Rothko! Fantastic! Inspirational! Yes!

I was very excited to to invited to view this new production at the SpeakEasy. Red, a Tony Award winning play from 2010 is centered on the great painter, Rothko in the late 1950’s as he finishes his master piece murals for the soon to be opened Four Seasons Restaurant in New York City. He embarks on a contemplative journey with his assistant that not only questions the art world in general but his own perspective on work, life and death. It is no wonder this play won so many awards. John Logan’s writing packs a punch at every turn and keeps you on the edge of your seat to see where he’ll go next. It’s almost like a high speed car chase – you never know when he’ll make the next turn, but you gotta stay alert or else he’ll lose you.

The scenery was so crucial to make this play come alive. While it was mostly a bare stage with the theater mechanics in plain view, the paintings, work tables, chairs and most importantly the turntable center the viewer on the action. It looks like a painters studio – paint on the floor, dirty and grimy, cigarette smoke filling the air, there is no specific time period other than the dictated time when the specific events outlining the play took place. I love how it feels so modern, but represents such a wonderful time in history. All in all, Cristina Todesco’s scenic design and Jeff Adelberg’s lighting were playful, useful and delightful with a bit of cheese thrown in the mix (the snow at the end was a cliche celebration). Gail Astrid Buckley’s costume design was not terribly memorable for Rothko, but more successful for Ken, his assistant, by focusing the viewer on his age and body. Bill Barclay’s sound design left me with a lot of questions which ultimately detracted from my experience.  His choice on some of the specific records played in the background took away from the action – the most prominent example of this is when the opening of the Mozart Requiem was played. Who can focus on the action when something so recognizable and moving is overpowering it? As an audience member who has knowledge of classical music, I found this to be a lazy and distracting choice.  I also did not understand the mechanical clanging that separated the scenes from each other. It was raw and rough and did not seem to coincidence with the vision of the play.

Thomas Derrah as Mark Rothko had great energy and verve to his performance. While I enjoyed his stage presence, sadly, at times I thought his performance bordered on yelling. I would suggest adding more vocal nuance in the future, it will only add dimension to the character.  Karl Baker Olson, as the assistant, didn’t quite reach the point of  embodiment that made me care about his character’s story.  My companion kept asking why we cared about his storyline at all.  In a play that is supposed to be about Rothko,  keeping the audience engaged in a secondary character can be a challenge, especially when there are only two characters!  The direction in this production was riveting. Clear sightlines, great placement and use of space endeared me to David Gammon’s directing. He truly brought the play to life with his work and it always seemed fresh. Another pit-fall of a two person play can be repetitive staging, but Gammon succeeded in keeping things inventive.

This was a great play to watch and see come alive. While the acting itself did not enthral me, the writing and solid stage direction were winners.  I would confidently recommend this show to others. It is a colorful view into the whirlwind mind of “an artist”- and artfully done.

Karl Baker Olson (right) plays an assistant to abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko in this scene from the SpeakEasy Stage Company production of RED, running now thru Feb. 4 at the Stanford Calderwood Pavilion at the Boston Center for the Arts, 527 Tremont Street in Boston’s South End. Tix/Info: 617-933-8600 or www.SpeakEasyStage.com. Photo: Craig Bailey/Perspective Photo.

To all of the theatres who produce plays that run longer than 90 minutes, please be advised: Your play is not so special that it does not require an intermission. Your play is not so good as to live beyond the limits of bladder and stomach. Your play is not so fabulous that old men do not need to pee, and young women do not need to snack during its brilliance. If your play requires an intermission, please give it one. Especially if serving alcohol during the show.

That being said…  Three Pianos at American Repertory theatre is a play about three men in and out of German composer Schubert’s time experiencing a “Schubertiade.” What’s that? You don’t know what a Schubertiade is? Brief internet sleuthing tells me that indeed, this is a real word and not something the playwrights or A.R.T. made up to support the premise of this loosely strewn together play that explores . . . that delves into . . .

