November 9–16, 2000

theater

Animal Rights

Head of the crash: Frank X as Berenger and Benjamin Lloyd as Jean in Rhinoceros

by Toby Zinman

Rhinoceros

Theatre Exile at Walnut St. Theatre, Studio 3, 9th & Walnut Sts., through Nov.19, 215-922-4462

Perhaps only Ionesco himself had eyes bigger and droopier than Frank X’s, whose gaze, at once mournful and clownish, under doleful, peaked eyebrows, begins this brilliant production on just the right visual note as Frank’s character, the discouraged, exhausted Berenger, sighs, "I can’t get used to life." Well, it turns out to be a lot to get used to, what with rhinoceroses running through the town.

The plot, if that’s not stretching the term, begins when Berenger, a mild-mannered office worker who drinks too much, and his friend Jean, a pompous dandy (Benjamin Lloyd in a dazzling performance), meet one morning at an outdoor cafe. People gather — their waitress, a grocer and his wife, an old gentleman, a passing woman with a cat, a logician, and various co-workers including the beautiful Daisy (that she is referred to as "Miss Daisy," and is played by an African-American woman, seems part of the quiet wit of the production).

While they’re all talking, we hear thundering hooves in the distance; the sound gets closer as everyone’s eyes follow "it" until it vanishes in the distance. We can actually feel the vibrations, as if the beast were running just behind us. (Big bravo to Kevin Francis whose sound design is geniused throughout.)

As time passes, more and more people become rhinoceroses — think of it as Kafka’s "Metamorphosis" in reverse — and the words "monstrous" and "normal" are reassessed. To say more is to give away too many of the play’s pleasures, but suffice it to say that David Disbrow’s direction is superb in its ambiguity (what a directorial debut this is!). The production, like the play, invites us to interpret without making interpretive choices for us. Is it about the death of humanism? Or individuality vanishing into conformity, a herd mentality? Is it about political fanaticism (Ionesco, after all, left Romania in 1938 when the Fascists were on the rise)? Or about any oppressive ideology? Is it about alienation as basic to the human condition? About the insensitivity of the bourgeoisie? Or the marginalization of the artist? Is it about the failure of logic? Or the relation of theory to practice? Plenty of stuff to talk about on the way home.

Eugene Ionesco, author of The Chairs, The Bald Soprano and a slew of other bizarre Absurdist plays (he preferred "Theatre of Derision" to "Theatre of the Absurd"—to each his own cosmic label) has been newly translated with crystalline clarity by local scholars Allen Kuharski and George Moskos. Without changing it from the original French locale (outdoor cafes, French names), they have made it absolutely accessible to the American ear, so when the first rhinoceros thunders through the town square, everybody says in chorus, "How ’bout that!"

Given the play’s subject and theme, the question of an acting ensemble is a vexed one, remarkably solved here. Each actor finds a way to distinguish himself, make an individual of his character, before subsiding into the crowd; particularly fine is Deb Disbrow whose weeping is hilarious. If there is a weak link in the cast it is Lizz Fields who is very beautiful but has not found a way to play the ambivalence of Daisy’s character. Even the set (Matt Saunders) strikes the right chord in its airy minimalism (although some of the rearrangements between scenes are a bit too time consuming); likewise the clever colors of Rosemarie McKelvey’s costumes.

But two performances astonish: Benjamin Lloyd’s subtle transformation in his green satin pajamas is mesmerizing: terrifying and comical, nuanced, resisting every temptation (and there are many) to go over the top. Frank X turns in a performance of heartbreaking subtlety, carrying the play’s power and ideas with immense charm, able to plausibly, humanly deliver a line like, "Do you still deny the rhinocerotic evidence?"

Studio 3 is tiny, so there are not many tickets to be had: don’t miss the chance to see this one.