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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (July 19, 1973)
drama Inferno's Dame Fortune” played by Teresa Killian Photo by Pttil Wakfstein ‘Inferno’ uneven, but reaches highest levels of pop theater UT’s ‘Mousetrap’ an engrossing, lively performance of Christie’s whodunit Suzanne Stassevitch’s production of The Mousetrap by Agatha Christie is everything a summer-stock play ought to be: its script is absorbing and entertaining, its direction is intelligent and well-paced, and its acting is nearly always fine. In all, it will be hard to find a more lively evening in the next few days than under the tent at University Theatre. The play is a classic among murder-mysteries. A recently married couple open a country guest-house in the midst of a blizzard which closes all the roads around London and cuts them and their five guests off from the outside. Then the police find evidence which somehow connects the newly-opened inn with a recent murder in the city, and which suggests that one of the guests may be in danger The couple, their guests, and a police sergeant live out hours together, discovering ever more frighteningly how little they know each other, and, in some cases, how well Christie demonstrates quite clearly some of the real possibilities of the murder-mystery genre. In fact, it is hard to think of a recent University Theatre production which absorbs its audience’s attention so thoroughly as does “The Mousetrap.” Viewers last Friday were very noticeably involved in the play, weighing and considering every word, every action for its significance, noticing and appreciating every acting quirk. Certainly this sort of reaction is exactly what the best performances of the best drama attempt to evoke: and in this limited technical sense, Christie’s whodunit gives the best drama some fair competition. Not that the value of the play lies solely in techniques of suspense in convolutions of incident, in strategically withheld information and in the fright that anticipated violence can produce. “The Mousetrap” has something more to say. In the words of the detective, Sergeant Trotter, “Since the War, people have been thrown together without All is not peaceful in Hell. There is order, and within order there is chaos, one can discern. The medieval underworld has logic, but its incontinence contains inconsistencies. So too “Inferno,” which opened last week at the Carnival Theater. This original production, adapted from Dante's work, has brilliance, order, but an unevenness of realization that runs through content and style. Composer Randy Bowser and lyricist John Belles have, beyond doubt, created a work of operatic stature, in some ways more sophisticated in texture than classical operas But the complexity of thought expressed sometimes leads to confusion. In “standard” opera, it is difficult to miss the point of what the performer is saying, as they often repeat their inane lines in terminably — one could indeed view the words as a necessary adjunct to the musical creation. In “Inferno” however, the music and the lyrics are on an equal footing. While the music occasionally drags, the work as a whole is excellent, spanning the range from discordant to lyrical. The duets, such as “The Lovers,” and “Follow Your Star,” are particularly delightful They radiate a beauty which elevates “Inferno” up from musical comedy to opera. The problems of complexity are illustrated by sections performed by Garrett d’Aloia, who is a remarkably good actor. As Ciacco the Glutton. his lines are not well understood; they come fast, to clashing, surprising music. Yet as Capaneus the blasphemer, his sentiments are clear, in a sort of novelty number. And. in a paradoxical way, those numbers which are the easiest to comprehend, such as “The Ballad of Capaneus” and the rocking and rolling “Limbo.” are precisely those parts of the work that are the least operatic. They are. however, immensely enjoyable To a great extent, they are, in fact, reconcilable with the pop-medievalview of Hell. Perhaps the classical poets were, in their way. a rollicking group. In this case, Bowser and Belles have successfully mixed metaphors: the gaiety and barbarity of antiquity are translated into the USA’s 1950s. Given the difficulty of the work, the production itself has only minor flaw’s, most obliterated by the cleverness and sincerity of its insights. Director Joe Zingo’s choreography is a masterwork, superbly performed It is consistently good, with sinewy bodies, chaos and despair, fear and pain, the medaevil vision of Hieronymus Bosch brought to life — or death, as it were. For the most part, the individual performances are good, with some standouts, and some puzzlements. As Dante, James Thompson brings a voice worthy of the importance of his role. He is convincing. Similarly, Paula Bissel’s Beatrice could inspire any man to brave Hell, even if her appearances are perforce not very active — visions, especially sweet ones, simply do not cavort. Virgil, though, is slightly confusing. When called upon for the uninhibited gyrations of the “Limbo” number. Pat McMahon does well. Perhaps the score is at fault, but throughout the rest of the opera, Virgil is mainly called on to be a tower of strength. If he appeared less disdaining through the middle of the work, perhaps his compassion in the second act would be easier to accept. As the members of the chorus assume particular roles, they exhibit depth, and often clarity. Ronald Mutz as the Heavenly Messenger is reassuring and enlightening. Randy Bowser, performing as Caiaphas, high priest to the Pharisees, sustains another moment of ludicity. As staged, the production is exdting, even spectacular. The op tical effects are exhilarating. For instance, a static pattern of black and white lines projected onto the moving bodies of the chorus becomes a writhing, kinetic frenzy. Given the complexity of the sound system, one should be surprised that it does not fail more often. The feedback wails are few, there is little distortion, although I suspect that the audio switcher should be provided with volume unit meters to monitor the inputs, as sometimes the singing peaks out. The bass response is poor too, thus the tenor and soprano voices have some advantage over the basso. And, the chorus is difficult to pick up, as they aren’t fortunate enough to rate individual microphones. Actually, the miqrophone becomes a kind of convention for the players, transferring it from hand to hand as they would transfer Golding’s conch: the one with the microphone is the one who merits attention. Indeed, with the