Travesties

By Fans

Keri

I am getting the impression, after seeing Sam last summer in "Much Ado," and from reading of other plays that he's been in, that when Sam Waterston has signed onto a play, other wonderful actors climb on board. This cast was great, and by the credits amoung them, from "Aida" to "Our Town" to "Dracula, the Musical" (which I've read in more than one critics' column should have had a much longer run), they had the experiance to work with someone like Sam Waterston.

Sam, as one local critic said, shattered the Jack McCoy image, in his first scene. Playing Henry Carr back and forth as an old man and as his younger self, he runs the gamut from a doddering, possibly senile old man with a very self serving and selective memory, a tendency to simply make things up, to a younger, vain, man more interested in what he's wearing to the theater, than his supposed consular duties, in WWI Zurich. He's xenophobic in a town, where he is the foreigner, but has the strereotypical upper class Englishman's belief that everyone should be, well, English.

Sam goes effortlessly from deluded, terrified, to self foolingly astute, childlike, to naricissistic, to gullible, to sly, to deluded again, all in the course of a bit over 3 hours, and every bit is a treat to watch.

The old Henry Carr tells, as he moves about the stage in a palsied shuffle, how he signed up to fight in the war to end all wars, through sheer patriotism...even though the war caused him to miss the delivery of a new suit from his tailor, and also caused the ruination of a number of pairs of trousers. His voice quavers, and it seems he has barely any control over his shaking hands, or even where his feet take him.

He talks of the wonderful morale in the trenches, the comradeship, as if the war was one big Boy's Own Tale, full of great deeds. When he can no longer lie about it, he mentions with regret, the lives lost, the suffering, the horrible conditions men had to live in, in those trenches, as well as how he was invalided out, with a leg wound. That somewhere in his mind, he sees the ridiculousness of war, is evident, when he salutes an invisible officer, and replies to the inquiry of it being "All Quiet on the Western Front?" with "Tickety-boo, sir,"and then wonders what "Tickety-boo" means, anyway.

But then, the tall tales begin again, and Henry is "Carr of the Consulate!" in Zurich. He knew the Lenins, he knew Tristan Tzara, he knew James Joyce, in fact, he was persuaded to act in a production of "The Importance of Being Ernest," by Joyce, playing, "Not Ernest, but the other one." He can't seem to remember the name of the character he played, but he remembers with pride, that he got good reviews-and, that he sued Joyce for the cost of the clothes Carr purchased for the part, and Joyce countersued him for slander. But, as Joyce is dead, he bears him no ill will...but the memory of that lost lawsuit is too fresh to have us believe that.

As the butler, Bennet comes out, Carr begins to straighten. His hands become steady, his voice strengthens. He shrugs out of his dressing robe, confidant Bennett is there to catch it, and holds his arms out for his smoking jacket. Now, the young Henry Carr, of Zurich, appears, even as he talks to the audience.

In a series of vingnettes, announced appropriately by a cuckoo clock, Carr asks his butler if there's anything interesting in the news. Bennett tells him, of the impending revolution in Russia, and Carr, mildly interested, asks what its going to be over. Told, the class struggle between upper and lower classes, Carr gets it all backwards, and warns Bennett, that he better watch himself, if this revolution spreads, and the upper classes get it in their heads to start killing the lower classes, as they have in Russia. Bennett, more unflappable than Jeeves, agrees.

The scene starts over again, with the cuckoo sounding. Carr asks what is interesting in the news, and this time, gets a lecture on the causes of the impending revolution. Listening like a rapt child to a fascinating story, Carr is practically motionless, his face frozen in wonder.

The scene starts again. This time, Carr is still childlike, but not so fascinated, by Bennett's recitation of socialist philosophy. As the butler goes on...and on...Carr lolls on a large ottoman, first on his side, then on his back, with his head hanging off the end, looking as if he is marveling at how things look upside down. Then, he rolls onto his stomach, and kicks his feet.

