Sunday, October 18, 2009
A+E, Theater, Reviews
Flying ‘Blind’
Our critic comes not to praise Caesar, but to bury him
Horace Henry
Jahi Kearse and Tonia Jackson in “The Sty of the Blind Pig”
"JULIUS CAESAR"
Georgia Shakespeare
Conant Performing Arts Center
404-262-0020
www.gashakespeare.org
Through Nov. 1
"THE STY OF THE BLIND PIG"
True Colors
Southwest Arts Center
877-725-8849
www.truecolorstheatre.org
Through Nov. 1
BY BERT OSBORNE
Along the lines that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, a strong negative reaction to a show can be better than no reaction at all.
Neither very good nor really bad, Georgia Shakespeare artistic director Richard Garner’s "Julius Caesar" just is. Based on the costumes (by Sydney Roberts), the setting is early 20th century, but the concept is so arbitrary and inconsequential, old-school togas probably would’ve sufficed.
Allen O’Reilly, not the most magnetic actor, plays it safe and down the middle as the slain Roman emperor. With equal inattention to both the character’s "virtuous countenance" and his "feeble temper," he isn’t a hero or a villain—so why care what happens to him, one way or the other? When Marc Antony (a solid David Quay) rallies the masses (here, a gang of four) in Caesar’s defense, he may as well be lauding a stranger.
It’s no easier siding with or against those plotting to assassinate him. At times, they’re "masters of their own fate," giving noble speeches about honor and duty; at others, they’re "petty conspirators," lurking in the shadows. In the production’s unfocused fashion, these performances range from Neal Ghant’s understated (arguably bland) Brutus to Joe Knezevich’s Cassius, chewing the scenery with bombastic abandon.
Kat Conley has designed many a functional set—some ("Octopus") better than others ("Finn in the Underworld")—but this one simply sits there, nothing more than nice to look at. There’s a window up in a back corner, where you expect to see Caesar’s bloody apparition. (You don’t.) There’s a towering staircase center stage, upheld by a large statue of him in an Atlas-like pose, and after Calpurnia (Tess Malis Kincaid) recounts her ominous dream, you imagine the statue will start bleeding at any moment. (It doesn’t.) There are cables connecting different parts of the set in the second act, as if a section of it could lift from its foundation. (Guess again.)
As ultimately boring as this "Caesar" is, "The Sty of the Blind Pig" festers like so much "grit in your craw." Directed for True Colors by the usually reliable Andrea Frye ("Blues for an Alabama Sky"), Philip Hayes Dean’s period drama is a rather haphazard mess. It involves a woman with vague spiritual and psychological scars (if she isn’t a "whiskey-head"), a blind street musician with his own wounded past (if he isn’t the Devil incarnate), and a pair of supporting characters (her uncle and mother) who might be best described as Fred Sanford and Aunt Esther.
Earl Billings and Margo Moorer are OK in those roles, even though they seem to come from another play entirely. At the crux of the show is the attraction between the woman and the singer, but Tonia Jackson and Jahi Kearse fail to generate much chemistry or tension. He’s thoroughly winsome, when he ought to feel more threatening or insinuating. And who knows what her deal is? What begins as a sluggish "Raisin in the Sun" wannabe soon develops (out of thin air) delusions of self-indulgent grandeur, with a "flight of the purple angels" monologue that’s no less preposterous for being well-delivered by Jackson—and yet all the more so for the cheesy video montage that needlessly accompanies it.
Call it faint praise: While I can’t recommend people see "Caesar," "Sty" nearly demands to be seen, if only to be disbelieved. SP