Anon(ymous) successful in some scenes, others unsuccessful
by Andrew Paryzer '09
Tuesday January 22, 2008
Picture a sweet young man in a foreign land, battling a strong yearning for his wayward mama. Now imagine the gamut of emotions such a nice boy might stir up in the unlikely people he meets on his roundabout journey home: possessiveness from a bikini-clad Valley girl, admiration and guidance from an aged hippie with John Lennon shades, violence and hunger from a one-eyed chef who specializes in human sausages. Then, cut and paste these adventures into a black-and-white setting. The clothing colors of various characters pop out, alter as they enter and exit, and each brief episode flows into the next.
These story ideas may seem like they’re conducive to the page – perhaps a comic book, or a graphic novel – but they’ve landed onstage here at Sarah Lawrence. They’re the bedrock for Anon(ymous), the first offering of the 2007-08 season from the DownStage Theatre Project. The result is a production that is visually engaging, though it exhibits a sort of two-dimensionality throughout.
This does not keep Dylan Lever’s interpretation of Japanese-born Naomi Iizuka’s play from being entertaining. Owen Scott’s portrayal of Anon, the overall-clad protagonist, endears his character to the audience in the same way a lost puppy might – employing a slight sulk and a pouty-face full of longing. He is the beating heart of the production, but the show’s most memorable moments come from the supporting cast. Calista, the aforementioned Valley girl, is played by Priscilla Weidlein with delightfully overblown absurdity. Likewise, David Mazzucchi’s portrayal of Mr. Yuri Mackus, a lecherous suitor of Anon’s mother, was entertaining through the extremeness of his physicality. With a pronounced limp, hunched posture, and sheen of sweat on his face, his character seemed at times to be only a waxed moustache away from turning into the stereotypical melodrama villain.
A large portion of the character choices, albeit bold and amusing, do seem to wash away any context of humanity. Though Levers’ directorial choices worked to support these almost-caricatures, there’s no doubt that Iizuka’s script helped facilitate them. Her plot is full of bold shift and decisions, but her main character is not; indeed, Anon has a one-note passivity through most of the script that makes his courageous choices near the end of the play seem fabricated. The result is a play that never gains momentum.
Levers uses an ensemble to enhance the play’s action, with mixed results. In one of the first scenes, the black-clad actors sneak around behind the audience and blow on randomly-chosen necks, to emphasize that Anon is currently on a beach. In another, Anon and the goddess Naja (played by Shelby Martin) kiss onstage, while three or four ensemble members blow soap bubbles that represent ocean bubbles. Levers should be commended for thinking broadly about how to evoke a range of environments within a Gabriel Aronson set design that is decidedly minimalist.
The main issue that comes along with these choices is that of cohesion. While the ensemble choices do succeed, they often do so in a way that draws focus from the actual scene: for example, a scene that occurs mostly in the dark where ensemble members echoed the final word of each line in whispers. The aural effect was eerie, but hearing words like “hungry” and “is” whispered menacingly drew attention away from the onstage action.
Perhaps it was for the best that this play’s plot often faded into the background: the play’s climactic scene contains a seemingly anachronistic sword fight, and essentially serves the purpose of having the main character affirm his own ‘Anonymous’ name. However, this production should certainly be commended for its sleek, pared-down visual sensibility as well as for its sheer entertainment value. Like a series of cells collected from various comic strips, Anon(ymous) makes good on portraying a distinct world in each scene – even if the ties of dramatic tension between them are, at best, tenuous.
