play would almost fail it. Cordelius and Julian speak to each other almost exclusively about either Charlotte or Aquiline. The only men who are not easily distracted by women are Flachel and the Swiss Messenger, each of whom appear in only one scene.

Cordelius is a surprisingly fascinating character.

COSTUMES by Delena Bradley
LIGHTING by Benjamin Dionysus
PHOTO by iNDie Grant Productions

Pinne (Katy Jenkins) playfully mocks Julian (Adrian Garcia) for acting ‘above his station’ in Act 4, Scene 3 of The Wayward Women

It is my habit, when writing a play, to put my own opinions in the mouths of low-ranking characters whom few people respect. When possible, I also like to make sure those characters are hypocrites and/or undercut at some point. I think I picked up this desire after reading Candide, wherein everyone’s principles are inevitably disproved, even the perpetual pessimist Martin. In fact, the undercutting of all spoken principles is arguably the theme of The Wayward Women.

This is particularly evident in Julian and Pinne, two of the more sympathetic characters in The Wayward Women. Julian sets himself up from the get-go as a victim of fate and sees little point in trying to “take arms against a sea of troubles.” His very first words in the play council his master Cordelius to float along on the river of life and stop trying to take control of anything. This, of course, does not stop Julian from complaining when fate deals him an uncharitable hand, nor does it stop him from subtle attempts to take advantage when fortune throws a bone his way.

Like many “nice guys,” Julian turns hypocrite when a beautiful woman enters his concerns. In 4.3 (above), Julian protests the cruelty of chance in denying him Aquiline’s love. Pinne, meanwhile, tries to gently explain that despite her superior intelligence and occasional moral qualms, Aquiline is every bit as superficial and vacuous as Cordelius. Showing a level of perception surpassing everyone else in Amosa, Pinne suggests that the morals which govern “less important” people like Julian and herself are not the same morals by which “the greater people” live their lives. “The Angels are for Angels, and we eat scraps,” she says.

Pinne, in fact, may well be the only character in The Wayward Women with a clear development arc. She begins the play a stuttering collection of malapropisms, too nervous to speak and frequently bullied into silence by both Dame Grendela and her own mistress, Dame Anu. Yet by the play’s end, she is the most articulate, aware, and perhaps even the most assertive and mature character to be found.

Only two characters unequivocally get what they want in The Wayward Women: Cordelius (after surrendering all agency in his own life, as Julian preaches but seems unable to do himself), and Pinne, who wants only to sing. The Wayward Women seems to be telling us that we can either surrender to chance entirely or resign ourselves to small and seemingly insignificant victories. On the other hand, to go from an inarticulate mess to a powerfully-spoken arbiter in the space of a day is maybe not so insignificant a victory in the eyes of the achiever.

PS, ALMOST FORGOT. Pinne is a particularly impressive sign of the intuitive genius of costume designer Delena Bradley. Although I provided several ‘inspirational’ images associated with each character, there was nothing for Pinne so similar to Wart from Sword in the Stone. And yet, as soon as I saw Katy in this costume, I immediately thought… “That is Pinne. Per-fection.” And I am physically in love with those shoes.

COSTUMES by Delena Bradley
LIGHTING by Benjamin Dionysus
PHOTO by iNDie Grant Productions

Dames Grendela (Alexandra Boroff) and Anu (Sarah Liz Bell) stand ten seconds away from spontaneous combustion. The Magistress (Lauren Miller) vainly seeks to placate the braggadocias, while the Duchess (Amanda Carson) gives new energy to the phrase, “If looks could kill.”

Scene 1.2 was the first scene I wrote for The Wayward Women. It was inspired by one of my earliest and most enjoyable experiences with Unrehearsed Shakespeare: the Gauge scene from Richard II. The mass of noblemen petulantly throwing their gauntlets on the ground in vain challenge was so hilarious, and reached an absurd climax when Aumerle demands a glove from the audience, as every gauge in the room is already on the floor. The rapidity and spontaneity of Unrehearsed granted it this beautiful air of “Oh, what’d you say! Well how ’bout this!” It was like teenagers fighting at a party.