Well, I am not sure what to tell you about this play. I know that I was chastised by an audience member when I shared that I try not to read anything about the play prior to arriving at the theatre. I let the theatre itself – the program and the performance – influence my experience of the art. Did I receive the email from Diane Paulus with a lengthy guide to the play? No. Shouldn’t you read as much as you can about her brilliant vision for this play within the A.R. T. season? No. Haven’t you studied Schubert prior to coming so that you could recognize the musicians’ tampering with his work? Nope nopetty No.

I may never have attended a Schubertiade, but I have perhaps been accidentally involved in more than a few Shakesperiades – which I suppose would be intense conversations on the meaning of life centered on Shakespeare’s text.  This I know: “The play’s the thing / Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.” The play is the thing that must move the audience. The play. Not the marketing, nor the blog, nor the email from the Artistic Director about her vision.

Three Pianos may have been more moving in its original incarnation at the New York Theatre Workshop, but that is not the production I am privy to review. This production seemed like a college play complete with trite ruminations from young men about love, adolescent hissy fits while drinking into a stupor, and design tricks that are straight out of an Introduction to Guerrilla Theatre textbook.  If neon lights shined on the audience and me one more time, I was quite certain that I would go blind. If yet another A.R.T. employee poured a glass of wine for the drunken man next to me, I was going to puke myself.  There was a lot of technical fluff on top of a play that was supposed to be about Three Pianos.

I’ve heard that the performances were moving in New York. In Boston, I could rarely hear them or understand them.  These playwright-producer-dramaturges were not adding enough “-actor” to their depiction and I found their performances flat—when I could hear or understand them.  The structure of the play itself was baffling or perhaps missing. I was once taught that the worst defense for poor play structure is, “But that’s the way it really happened!”  This whole play seems to be a series of moments that might have really happened, but they didn’t happen to me that night in the dark theatre. Actually, they didn’t happen to me that night in the neon-office-lighting-on-the-audience-to-make-a-point theatre.

I understood where this play was trying to go, and if I were to now regurgitate the marketing to you, I would tell you that this play is a drunken romp of youth centered on quintessential questions about the nature of love, life and death. That is what the play is supposed to be about, and I actually do think it is worth your time to go, drink a lot of red wine, and decide if get any of that out of this production.

-Mary ElizaBeth Peters

Our Town at Riverside Theatre Works made me cry. So, if you are one of the few people on the planet that don’t know the basic premise of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, please stop reading this review and purchase your tickets for Riverside Theatre Works’ production, which is only open for a couple more weeks.

Yes, Our Town ends sadly and they both die at the end of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet. If you were previously unaware of these two theatrical facts – run to see Our Town. If you, like me, are familiar with the play and have a fond affection for its message and place in American theatre history, you should probably still go see this production. However, if you are one that prefers your theatre as written, you may not choose to view this production. You might think it’s too long, you might not prefer some of the acting choices, and you might wonder what Wilder would think of it.

I read the programs at shows, though I’ve heard that many patrons do not. I read all of the producer’s notes, the director’s notes, and I even scan the donors’ list to see where a particular theatre is getting their cash – it’s surprisingly interesting! I recommend that you take some time to read as much of the program as you can before the house lights dim – instead of  just skimming the bios and looking for the scene breakdown. You learn interesting facts with which to frame your viewing of the play. I, for example, learned that Our Town’s director Jason E. Weber had Jerzy Grotowski, the famous Polish director, in mind throughout his process of creating Our Town. This put me off. Though Grotowski, like Thornton Wilder, explored the creation of theatre without the added spectacle of props and elaborate set design – the two dramatists are very different.

Jerzy Grotowski believed in blurring the line between the actor and the character – that the two become one in the act of rehearsal, and then they merge again with the spectator in the act of performance.  I don’t find that Our Town requires or even hints at this acting style. Yes, Our Town creates a play-within-a-play, and director Weber accurately questions the title Our Town, writing that, “Our Town means it’s your town, too,” he seems to over-lay an acting style onto this timeless, shared story that made me wish for an even simpler performance of this simple play.

Wilder’s Our Town is timeless, it is universal, and it is the Every Man of every American town. Our Town “is performed at least once each day somewhere in this country.” The text is deeply moving in its simplicity and in its truth. To overlay a strong acting style, or an even stronger director’s hand on top of the heavy stage direction dictated by playwright Thornton Wilder in the text, is unnecessary.  The most successful moments of Weber’s play are when he allows the actors to deliver the text in an unfettered, undiluted manner. There are many of these moments in the production, which make it an overall success.

