'Tis the season for red. No, not because February is
American Heart Month and Valentine's Day, but because this season there have been several productions of the 2010 Tony-winning play
Red, the first since
the regional premiere at Park Square Theatre some 13 years ago. I love a two-hander, i.e., two people sitting in a room talking, and
Red is a most excellent example of the form. So even though I saw
Lakeshore Players Theatre's wonderfully intimate and intense production just a few months ago, I was more than happy to spend a little more time with Russian-American abstract expressionist painter
Mark Rothko and his (fictional) assistant via the talented cast and design team at Gremlin Theatre. Since first seeing
Red in 2012, I have been lucky enough to see several Rothko paintings in person in museums in New York and/or Chicago; in fact I seek them out whenever I'm at a museum that houses modern art. At first glance, they're simple blocks of color, usually dark rich reds. But when you look deeper, they're so layered and endlessly mesmerizing. So is this play - just a simple two-hander, but so layered in the way it explores the life of an artist and the meaning of art, and in a broader sense ideas of legacy, grief, friendship, purpose.* This production features two fantastic performances, emotionally true direction, and gorgeously messy design.
See Red now through March 1 at Gremlin Theatre in Vandalia Tower, where you can also enjoy a fun, delicious, and convenient dinner-and-a-show pairing at
Lake Monster Brewing /
OG ZaZa Pizza /
King Coil Spirits, or
SK Coffee before a Sunday matinee.
Red takes place in the late 1950s, when Rothko was painting a series of murals on commission for the Four Seasons restaurant in New York's brand new
Seagram Building (where people like Don Draper would dine). In this fictionalized account, Rothko hires an assistant named Ken. Ken is also an artist, although Rothko never treats him as such. He's an employee, there to do what he's told and not offer an opinion. Their relationship develops over time as they work together from nine to five, five days a week. Ken begins to challenge Rothko about his work, his ideas, and his lifestyle. Rothko eventually decides to turn down the commission, return the cash advance, and keep the paintings (they now hang in the
Tate Modern in London and the
National Gallery in DC, among other places). He releases Ken do his own work and live his own life, while Rothko continues his solitary pursuit of art.*
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Rothko (Pearce Bunting) and Ken (Ben Shaw)
(photo by Allysa Kristine Photography) |
#TCTheater favorite Pearce Bunting plays Rothko, in his debut with Gremlin Theatre but not
at Gremlin Theatre, having memorably played Albert Einstein (or someone who thinks he's Einstein) in
Dark & Stormy's The Physicists in this space a few years ago. As he always does, he throws himself fully, physically and emotionally, into the role of the tortured artist. With paint-stained hands and Rothko's hairline, Pearce gives a fully committed and endlessly watchable performance - passionate, angry, conflicted, hurt, every emotion so true. He's well-matched in Ben Shaw (of the
Orchard Theater Collective) as Ken, with a nice arc from the tentative apprentice to an equal who challenges the older artist. He does a lot with few lines at the beginning of the play as Ken observes and tries to figure out his place in the room, and blossoms in the impassioned speeches later in the play. A two-hander really hinges on the two actors and their ability to work and play well together, and this is a terrific pair. It's noteworthy that we never see the paintings in question (but you can if you scroll down), they're invisibly hanging on the invisible walls that frame the space, but we can almost see them as the artists stare at them intensely, looking out into the audience.
The always excellent Ellen Fenster-Gharib directs the play, and while she didn't make me cry like she often does (it's not that kind of play), she did draw out every layered idea and emotion of the script, with perhaps the most luscious scene transitions I've seen. As the dialogue of one scene ends, we linger in the moment as the lights fade, one or both characters lit in a warm grow, until they slowly move on in a gentle transition to the next conversation, until two years have flown by in 90 minutes.
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Ken (Ben Shaw) and Rothko (Pearce Bunting)
(photo by Allysa Kristine Photography) |
The script calls for some specific design elements (so much paint!), and this design team (technical director Carl Schoenborn's set and lighting design combined with Aaron Newman's sound design and Sarah Bauer's costume and prop design) meets the challenge. The thrust space at Gremlin has been transformed into an artist's studio with paint-splattered walls and huge canvasses hung across the back, an artist's table overflowing with paint and tools and coffee and Chinese food containers. The characters are also covered in paint splatters, and you soon realize the paint splatters are not just for show, as the real paint and colored powder starts to fly. In the highlight of the play, the two artists prime a canvas, i.e., cover it in a dark red paint, both painting furiously and wordlessly, sometimes at odds, sometimes in sync, to classical music. It's like a dance, and the audience would have burst into applause at its conclusion if we weren't so mesmerized. Classical music (interrupted once by Ken's attempt to bring in some jazz) is also an important part of the story, a constant backdrop with sound expanding from the record player to encompass the entire room.
I'll leave you with a few of the paintings in question, and encourage you to seek out Rothko paintings the next time you visit an art museum. And to see this gorgeous production of a Tony winning play about art and life.
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| from Rothko's Seagram Murals |
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| from Rothko's Seagram Murals |
