It's important to note that "The Birds" as seen on stage at Teatro Zuccone, is not a play about the movie, The Birds--you know, the epic horror film from Alfred Hitchcock, well at least enough horror for its time. In fact, the winding road to the stage for this work by Irish playwright Conor McPherson begins with the novelette by author Daphne Du Maurier, a British author. The story was published in 1952 as part of a collection of stories. And it was that short story that Hitchcock optioned for his movie. And, it seems, as soon as he optioned the script, he might have said, "The only thing we're keeping here are the birds."
Conor McPherson is a sort of wunderkind director out of University College Dublin. In 2009, his stage adaptation of "The Birds" debuted at the Gate Theatre, in Dublin. Although McPherson is an award-winning playwright, "The Birds" is not an award-winning play. That's not entirely indicative of its merit, mind you. But, it is telling.
It's not easy to pull off a psychological thriller. People usually say comedy is the most difficult genre to reproduce on stage, but I disagree. And first-time director, Zachary Stofer, has his hands full with this 90 minute adaptation of a literary work--where the literary work has so much more ability (and time) to convey terror in the mind of a reader turning pages.
The play begins in the middle of a country house under apocalyptic siege, where Diane (Carrie Mohn) and Nat (Zachary Stofer) find themselves together, but...not together--which is not readily apparent, but soon too obviously apparent--trying to stay out of the clutches of the attacking birds outside their boarded up bunker of a house. With set design by Evan Kelly, the feeling of the action is claustrophobic and that is the point. The show is lit by Jon Brophy, with atmospheric success, although there seemed to be a couple of timing inconsistencies with the live candlelight on stage and the necessary compatible lighting needed to see what's going on.
As much as McPherson's script allows, Carrie Mohn gives a mostly solid performance as Diane on stage, especially as she carries the weight of the opening moments. A tone must be set within the first seconds of her being on stage in order to get the rest of the show on its footing. Clutching a frying pan, her tortured gasps for breath pull the audience into the show, while the brilliantly concepted sound design by Nicholas Gosen works hand-in-glove with Brophy's spooky live candlelight. While Mohn flits around on stage like a trapped bird herself, flashes of the candlelight glint off the pan and that's the only way of tracking her movements in the darkened theater. The effect is palpable and admittedly, the most psychologically thrilling part of the show.
We soon discover Diane is not alone in the house. Director Zachary Stofer also performs as Nat, apparently having come along some time before in the story, although we're not exactly sure how long. Stofer is one of the most consistently disciplined and expressive actors in the city, whatever the role. There are glimpses of his vast talents in this play, but the play itself is not generous with the role. Fortunately for Stofer, his stage presence and command of his voice and size on stage helps push the character through to some point of connection in a play that doesn't invite much of an emotional connection to any of its characters. We're briefly trotted through Diane and Nat's respective backstories in a matter of two or three minutes on stage as if McPherson wishes to get those crucial, emotionally pulling nuggets out of the way of the atmosphere. What's problematic with that is that just as the lighting and sound work hand-in-glove, so too should the characters and the audience. If there's nobody to fall for, and if there's nobody to care about, how do we terrify people over what's happening?
Stofer and Mohn are good together on the stage, though. Despite a frustratingly difficult script, they do their due diligence to their roles and that's not to be underestimated. Mohn especially pulls us through and is, theatrically, the person on stage that pulls it together, as the characters pass through days and nights of emotional terror as Gosen's birds menacingly and relentlessly crash outside, against the door, and everyone around, bringing terror with each tide.
One of the more confusing parts of the show, though, is the arrival of Julia, played by Joslyn Danielson, in her first Renegade show. During a scene change, she's just...there, without much of an explanation, saved only by a scant device of dialogue between Julia and Diane, later in the action. Julia is supposed to be the interloper...the intruder between Diane and Nat. And to do so, she must be cunning. Danielson doesn't quite get us there and from her first moments on stage, the trio is put off balance when Danielson doesn't seem to exhibit the same emotional response--the timidity and weariness of the claustrophobia--that both Stofer and Mohn so capably convey, especially since Julia is obviously physically wounded. As Diane changes the bandage on Julia's head, there's an inconsistency in what's going on and what should be going on. Again, later, when recounting how she found herself inside another house before she arrived upon Diane and Nat's house, she declares that she had never been so frightened in her life--but, Danielson does so with a grin and nonchalance. Her portrayal of Julia is more petulant and defiant teenager than cunning vamp. Thankfully for the show's sake, Mohn is the force that pulls their scenes together. As in the show, Diane is the caretaker and the organizer, so, too, is Mohn, on stage, with this play.
It seems surprising, toward the end of the show, that we realize that Diane has feelings for Nat. As mentioned before, McPherson's script doesn't allow that to come through, and ultimately, that emotional pull we're supposed to feel between Diane and Nat is unrealized, and the "love-triangle" is expressed in mere dialogue, and only briefly. And, along the same line, the sexual tension between Nat and Julia is also unrealized--not a fault of the actors, for they have only the script's parameters in which to dwell sexually, or in this case, asexually.
The surprising stand-out is an uncredited appearance by Jack Starr, as the neighbor living in the house across the lake. In just several minutes on stage, Starr manages to throw a much needed emotional punch into what is happening outside the house. His fear, his longing is clear and forceful. And, remarkably, he's able to convey the spooky humor of a man who's spent too much time alone in what is a truly frightening situation. Starr's character provides the only dark comedy in the show--in a script that is in some need of it to push the gravity of the situation. Also, it's important for the audience to have the pressure lifted here and there so the show can layer itself and intensify organically. If only McPherson's script let us have it, Mohn and Stofer could have knocked it out of the park, since their obvious talents could handle the duty.
Technically,
Nicholas Gosen and Jon Brophy deliver in spades. There's not one hokey
moment when it comes to the sound effects and it's apparent Gosen spent
much time refining the central unseen character of the entire show.
What the show could have gone without were Diane's voice-overs.
Leaving them out wouldn't have taken away from any of the show's intent
or atmosphere. If anything, it would have enhanced the anxiety of the
characters and put a much needed sinister punctuation point on some of
Diane's actions, without the intellectual equivocating McPherson is wont
to provide--gilding the lily, if you will, unnecessarily.
For a
Renegade Theater Company show, "The Birds" is one worth seeing, though.
Don't let a difficult and time-limited script discourage you from
appreciating a couple of great actors doing their best with that they
have and with solid and compelling technical elements. The story in
itself is compelling and the historical provenance of the story is
enough of a draw to the theater. It's also a great time of year for a
good old-fashioned night of candlelight and spook factor. And for a
first-time director cutting his teeth on a difficult show, ultimately,
the effort is a success for Zachary Stofer and that, too, cannot be left
out.Maurier's original short story, interestingly enough, had much to do, metaphorically, with the advent of the Cold War. These characters, though, are birds themselves, flitting between each other, scratching not only themselves, but those around, trapped within a house and in their own minds, dealing with the psychological terror of the unknown. So, after you see the play, do the best thing you can do: read the original story.
THE BIRDS. Directed by Zachary Stofer for Renegade Theater Company. WITH Carrie Mohn, Zachary Stofer, Joslyn Danielson, with an applause-worthy appearance by Jack Starr. The show runs Thursdays through Saturdays with an 8 p.m. curtain through October 24 at Teatro Zuccone, 222 East Superior Street, Duluth.
The show is about 90 minutes and there is no intermission. This review was based on the Thursday, October 8 opening night performance.
© 2015 Zenith City Style
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