"La Dispute," by Pierre de Marivaux (Timberlake Wertenbaker, trans.), begins with a fascinating premise: to rear two Adams and two Eves, never to have them meet a possible lover until they've reached the age where fidelity can be scientifically measured.
Imagine a young woman meeting another human being for the first time - who happens to be a man to whom she is attracted! - then confronting a second human being, the rival for her mate's affections. The man then meets another man, the first buddy in his experience.
All these discoveries seemed real, and brought a gentle humor to the piece, until the cruel arrogance of creating the experimental Eden shocked things into place. Once the experiment was finished, and we found out which was the feckless sex, all four subjects were summarily exterminated.
The main contest waged on stage by "Love, the Greatest Enchantment," by Calderon de la Barca (Kathy Ciric and Devorah Herbert, trans.), was the question: What's more difficult? To conceal or to feign love?
The story retold Ulysses' escape from the irresistible Circe, who turned men into swine. In this production, the sorceress conjured other fauna as well; but then there were three Circes and two Ulysses on stage - which allowed an effective counterpoint between Spanish and English texts, and demonstrated that theatre is about human actions, not just words: a premise the director proved throughout.
The design of the production was most impressive in this play with all its transformed animal characters, from pigs to cows, to a charming, chattering monkey. One became aware of the subtle color schemes not just from the costumes (by Penelope Wish, Theresa Squire, Julia Van Vliet, Beth Lasley, and Chris Glasgow), but across the entire stage, into which were skillfully blended fabrics and textures; huge, brilliantly crafted puppets (by Devorah Herbert); realistic props; and accessories from toy puppies to whirling whips and whizzers. Different colored gowns for the same characters created different moods, and were perfectly fitted, dramatically swirling, and sexy for dancing. Animals that were elegantly fitted with gloves for hooves walked barefoot, a strange combination that seemed strikingly right.
The impression one got from the exotic
commedia dell'arte play "The Golden Bird" by Carlo Gozzi (Albert Bermel, trans.) was similar to what one expects from children's theatre. But the play (about the conflict between wealth and philosophy) was probably too ribald for the kiddies. Female statues came to life long enough to squirt milk on thirsty drinkers; and one male character wore what must be described as the codpiece of death, designed by Dolly Parton.
Almost all the masks (by Isabelle Anderson and Darko Tresnjak) and costumes were nothing short of fabulous, as, for example, when all the riches of the Orient seemed to pour onto the stage when the wishes of two impoverished children came true. Weird and wild leather-like masks created beaked characters; and a serpentine costume, with snakes like Medusa's, was especially fine.
Forty-five actors gave outstanding performances, the principle players (in multiple, often masked and double roles) being Richard Cavan, Rick Gray, Kimberly Howard, Daniel Raphael Katz, Lee Lewis, Julia Martin, Laura Meschel, Heather Simms, Bradford Telford, and Jennifer Ward. Performers displaying special promise included: Kim Ima, Christopher Roberts, Rita Pietropinto, and Danny Strauss.
A floor of sand was the main feature of the set (designed by Darko Tresnjak and Devorah Herbert) around which a moat (or sometimes a stream) of real water was used for various purposes. Smoky clouds of fog drifted through the room, almost on command. At such times one could even exercise the sense of smell in this production, as when someone ate an orange, or offered audience members a toke on a hookah, while incense wafted through the proceedings.
Lighting, designed by Kevin Lange, took care of such exquisite details as defining the shiny red jewels in a hat, or discreetly shadowing frontal nudity.
Music composed and performed by Bill Ruyle and Chris Wertenbaker came from such diverse eras and cultures as India, Spain, and Japan. Exotic sounds included crashing cymbals, gongs, and drums, trumpet, marimba, guitar, and choral chanting.
Andrei Serban is more than a guru. The spells he casts upon his actors, he weaves on audiences as well (many of them, talking during intermission, referred to him as "Andrei"). He was always in evidence, bringing pillows into the theatre before the show, acting the voice of a puppet, or making room for his children to sit.
He fashioned all these plays out of simple elements - whether flags, flashpots, whips, or whistles - in the way Bach made his fugues out of simple themes, complicated only in the way they thread themselves together into a tapestry so beautifully complex that it can express the primal human condition. That kind of skill usually takes a genius to figure out.
Along the way he created some images that could be so profoundly moving they drew tears because of their beauty and profundity: The image of Adam and Eve crawling out of tubes; a man released from the spell of being imprisoned in a tree, swinging from a rope in joy; a golden feather plucked and drifting down twenty feet; or the ending of the Calderon, where the tableau of an ancient Greek ship rested its oars on the distant shores of time, where gentle song, dance, music, and movement could quiet down for a great peacefulness to descend and end the magic spell.
Copyright 1999 Marshall Yaeger