Performances by Megan Cooper as Emily Webb and David Rogers as George Gibbs are spot on and just lovely.  They had me crying at the beginning of the soda shop scene with the realistic, wholesome depiction of their childhood love growing up.  Ms. Cooper as Emily is naturally emotive and articulate, showing perfect casting to this perfect role.  David Rogers as George is lanky, somewhat spastic in his movement, and wide-eyed while conveying George’s fear of growing up, of confessing his love for Emily, and even when speaking with his mother briefly before the wedding. He showed the audience the true youth of this character in his adult circumstance.

William Bloomfield, playing the part of the Stage Manager, was captivating. His every movement served a purpose, whether featured in a scene or not. The director made a wise choice to light him throughout the production, no doubt making for a hard night’s work for this veteran actor – but it was worth every moment. Bloomfield led us through this town – our town – with an ease and belief that he had done it all before, and would do it all again tomorrow. These three performances held the piece in its integrity, despite some directorial choices that may captivate, though they do not truly serve.

-Mary ElizaBeth Peters


Opening the 21st Season (they’re finally able to legally drink!) at SpeakEasy Stage Company is Geoffrey Nauffts’ Tony award-nominated play, Next Fall. With a cast chock full of talent tackling some incredibly engaging issues, Next Fall was a stellar (and seasonally appropriate) kickoff to the season.

The central plot unfolds in a hospital waiting room where those close to Luke (Dan Roach) have gathered after he has been hit by a taxi. Those present include his boss Holly (a spot-on Deb Martin), ambiguous friend Brandon (Kevin Kaine), partner Adam (Will McGarrahan), and divorced parents (Robert Walsh and the incredible Amelia Broome). Interwoven with this narrative are flashback vignettes chronicling the history of Luke and Adam’s tumultuous relationship over the last several years.

Luke’s strict Christian beliefs (particularly regarding the afterlife) are in direct conflict with Adam’s lack of spiritual belief system, creating the central conflict of the piece. Nauffts tackles this from many angles, from Luke’s “not out yet” relationship with his family to the uncomfortable act of praying after sex with Adam. The portrayal of a gay protagonist struggling with what he perceives as his inherent sinfulness may sound like a negative stereotype from a cautionary film of days gone by, but is uniquely recontextualized by the other beautifully realized characters and situations.

While the story was incredibly compelling, the package it arrived in was much less so—the writing was rather unfocused at times. In a play with only six characters, I should not leave the theater wondering what the purpose of an entire character was; but unfortunately this was my takeaway regarding the character of Brandon.

This stellar cast more than made up for any gripes I had with the playwright. Everyone was in top form, but special praise is due to Amelia Broome and Deb Martin. Ms. Broome, always a delight to watch on stage, walked a beautifully accurate line of a southern woman coming to grips with the secret of her son’s homosexuality which she’s always known but never acknowledged. Her performance was incredibly true to life, and the monologue she delivers in the hospital chapel during Act II was particularly moving. Ms. Martin, as the boss-turned-best-friend of Luke and Adam, brought a special depth to the often one-dimensional stereotype of the gay man’s best female friend (while maintaining an appropriate amount of sass, of course).

Janie Howland’s inventive set blurred the lines between the past and present, becoming both the living room of Luke and Adam’s apartment and the waiting area outside Luke’s hospital room. The lighting design by Karen Perlow was effective at defining multiple spaces on the same set.

In retrospect, what began as a play I honestly did not care for has grown on me greatly. I highly recommend seeing this captivating production before it closes on October 16. The opportunity to see such talent assembled on one stage should not be missed!

Dan Roach and Will McGarrahan share an intimate moment in Speakeasy Stage Company’s production of Next Fall.

Hideous Progeny, produced by Holland Productions and running through July 23rd at the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre, is a phenomenal work exploring the lives of Mary Shelley, Percy Shelley and Lord Byron before Frankenstein was written. The play begins after Lord Byron had received much fame as a poet, and infamy as a sodomite, and before Percy Shelley had obtained much of an fame at all.  This historically fictitious exploration of the poets’ lives holds close to their biographies, but steps over reality into plausible, eerie reasoning behind each author’s work.  The production is strange, melancholy, and truly riveting as we watch the lives of these great poets intertwine and ultimately unwind in 1816.

