TRAGEDY:a tragedy A Newspeak Nightmare on One Never Ending Note
TRAGEDY: a tragedy
A Newspeak Nightmare
On One Never Ending Note
By Linda Ayres-Frederick
“Night has fallen!” and that is pretty much the end of the story, except that the newish kid on the block playwright Will Eno has managed to extend that thought for eighty (according to the program) interminably long and repetitive minutes in a play entitled TRAGEDY: a tragedy at Berkeley Repertory Theatre. It’s one of those “Emperor’s new clothes” sorts of situations except with an SNL twist. Waiting in the anteroom of your dentist ‘s office where at least you can move about and read outdated magazines in anticipation of the insistent, invasive buzz-buzz of the drill might be preferable. TRAGEDY could even possibly be construed as a poorly constructed unsubstantial imitation derivative of Beckett (dare we honor the upstart by mentioning that genius’ name in the same breath!)
The set up is a TV newsroom where the seasoned news anchor Frank (David Cromwell) is sitting at his desk giving us the evening news report covering the events of the day. The BIG event is that “Night has fallen”…once and for all time…That’s it. The end of day as we know it…the end of the world…or is it they just haven’t gotten around to the morning yet to report if the sun has bothered to come up? Heaven forbid if we had to sit through another of Eno’s pieces in real time to find out. Surrounding the one interior newsroom location are three other newscasters in the field to corroborate the story in excruciatingly minute detail in vapid newspeak tones. The one female reporter Constance at the Home (Marguerite Stimpson) is in front of a house describing the lawn we don’t see with its cement ornament—a broken-eared rabbit. This easily recognized sexist designed role yammers on about the house that is not a home. The lights are out and no one seems to be inside. Where did they go?…yadda…yadda. We actually feel her pain over the emptiness or is it our sympathy for the actor caught in the excruciating bind of having to say these words? A second reporter John in the Field (Thomas Jay Ryan) talks about wishing his mother were there to comfort him but knows if she were there that he’d wish she’d go away. During their break for national news, he does Tai Chi. Later when he suffers an anxiety attack, Constance tries to calm him with words of comfort. Another mike wielding newsman named Michael, Legal Advisor (Max Gordon Moore) moves from one political location to another (Governor’s Mansion, White House, Capitol Steps, etc.) with no visible change to indicate the difference. Wow! Is Eno trying to make a big pointarooney? All our incompetent politicians have flown the coop. Gee whiz, don’t we wish! Michael, L.A. keeps reporting the frightening remarks of the leaders spewing their thoughts as they abandon their duty and the public they never served in the first place. The Governor, we are told, writes his own speeches. So?
Once you realize what the premise is, it just repeats with variations that run the gamut from “A to A”. It’s the media gone into a repetitive loop that we all witness every night on the evening news hour making news out of nothing because they just have to keep talking like programmed robots collecting their paychecks. WE GET IT! In the first five minutes….and like any one trick pony it trots downhill from there leaving unmentionables in our path. The real tragedy--if any--lies in the enormous waste of artistry. If it weren’t for the noble cast of five splendid actors—whose cumulative talent soars above the sewer level of the piece--this member of the media would have walked out way before the final blackout. Moments of humanity or rather moments pointing out the isolation of one newsperson from another arise when the anchor Frank thinks he’s having a heart attack and none of his colleagues are available to react. They are connected only via their electronic equipment which they occasionally turn off. Is this another theme we are being bludgeoned with? Particularly notable is the work of Danny Wolohan in the role of The Witness who with one or two glances upward and out into the darkness communicates more internalized emotional terror than all the spewed verbiage that fills the airwaves spoken by those behind him. His brilliantly executed final speech makes a silk purse out of the sow’s ear of thin material he is given to share. Wolohan embodies the guileless everyman who bears witness to the real tragedy of the loss of human and humane common sense.
In the interview with Eno in the program he is asked “If you weren’t working in the theatre, what would you be doing?” His glib reply “Drugs, probably” is most likely intended to be amusing but more telling is it of what state of mind he might wish one to be in to view his work. TRAGEDY is a show that might fare better endured while under the influence of illicit drugs but given the fine spring weather, a walk in the park would be a far better use of time. Although there were members of the audience (suspiciously plant like) who cackled in the first five minutes at every insipid remark possible, even their forced laughter could not be sustained for the duration. Simply stated this newspeak nightmare might make a great short skit on Saturday Night Live (and has probably already been done there with greater panache) but in its present condition TRAGEDY lacks the staying power for a tolerable evening of live theatre. Not recommended.
TRAGEDY: a tragedy continues Tuesdays through Sundays at Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison Street @ Shattuck, Downtown Berkeley. $33-$69 with discounts.TIX and INFO 510.647.2949 or 888.4BRTTix – www.berkeleyrep.org