Bondman Julian (Adrian Garcia) tries vainly to comfort his master Cordelius (Jack Sharkey), who bewails his banishment from his love, Charlotte (not pictured)

Julian and Cordelius’ relationship is inspired by a verse play I started ten years ago and never finished, about a cheese thief and a goat thief in central France. The two thieves (Gorbaduc and Androboros) happened upon a slain count who happened to look exactly like Androboros, and so snuck into France disguised, with Gorbaduc (the smart one, who came up with the idea) posing as a servant. Lies, forgery, marriage contracts, blackmail, and nude paintings all complicated matters until the two were forced to flee Paris and abandon their false identities.

“My breast has stirr’d in thee, fine boy, and I
Am render’d simple. Tongue nor supple brain
Can tell what artistry lives in thine eyes.”
Aquiline (Megan Gilmore) woos the fair Cordelius (Jack Sharkey), in Act 2, Scene 2 of The Wayward Women (Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as 7:00pm, at Mary’s Attic, 5400 N Clark St).

Perhaps not surprisingly, Aquiline’s wooing of Cordelius mirrors Hal’s wooing of Katherine, though it lacks the sinister undertones of conquest. Like Katherine, Cordelius has been removed from his seat of power and is very much a fish out of water. Like Katherine, he does not trust his wooer’s intentions. And most tellingly like Katherine, Cordelius is concerned that his potential paramour’s words of love are salted with domination. The Swiss gentleman does not like to be made to feel unmanly, and he is clearly used to being the hero of his own story (as well as everyone else’s story).

It’s in this respect, I think, that The Wayward Women most overtly comments on gender roles in Shakespeare. Cordelius serves as the primary love interest of more than one character. Consequently, though he is often the center of everyone’s conversations (so much so that this six-women-to-four-men play strains the Bechdal Test), he is granted very little agency in his own fate.

A woman’s lack of agency in Shakespeare is, I think, most evident in his histories. Katherine’s demurring to Hal brings us a happy ending with a ‘proper’ queen. Margaret’s refusal to submit to Henry VI brings us a three-play tragedy (though King Henry VI himself is also indicted, the “unmanly” king to Margaret’s “unwomanly” queen, which has its comic parallel in Joan of Arc and the Dauphin). You can of course also see this in Taming of the Shrew’s Kate or the older noblewomen of Richard III and King John. Shakespeare does occasionally throw a bone to a woman’s intellect with Beatrice or the Princess of France or either Rosalind, and of course many of the ‘howling stereotypes’ are more complicated than they initially appear, but one need look no farther than Luciana and Adriana (at the beginning of his career) or Miranda and Sycorax (and the end) to conclude how ‘proper womanhood’ was generally defined in Elizabethan and Jacobean England, at least in their literature. It’s these standards that are applied to Cordelius, and he does not care for it. Not one bit. Unlike most of Shakespeare’s women, however, Cordelius is granted the right to complain of the inequity of it all.

In this little scene, Quill (Aquiline) echos Hal’s tripping tongue, though her desire is motivated solely by strict romanticism and not by political convenience. Indeed, Quill’s concerns of being forced to marry Cordelius after enjoying his fruits are soundly squashed by Dame Grendela (Quill’s personal Falstaff) in the previous scene. With echos of Romeo and Troilus, Quill is a direct contrast to a woman’s romantic agency in Shakespeare’s work, where our best examples of female independence (in matters of wooing) come again from Queen Margaret (accomplice in a premeditated affair) and Tamara (the same), both of whom are depicted as immoral and even “unnatural.” Later in Shakespeare’s career, sexual independence can be found minutely in Lear’s elder daughters, both of whom are directly called “unnatural hags.” Shakespeare may have held the mirror up to nature, but that mirror was certainly not always a flattering one, frequently revealing the prejudices of the times. To be fair, he commented on those prejudices as well, and some of his independent *and* intelligent women came to happy ends (Rosalind, Beatrice, and arguably Adriana and even Bianca).

COSTUMES by Delena Bradley
LIGHTING by Benjamin Dionysus
PHOTO by iNDie Grant Productions

Grendela (Alexandra Boroff) explains the virtue of sinning boldly to ‘Dame Joanne’ (Adrian Garcia) and squire Aquiline (Gilly Guire)

Writing a consequence-free boozer is never easy for me (being a teetotaler), but I took some solace in Grendela’s strong, thinly-disguised hypocrisy. Though she paints herself as a blue-collar, salt-of-the-earth rogue, she makes a clear distinction between highborn and lowborn men (a distinction that she, in an added layer of hypocrisy, pretends to find irrelevant). She is a manipulative bully toward those weaker than herself, yet falls apart and plays the victim as soon as anyone stands up to her (not unlike a certain presidential candidate).

