Friday, May 13, 2005

'Marat.Sade' provocative as ever
Review: New 'translaptation' makes the brilliant original work more relevant to today's world.

By ERIC MARCHESE
Special to the Register

Is Peter Weiss' "The Persecution and Assassination of Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade," written more than 40 years ago, still relevant?

Commonly known as "Marat/Sade," this intellectually involving play-within-a-play dissects the effects of the French Revolution as viewed by the Marquis de Sade in 1808, during his confinement at Charenton. (Sade was indeed confined for several years at Charenton, where he wrote and presented plays often viewed with alarm by the institution's directors.)

In "Marat/Sade," the Marquis has written a little script connecting France's present (the early 19th century) with the bloodshed of the French Revolution and, specifically, the murder, in 1793, of revolutionary leader Jean-Paul Marat by Charlotte Corday, as Marat was soaking in his bathtub.

The twist - and the brilliance of "Marat/Sade" - is the Marquis' use of the asylum's inmates as his "actors," blurring the line between reality and illusion.

Further blurring that line, at Hunger Artists Theater Company, is the audience's close proximity to the "actors" in Sade's play and the presumption that we, the viewers, are wealthy aristocrats there to take in Sade's play as a trifling diversion. Better still, this is an all-new "translaptation" of the play being called "Marat.Sade." Jeremy Gable has retranslated Weiss' original text, then adapted it, adding rhyming couplets, and he and P. Matthew Park have composed original music and lyrics.

Call me crazy, but by whittling the script down to size and turning Sade's "play" about Marat's murder into a mini-musical, Gable, Park and director Glendele Way-Agle have made Weiss' work infinitely more provocative. This version slyly adds its own ideas while retaining a subversive, anti-authority tone, and the inventive, wildly funny songs are wickedly ironic - something the Marquis would have been likely to do, and would appreciate today.

What's more, with just a tweak here and a bit of stylization there, this trio has wrought something eminently relevant to our day and time: Sade's "characters," for example, complain bitterly of poverty (though surrounded by wealth) and warn of the evils of deploying ever-deadlier military weapons and the dangers of sending ill-equipped soldiers into battle.

Eager to protect himself, asylum director Coulmier (Scott E. Derrell) stops Sade's play whenever it criticizes the church, while Coulmier, Sade and baton-wielding nurses (Kim White, Melissa Hand, Sammi Smith) jump in to restrain inmates who get carried away while performing their roles.

Way-Agle's staging also has the right look: Cassandre de la Fortrie costumes Sade, Coulmier and the Herald in finery. While Sade's clothing is elegant yet worn, Coulmier is a fancy Dan with flowing white wig, black jacket, red breeches, golden slip-on shoes and walking stick. The inmates and nurses wear variations of white, a thematic connection to Sandi Sullivan's white-tiled asylum bathhouse scene design.

Mark Coyan is a vital, bold, impudent Sade who struts the stage, taking pleasure in shoving his "actors" onto their marks, slapping them around or pulling their hair. Driven by carnal appetites, he's a cynic who views words and thoughts as "meaningless" and humankind as universally, immutably selfish.

Way-Agle uses 10 performers as Charenton's inmates. Whether giggling, gazing around distractedly, or raptly watching the performances of their fellow inmates, her cast captures the spontaneity - as well as the tics, quirks and random speech patterns and movements - of a ragged group of wretches suffering from a variety of medical maladies.

With an aura similar to John Turturro, Mike Caban is sympathetic as the thoughtful, brooding "Marat," the inmate known only by his character's name. When not nodding off during the "play" (she's narcoleptic), Jessica Beane's terrified, desperate Charlotte is seriously disturbed, her eyes popping out in anger or surprise. Jason Lythgoe's Duperret lusts after her while attacking Marat as a hypocrite - a man of privilege who depicts himself as one of the masses.

Christopher Spencer delivers a powerful turn as the priest, Roux, who suffers rabid outbursts of severe stammering and palpable tics. Hulking, bald-pated Leonard Joseph Dunham is notable as Kokol, a silent, fear-ridden buffoon (and one of Sade's four singing, dancing inmates), while Gable's Herald is a nervous sprite ordered by Sade to function as accompanist, musical director, narrator and stage director of the Marquis' play.

Way-Agle has the "inmates" wander the lobby and house before the show and, during it, interact with the audience. As Sade's "play" unfolds, his "actors" stop mid-sentence to ask for their next line, creating the sense that we're watching the first run-through of a rough amateur play. This combination of incisive content and surreal presentation yields live theater at its best, challenging us to think critically about the political constructs of our society.