 |  |  |  |  |
THE BALD SOPRANO & THE LESSON Atlantic Theater Company -- Through October 17
by Eugéne Ionesco in a new translation by Tina Howe, Directed by Carl Forsman
Sets – Loy Arcenas, Lights – Josh Bradford, Costumes – Theresa Squire
with John Ellison Conlee, Michael Countryman, Maggie Kiley, Seana Kofoed, Maggie
Lacey, Jan Maxwell (Sixteen Wounded), Christa Scott-Reed,Steven Skybell, Robert
Stanton
I like the Atlantic Theatre Company. I like the feeling of the theatre, of the staff. There is
something grounded and thoughtful about them. Little pretense. Lots of work.
These two productions are OK. Not great, but OK. The best thing about the experience was
meeting up with Ionesco again. Born in Romania, moves to Paris and writes play (in French) that
make no sense on purpose, which means they make sense. It requires balance and letting go. Like
flying, I bet. Like Beckett. You can’t afford to think when the play is running. If you do, you
will be left behind.
I don’t know if this is a good translation or not. I was disappointed that Ms. Howe (or someone)
thought it necessary to include an insert that tried to explain not only Ionesco but also her
experience as a translator. (“I had to become Ionesco!”)
I do know I didn’t like the Forsman’s direction. He gave his actors little to do except flounce
about and say the words. It seems as if he felt the words were the only important element of the
plays. The actors become somehow more noise boxes than communicators.
This was not so obvious in Soprano – the first offering in which language is served up in great
mounds on movable trays and we are swept into the movement. In the –second however, The
Lesson, time slows down and the director’s lack of imagination cannot be swept under the rug.
Here, Maggie Kiley, arrives for a private lesson to prepare herself for exams. We soon learn that
she is expert in certain areas of math, but in nothing else. Her professor, Steven Skybell, reacts
with a lunatic epistle on language, during which Kiley develops a toothache. The ache does not
subside, and Ms. Kiley places her hand to her face and says, "I have a toothache,” is the line. This
line, along with the hand to the jaw gesture, is repeated over and over for the better part of an
hour. She makes no attempt to leave. There is no evidence that she is trapped. So, after awhile
you don’t hear her – or wish you didn’t.
How unfair. Ionesco deserves direction that leaps as far and as wildly as the text.