Victor Shopov plays the insatiable Lord Byron, exiled from the UK for his scandalous lifestyle, and estranged from his wife and daughter.  Shopov is captivating in his impression of Byron’s sensuality, raw emotional experience, and stayed emotional expression. Shopov’s characterization of Byron as sexually available while coldly detached from deeper emotional bonds has the audience’s heart break as his truer nature is revealed later in the play.  Every moment of Shopov’s performance was repulsive, alluring and heartbreaking all at once. Shopov reanimated the life and true loves of Byron within his passionate performance.

In addition to Shopov’s performance, the entire ensemble gave a spirited and carefully prepared presentation of Hideous Progeny.  Their movement and gesture work, dialect and timing were all impeccable under the direction of Krista D’Agostino and undoubtedly influenced by Lydia Diamond’s dramaturgical work. The casting was perfect, most notably Victor Shopov as Lord Byron – just to throw one more compliment out to him – and Maggie Erwin as Claire Clairmont. This ensemble was striking in its visual and emotional fit with each other, and with the text itself. The play and its performances were prepared in great detail and this specificity added to the play’s overall heartbreaking, mysterious effect.

There is one, and only one, chief complaint against this production, which I have decided to call:
The Case Against Blackouts: Why Darkness Overshadows Modern Theatre

Well, okay  . . . perhaps that is an over-blown title to the simple comment I would like to share: Please, theatre directors in this year of 2011 and beyond, please please please, do not make your audiences endure a series of complete blackouts throughout your show, regardless of the ambient noise you provide, regardless of it being fifteen minutes or so into the first act of a two hour long play,  regardless of the great feeling when the scene punctuates by going to complete black – please please please do not leave your audience in the complete darkness listening to crickets, morning larks, and noise from the local Boston traffic, wondering such theatrical thoughts as, “Is this intermission, already?” “Maybe I can get my program out and figure out where we are in the plot,” or “Where is my gum? I can’t find my gum! Is there any time to find my gum?!”

This play, though riveting, was filled with blackouts that my theatre companion argued to be in service of the punctuated dialogue at the end of each scene —  to wipe the emotional slate clean after each intense passage.  I disagree, thinking that blackouts have an adverse effect on the current audience, mostly entertained by television, during which a blackout only means one thing: commercial.  Call me a crazy hippy, but I believe that the stage space is an energy center – an epicenter for the emotional reality of the play and its creators. When the complete blackout occurs, the energy is whisked away, and audiences are left to, or even encouraged to, leave the world of the play and return to their own lives.  Bah!  I would like audience to board the train that you put on the track, and keep on running with it ‘til it parks in the station around ten p.m.

That being said, Hideous Progeny is an amazing production, put on by a highly creative theatre company with attention to artistic detail that should be sought by all theatre artists.  I encourage all to attend, and students get $10 tickets! You must go.

Gundy, Specht, and Shopov.

I’ve lived in Boston my whole life.  Yet, I’m always seeing productions offered by companies I’ve yet to encounter.  This is one of the beautiful aspects of the Boston theatre scene.  Happy Medium Theatre is one such company.  Having never seen a production by the group, I was not sure what to expect.  In the future, having watched their production of The Country Club, I will expect to be entertained.  The play was witty, dry, and more than a little amusing.  If you’ve ever lived in upper-middle class suburbia, this year in the life of country club members will resonate with you.

At the start of the show I felt as though the acting was a bit over the top.  I was disappointed to see how bombastically each character was being portrayed.  As the play unfolded, however, I realized it was not the acting but the characters that were so over the top, and they were being played well.  Kiki Samko, as Pooker, walked the fine line of outlandish and waspish.  Samko seemed to know where to reign the character in, while still conveying the exaggerated characteristic of this country club daughter.  Viktor Schopov, was, as always, a joy to watch.  I enjoy his performance, in this production because it never seems to be a matter of acting, but rather a matter of being Zip.  Audrey Lynn Sylvia, delighted the audience as the over anxious, thereby, hyper-roductive/-controlling/-active Froggy.  Sylvia played this role effectively.  Her performance spoke to the “now” of the play, but also painted a picture for the audience of what kind of parent Louise might have been.  These performers stood out, but also collaborated well with the collectively good ensemble cast.

