Theatre--Review (AUI at IPAL)

In July 2007, I attended David Storey's In Celebration, a 1969 play that's been revived only once since its debut. The revival's only noteworthy feature was the presence of Orlando Bloom in the cast, a fact which filled the audience with a majority of teenage girls. I fully understood why the play had not been revived in nearly four decades: it felt like a first draft of a promising play. For that entire evening, I watched one missed opportunity after another play itself out, while its cast did its best to maneuver a meandering script that never seemed to resolve anything. I had that same feeling watching Fire Eye, a AUI production being performed at the IPAL's Essanee theatre in New Iberia. This play, written and directed by Daniel Povinelli, was a garbled experience filled with disjointed words and largely miscast actors, and as a whole, nothing in Fire Eye ever gelled into a cohesive whole. (Fire Eye will run until October 23rd and tickets are available by calling the IPAL theatre at 364-6114.)


Some authors prefer their plot points not be disclosed, but it isn't really possible to reveal the plot for there isn't much of one and it's not entirely clear what takes place in the course of two and a half hours. There is an ex-president named Noah Jones (Bruce Coen) who has done something unspeakable in the past, though it is not clear until Act II what that is, and who now believes he is the biblical Noah who built the ark. Jones is also dying of some disease, never specified, and is treated by a doctor named Elizabeth (Amanda Shackelford), who may or may not have had a relationship with the ex-president. Jones has been out of office for an indeterminate amount of time, but though he has not shuffled his mortal coil, he is capable of putting together one last hurrah, a “death day” as it were, filled with macabre activities like guessing how people in the past have died or what their final words were. As president, he is aided by his daughter Rachel (Amy Williams) who is friends with Elizabeth, but in what way is obscure, and by a political aide named Robert (Jack Robertson), but what office he filled before is also left unexplained. Rachel may also have had a relationship with Robert, or not, as symbolized by an awkward missed kiss. There are numerous references to the president's wife and a second daughter named Sarah, but their departure to some unnamed city—maybe European, maybe not—is never explicated. In so many ways, this play was a frustrating maze of implied information often kept at a tantalizing distance from the audience, left to wander aimlessly with no guide. Leaving an audience in an overwhelming state of befuddlement is a cardinal sin that can only be laid at the footstep of the author. 


There were myriad oddities in the play that prevented the audience from putting the pieces together. At several instances, the lighting was changed in unsubtle manners to emphasize some important line, but it seemed to show disdain for the audience as if they were incapable of understanding the play's important points. Suddenly Jones is highlighted in demonic red overtones or Rachel is bathed in a green light that makes her look like Elphaba from Wicked. Eventually the audience understands that her green appearance symbolized a dream sequence—I think—and Rachel is actually now her sister Sarah, but it's all quite confusing when Sarah is played by the same actress as Rachel. The quick number of lighting changes in the first scenes gives the unintended impression of a dress rehearsal where the lighting technician is testing which lights should be on stage for the final product later. At first, I thought the stage was its strongest asset, but as time passed, I realized the stage appeared as cluttered as the play, with five sometimes unrelated items crammed on a single shelf, and way too many distracting wall items that detracted from an already unfocused play. At one point, the president removes several stage props off the stage to make room for a picture, but his reasoning that there was too much light in the room might explain his removing the lamp, but not the mirror or the elephant head from the wall. Even scene changes, though expertly done, baffled me as when a bit of dry ice was used to dissipate in the darkness of the change. By the time the scene resumed, the smoke effect was gone, leaving one to wonder if that was intentional or not. The soundtrack repeatedly used the song “When Johnny Comes Marching Home,” with ever-changing lyrics and no apparent link to the plot. Even the wound on Bruce's shoulder, wonderful though it looked, was another cause of consternation. From where did he get it? Was it self-inflicted? Is it a symbol of whatever illness Jones is suffering? So many questions, and no answers in sight.


The cast struggled valiantly in their handling of the most bewildering material I've ever seen, and none of the actors really seemed suited to their roles. Bruce Coen gives 110% as Noah, but was critically hampered by his script which he carried throughout the entire play. Even community theatre has some minimum standards, and the only acceptable excuse I've seen for carrying a script on stage was when an actor had just taken over the role in the last couple of days. That script became a permanent crutch that even Bruce with his talent could not overcome, and it caused no end of maneuvering problems as he attempted to hold alcohol flasks, letters, and even undress himself for the doctor to treat him. Amy Williams and Amanda Shakelford do their level best to create credible human beings, but so much about their characters is so often incomprehensible that they come across as ships without anchors. The talented Jack Robertson salvages much of his part with his frenetic energy, but is still miscast in his role as Robert. The four characters draw little sympathy from the audience, who cannot forge any bond with these four disjointed souls because Povinelli has provided so little information about them. Povinelli’s direction also promoted little chemistry among the characters, essentially leaving them to give four almost entirely isolated performances in a vacuum.


It is not in my nature to write negative reviews, and perhaps I should have resorted to a resounding silence toward the play. The old adage—if you haven't anything good to say, say nothing at all—might apply, but when left with so many questions and so few answers, I was as lost as the four brave characters on the stage. Daniel Povinelli is a talented actor who has written the much better Before You, another AUI production, and his performance in Life Is a Dream was commendable. In many ways, I found Fire Eye a promising first draft that hasn't been finished yet, for it weaves a largely cryptic series of scattered events and inexplicable situations. In its present form, it’s a mess whose saving graces are its cast and its intelligent words, though they are haphazardly designed. The ex-president spoke many lines that seemed more about the play itself that the situations inside it. At one point, Jones uttered, “This just doesn't make any sense.” After two and a half hours of Fire Eye, I completely agree.
---Vincent P. Barras