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Laugh
to Keep From Crying
By
Kathryn Ceceri
He
Who Gets Slapped
Book
by Ray Sipherd, music by Arthur B. Rubinstein, lyrics by Ray
Sipherd and Arthur B. Rubinstein
The Theater Company at Hubbard Hall, through May 30
He
Who Gets Slapped, re ceiving its world premiere at Hubbard
Hall, is a show firmly in the tradition of Threepenny Opera
and Sweeney Todd: It’s less musical comedy than musical
tragedy. Despite its circus setting (wonderfully evoked through
the scenery of assemblage artist Karen Koziol) any gaiety
here is thickly underlaid by a deep-seated discontent that
at any moment could seep through to the surface. From the
play’s wild-eyed title character, a clown with a disturbing
new act, to the beautiful tightwire dancer with a taste for
expensive jewels, there’s not a figure who doesn’t combine
the sympathetic with the repulsive. The performances, directed
by Hubbard Hall artistic director Kevin McGuire, are stunning;
the score by movie veteran Arthur B. Rubinstein is sophisticated;
and the book by Ray Sipherd, who with Rubinstein also wrote
the lyrics, successfully conveys a mood of dark cynicism.
So dark is it, in fact, that its comic interludes aren’t quite
enough to give the audience relief from the doom they know
must be at hand; and the complexity of Rubinstein’s music,
for all its power, makes it unlikely anyone will be walking
out of the theater humming its tunes.
The story, which streamlines somewhat the early-20th-century
play by Russian author Leonid Andreyev on which it is based,
revolves around He (Kirk Mouser), a disturbing vagabond who
appears at the Cirque de Paris in 1930s France with a new
idea for a clown act: He provokes the audience with uncomfortable
truths until they lash out, and then laugh, at him. Papa Briquet,
the circus’ owner (McGuire), is trying vainly to bring some
life to his big top’s tired acts, which include Zinida, his
wife (Sandra Bargman), who looks as though her spiked heels
and whip see some use outside the tiger cage as well as in
it. M. Reynard (Dan Sharkey), a wealthy gentleman in top hat
and tails who’s thinking about buying Briquet’s circus, does
everything but twirl his mustache in villainy (he’s also the
only one unmoved by He’s taunts, even when the clown sinks
to jibes about his mother). But his real object seems to be
the beautiful Consuelo (Mariah Sanford-White), who doesn’t
mind Reynard’s attention but secretly yearns for her irresistible
partner Bezano (Adam Jansson), young, handsome, and practically
bursting out his tights with virility. I particularly liked
the clown troupe (Brian Foley, Josh Gray and Charlotte Pines),
which served as a kind of Greek chorus, reflecting and commenting
upon the action when not dragging audience members onstage.
The production is graced with a cast that sings as well it
acts, putting heart and soul into every number, and an orchestra
(musical director Richard Cherry on piano, Sam Farkas on banjo
and guitar, Bill Jensen on drums and Melinda Speidel on reeds)
that handles the difficult score with hardly a misstep. Koziol
has turned Hubbard Hall’s theater space completely around
to create her circus, placing the orchestra beneath the balcony,
which doubles as catwalk, behind a translucent screen, and
the audience on risers leading up to and right onto the stage.
Ropes, ladders, umbrellas, and a fantastically decorated full-length
mirror frame suggest excitement, movement and airy heights.
Does He Who Gets Slapped have what it takes to move
to off-Broadway, its apparent goal? Yes, when it comes to
quality. The question is whether audiences will embrace a
show that causes such unease, where any satisfaction to be
had is bittersweet at best.
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