masks, and the distance between stage and audience, the microphone is one of the principal clues as to who is actually singing. This peculiar relationship between electronic and attentional possessions is dramatized by the appearance of the Fortune Tellers, those unfortunate diviners, augurs and sorcerers who are condemned to have their heads on backwards. When they first appear on stage, it is difiicult to tell who is actually singing, as they don’t have microphones pointed at their mouths. Later, as one discovers that they seem to be singing through the backs of their necks, the really grotesque effort desired partially evaporates, in spite of the excellent arm movements. But these are little flaws, matters of staging rather than inherent attributes. When one accepts the subjugation of the performance to the electronic medium, much can be forgiven. The electronic sound of the music at times makes one suspicious that it has all been recorded (the musicianship is that good), so some visually tangible evidence of the musicians’ existence might have been nice, although, given the requirements on the company, this might be too difficult a feat to master. But despite the unevenness of seriousness and preparedness, “Inferno” in its originality, ambition, energy, concern and freshness overcomes the obstacles to reach the highest levels of pop theater, just as Dante descended to the lowest levels of Hell to find himself. “Inferno” continues with performances tonight and July 25 and 26. Tickets are $2.50 and may be purchased at the University Theater box office from noon to 5 p.m. (9 p.m. on performance nights). David Novick knowing or being able to know one another. Even a married woman may not discover until one or two years later that her husband has a touch of insanity or has deserted from the army .” There is some point to Christie’s demonstration of the great number of assumptions about one another on which our daily life depends. Too. the play presents a collection of delightful and fascinating character-types. There are Paravicini, the good-humored and sometimes sinister Italian who happens into the inn when his car overturns outside, allegedly by accident; Mrs. Boyle, a picky old woman who seems never to be satisfied with anyone or anything— least of all with people who don’t know their station; Major Metcalf, a fusty old gentleman recently retired from the army, who has an an tiquarian taste for prowling around in cellars; Miss Caswell, who is probably rich, and may be a writer, but who most certainly has spunk and skill in manipulating others ami in maintaining her own secrets; and Christopher Wren, an endearing though "nervous” young man who, as a character, must amount to one of the most entertaining and humane queer-jokes ever placed on a stage Character-parts are, for a number of reasons, often the easiest sorts of roles for an actor to play. Perhaps for this reason, the most out standing performances in “The Mousetrap” are in characters who can be defined in terms of one or two idiosyncracies. Of these, the best performance belongs to Paul Meier as Christopher Wren. True, the “nervousness” of the character keeps Meier moving all the time, and his affinities for cooking and antiques— among other things— give him more than his share of comic lines. But Meier has filled out the role to a human roundness quite beyond the caricature it could have been made. Michele Theriot and John Elliott, as Miss Caswell and Major Met calf, also demonstrate excellent command of their characters, and bring them to convincing and interesting life beyond the quirks in terms of which Miss Christie has defined them Theriot’s Miss Caswell has all the impatience and pugnacity of a woman determined to make her own life by sheer will-power. And Elliot acts a Major Metcalf who is at once mellow and crusty, sensible and preoccupied. Jack Wilson has. in the same way, taken the rather functionally-defined role of the detective, Sergeant Trotter, and given him an effective measure of rational curiosity and peculiar irrationality. Mel Buchner is a delightful Paravicini, both in appearance and in style of delivery. But too often, Stassevitch’s direction leaves him merely lurking in the background, distractingly immobile for long stretches of time. It is a little difficult to understand how a character so animated when he speaks can suddenly breeze when his lines run out. And Jackie McClure perhaps overdoes Mrs. Boyle’s feistiness. Mrs. Boyle so failed to arouse any sympathy in me, for one, that I sometimes suspected that she might run into some foul-play— from me if from no one else. It would help the play if Mrs. Boyle were a bit more human and likeable. Not much would be required to bring out her meddling well-meaningness. The most difficult roles in “The Mousetrap” are those of Molly and Giles Ralston, the owners and managers of Monkswell Manor Guest House. And paradoxically, the difficulty in those roles is that the characters are so ordinary. Forced to play against so many easily— and well-defined character-parts, the two seemingly normal people in the play tend to come across as insipid unless played with exceptional strength British theatre accepts such “regular people” as types in themselves, but American audiences cannot generally identify with such an implied norm Consequently, in such a production as this, the parts of the average middle-class characters need to be created from the ground up. Linda Bailey and Gary Pillette show few signs of having done so, and too often they appear merely to be ready lines. At times it is even hard to tell that they are married to each other. Bailey’s character does gain focus as the play progresses, but Pillette never quite establishes much of a personality. Perhaps symptomatic of this is the fact that he never stabilizes his accent, mixing London and Eugene dialects with most unlikely abandon. Charlie Harrill’s costumes are perfect. And John Elliot’s set establishes setting and mood very adequately, although it seems alternately cramped and insufficiently closed-in. This is a minor matter, however, and distracts little from the general polish of the production. Stassevitch and Faber DeChaine, Carnival Theatre producer, are to be congratulated for their choice of “The Mousetrap” as part of this summer’s season. One hopes that such an entertaining evening of theatre gets the audiences it fully deserves. The play closes this weekend, with performances tonight, tomorrow and Saturday. Allan Brown Photo by Phil Waldstein Inferno’s “Caiaphas,” played by Randy Bowser , Photo by Phil Waldstein Inferno’s “Virgil” played by Pat McMahon