Though it is a very difficult space to work in, going to The Factory Theatre is like going home.  Despite it’s limitations the space worked well of HMT’s production.  HMT’s Scenic Designer/Set Builder Sean A. Cote created the “Cub Room” at country club.  The acting space was well built, and certainly set the scene.  Most impressive was the painting technique used to create what looked like a real hardwood floor.  A particular hats off for that trick of stage craft.

Happy Medium Theatre’s production of The Country Club gave a glimpse into exclusive organizations.  With beer and wine available HMT drove home the “club” atmosphere.  Director Mikey DiLoreto and his troupe of actors deserve ovation.  They pulled me into the story of these 7 people.  They entertained me, and my companion for the evening, two very over analytical theatre goers.  I look forward to more offerings like this from HMT.

I start this review by confessing to you, I love Edward Albee’s Zoo Story, and I’m a bit of an absurdist-ophile.

Definitions of “absurdistophile”: a word I just invented; of or pertaining to people who love absurdist theatre; theatre nerds who compare knowledge of obscure quotes from absurdist plays at parties; artists who find absurdism in all elements of theatre arts; artists who find same influence in all elements of living.

I love Albee and his common thread of exploring the fine line between human civility and animal instinct that exist in each one of us. That being said, I came to the Zeitgeist Theatre Company’s production of At Home at the Zoo, a new mash-up of sorts of the original text of Zoo Story with a new act, Homelife, exploring one character’s prequel to his experience in central park. I came with great expectations.  Having been denied the opportunity to see Zoo Story in eight years or so, I could not wait.

That being said, I walked into the theatre and saw what I expected – a very small audience for a very thought-heavy play on a springtime evening more appropriately spent with a beer and french fries. I saw what I did not expect – a whole lot of set dressing, floor covering and general over-production. My companion for the evening, a set designer himself, says, “Wow.” And it wasn’t a good Wow.  It was like, “Wow, that’s a lot to look at,” or perhaps, “Wow, this is not the way I would design this show at all.”  Now, of course, it is not my companion writing this review, so I must not rely on his opinion, and I brushed it off at first as the overly-critical eye of one designer on another’s work. However, as the play progressed, I became increasingly distracted by the set design, costumes, and propping.

The play was staged in arena-style with audiences seated on both sides, though it was directed in both acts as a 4th wall play, wherein the audience could have been in the ally between the two worlds. Problem: We were not. Instead of using the arena staging as it is intended – giving the audience an opportunity to study each character as they move more freely serving only one audience at a time, the characters instead played open to the middle of the stage, from which I suppose I could have had an intense experience.

The first act, the “At Home . . .” part of this play, was intended to take place on the Upper East Side in the home of a wealthy publisher. On the wall – an 80’s deco print. On the floor, lay a haggard hippy rug.  The furniture is all white and black leather, modern living room set with a sling back chair in matching style. Through the window shines a street light through sheer blinds. The wife is cooking spinach in the other room, and the lights are shining bright hot as the husband reads on the white leather couch before engaging in a deep conversation about sex, intimacy, and his apparent boring nature in the bedroom. The couple’s two teenage children are meant to be upstairs, blasting rock music, unable to hear their parents talk. Experiencing all of this, I was astounded to learn at the end of the act that the year was 1970 and it was a Sunday morning, as the husband grabs his pipe and heads to Central Park. I couldn’t be more confused. What year is it? How old are the children? How old is the husband? A pipe?  The design and text simply did not add up, and I left the first act convinced that the text had been manipulated after the fact to serve the idea of mashing the two works together.

The saving grace of this production was certainly the second Act performance by David J. Miller as the humble and nearly-homeless Jerry in the original text of The Zoo Story.  He took the audience on a journey of accidental self-discovery and questioning that is the highlight of all Albee works, as he stumbles from one idea to the next, repeating the play’s tag line,

“Sometimes it’s necessary to go a long distance out of the way in order to come back a short distance correctly.”

