By Christian Viveros-Fauné
By Miriam Felton-Dansky
By Tom Sellar
By Tom Sellar
By Jessica Dawson
By Tom Sellar
By R. C. Baker
By Tom Sellar
When your most popular play is a scenario set in purgatory, what do you do for an encore? Jean-Paul Sartre's Morts Sans Sepulture (translated as Men Without Shadows)more or less a follow-up to his best-known drama, No Exitalso deals with a group of people jailed under impossible circumstances. But while No Exit's concerns are personal and metaphysical, this 1946 play depicts a literal hell on earthwartime occupation, imprisonment, and torture. Despite its harrowing nature and its frank presentation of the dehumanization war engenders, the play's remounting by the Horizon Theater Rep is utterly timely and very welcome.
Act I opens in a prison cell, among a group of five French resistance fighters captured after their attempt to secure a village goes horribly wrong. The Flea Theater's oblong, dim downstairs space is a perfect stand-in for the cramped attic in which French Nazi collaborators hold their captives. Since the prisoners have no useful information, they're convinced they have nothing to hide and will probably be murdered. The situation becomes more urgent when their leader is thrown in with them, unrecognized by the collaborators. As each member of the group is taken out of the room to be tortured, those left behind speculate about who might crack under the pressure. Subsequent acts take place in the interrogation room, and among the collaborators. What the plot lacks in complexity, it more than compensates for in urgency, impassioned dialogue, and ideas. These unlucky souls are an existentialist think tank with a gun to its head.
The resistance fighters may suffer from an overabundance of Sartre's sympathies as a leftist and former P.O.W., and from some overdramatic turns, but the play is amazingly evenhanded and generous to the Nazi collaboratorswho, though they commit inhuman acts (tastefully staged but not robbed of impact by director Simon Hammerstein), are at times more humanly drawn than their Brechtishly brave victims. Their petty rivalries and paranoid behavior would probably be humorous if they didn't occur in the context of the horrors of war. (Sound like anyone we know?)
True to existentialism, Sartre avoids appointing anyone the play's hero, spreading its tough moral choices evenly throughout the prisoners' roles. Sorbier, the first to be tortured, claims subsequently that he would have given up Jean, their leader, but commits a final act of bravery in Act III. Henri, the tough-minded zealot of the group, is ashamed to have screamed during his torture session, and later commits a very ethically questionable act.
The trouble with this bracing, good-looking productionaside from your immediate need for a stiff drink afterwardis mostly one of casting. By design, the play is an ensemble piece, yet everyone in this group has a wildly different acting approach. Sorbier mutters his way through an Edward Norton film, stiff-backed Jean projects like a young Byron Jennings. Henri's diction is at times unintelligible, the coltish François takes the stage direction "pacing" far too seriously. As Lucie, the lone female in the bunch, Hillary Keegin both exhibits a noble restraint and looks the part, and collaborators Jordan Lage and David Wilson Barnes have a marvelous, Strangelove-ly rapport, but nobody has quite the gravitas to pull off lines like "They broke my wrists, they tore open my fleshhaven't I paid for the right to die?" Perhaps that's a good thing, sobriety so tough often comes from years of militarized anxiety, and there's still hope that our country can escape that fate. James Hannaham
None of the Above
By Jenny Lyn Bader
The Ohio Theatre
66 Wooster Street
Characterize Jenny Lyn Bader's None of the Above as: (A) an entertaining romantic comedy, (B) a silly, improbable story, (C) a disappointing exploration of class and character, or (D) all of the above. If you chose D, youre on your way to achieving a perfect score, the holy grail of the Upper East Side prep-school world of Bader's play.
Though she does not "test well," no doubt the 17-year-old Jamie (Alison Pill) knows the myth of the Grail. At her elite private school, the precocious girl took Early Church History, a/k/a Popes for Dopes, in fifth grade. In high school, she studied philosophy by sleeping with a famous intellectual. She does her best math when calculating her cut of a drug deal. From this raw material, her SAT coach Clark (Kel O'Neill) must sculpt a test-busting phenom. After they meet cute in Jamie's luscious boudoir/study (Lauren Helpern's sumptuously appointed set), sexual tension vibrates beneath their verbal barbs. Under Jamie's clever interrogation, Clarkan impecunious grad studentreveals that he has made a breathtaking all-or-nothing wager with her father that Jamie will achieve a 1600 on her SATs.
Jamie labels this a "Faustian bargain." When Clark demurs, she builds a convincing analogy, just like the ones in their practice test book. Their rapid-fire repartee shoots typical test vocab words back and forth in witty exchanges. For the heritage of this kind of coupling, think Pygmalion. Or conjure any old flick where a street-smart Clark Gable gives some hoity-toity society dame a few real-life lessons. Now update.