|
Silk
World Premiere
At
The Goodman Theatre
(Goodman Theatre Website)
170 North Dearborn Street
Chicago, Illinois 60601
312.443.5151
Robert Falls: Artistic Director
Roche Schulfer: Executive Director
From the novel by Alessandro Baricco
Starring:
Ryan Artzberger, Colleen Delany, Joe Dempsey,
Christopher Donahue, Glenn Fleshler, Andre Ing,
Denice Lee, Tohoru Masamune, Elaine Yuko Qualter,
Lisa Tejero, Philip White
Director and Adapter: Mary Zimmerman
Scenic Design: Scott Bradley
Lighting Design: T.J. Gerckens
Costume Design: Mara Blumenfeld
Original Music and Sound Design: Andre Pluess and
Ben Sussman
Projections: Gary Ashwal
Japanese Translator: Natsu Onoda
Casting: Adam Belcuore
Production Stage Manager: Joseph Drummond
Stage Manager: T. Paul Lynch
Public Relations: Jennifer Dobby
Corporate Sponsorship Partners:
The Encore Group
Forsythe Solutions Group, Inc.
Leslie Hindman Auctioneers
Turtle Wax, Inc.
New Work Sponsorship: Lester and Hope Abelson
Fund for Artistic Development
Susan Weinrebe
May 17, 2005
Part fairy tale, part romantic fantasy, Silk is a gossamer web of plot twists that in the end, like its namesake is, “…like grasping nothing.”
It is the middle Victorian period, 1860, when the story begins. Baldabiou, of mysterious background and fairy godfather like actions, narrates most of the play. He firmly grounds us along a time line of people and inventions: Flaubert was writing; Lincoln was President; and the electric light had not yet been invented. There is, however, no such grounding once the setting changes from provincial France to Japan, a land so far away, that it is like “…the end of the world. Invisible.”
Lengthily pantomimed travel is both real and a metaphorical transport to a place distant from Joncour’s wife, Hélène, and all else that is familiar. It is in Japan that Joncour will attempt to establish a new source for silkworms, after a blight kills all those previously available.
The on-stage transition from the French set to the one representing Japan is blindingly intense. A burst of colors in the garments of The Woman in Japan, behind her, and in the garden, framed by paper-screened walls, is like a birth into light and possibilities for Joncour.
Among those possibilities are the successful negotiation and purchase of silkworm cocoons to fulfill his mission. But that would be too straightforward for the warp and weft of this tale. Joncour becomes enmeshed in a hopeless passion for and with the mistress of the silk merchant.
The accoutrements of a clandestine follie de cœur are coupled with mysterious events to create longing and magic. A glove is dropped and redeemed years later. Six unintelligible words are written on a palmed scrap of paper. One lady is substituted for another. An aviary is stocked with rare birds that return to captivity if ever their doors are opened.
Joncour experiences, “…a strange sort of pain to die of yearning for something you’ll never experience.” Yet, in a Cyrano de Bergerac like turn of plot, Joncour discovers he need never have journeyed “to the end of the world” to emerge from his own cocoon.
It’s impossible to understate the extent to which gorgeous costumes, sets, and lighting assisted the production. Though Hélène is dressed in a gray gown, the fine material moves beautifully, its luster making her glow like a pearl. One must recall that a pearl is created through the anguish of the oyster attempting to protect itself from a foreign irritant!
Dyes of such intense yellow, red, and orange hues, that neither Revlon nor Crayola could adequately describe the shades, are worn by the mistress to the silk merchant. In contrast to Hélène’s subdued simple dress, the young girl’s kimonos vibrate with visual intensity meant to wreak havoc on Victorian nerves.
A letter, written in Japanese script, is translated and read aloud. Simultaneously, ideograms of the message scroll down and across the wall behind the players, using an effective rear screen projection. The indecipherability of the markings emphasized the profoundly unplumbed heart of their author.
Sunken into the floor of center stage, a bath added another element to Joncour’s and to our sensory experience. Bird song, shakuhachi music, bells, running water, and exquisite lighting, following the hours of the day, carried the audience through time and place.
I wonder, however why it was necessary to step out of time and place, as dictated by the script. The novel, written in the mid 1990’s from which this play is adapted, uses "blockhead" instead of a current vulgarity, interjected in this production.
Also, while the actor who played Joncour had a perfectly nice physique, I don’t understand why he had to do the “full monty” after emerging from his bath and just before exiting the stage. Almost at the last moment, he turned to the audience and let his robe fall open. What effect was supposed to be derived from this?
Mostly narrative, the production was faithful to Alessandro Baricco’s spare story. His tale of longing made the transition from book to stage as smooth as silk.
Herve Joncour and his wife Helene
Photo courtesy of Liz Lauren
Herve Joncour, Servant and The Woman in Japan
Photo courtesy of Liz Lauren
Jimmy Carr Tickets >
Mamma Mia Tickets and more
Cheap Theatre Tickets!
|
