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Regional Reviews: St. Louis Pictures from a Revolution Also see Richard's review of Athena
But I digress. Sicilian-born playwright Tino Caspanello's 90-minute Pictures from a Revolution is the most successful comedy produced by Upstream Theater that I can recall, and it's genuinely funny in very fresh new ways. Producer/director Philip Boehm creates a swirl of artful comic intent, with four characters barely subsisting on a hidden rebel encampment, decades after the very unfortunate overthrow of a former government by an unnamed tyrant, in what seems like central Europe. And somehow, Signore Caspenello's writing and Mr. Boehm's directing make the characters each seem weirdly like Charlie Chaplin in the movie The Gold Rush from 1925, where The Little Tramp is stuck in a frigid log cabin, trapped with a much larger, metaphorical (in this case) glowering version of Mack Swain, Chaplin's scene-partner in the cabin. Here, the two forces clash in ever-changing ways. And finally, both are dreaming of cannibalism. As an Italian interlude, you can also feel the Cinecittà-style woundedness and desperation of it all in this new production. It's the American premiere of a 2015 Italian play, from after the fall of Mussolini of course, presented in a mercurial English translation by Haun Saussy. So, if you remember the whole era of movies like The Bicycle Thief from 1948, you'll definitely get a sense of the dizzy Roman breathlessness of it all here. Pictures from a Revolution reminds me of going to the local art house, the Tivoli Theatre in University City, Missouri, Sunday afternoons in the 1980s. And strangely enjoying the sensation of being intentionally "off-put" by great European movies. This play might be more mysterious played in Italian, though, with super-titles. Each scene at the very modern "black-box" Marcelle Theatre starts out with a famous painting projected against the back wall of the theater, accompanied by a short pre-recorded description voiced by the director, in an almost alarmingly calm verbal setup. Right before lights-up, Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" is reverently projected through the darkness–and it's a genuine reverence–described as a painting of men departing to defend their city, establishing the mood of the play's first scene. Likewise, the characters on stage are grim and persevering, but oddly colorful. It almost seems as flat as a biblical pageant here and there, as in the painting, and intentionally so. Among all the dazzling art that is projected during the show are wildly varied works by Van Gogh, Degas, Dali, Manet, and Michelangelo. But in the end, the only somewhat unrecognized masterpiece in the whole collection may be the play itself. The action takes place in an abandoned soccer stadium, and a partially collapsed goalie's net fills half of the atmospheric set design by Patrick Huber. The painterly costumes are by Michele Friedman Siler. But late in the action, in a climactic scene, I wondered, "where are all the wind effects?" In any case, J. Samuel Davis leads the first-rate cast with wonderful moments of a fresh and–to me–oddly Broadway-quality style of comedy, alongside the inspired Isaiah Davis and the callow and charming Andre Eslamian. They all fear the cruel ruler of what remains of their land. Lizi Watt is excellent as the strange woman dragged into their lair with comical intent. It often feels too linear in the very "line of action" of it all, a bit predetermined or "set in stone." But there are a couple of very lovely curveball elements to the plot. It's definitely from a different time. But it existed along a sort of time-line with my father's own young great adventures. Does it all seem overly literal at times? Yes. And strangely the English dialog flattens it a bit. Still, Caspanello's weirdly romantic take on the collapse of democracies has a really natural, gentle feel to it, of modest self-abnegation. But I must insist that the subtle complexities of relationships should always be in play on stage, at all times–though it pains me to say it. Perhaps it is all meant to be viewed as a carousel of conflicting emotions, overall, scene by scene, blocks of psychological color clashing together as a beautiful 90-minute (without intermission) visual provocation. I totally agree that there's something to be said for the sheer marvel of Pictures from a Revolution as an overall presentation. And, heightening the unique presentationalism of it, there're also a lot of surprisingly effective ballet-looking movement on stage, thanks very much to dance consultant Cecil Slaughter of Washington University, formerly of the Dayton Contemporary Dance Company. So I guess I'm looking at this all wrong, as the Scottish-Scandinavian person that I am. It is like a visit to the eye doctor, though: "Better? Worse?" One's humane vision becomes very complicated suddenly, over and over again. But the best surprise is no surprise, in that you see the world through an alien glass at Upstream Theater once again. And that's how you know that you're free, I suppose. Although inevitably you feel like you've gotten in too deep with this company, emotionally, in a way you never expected, after repeat visits. That said, I was sitting next to one of my critic friends, and later she instantly summed it up as "transparent, but enjoyable." But I think that can be fixed (the "transparent" part) with a bit more spontaneity and discovery and discovery and discovery, over and over again. Even though one has to respect the director's vision. Still, to me, it's also the exact moment when art and reality collide, stripped of cheerful marketing, where the hopefulness in the paintings often becomes the object of satire. You begin to understand why everyone is clamoring, out in the real world today, as idealism falls to the sword. The balletic performances, with the truly deft physical and the psychologically euro-comic "sway" interpretation of J. Samuel Davis and the rest, gives us a delicious and successful style piece. And, as far as the politics of it all goes, what did Sinclair Lewis say? "It can't happen here." Pictures from a Revolution runs through February 9, 2025, at the Marcelle Theatre, 3310 Samuel Shepard Drive, St. Louis MO. For tickets and more information, please visit www.upstreamtheater.org. Cast Production Staff Additional Production Staff * Denotes Member, Actors' Equity Association ** Denotes Associate Member, Stage Directors and Choreographers Society |