In these short scenes, Sam and Graeme Malcolm, as the stoic Bennett, had the audience go from chuckling, to belly laughs.

Enter Tristan Tzara, who in Carr's upper class opinion, is rather his token artist friend, eccentric and buffoonish one moment, ranting and shouting the next at Carr's inability to understand Dada-ism, art, and the times they are living in. Tzara is also aiming to ask Carr's sister Gwendolyn (Cheyl Lynn Bowers), to marry him, having met her at the library-Stoppard gets in the absurd with the serious, and somehow, we fall for it. Carr of course is against this...and there follows another few repeated scenes, where Tzara enters, and re-enters, each one slightly differant than the last.

He's joined by James Joyce (played by Don Stephenson), who Gwen is helping to write "Ulysses." Tending to speak in nasal limericks, moving about in sudden sharp movements that contrast with Carr's now fluid ones, and Tzara's expansive physicality, just to watch these three, is a study in the contrasts of thier characters.

Joyce had come to ask Carr to play Algernon in his English speaking production of "...Ernest," and at first, Carr balks-acting is not the kind of thing his sort do. When Joyce points out, that there are a few costume changes, Carr brightens, and asks, summer? winter? outdoors? inside? The child is back-its as if he's being offered his choice from a toy catalog. He accepts the role.

BUT...the slapstick really starts, when Carr finds out, from Tzara, that there is a librarian named Cecily (Maggie Lacey)-and Cecily, to his mind, is a very acceptable name. So, he decides to pose as Tzara's brother Tristan (the real Tristan is masquerading as his brother Jack...another piece of slapstick in the play), who is in need of reforming and educating, and goes to see Cecily.

By now, the play is like something out of Monty Python. Cecily is working her way through the alphabet as far as book subjects go, and is up to G. Henry tells her, he seeks to do the same. At first, Cecily needs some persuading, telling "Tristan" that he shouldn't be talking to her that way...and things go on, until Cecily is on top of the librarians' desk, doing a strip tease-all the while, going on about the evils of various -isms in the world, and praising Lenin and Marx. She ends, by crossing her arms in front of her breasts, and with nose firmly in air, tells Carr/Tristan, "I don't think you should talk to me that way." Carr/Tristan, of course, doesn't hear a word of it, as he catches her clothes, and eventually disappears behind the desk with her.

And, lets not forget the Lenins. While Lenin fine tunes a manifesto in the library, his wife Nadya tries to make him seem, well, human, to the audience. As he works, she very melodramatically, and with fire in her eyes, tells us, how Vladimir Illyich wasn't all work and no play, that he occasionally went to the theater, to see vaudeville. He laughed at the clowns, and Les Dames aux Camelias made him almost cry. Her monotone, strident delivery makes him seem even more, the single minded revolutionary, who is bent on destroying more than he builds up. And, with her legs akimbo poses, her plain all black dress, Nadya seems to be lecturing us...and is hilarious in her attempts to soften her husband's image. All she succeeds in doing, is hardening him-and she can't see it. Isabel Keating and Gregor Paslawsky are great as the Lenins, and I think showed some great physical comedy, in the way they struck their melodramatic poses.

And, the pie fight. It starts very civilly, two women addressing each other as Miss Carr and Miss Carruthers, then, as Gwendolyn and Cecily. The subject, after the polite introcuctions to each other are made, is an over due library book that Gwen has. Gwen refuses to pay the fine and return Homer's Odyssey-remember, she is helping James Joyce write his "Ulysses," and the gloves-as well as the gowns-come off. Bennett comes in with a tray of pies...and even he gets into the fight. Remaining completely unflappable, of course.

At the end, Henry is old again, again shuffling about in his dressing robe, trying to dance with Cecily, who does remember the past in Zurich the way it happened. He didn't know Lenin, or Tzara, he wasn't the consul. In fact, the consul was one Percy Bennett-the butler's name. The only true part, was that Carr did play Algernon in Joyce's production of "The Importance of Being Ernest."

