Review Preview: The Bald Soprano

A thousand apologies for not posting this Review Preview sooner.

As it turned out, the Courier held the review until next week, while the Daily Record publshed it today. So while it may be old news for some, it still qualifies as a Review Preview.

By the way, I'll break form over the weekend and post a tribute to one of my heroes, Phil Rizzuto. Until then, let's play on:

"THE BALD SOPRANO"
Tuesdays-Sundays
Through Aug. 26
F.M. Kirby Shakespeare Theatre
Drew University
36 Madison Ave. (Route 124),
Madison
Tickets are $28 to $52
Call (973) 408-5600
www.shkespearenj.org
"Realism ... falls short of reality. ... Truth is in our dreams, in the imagination."
So said Romanian-born playwright Eugene Ionesco, a leading proponent of the Theatre of the Absurd movement in the 1950s. Certainly, there is absurdity and imagination throughout "The Bald Soprano," in revival at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey.
There's a certain absurdity to the English language as well, with so many different meanings for so many words. Right? So it's no wonder that Ionesco experienced a certain measure of frustration while learning the language. As the legend goes, the stiff and useless phases in his English textbook inspired him to write his first play, "The Bald Soprano," which fuels a ridiculous story with a seemingly endless stream of non sequiturs and banalities.
Sitcom fun
In the wrong hands, material like this could be crushed by the weight of its own pretensions. But, as it did in 2000 with another Ionesco gem, "Rhinoceros," the Shakespeare Theatre turns it into a sitcom that plays like "Seinfeld" meets "Monty Python's Flying Circus." Even better, it's funny enough that you don't have to get it to have a good time. For those who don't, the lesson wraps up in less than 90 minutes, possibly the shortest running time this theater has seen in decades.
Director Matthew Arbour (last year's "The Rivals") and set designer Mimi Lien deliver cast and set to the stage in a wooden, industrial crate, large enough to contain the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Smith (company newcomers Matthew Floyd Miller and Kelly McAndrew). Basking in the comfort of their suburban London home, the Mrs. darns socks and prattles on about dinner ("potatoes taste good fried in fat;" "perhaps the soup was too salty"), while the Mr. buries his head in the newspaper.
When Mr. Smith finally joins the conversations, the banalities gradually turn more abstract, as facts are presented, contradicted and forgotten. Ionesco's making a point that people reach the stage where they don't listen to each other, and sometimes not even to themselves, and what they say sometimes does little more than fill the void of silence in our lives.
Their pushy maid (Angela Pierce) has her own agenda, but she doesn't make much sense, either. Another couple (Greg Jackson and Mary Bacon), invited (or were they?) to dinner, is left alone long enough to explore their relationship, the details of which seem to have eluded them. The arrival of the fire chief, seemingly on a random search for fires to extinguish, stokes the absurdity.
Even at 75 minutes, Ionesco's English lesson goes on too long. Following a climax of twisted clichés, a coda brings us full circle, repeating several minutes of dialogue when a few lines would suffice. But the actors are having so much fun, you'll root for an encore.
Miller and McAndrew have perfected the plastic smiles their characters use like a crutch, a nonverbal signal that all is well, even as their conversation spins out of control. Miller also has fun with a nervous tick he experiences each time the clock chimes, which is often, ringing at random intervals like a slow Morse code.
Jackie caricature
Bacon, who debuted here last year in "The Rivals," dresses and acts like a Jackie Kennedy caricature, although her pink outfit is more English tweed than French Chanel.
Jackson, though, steals the show as her husband, nervously trying to remain composed and polite while confusion swirls around his head. Following his hilarious performance earlier in the season on this stage in "The Play's the Thing," Jackson's enjoying the finest of his 10 seasons with the company.
Walker and Pierce also delighted the audience with their eccentricities. Pierce's pitched squeal as she segues from laughter to tears is priceless.
Although it was skipped on opening night, a post-performance discussion with the cast is part of "The Bald Soprano" package. It should be fun to hear these fine performers speak English after an hour or so of speaking Ionesco.