To this end, I made a similar discovery to take myself back to the text. During the second Act, I often found myself closing my eyes to listen to the text of The Zoo Story and avoid looking at the over-produced set dressings, the plastic Poland Springs water bottle that seemed out of the play’s time, and the shadows of the Homelife set that haunted and confused Zoo Story’s purity. Overall, I found the direction and design of this show to undermine its possibilities.  Yet, I encourage everyone to go see it, as Albee’s text is worth absorbing despite the production’s struggle.

With a celebrated past spanning 30 years, I was a bit disappointed that Wheelock Family Theatre’s production of Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp was bit lackluster compared to past shows. The production seemed void of the professionalism, morals and visual wonder that I usually associate with this accomplished theater. Guests expecting Disney’s version of Aladdin will be disappointed. Although the story line is taken from the same source, this adaptation stays closer to the original folktale, but looses the sense of magic and morality by eliminating key details.

As the play starts, we find Aladdin, personified by the playful Sebastian Kim, frolicking about the market where he meets the young Princess Adora, played by Samantha Boucher. The two play well off one another as they avoid the Sultan and Aladdin’s mother, jumping and tumbling around the stage, demonstrating their sense of freedom being away from their seemingly overbearing parents. Mischief ensues when Aladdin agrees to help a magician, played by award-winning actor Larry Coen, retrieve a magical lamp from a secret cave. Aladdin embarks on adventure to try to win over the Princess while fending off the Magician. The Genie of the Lamp as well as a second, Genie of the Ring, add to the sense of wonder as each magic is used for both good and evil.

Unfortunately, the sympathy we are supposed to feel for the lonely Aladdin and Princess Adora at the start of the show, falls short, so we never truly feel connected to the characters. Sebastian Kim gives a charming performance as Aladdin and embodies the care-free nature of the character. The chemistry between Kim and Boucher is present and I thought that Boucher’s emotional portrayal made up for Kim’s lack of strong feeling on stage. Larry Coen’s performance as the Magician started strong; his magic tricks at the start of the show combined with his silliness brought cheers from the crowd. As a villain; however, Coen never really makes the audience feel that Aladdin is ever in danger and therefore the struggle for control of the lamp never takes on the importance that it should within the story.

Melissa Miller’s fanciful costumes truly set the stage for this tale from a far away land. Brightly colored fabrics, bold makeup and creative headpieces helped elevate the performance and when set against James Bryne’s simple set, the costumes truly sparkled. Bryne’s staging choices were well thought out and the deep colors of the lighting combined with a few well placed props helped set the tone without cluttering the stage. Bryne attempts to break down the separation between the stage and audience, bringing the action into the audience on a number of occasions. It happens so often though, that ultimately, I stopped straining my neck to see the actors behind me.

Ultimately, the production felt a bit amateurish and I left feeling as though they could have used another week of rehearsal. A long first act resulted in audible rustling from the young crowd and ultimately, what should have been a cautionary tale of “being careful of what one wishes for,” turns into a lackluster journey into a world that never truly takes shape.

It has been a long time since I have enjoyed a play this much.  Publick Theatre Boston’s production of 9 Circles was a weighty treat.  The script, written by Bill Cain, offers an irreverent look at military justice.  Authenticity and wit were the trademarks of this work.  The production created the catharsis for what’s happening in our daily lives (or not happening in our daily lives).  It shines light on the aspects of the Iraq War to which most of us would prefer to be ignorant.  It’s not that this show asks the tough questions; rather it offers the audience the chance to ask the tough questions of themselves.  Director Eric Engel and his entire production team have earned my utmost respect.  It is rarely done, and even more rarely effective, but Engel has manifested a truly Brechtian work of art.

Amanda Collins and Will McGarrahan had an actor’s dream.  (At least mine)  They each played all the women and men, respectively, through out the story. McGarrahan, as Man – Various, was hilariously creepy as the priest.  Collins, as Woman – Various, shone as the prosecutor.  Each played all of their several characters convincingly.  During their time out of the acting space they were quiet and observant of the action in the circle.  Their on looking pointed out the prevalence of the piece while never serving as a distraction.  Both these actors deserve their dues.  Each spent a decent amount of time doing “nothing.”  But as they say, the hardest thing to do on stage is nothing.