So, the play ends on a sober note. Poor old Henry, can't even have his memories, it seems, to live in. He tells his wife, they were all there, in Zurich, and everyone, including himself, "went on." She tells him, no, she and Henry stayed. Everyone else went on.

But, Henry still has HIS memories. As the light fades, with Cecily off stage, he tells us, that those were great days, in Zurich, that he knew all the spies and artists and other assorted rogues, and that he would spend hours arguing with them. And, that he's learned three things...either you're a revolutionary, or you aren't. If you can't be a revolutionary, you might as well be an artist, and if you can't be an artist, you might as well be a revolutionary. And the third thing...that, he can't remember. So, one of the few sobering moments in the play ends with a laugh

Ok, it sounds odd....but somehow, it all works. The whole play seems to be one big potshot at theater, at the political climate of the 70's in Britain when it was written, its a whole anti "Angry Young Man" thing. The strip tease seems to be in the play, as one of our group said aftwards (Doug, I think) as a slap at the way all the plays in the 70's included it, whether or not it was called for or not.

You just go with the flow, and laugh, and try to pick out all the satire hidden in the ridiculousness, in the singing and dancing, in the fake beards and false identities, in the strip teases, and the pie fights. And, enjoy the performances.

During the curtain call, when Sam came out, that strip tease music was played again, and well...no, he didn't carry through, darn it all!

Afterewards, one of the cast, said, that the whole point of the play, was that there really is no point to get. And, if you got that, you got the play.

I think the same actor who said that, also said he took the part of Bennett for the money. Which, by the obvious fun he seemed to have with the part, I really doubt.

Noodle

Let me corroborate and add to your thorough review, Keri. Yes, yes, I agree with you and the reviews noting that Henry Carr was about as far from the Jack McCoy character as one could get. I expected this, and boy, were my wishes granted and then some. I have a tape of "Much Ado" and I saw similarities in Sam's expressions of surprise and confusion during the "cuckoos" for instance. His zeal during the librarian's striptease was delightful. I can't remember exactly where it happened, perhaps toward the end, when Carr was reminiscing about the war, or the libel suit, but the tone of the play got very solemn, and with a bit more nudging, I think I could have cried. What range! I certainly hope the Tonys give a nod to this production! Seems like there are awards for regional theater.

My friend and I were discussing how we would have recast the play, and at one point, we had Kermit the frog in the Carr role, and Miss Piggy as one of the heroines. There was also an actor who played Nicholas Nickelby? who might have done an admiral job too, but Sam wins, hands down.

The actor who played Tzara at times reminded me of Robin Williams, and perhaps, pushed the envelope a wee bit too far for me(isn't that funny, suddenly Mrs. Doubtfire makes an appearance here too!!), but with the over-the-top-ness of the play, this was quite appropriate. I thought the James Joyce character looked like Matthew Brodderick, and I wondered if that was the part he played in "The Producers". The butler reminded me a bit of the Addams family butler (from the T.V. series'), Lurch, in some respects, and he was wonderful during the talkback. When he compared the audience reaction to getting a shot of heroine, I raised my eyebrows, and he did the same back to me (or possibly, to my friend, who had the same reaction). As for the lady actors, I was reminded of the first ghost in the first Ghostbusters, the one who kept saying "Shhhhhh" when Bill Murray was trying to making contact with the full torso apparition, and the regular stuff didn't seem to work.

As I've said before, having my friend along helped me get some of what I consider "inside" jokes, bits of dialog from Hamlet, Much Ado, Importance of being, etc.

During the talkback, someone asked a question about T.V. actors going into theater productions, and Sam politely made it plain that he had started as a theater actor, with just a touch of dismissal in the tone. Someone else asked if the production could be mounted in NYC, and my first reaction was the general audience there probably would not get it...pretty snobby of me, but I had times when I missed things, and I do not mean to insult the intelligence of New Yorkers, but the general viewing audience that seems to prefer shorter, more to the point sort of things...just my 2 cents. Of course, the acting would not be the weak point, but the richness of the writing would not be fully appreciated. I rather liked the charm and intimacy of the Long Wharf's setting, and had I been a wee bit closer to the lighting technician, I would have made d*@$% sure Sam would have been in the spotlight a lot more!!!

