The Old Man and the Sea at Long Wharf Theater

David Begelman

In the opinion of many of his literary critics, Ernest Hemingway’s novella The Old Man and the Sea was an impressive comeback for the American novelist whose detractors were less than charitable about him. Max Eastman found himself on the receiving side of a burly fist when he intimated the writer lacked the “serene confidence that he is a full-sized man.” Zelda Fitzgerald declared him as “phony as a rubber check,” while James Joyce felt the macho author was “a sensitive type” posing as a tough guy.

Yet after the failure of his 1950 novel, Across the River and Into the Trees, and at a point in his career when many of those same critics felt his abilities were waning, Hemingway produced a tale of a fisherman whose lonely battle with a giant marlin was widely hailed as a stunning literary achievement. It was awarded a 1953 Pulitzer Prize, and was instrumental in earning its author the 1954 Nobel Prize for literature.

Director Eric Ting co-authored the stage adaptation of Hemingway’s novella with Craig Siebels. Its current production at Long Wharf theater also marks its world premiere. Both men have taken on a task that is a daunting one on any accounting. The Old Man and the Sea is all about the interiority of a narrative. As such, it would seem to defy any attempt to refashion it as a stage drama.

Mr. Ting and his accomplished cast of three performers make the most of the creative challenge despite this inevitable shortcoming. The artistic concession for any production company adapting a great written work is to insist the play is merely “based upon it,” an option nonetheless inviting speculation over any dramatic short-fall in comparison to the literary masterpiece.

The Old Man and the Sea, a Hemingway work of driving internality, has a surface symbolism that hints at immense themes underlying the dialogue of its central figure. Santiago is an old fisherman who has a habit of talking to himself aloud or musing: “He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on African beaches.” It is what is left unsaid that is the soul of the novella.

Like Hemingway’s prose style, the plots of both the novella and the drama based upon it are bare-boned affairs. The aging Santiago lives in a shack improvised out of “the tough budshields of the royal palm,” and seems to have lost his edge on fishing.  He has gone 84 days without a catch, and is determined to redeem himself by taking his skiff far out to sea to hook the big one.

Santiago’s devoted assistant, Manolin, has been ordered by his papa to seek work elsewhere than with the luckless old man, so Santiago’s venture out to sea must be a solitary one. This does not prevent Manolin from doing all he can on land to tend to the old one, including preparing food for him. In the novella, Hemingway’s writing style may be terse, but there is a world of meaning bombinating in sentences like: “The old man taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.” 

Director Ting has divided the drama into sections he calls the heroic and tragic arcs. These correspond to the first and second acts of the play. The first encompasses Santiago’s preparation for, and encounter with, the big fish. The second involves the aftermath of his part triumphant and part discouraging return from his sea adventure.

The problem with the stage adaptation of the Hemingway work is that the prose passages in the novella, not the dialogue, contain all the beauty and power of the narrative. Unfortunately, it is precisely these that cannot be staged. As if to compensate for the drawback, the stage script expands the roles of the boy, Manolin, and Cienfuegos, the negro whom Santiago beats in a bout of arm wrestling. (Actually, in the novella, only passing mention is made of the negro, who is from Cienfuegos, not named “Cienfuegos.” He is also not a singer of gorgeously composed guitar ballads, as in the present production, and, unlike the stage script, he had a second unsuccessful—because of his broken confidence—rematch in Casablanca with Santiago.

That being said, the Long Wharf dramatization of The Old Man and the Sea is a happy balance of production values, given the limitations imposed on any stage adaptation of the Hemingway work.

Mr. Ting’s direction, as audiences have come to expect from this accomplished artist, is uniformly imaginative and compelling. His three performers, Mateo Gomez as Santiago, Rey Lucas as Manolin, and Leajato Amara Robinson couldn’t have been happier casting choices in markedly distinguishable roles. Mr. Gomez radiated the moral strength and doggedness that is such an essential quality of the old fisherman, while Rey Lucas’s young Manolin was a near perfect study of devotion. Leajato Amara Robinson’s striking portrayal of Cienfuegos put flesh on a character of passing mention in the novella. His singing and guitar playing impressively punctuated the ongoing action.

Mention should be made of co-author Craig Siebels’ set design, with imaginatively shifting levels of platforms, star-studded expanses, and a centrally positioned and wobbling old skiff. Michael Chybowski’s lighting highlighted the action exceptionally well, while Kaye M. Voyce’s costumes appropriately mirrored how we might well imagine the garb in the novella (where Santiago’s shirt was a patchwork of faded colors, much like his sail).

Mr. Ting’s production in its own way mirrors a feature of the old fisherman’s first 84 days at sea: not a big fish anywhere in sight—even after Santiago invisibly reels him in on stage.            

The Old Man and the Sea runs from April 1 to the 26, 2009 on the Mainstage of Long Wharf Theatre, 222 Sargent Drive, New Haven, CT. Curtain times are Tuesdays at 7 PM, Wednesdays at 2PM and 7 PM, Thursdays and Fridays at 8 PM, Saturdays at 3 PM and 8 PM, and Sundays at 2 PM and 8 PM. Tickets are $32 to $62 with special discounts for seniors and children. Tickets may be purchased by calling the box office at (203)-787-4282, or online at www.longwharf.org. 