The stand out performer of the evening was Jimi Stanton.  As Daniel Reeves, he was the very model of a modern military man (boy).  Stanton’s performance had me convinced that he was an infantry enlistee from Texas.  His dialect, inflection and mannerisms were spot on.  He captured the stubborn, hot-tempered disposition of an authoritarian personality in ambiguous circumstances.  Stanton not only acted the part well, but also fit the image.  He had the crew cut, adolescent acne, and was in peak physical condition. Hats off to Stanton for acts of brevity in his acting. His performance was believable and bold.

The entire cast and crew of this production deserve congratulations.  I never know what to expect when I’ve never seen a play produced by a company whose work I’ve also never seen.  I was pleasantly surprised.  Publick Theatre Boston has captured my attention.  This production was pithy, poignant and ponderous.  If you are alive in America today, this production is well worth your while.  I hope everybody takes the time to think critically about justice and what it means, as this play begs of its audience.   Bravo, once again, to all involved in this production.

American soldier Daniel Reeves (Jimi Stanton) and his army lawyer (Will McGarrahan)
with army psychiatrist looking on (background, Amanda Collins)
Photo credit: Craig Bailey/Perspective Photo

The set appeared to me as it could be the inside of any army tent seemingly in the middle east. Overturned chairs and tables of a mess hall with a coke machine in the corner and blood on the floor. The lights coming through the thin walls of the tent and more videos of peoples heads projected on the  roof. It was an interesting design and I was intrigued to see how it played out in the play’s new adaptation.

Historically, a Greek tragedy has a very unique form. Mostly, an audience member comes into a show with a prior knowledge of background story and with an idea how the show will end. There is no action that takes place on the stage for the audience to see, just the characters telling us what they’ve just done out of our periphery and remarking on how it will affect their lives. The most special aspect of these plays comes from the use of a chorus- a body of players who remark on what the main characters have done and how an audience should respond to it. This production’s use of  chorus is what made this piece different than any other Greek tragedy I’ve ever seen. Instead of live action, the chorus were different videos of regular people who spoke about their own experiences with the war today and how it affects them and their view of the world. It was a great use of multi-media, but half-way through the show they changed. They first started talking about themselves in real life, but when the action of the play got more and more agitated they began talking about Ajax as a real figure they looked up to and how his trials and errors affected them. It was very strange to see them go back and forth between real life and the play and confused me and my companion as to what they were talking about and how they mattered at all. Unfortunately, I feel like the production missed a great and powerful opportunity to utilize the multi-media aspect of the chorus to further enhance the production, and instead worked against the theme of the production.  It isn’t the first time I’ve noticed that the incorporation of multi-media elements sometimes falls flat in A.R.T. productions.

Fortunately, there were some great acting moments to counteract the confusing chorus. Linda Powell as Tecmessa did a wonderful job as Ajax’s companion. It seemed to take her a little while to warm up, but made up for it through being actively present in every instant she was on stage. I believed all the turmoil she was going through and prayed with her for a better ending. Ron Cephas Jones as Odysseus was superb and honest, though his voice was hard to hear at times. Nathan Darrow as Teucer was genius and won me over for the best actor on the stage, while Remo Airaldi as the Chorus Leader annoyed me with all his statements and seemed like a low life that had too much to say. The show’s title character played by Brent Harris was a little unnerving, not because of the things his character did, but as my companion put it “he just yelled at us the whole time.” I must say, I agree with that statement and wish he had given a more nuanced performance, as a title player.  I also need to give a shout out to Kaaron Briscoe as Athena who reminded me of Condaleezza Rice in the trenches of an unjust war. Kudos to you!

All in all, the show was just “alright” for me. I expected there to be more comparison to the times and wars we’re living in today, but apart from the set (complete with gutted animals) and costumes (army fatigues)  all by David Zinn, nothing stood out as reminiscent to anything in the middle east today. This might be because the translation by Charles Connaghan was very close to the original while Sarah Benson’s directing idea only related to today. They didn’t correlate with each other and ended up making a confusing mash up of Greek Tragedy meets the war on terrorism.

Mesafint Goldfeld and Brent Harris. Photo by: Michael Lutch.