The character, while imprisoned for political and fiduciary reasons, narrates a chronological account of his glorious ascendancy and humiliating fall.
He brags about triumphant processions through Spain, and confesses how his cohorts drove the rebellious natives to kill themselves, ultimately spawning an absolute genocide.
To portray such a fulsome, tragic character, and to rise above the poetic, literary quality of the piece, required no small stature from an actor. Few could supply the necessary virtuosity as successfully as Paul D'Amato in the title role.
Reaching deep into himself, and with a feral imagination, he pulled out demons like magicians' scarves; and with his powerful voice, he took total command of the stage.
Royana Black was very good in her several supportive roles. Her singing voice was also pleasant. But as the play was written, no actor could match the raw power of the protagonist.
Director Frank Licato complemented D'Amato's virtuosity, meshing complex effects (such as a shipwreck) through split-second timings, superimposed speeches, and special lighting effects.
Beth Suhocki found just the right details and fabrics (from tattered leather to gold lamé) for the costumes. Especially nice were some chillingly tiny bells that were used to entrap the natives.
The lighting effects (for which D'Amato took credit) came from many sources, including candles, front and rear projections, and bright overheads. D'Amato's most stunning trick was to discreetly rub lubricant all over his skin, and stand beneath a golden light like a burnished calf being taken to the slaughter.
Some choices of period slides (by Adrian Wattenmaker) were lovely. The use of ironic Brechtian legends was somewhat less so, as was the repetitious film of someone's intentionally disgusting mouth. But filmed shots of Columbus, even out of focus, claiming his prize, conveyed triumph as movingly as a landing on the Moon.
The set, which was credited to the director, was simple, imaginative, and evocative of sea life, with some clever toy ships sailing an imaginary sea and planks eerily lighted from beneath.
Original music by Donald Stark was discretely mysterious, although one recording of a Te Deum went on and on to interrupt the action.
Columbus never sat for a portrait, and so the many likenesses of which we are familiar were all imaginary. This production, though based on history, conjured the quality of its fictional titan in a similarly convincing way.
Copyright 1999 Marshall Yaeger