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Regional Reviews: St. Louis Red
But with Rothko, they're never exactly the same kind of red. Only the artist himself could tell you what makes one tint or hue different from another. And for him, in this 90-minute play written by John Logan, immaculately directed by Alan Knoll, there was an entire spectrum of color within that spectral neighborhood alone: on the fringes, a "red" that can be murderous, or death-defying. The play first opened in 2009 at the Donmar Warehouse in London. Three months later it transferred to Broadway, where it won six Tony Awards, including Best Play. It's a perfect show now at the Jewish Community Center in Creve Couer, with a director who consistently, strategically ennobles the actors; and actors who realistically ennoble the playwright. And, though it's esoteric, they actually talk about something that matters. We are led through the struggle to perfect an imperfect mind, in ways that are as varied as the paint cans stacked all around the New York City studio at the end of the Eisenhower years. Christopher Harris plays the great artist: a jealous mensch, which is funny in itself, though the artist defies comedy (which is even more comical, on a higher plane). Bridling at the modern world's addiction to sweetness and light, he fights for his work incessantly, trying to locate himself on a spectrum among all the other great twentieth century artists. Those include his self-destructive nemesis Jackson Pollack and earlier greats like Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse. He accuses Picasso of being obsessed with money, but demands a receipt from his gofer for the simplest bag of Chinese carry-out. He puts himself far above the emerging artists like Stella, Warhol, or de Kooning, for riding the zeitgeist, instead of reinventing it. And struggles for supremacy in their shared reality, where everything's a game of color and space. But in the very first scene, we learn he has jeopardized his place in the artistic firmament, as a titan of postwar American art: to become a sideshow for Philip Johnson, the architect. Through Johnson, Rothko has accepted a commission to turn the glitzy Four Seasons restaurant, in the new Seagram Building, into a gallery of his own work. And we can see he has begun to worry that "his" color has taken on the shade of a "marked for clearance" sign. Dustin Lane Petrillo is Ken, his new assistant, a sounding board for everything that's wrong with the art world circa 1958-59. He's bright and charming, and both innocent and complicated in his own way. The production works so well because the two actors contrast on multiple levels, though both are painters here. The deeply evocative murals, and a set that seems viciously spare (but would take pages to describe), are by our premiere designers, Margery and Peter Spack. Rothko courts the muse with song and spirit, and the invocation of great painters and authors. But when inspiration finally, palpably hits, an off-handed remark is all it takes to trigger a rage over the lost moment of evanescence. We lean in, right before Mr. Harris' hard emotional pivot (over "red," of course) to gain dizzying insight into his painstaking rain dance for creativity, right before it's suddenly knocked off kilter. Which, I suppose, is funny in a whole different way. Mr. Petrillo is every bit as expressive and kindly as Mr. Harris is enigmatic and brusque. And in a hair-raising scene of startling clarity, Ken tells a story of a family tragedy that has inspired his own series of unexpected paintings. Through it all, the canvases take on a compelling life, wriggling themselves into being, whether in dream-like twilight or the cross-currents of shadow (by "shadow" designer, we might say, Jayson M. Lawshee). And we see life being imputed into canvas as the two men lay down a primer coat of the artist's signature color. It's pure movement, growing synchronized in spite of their differences. Rothko's internal universe of doubt, and his own version of a "lust for life," wrestles and writhes onto a flatter reality, as snapshots of unspeakable passion. The show itself, with a faultless alignment of direction and performance, is a silky smooth gallery of defining moments. We linger in awe, and sometimes sadness, over the fury of it all. Red runs through August 11, 2024, at the Jewish Community Center, #2 Millstone Campus Drive, St. Louis. For tickets and information, please visit www.newjewishtheatre.org. Cast: Production Staff: Additional Production Staff: * Denotes Member, Actors' Equity Association |