 

 

The Bluest Eye at Long Wharf Theater

David Begelman

            Somewhere down the line theater audiences will be treated to a show as gripping and as dazzling as Lydia Diamond’s adaptation of Toni Morrison’s novel The Bluest Eye at New Haven’s Long Wharf Theater. I conjecture they’ll have to wait a bit—not, mind you, till the walls shall crumble to ruin, as Longfellow put it. But close to it.

Originally commissioned by Chicago’s Steppenwolf theater, where it had its premiere in 2005, there are several reasons why The Bluest Eye meets the fondest expectations for audiences. The first is the tightly crafted play of Ms. Diamond. This reviewer purchased a copy of it in the Long Wharf Theater lobby, just to prove to himself that what he experienced watching this sumptuous production wasn’t all directorial smoke and mirrors. It wasn’t. The play is a fully rounded drama that is expertly layered around the lives of families in a poor black section of Ohio in the 1940s. Interactions among its central characters come alive from the outset, and even the most casual remarks are charged with meaning.

Ms. Diamond’s playwriting achieves the most with an economy of style, and the intertwined lives of its central characters—including the hapless Percola Breedlove, an 11 year old girl around whom the most wrenching moments of the action swirl—are delineated masterfully.     

Second, there is the uncannily creative eye of director Eric Ting whom, I am told, is given to sudden epiphanies about direction he shares with his performers. These are exploited in ongoing collaborations with them that have the effect of freeing their creative energies. Ting’s adroit use of flashbacks—the initial vivid image of Percola writhing with arms and legs flailing, as if she were being assailed by a swarm of stinging insects—was a striking one and, we learn later, a physicalization of her going over the edge into madness. The image is not found in the script, but like other of the director’s insights, works magically as a statement of things to come. The same goes for the design of unison speaking or singing, as in a Greek chorus (some of which is script-inspired, although not all). The only downside note is the confusion introduced by some of the double casting. But hey, give a few, take a few.  

Then there is the cast, as if sent from heaven.

The Bluest Eye essentially revolves around the lives of several youngsters and their parents whose interactions are charged with complications, and the normal give and take of people everywhere. Yet lives are forged in poverty and the inevitable scourge of racism, both of which color the attitudes of all the principals. On the younger side, characters run a range from the innocent and immature Percola (played in a downtrodden, yet radiant way by Adepero Oduye. Her character is without a trace of the guile that often comes packaged in youngsters who are more adept at squirming around inattention, homelessness and abuse), to the sisters Frieda and Claudia (parts given terrifically engaging interpretations, by Ronica V. Reddick and Bobbi Baker) to Maureen Peal (played by Shelley Thomas), a light skinned black girl whom the sisters dislike because she can easily pass for white.

 The older set of characters are played by seasoned performers whose work on stage is of a high order. Miche Braden as the Mama of Frieda and Claudia plays a no nonsense parent, chiefly because she has to survive in a home whose drafty interior chills the bones, and which prompts creative strategies about how to keep warm. (The audience hears, as if in a momentary aside in upstage right, the extraordinary gospel voice of this artist. No wonder. She gave the most outstanding one-person performance this reviewer had ever seen as Bessie Smith in another production. American Idol fans, and a generation of off-pitch rock stars, eat your hearts out!)

Leon Addison Brown as Cholly, Percola’s daddy, traverses poignant stages of life as a castaway baby, a lover caught in the sexual act by a band of rednecks, the husband in a deteriorating marriage to Mrs. Breedlove (played scathingly by Oni Faida Lampley, a playwright at New Dramatists) and finally, the perpetrator of an incestuous act on his daughter, Percola. Ellis Foster plays the gravel-voiced Soaphead Church, a.k.a. Elihue Micah Whitcomb, a neighborhood psychic, magician, and hawker of sundry snake-oils whose dialect has a familiar prosody, and is aimed at convincing all he is a notch above everyone else in earthly wisdom.

All characters define themselves by the degree to which their self-appraisals fail to meet standards of the white world outside their community. Percola escapes into madness after giving birth to a child born of incest that later dies. Her conviction is that she now believes she has the blue eyes of white people: the self-created idea rescuing her from the personal hell of being black, ugly and useless. Her friend Claudia mournfully laments that she wanted the black baby to live—“just to counteract the universe of white baby dolls, Shirley Temples, and Maureen Peals.”

The Bluest Eye has the ablest collaboration of Scott Bradley’s scene design (in which Mama’s ever-hanging bedsheets were turned ingeniously into scrims for other scenes), Russell H. Campa’s gorgeous lighting design, Rob Milburn’s and Michael Bodeen’s terrific music and sound design, and the vocal and piano arrangements of—who else?—the exceptional Miche Braden.

What can I say? Run, do not walk, to see this stunning production.

The Bluest Eye is being staged at Long Wharf Theatre’s Mainstage, 222 Sargent Drive, New Haven from March 28 to April 20, 2008. Performances are on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at 7pm, Thursdays and Fridays at 8pm, Saturdays at 3pm and 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm and 7pm. Info: (203)-787-4282. Website: www.longwharf.org.