By Christian Viveros-FaunÃ©
By Miriam Felton-Dansky
By Tom Sellar
By Tom Sellar
By Jessica Dawson
By Tom Sellar
By R. C. Baker
By Tom Sellar
1. Is The Tale of the Allergist's Wife (a) funny, or (b) meaningful?
2. In the context of the story, is the heroine's long-lost childhood friend who turns up out of nowhere (a) real, or (b) a fantasy projection? (If the latter, don't forget that everyone else onstage acknowledges her existence, or pretends to.)
By José Rivera
Based on Calderón’s La Vida Es Sueño
120 West 28th Street
Taking a Chance on Love
Lyrics by John LaTouche
Devised by Eric Haagensen
Theatre at St. Peter’s
619 Lexington Avenue
3. Which of the following characters is a mythomane? (a) The heroine, (b) her childhood friend, (c) the Iraqi doorman, who talks about his architect father and his summers in Tuscany.
4. Which of the following has been invented by the author to show the heroine's inability to deal with real life? (a) Her fondness for Hermann Hesse, (b) her elderly mother's bowel problems, (c) her smashing of Disney figurines.
5. Which of the following conflicts is treated most superficially and has least relevance to the action? (a) Jews and Muslims, (b) Jews and German culture, (c) Americans and terrorism, (d) global capitalism and the individual.
6. Which of the following improbable phenomena has been invented by the author to underscore the play's illusory nature? (a) Dr. Kevorkian, (b) the Internet, (c) BAM, (d) allergists who give patients their pager number.
7. Which motive looms largest in the heroine's ultimate expulsion of her long-lost friend? (a) Sexual confusion, (b) tiger whiskers, (c) financial fraud, (d) the friend's link to a sinister international organization, (e) Günter Grass.
8. Finally, which answer to question 1 above would have allowed you to skip the six following questions?
The last answer, of course, is (a) funny. For all its allusions, which run the gamut of 20th-century nightmares from anomie to zymosis, plus the gamut of cultural phenomena from Anaheim to Bettelheim, the principal function of The Tale of the Allergist's Wife is to be (a) funny, at which it mightily succeeds. That it barely makes an ounce of sense, even provisionally, while wending its (a) funny way across the stage is not the pointnot even here in Dramaturgy 101, where we like to stress the importance of a play's being (b) meaningful, to say nothing of (c) coherent. Those qualities are major contributors to the life of the theater, no doubt of it, "but jack you'll never lack if you can quack like a duck," as a great American theater artist once remarked. The gift of being able to make people laugh isn't always attached to the ability to create meaning; the two may even be actively opposed at times.
Charles Busch, as a writer, can make people laugh. Put an actress as vivid and creative as Linda Lavin onstage in a script of his, and the laughter can be very loud indeed. What Lavin creates, in a situation like this, is less a character than a persona, not a specific New York woman whom one could imagine married to a practicing physician, but the essence of every married woman who feels trapped in her own inadequacies, a bundle of nerves that jangle with every move like a set of dissonant wind chimes. Only Lavin has what theater people call "size," so imagine the wind chimes as sonorous as Big Ben, retuned by Schoenberg.
She's ably supported, too, in Lynne Meadow's tidy, non-interfering production, which declines to push for the meanings that aren't there, and trusts her knowing comedians to time the detonating laughs without fuss. Michele Lee is sweetly noncommittal as the imaginary friend. Tony Roberts, who in recent seasons has often seemed tetchy and distracted onstage, gives a relaxed, full performance as Lavin's bemused husband; Anil Kumar handles the doorman's brief role skillfully; and tiny Shirl Bernheim, as Lavin's resentful mother, packs more ferocity per square inch than most action movies.
You'll need different dramaturgic tools for Sueño, José Rivera's free-contemporary adaptation of Calderón de la Barca's masterpiece, Life Is a Dream. The original's set in Poland, Sueño in Seville; characters who used to come from Muscovy now come from Poland. Apart from moving the play one step closer to our landmass, Rivera has turned some of its offstage violence into the onstage comic-strip kindCalderón's taste for grotesquerie didn't extend to having us watch his hero juggle gouged-out eyeballsand has taken its poetry on a jazzy roller-coaster ride that includes some resplendent climbs and some stomach-shifting downward lurches into banal anachronism. What he wanted to do, other than turn a great philosophic parable into tossed word-salad, is anyone's guess; study the chapter on "tonal relations" in your textbooks before heading for Rivera's script.
When Rivera hews to the gravity of his source, you get an event that has Calderón's complex mixture of elements in exciting balance; at other times, you get something between Classic Comics and bad camp, heightened by director Lisa Peterson's apparent inability to notice that each of her actors is busily overstating in a different style. Since most of them are familiar figures who don't carry on this way under other directors, Peterson is clearly the problem. Her visual metaphorsin which war turns into flamenco mixed with chair wavingare as capricious in their shifts as Rivera's flashy diction. Those of you who think this is a helpful way to echo the source play's vision of life's arbitrary nature should reread the section in your textbooks on "imitative fallacy."