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Peer Reviews Assassins Reviewed by Sherry Deatrick Entire contents are copyright © 2009 Sherry Deatrick. All rights reserved.
"We're the other national
anthem, folks, It's not often one gets the opportunity to see Assassins, one of Stephen Sondheim's most challenging and experimental works. Clarksville Little Theatre (CLT) deserves major kudos for having the moxie to stage something as unusual as this show, regardless of how the production ultimately turned out. Fortunately, it turned out grand. CLT's Assassins is so powerful, I plan to return next weekend before the show disappears from Kentuckiana. If you love theater, you will be there, too.
The play doesn't rely on traditional ideas of what constitutes a linear plot; rather, it takes us through a series of interconnected vignettes that add up to a greater whole. Sondheim has described it as a cross between a libretto and a revue. The brassy music is wrapped broadly in an American flag, yet contains Sondheim's signature dissonance. Each short scene deals with a different Presidential assassin (or wanna-be assassin), ranging from anarchist Leon Czolgosz to Lee Harvey Oswald to John Hinckley. In a setting vaguely suggestive of an old-timey carnival shooting gallery, these historical assassins meet in a weird dimension where time and space don't exist. The barker/proprietor beckons them to take a chance at shooting a president to win a prize, suggesting that none of these characters is acting alone. Jeremy O'Brien is the garishly dressed barker — Death disguised as a horrifying ashen-faced mime or gangly clown, or the Devil himself under certain lighting conditions. O'Brien's Proprietor mischievously guides the assassins to their destinies. Part of Sondheim's genius is that he manages to make us feel empathy for these misguided misanthropes, then abruptly reminds us how repulsive they really are; and then just as abruptly returns to presenting them with sympathy. It may be no accident that "my niche in history," a phrase sung by Guiteau in "Gun Song," is a homonym for "my Nietzschean history." People misinterpret Nietzsche, too. The show seems to simultaneously state that political change can never be successfully brought about by violence, but also that change (and true freedom) is not possible. The country stops for a minute, heals, and finally forgets and moves on as before. The beauty of this musical is that just when you think you've cracked its meaning, another one slips in. You'll be talking about it on the way home. And you still won't grasp its deep meaning. The assassins sing about their motivations, wrapping them in noble causes ("Sic semper tyrannis" screams Booth) yet the play suggests their true motivation is somewhat more personal, e.g., Booth's bad reviews, Guiseppe Zangara's stomach pains, John Hinckley, Jr.'s lust for Jodie Foster. In other words, they did it to be noticed. To be remembered, like Brutus. "They might not want to hear it, Director Janet Morris has done an outstanding job in casting and staging this show. Many of the actors look spot-on like their historical counterparts, and all of them carry themselves with the prerequisite slovenly charm, pathos, humor and passion. Sarah Meuler is funny and scary as Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, a Manson "girl" who fired a pistol at Gerald Ford in 1975, but the bullet was in the wrong chamber. Unfortunately, the female assassins are portrayed here as dingbats — but then again, they were a bit inept. Sarah Jane Moore's (played comically by Carrie Chastain) attempt on Ford was similarly slapstickish. Fromme's and Moore's interaction in an imaginary park is extremely funny, until it hits you — this is no joke! KFC buckets are forever changed in my mind. Come to think of it, the male assassins are no less goofy than the females. Andy Epstein is especially dapper and energetic as Charles Guiteau, who shot President Garfield in 1881. Guiteau is by far the most interesting of the assassins. He was a failed lawyer, a preacher, and an author (he plagiarized another book on theology). He believed Garfield owed him the ambassadorship to France because he delivered a campaign speech for Garfield. He made a spectacle of himself at his trial, and recited his poem, "I Am Going to the Lordy," on his way to the scaffold. But it's Ted Lesley who burns up the stage as Sam Byck, a man who attempted (but failed) in 1974 to assassinate Nixon by hijacking a jet to crash into the White House. Dressed in a dirty Santa Claus suit and guzzling Budweiser, he rants into a tape recorder at Leonard Bernstein (Sondheim's collaborator on West Side Story). The audience seemed to miss the in-joke during Byck's manic renditions of Sondheim/Bernstein's "America" and "Tonight." I've seen Lesley in a number of productions around town, but this night he really outdid himself. The tension in the air was thick as Lesley, who initially had been somewhat humorous, raved increasingly like a violent madman to a chilling fever-pitch, with the fire of lunacy glowing from his eyes. Then there was nothing to laugh about. The finale — "Everybody's Got the Right" is downright chilling. I stared open-mouthed and transfixed as the cast poured out their hearts, singing ironically, "Everybody's got the right to some sunshine! Assistant Director/Costumer Katie Hay doesn't skimp on the period costumes. Larry Chaney's lighting and sound design add depth to the performances without overpowering the actors. The well-designed program provides bios not only of the cast and crew, but also the characters. The strength and weight of this show — easily the greatest thing CLT has ever done in its long and distinguished history — is such that any criticism would be extremely nitpicky and minor. But were I to pick a few nits, I might suggest that Epstein pace himself and save up some of that manic energy for his big number "The Ballad of Guiteau," which should be more frantic and broad (think of Eddie Cantor or Al Jolson) as he cake-walks up the steps to the noose. Epstein came close, but didn't quite tap into that vaudevillian spirit on Saturday night. I'm sure it was just an off night, because I've seen Epstein give a boffo performance as one of the leads in La Cage Aux Folles at JCC's CentreStage. Nit number 2: I would have liked a small live band to provide the music rather than having the actors sing over a pre-recorded "karaoke" soundtrack, but one can't have everything. Some of the actors, while singing beautifully, didn't project quite as loud as they should have. This, however, was still preferable to fitting the actors with microphones, and I applaud the production for not using them. Nit number 3: Morris was constrained by the script to run the Zapruder film after Oswald wins his "prize." This over-the-top intrusion stops the energy onstage but fails to impact the audience as it once did. We've all seen this footage so often that it's lost its shock value. After the events of 9-11, Assassins is a rarely-performed show, largely because of Sam Byck's airplane-as-terrorist-weapon scheme. And Sondheim recognized in a 1991 interview that "there are always people who think that certain subjects are not right for musicals." That's a shame, because history will someday remember this show as Sondheim's crowning glory; it will certainly be better remembered than most of the obscure criminals it exalts. Don't let the subject matter keep you away.
Assassins www.clarksvillelittletheatre.org/ March 6 - 14, 2009 Featuring Jeremy O'Brien, Josh O'Brien, Bryce Blair, Andy Epstein, Josh Martin, Ted Lesley, Sarah Meuler, Carrie Chastain, Jason Potts, and Brian Morris. Posted Mar. 9, 2009
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