THEATER
Scary Stuff
A baffl ing British import, a spooky way to play in the dark
BY CHRISTOPHER BYRNE
There are actors about
whom people say it would
be worth the price of admission
to hear them
read the phone book. The Americans
Audra McDonald and Cherry
Jones fall into that class, as does
the Britisher Eileen Atkins. Combining
that elusive, luminous star
quality with authenticity and pure
talent, they will shine in any material.
For Atkins and her brilliant
performance in “The Height of the
Storm,” the phone book might have
been the more literate choice. That
at least has a coherent organization
and a through-line an audience
can follow, however simplistic.
Florian Zeller’s play, translated
from the French by Christopher
Hampton, on the other hand, is
anything but simplistic, which is a
diplomatic way of saying that it’s a
confusing, impenetrable mess.
The set-up — it can’t be called
a plot — is that two elderly people,
Ann and André are, or have been,
living together in a rambling house
in the Paris suburbs for the better
part of 50 years. Now, one of them
is dead. The problem is we have
no idea which one. The piece is an
amalgam of scenes, such as one in
which André’s daughters are trying
to convince him to go to assisted
living now that he’s alone or another
where Ann is talking about the
relationship to her daughters now
that she’s alone. There are scenes
with Ann and André together in
a comfortably mature relationship.
It’s diffi cult to know as each
scene unfolds who is alive, who is
dead, and what year it is. It’s exhausting.
Zeller, in his blessedly
short 80-minute exercise, gives us
no way to know, or reason to care
about, the characters other than
as pawns in his game.
There are plenty of examples of
non-linear narratives that create
powerful theater. The current revival
of Pinter’s “Betrayal” is one,
as is David Hare’s “Plenty,” or even
“Equus.” The structure is never
the question when the audience
Eileen Atkins in Florian Zeller’s “The Height of the Storm,” translated from the French by Christopher
Hampton and directed by Jonathan Kent, at Samuel J. Friedman Theater through November 24.
can be engaged, but Zeller doesn’t
know the difference between the
abstract and the abstruse. An
audience needs to be able to say,
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” and
go with it. Even Beckett, Ionesco,
and Genet provided that, and none
of them wrote plays that one saw
for the story. Zeller may be going
for some kind of existentialist commentary
on aging or marriage and
perhaps an expressionistic exploration
of the mind of someone suffering
from dementia, but when we
don’t know the rules of the world
the playwright has created the result
is muddy.
Nearly all is forgiven, however,
when Atkins is on stage. She fi lls
each moment with believable human
complexity, whether talking
about the life she wants to live
without her daughters’ interference
or quietly peeling mushrooms. Atkins’
Ann is a woman who is present
and, after a long time, knows
who she is. But these moments
are isolated and do not provide a
coherent character, and that’s the
play’s failing.
Jonathan Pryce as André has a
harder task. André has advanced
dementia, which is what suggests
that the jarring time shifts are
supposed to refl ect his untethered
relationship to time, but that’s
just a guess. Without even minimal
framing to clue the audience
JOAN MARCUS
in, Pryce, for all his obvious commitment
to the role, never makes
André’s behavior seem anything
other than random. Even if André
doesn’t know where he is, the audience
should if we are to muster any
empathy for him.
Jonathan Kent’s direction
doesn’t do much for the piece other
than literally shine a spotlight on
whichever character is supposed
to be alive in any given scene. It
sometimes helps, but more often
does not.
As to why this play was such
a hit in London that Manhattan
Theatre Club imported it, that’s as
baffl ing as the play itself. The only
reasonable answer is that it was
a “snob hit,” a concept introduced
by William Goldman in his 1969
book, “The Season.” Three of the
components he sardonically identifi
es of this phenomenon are that
a play be “unintelligible,” “British,”
and that attendance confers
a kind of intellectual superiority
on the audience. Goldman’s bias is
toward full-on commercial theater,
but he makes a point. “The Height
of the Storm” couldn’t exist without
MTC’s subscription audience.
In the current market, how many
people will pay $170 to show intellectual
superiority? Obscurity is
not artistry; it’s merely annoying.
Horror impresario Timothy
Haskell is up to new tricks with
his latest, participatory experience,
“I Can’t See.” Created with
Paul Smithyman, this immersive,
interactive show takes attendees
through a classic horror story with
a twist: audience members are
walking through the environment
completely blindfolded. The story is
experienced through all the other
senses, as one walks through the
unpredictable maze, often led,
pushed or prodded by unseen
characters.
“I Can’t See” is based on the W.W.
Jacobs story “The Tollhouse,” and
it’s appropriately spooky. The job
of the audience is to get through
without dying — metaphorically, of
course.
As with all of Haskell’s pieces,
there’s a balance of cheesy horror,
narrative sophistication, and
enough creepy stuff to keep the
audience on edge. It has no pretensions
to anything other than a fun
quasi-theatrical event, and it succeeds.
If you’re looking for an unusual
Halloween or horror experience,
this may be just the ticket. It would
be great for a group to do together
as a holiday activity. The “danger,”
such as it is, is all in your imagination,
so there should be no worries
about being blindfolded unless
being unable to see for 45 minutes
is something you can’t handle. For
my money, it’s defi nitely worth it to
block out the time and your optical
sense to abandon yourself to the
experience.
THE HEIGHT OF THE STORM |
Samuel J. Friedman Theater, 261 W.
47th St. | Tue.-Wed. at 7 p.m.; Thu.-
Sat. at 8 p.m.; Wed., Sat.-Sun. at 2
p.m. | $79-$169 at telecharge.com
or 212-239-6200 | Eighty mins., no
intermission
I CAN’T SEE | 133 Greenwich St.
at Thames St. | Through Nov. 3:
Tue.-Sun., schedule varies from 5
p.m. to 11 p.m., entry on the half
hour | $45-$50 at nightmarenyc.
com/tickets ; $20 student rush half
hour before each entry | Forty-fi ve
mins.
October 10 - October 23, 2 40 019 | GayCityNews.com
/telecharge.com
/GayCityNews.com
