Author: Crystalyn Radcliffe
The posters for the most recent Hepburn Zoo play, "Laughter Suffering," featured a white skeleton outlined against a black backdrop, as if a flash of light had revealed the hidden form lurking in the darkness. On Nov. 23 in the Zoo, this skeleton was brought to life in horrifying and mystifying ways.
The set was stark, black and white. Oversized wooden picture frames dangled from the ceiling, placing the stage as well as audience members in "frames of reference" and creating, as one of the lines from the show eerily described it, "An echoing gallery of human art." The black floor was splattered with white paint, littered with several black boxes which proved to be multi-functional, serving as furniture in an art class, a publisher's office and a stand-up comedy stage. In the back a screen displayed the graphic, often disturbing black and white-cartoons of Gerald Scarfe.
From my seat, facing stage left, I was afforded a clear view of a portrait of living people, who in turn saw me in the same context. Darkness lifted to reveal Freeman White '03 sweeping the stage with a push broom. Pausing in front of me and making eye contact he smiled, the light hitting his face in a way which left his eyes and mouth empty -- a skeletal vision. He spoke directly to me in a cockney accent, breaking through the barrier of the frame, violating the defined space of the stage and our established relationship of actor and audience member.
"Laughter Suffering," a collage piece addressing the connections between two things we typically think of as diametrical -- laughter and suffering, was part of White's 700 theater project. This piece, in addition to his role as Stiva in "Anna Karenina," comprise his total project. White explained that among other reasons, the pieces were selected for the specific challenges they posed to him as an actor. "The big challenges were comedy, extreme old age, the dialectic work of switching between accents as well as the switches in ideology," he said.
It turns out that the challenge was not for White alone, but the audience as well. Between instantaneous scene changes, shifts in accent, characters and location, the audience had their work cut out for them. Even if you weren't able to follow all of the changes in scene, sort through all of the accents or grasp the underlying message of the piece, you were still left with powerful and haunting images.
"I was most concerned with hitting the audience with repeated themes, names and words, repetitions of laughter, suffering and hate," said White. Throughout the piece, White's facial expressions and body language often conveyed more than his words. Expressions of despair, ecstasy, hate and suffering were beautifully communicated through simple eye movements, facial expressions and posture.
Ultimately, the play depended on the audience's ability to identify with the characters as human. Matt Coons '04 made his debut performance as Diver, a pretentious cartoon publisher. From his perfectly matched suit and tie to the way he drank his bourbon, Coons was the epitome of the arrogant, unfeeling businessman, hiring a young sell-out artist as a replacement for the decrepit and uncompromising genius of Bela, an old comedian also played by White. At one point Diver's character broke down under the rantings of the hysterical Bela, screaming at him and revealing her humanity beneath her façade.
Charlie Goulding '05 played a comedy instructor, who advocated a need to find something other than hate to laugh about, referencing the perverse appeal of a visit he made to the Jewish concentration camps. Despite a shaky Irish accent, his performance as a middle-aged comedy instructor was believable and an appropriate contrast to the passionate, uneducated outbursts of his pupil.
Among other roles, Claire Wyckoff '03 played an art teacher who passionately espoused the value of the depiction of truth, condemning any artist who did not suffer to find it.
If anything, the collage raised questions about the meaning and purpose of laughter. Laughter is a double-edged sword which can wound and heal. Why do we still laugh at bigoted comedians? Does hate fuel laughter? Are laughter and suffering inextricably connected? If we are searching for answers to these questions, we might look to one of the lines in "Laughter Suffering:" "My smile is a crack of pain."
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