Dame Anu (Sarah Liz Bell) and Cordelius (Jack Sharkey) face off in a friendly spar

“The Duel” pits two cliches against each other. On one hand, we have Cordelius: the cocky man who is invariably put down in a physical confrontation with a more experienced woman. On the other hand, we have Dame Anu: the pompous blowhard who his invariably put down in a physical confrontation with an underdog. It’s a sort-of unstoppable force meets immoveable object situation.

Though short on poison and political intrigue, the Dual also has some parallels with Hamlet’s famous climax: it too is broken into three parts, and it too features combatants who are only pretending this is casual fun.

In addition to good ol’ spectacle, the Duel solidifies each character’s opinion of the other, strongly influencing their future relationship (such as it is).

COSTUMES by Delena Bradley
LIGHTING by Benjamin Dionysus
PHOTO by iNDie Grant Productions

Dance Finale (Choreographed by Sarah Liz Bell, Costumes by Delena Bradley, Lighting and Photo by Benjamin Dionysus)

Here are some flattering words from a debut audience member, Patrick Bushnell

“Hey Chicago friends,
I had the pleasure of seeing a very entertaining play in the Shakespearean style last night. Enjoy all of the word-play, sharp wit, and bawdiness that you love from that period. The actors and actresses all delivered fantastic performances with great presence, enthusiasm, and expression. The intimate setting at this theater affords you the joy of seeing their expressions up close, giving you a feeling of almost being part of the show.
The costume design by Delena Bradley was simply terrific; the costumes were beautiful and obviously meticulously crafted, and helped immensely to set the scene for the show. Also contributing to the atmosphere was the lighting. Quite often, the lighting of a show does not stand out to me; but this show was greatly enhanced by some outstanding lighting designs. They lent themselves perfectly to specific themes and emotions.
I enjoyed this play so much that I went on a research hunt to find out who penned it. To my surprise, I couldn’t find “The Wayward Women” anywhere. After a little more digging, I found out that Jared McDaris wrote this himself! I can’t stress this enough, I was astounded this wasn’t an actual Shakespeare play that I somehow missed- he displays such a talent for writing dialogue that I will endeavor to see any play he’s written.
I cannot recommend this show enough; go, have a couple drinks, and see this play. It is original, playful, hilarious, and you can tell that every single person involved in this production put everything they had into it.
A solid 4 of 4 stars; do yourself a favor and go see “The Wayward Women”. I promise you will have a fantastic experience. To top it all off, tickets are only $3!! Don’t forget to let all of these wonderful folks know what you thought of it. Support your local thespians!”

And that’s just dandy.

THE WAYWARD WOMEN
March 17 – April 2
Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays @ 7:00pm
Mary’s Attic, 5400 N Clark St
$3 at the Door

Sarah Liz Bell as Dame Anu, Act 4 Scene 2 of The Wayward Women

Dame Anu’s Letter Speech is an obvious homage to Malvolio’s Letter Speech in Twelfth Night. Although it has been “streamlined,” removing any interjections from other characters, and it lacks the perennially perplexing puzzler, “M.O.A.I.,” I think Anu’s letter still offers some food for thought. Forged by Dame Grendela (a female Sir Toby by-way-of Fluellen), the letter seems perfectly structured to gull Anu into revealing a side of herself she has hidden her entire life. Grendela, then, somehow possesses unique knowledge of exactly what Anu wants in a man, and precisely how she wants Cordelius to express those attributes. She even knows how to quell Anu’s concerns for her own reputation, and feigns a willingness to cooperate in her hypocrisy without actually calling it hypocrisy. It appears that Dame Grendela knows Anu better than she does herself, or even better than Grendela knows herself (based on some reactions we see to other speeches in the play).

Twelfth Night speaks a lot about holding in our desires, especially romantic desires, and how this can warp us. Nowhere is this more strongly paralleled in The Wayward Women than with the poor, proud Dame Anu.

COSTUMES by Delena Bradley
LIGHTING by Benjamin Dionysus
PHOTO by INDie Grant Productions, LLC