Event of the Month

vent of the Month Kings, Clowns and Court Jesters Entertain at the Renaissance Festival

Seth stood blissfully amid the bustle, clasping his wooden sword loosely as he marveled at the approach of the 12-foot-tall Fool in a cockeyed jester's hat. Caught up in the medieval swirl of the festival, Seth remained oblivious to his lurking 11-yearold brother, Noah. Clutching his black-handled, silver-bladed dirk, Noah stalked his sibling through the amiably distracted crowd. Choosing his moment with care, Noah mock thrust the wooden dagger into his beloved brother's back. Seth turned, gasped, and fell to the ground, perfectly willing to make Noah's day in the spirit of this gaudily decorated time warp.

The jester on stilts teetered to a halt. Gravely he regarded the faintly smiling corpse.

"He's dead," Noah declared.

"Forsooth," commented the jester sagely.

A flourish of trumpets interrupted the moment. Seth (RIGHT) Rich with pageantry, Arizona's Renaissance Festival offers a swirl of medieval delights and pasttimes, including brave knights in a Joust to the Death.

Seth scrambled to his feet and stood beside Noah as the King's Court paraded past, en route to the afternoon Joust to the Death. Following in the king's wake, knights clanked, clowns juggled, damsels flirted, wenches hooted, and drummers drummed. One aristocrat, seated on a striking white stallion, waved grandly to the spectators.

"Wave," he said pleasantly to the crowd.

Dutifully, we waved.

"You see," said the knight to the horseman riding alongside, "they're sheep."

Welcome to the Arizona Renaissance Festival, a slice of the Middle Ages conjured each February and March from the saguaro-studded desert near the Superstition Mountains east of Mesa. Each year costumed actors, professional entertainers, enthusiastic volunteers, exhibitors, craftsmen, and cooks play host to the fantasies of some 150,000 festivalgoers. This year organizers expect some 150 exhibitors, 450 entertainers, and 800 other workers and participants. They're also hoping to top last year's gate with ticket prices set at about $10 for adults.

The festival offers an engaging blend of entertainment, crafts, and foods. The long meandering rows of shops sell all sorts of oddments: crystal dragons, pewter flagons,family coats of arms, chain-mail vests, veiled damsel hats, oak cudgels, rune-inscribed love charms, wizard's robes, dragon incense burners, turkey drumsticks, and wooden shields.

Constantly changing acts beguile the crowds. That includes a trio of comics staging Romeo and Juliet in drag, jugglers tossing knives atop a teetering tower of cylinders, a wicked ventriloquist with a papier-mâché skeleton dummy, and parrots that have mastered more tricks than my 19 year old.

But the Renaissance Festival's most distinctive feature lies in the pervasive atmosphere of mischievous fun imparted by the lavishly costumed players who tease, cajole, and flirt with the bemused crowd. Organizers annually recruit these bit players, who attend workshops and learn "the King's English." They strive to re-create the improvisational commedia del l'arte, roaming troupes of Italian actors during the Middle Ages who journeyed from town to town. They played well-developed imaginary stock characters and standardized situations into their shtick.

The Renaissance Festival players each develop characters, then confer in the morning before the gates open to devise plots and subplots. These improvised story lines embrace kidnappings, forbidden affairs, and royal intrigue. Strolling visitors sometimes come upon these dramas in the set-piece village square, but usually view only puzzling fragments. The tactic produces the festival's engaging air of fun and fantasy, even if the wandering audience never grasps the plot line.

Certainly my boys enjoyed the chance to move among adults even more elaborately into playing games than they. I fell into step behind them as we headed for the tournament grounds, where fully armored knights would soon splinter their lances against one another's shields, charging at full gallop. Silently I eavesdropped on their conversation.

"I wasn't dead, you know," said Seth.

"Were too," retorted Noah.

"Was not."

"How do you figure?" asked Noah, succumbing to the bait. Seth pulled out his just-purchased pewter charm inscribed with strange symbols. "I had a medallion of regeneration," he explained.

"That's cheating," Noah protested.

"Tell it to the wizard," Seth replied, smiling triumphantly.

WHEN YOU GO

The Arizona Renaissance Festival runs weekends from 10 A.M. to dusk, February 11-12 through March 25-26. Tickets (which can be purchased in advance) are $9.95, adults; $3.95, ages five to 12; free for four and under. To reach the fairground from Phoenix, drive east on U.S. Route 60 past Gold Ranch and watch for directional signs. For more information, contact the festival office, 126012 U.S. Route 60, Apache Junction, AZ 85219; (602) 463-2700.