Ayesha Haqqiqa

My first impression of seeing Sam live was one word-theater. It was obvious that Sam is as much a part of the theater as the stage flats and lighting. Theater is his true home, and one in which he knows he is king. I'm not going to do a full scale review here (leave it to other fans far more expert at that!), but rather give my impressions of the play and what followed.

Sam's characterization of Henry Carr was remarkable, especially in the details. He used a wonderful English accent and changed his amazing voice from that of an old man to a young fop with ease. The other thing that impressed me was his body language-the delicate movement of the fingers of an aged Henry Carr, the crawling of a young Carr remembering the trenches of WWI, the delighted look on Carr's face during the Mr. Dooley song and dance routine, the rapacious look as the librarian did her striptease. He mimed choking on a biscuit and asking for water, which did not distract, but merely added to the butler's monologue. His body movements as the play lurched about showed the audience how the old man's memory kept "jumping the track". The curtain call, when he emerges to the tune "The Stripper", taking off his dressing gown, was hilarious as well (though I think some fans wanted him to take off more!).

During the question and answer session after the play, we fans were able to present Sam with the friendship quilt we had made him. Squares came in from all over the world; some were greetings, others were tributes to his many roles on stage, screen, and television. He graciously opened the package and showed it to everyone before looking at it himself. When he did look at it, he did a double-take. I think it hit him that we fans appreciate all his work. He was extremely kind to all of us, staying to sign autographs and have pictures taken even though he was tired and had a long drive home ahead of him. I was extremely touched that he took the time to wish me a safe trip home. Meeting him was one of the highlights of my life.

Feste, who saw Travesties on May 19, said the May 17 reviews were so very "true" that she began a formal reiview and then decided just to join us all in sheer appreciation mode.

This is a play which has it's pie while throwing it. Stoppard pokes fun at pretentious art and political theory based in pretentions as he indulges in both. But because Tom Stoppard also makes fun of himself and half-bakes the very pies he throws, his play entertains us. Especially in the hands of the skilled actors at Longwharf, each and everyone of whom delights in making fools of themselves. And nobody has a better time than Sam Waterston

I so agree with whoever said that Sam disappears into this role--not a trace of either Jack or the humanitarian man left. He becomes Henry Car, that silly fool/fop/irresponsible human who could have "done something" but didn't. I kept watching Sam's feet! He came up with a whole new body movement for this old man part, clearly embodying what the younger Carr might become at 90. Real temporal/physical expansion and imagination at work there. This 90 year old had a shuffle that was really the arthritic extension of a youger man who liked to mince his muffins, his words, and his steps! That gait was hilarious. And when, as younger Carr, Sam became fluidly foppish, able to lounge and writhe on that over-stuffed ottoman or lean with lythe leg extended at the library desk...! Heck, this man can act. And if he ISN'T in great physical shape, he can act even beyond my usual understanding of the verb. Best of all, and truly in keeping with the play, was his curtain call strip tease. What a howl, what a willingness to join in Stoppard's self-mockery and eat the flavorful pie he'd just smashed his face into. He worked so well with this ensemble and had many more charactrers to play with, not just off-of. Loved the guy who played Tsara...truly up to Sam's power. Mastering Carr's speeches, moreover, has undoubtedly done more for warding off memory loss than I am told doing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle does. Sustaining that dead-on accent while projecting all of those words should also put to rest any doubts about Sam's vocal ability. The speed with which all of the characters spoke was necessary but unsetlling, I must admit. John, my husband, kept imaiginning what sub-titles would look like. Think of how dizzy you would get reading such lines move across a stage...then think about being the actor moving while speaking those lines. Brrrr.