| . | 02/15/2009
AMERICAN RAPTURE
By: Eugene Paul
Donovan Patton & Jane Cortney
Photo by Brad Fryman
In repertory, along with William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, the Oberon Theater Ensemble are alternating American Rapture, an ironically titled pastiche of five plays written and directed by talented Alex Dinelaris, and coupling them with Hello Out There, William Saroyan’s early one act success. Saroyan is reputedly Dinelaris’s inspiration, which is nice for the famed Saroyan because Dinelaris has culled his best pieces to join with that of his master’s and the master doesn’t look so good. Saroyan comes in second best, in stagecraft, in dialogue, in character development and in story. However, warts and all, Saroyan had a natural gift of reaching into the humanity that bred the American psyche of his time – already ancient, it seems –which, with all its brutishness, stupidity and prejudice nevertheless flashed idylls of caring, of kindness that lighted the way for Saroyan to the stage. It is doubtful if we shall ever know what lies in the hundreds of works in the Saroyan archives that have never seen the light of day. Perhaps his best is already known. If so, Alex Dinelaris is already standing on Saroyan’s shoulders.
“Hello, out there!” bellows a prisoner in his stark cell, alone in the middle of nothing. “Hello, out there!” Nothing. “Hello, out there!” An empty voice in an empty space. And then, a small voice in the nothingness replies. Eventually, the voice’s owner dares to approach the cage holding the lonely bellower. She’s, well, plain. Dumpy. Homely? Yes. And shy. And attracted to the lonely desperation in his cry by her own lonely desperation. She’s the one who cooks his food, such as it is. She’s not very good at it. He’s not very good at his sweet talk but his need to engage her is so great that he doesn’t shut up and she drinks in every word, inept, awkward, something they have in common. All his hapless palaver is meat and drink to this lonely, over aged girl and, in uncomfortably short order, he talks her into his dream of running off to San Francisco with him. All she has to do is get him a gun. And, in typical, Saroyan harebrained fashion, nothing works out, of course. Even worse occurs, of course. The prisoner is shot dead in his cage, then disposed of and the girl is left where she is, nowhere. Yes, there could be societal statements, powerful overtones, shock, stirrings of emotion, if the piece were brilliantly played, with all its social underlyings pointed up in spite of the inept writing, but something happened along the way; the director chose a 1941 period approach, the actors, wonderful in Dinelaris’s five earlier plays, now also appear inept, a strange and unfortunate anomaly because the company has already shown that it is good, strong, versatile. Why the detour to pedestrian? Something they ate? The Saroyan play is indigestible as played.
Not so the other Dinelaris plays, even the least of them. The author directs his own work better than he directs his idol’s. His first play, Spin Cycle, is wickedly good in performance and as a piece of writing. A famous TV talk show host ((excellent Donovan Patton) is accosted on a deserted train platform by a lonely, fawning fan (Brad Fryman, simply splendid) who has recognized him and decides to kill him in order to get his fifteen minutes of fame all over the tube, the press, the world. What else has he got? Nothing could beat this. There’s a shot. Next scene, the shooter is laceratingly interviewed by top notch William Laney as a brutal cop with problems. Yes, familiar territory but still gripping. And when a famous courtroom trial lawyer (Laura Siner, good as it gets) volunteers to take his case, yes, still familiar but still holding, she is interviewed by the famous TV host and is shattered, on camera. Author Dinelaris knows how to keep us continuously involved. Potentially a bigger play here.
Blind Date (Voices), Rain(Ghosts). Juggling Jaqueline (Memories), Forgiven, brief, clever, well played, amusing, each given fresh designs in familiar patterns.. I particularly liked Christine Verleny in a number of roles and the aplomb with which the cast made set changes and costume changes in an adjusted twilight that kept things moving moodily.
Beckett Theater, Theater Row, 410 West 42nd Street. Tickets: $20. Students, Seniors, $13.75.TDF accepted. For schedule: 212-560-2241.
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