Darren
Pettie, Jonathan Hadary, Derek Smith, James Carpinello and Jonny Orsini
by Eugene Paul
In
this occasion of Arthur Miller’s celebratory 2015 season—100 years since his
birth – Miller plays are in evidence all around town in a range from his
stunning Off Broadway Yiddish production of Death of a Salesman to his
stunning Broadway production of A View from the Bridge. In between, his
rarely performed Incident at Vichy, his intellectual exercise regarding
systematic murder of Jews at the hands of Nazis in occupied France. The play
is presented in its intermissionless version, good for the play, good for the respectful
Signature audiences.
Ever
perfecting its product, the Signature Theater Center has adopted a device
during delivery of performances which projects the lines of the script as it is
being enacted and identifies the characters by name as well, something useful
indeed, needed in this day and age when actors no longer trouble – or know how
-- to reach the back row and Signature audiences are, for the most part,
lending older ears, ears still eager to absorb, grateful for the boost via
older eyes.
If
you’ve observed Signature audiences over the twenty-five years of that
company’s happy life, you’ve seen the pattern of its choices that has developed
its large, faithful following and Incident at Vichy fits like a glove
with the bright, polite, attentive club like community atmosphere in its
handsome, more comfortable premises than on Broadway, and a general sense of
doing good as well as doing well. They approve acting that they can see is
acting, writing that they can see as challenging, productions physically that
they can see are attractively apt. It is doubtful that you would find either
the Yiddish Death of a Salesman or the symbolically expressive A View
from the Bridge here but that’s okay. It takes all kinds to make a
theater.
The
intensely actory impression is particularly pronounced in director Michael
Wilson’s production of the Signature’s Incident at Vichy. You don’t
really believe any of the actors but you enjoy and admire their obvious effort.
There is nothing of any ethnic feeling about the characters in the play, no
Frenchness,no Jewishness, no Germanness, for that matter. Neither director
Wilson nor his cast have given any true flavor of what the play’s setting and
characters are supposed to indicate to us, as if Miller had written in a
vacuum.. The play’s dismaying relevance to today’s world is sickening to the
spirit in its implications, which carries all. It has to. Criticism was rampant
of this play’s early days. Miller was harshly accused of giving a strong
impression through this play that Jews were complicit in their own deaths at
the hands of Nazis. He went so far as to create a second version of the play
in order to counteract that criticism. Signature, however, is presenting the
original, not the amended version.
A
large group of men are in an improvised holding pen, designer Jeff Cowie’s spot
on dirty, empty factor warehouse outfitted with steel mesh caging, somewhere in
southern France, 1942. The Vichy territorial area is nominally under French
rule but the Vichy government is powerless to oppose its Nazi overlords. They
have been ordered to round up everyone with false documents. There has been a
rash of counterfeit identity papers. All these men have been pulled in with
that as the ostensible reason but they know the hunt for Jews is the real
motive because the adjoining train yards have box cars ready to be loaded with
discovered Jews for shipment to German concentration camps, where it is rumored
that they will be exterminated. No one wants to believe the rumor but no one
wants to admit to being a Jew, in any case. Save one, who never talks, but he’s
so obviously a Jew – thanks to costume designer David C. Woolard -- he doesn’t
have to say a word.
One
by one, the men are taken into inner quarters to be interviewed. Will any of
them be released? Or are all to be consigned to the box cars? Oh, the man
doing business. He gets a pass. But that fretful artist? A million reasons to
be fearful? Never once mentioning he’s a Jew? And the supremely confident actor,
beloved every time he’s played in Germany? But his papers flat out say he’s a
Jew. Nevertheless, he knows he is too esteemed do be harmed. And the military
man, the engineer, ready to fight, ready to try for freedom, all he needs is
two men to help overpower the inadequate two French guards? Not the Gypsy with
the copper pot. Everybody assumes he stole it. That’s what Gypsies do. The
boy, not fifteen, will they free him? Will he fight? He was caught while
trying to get food for his ailing mother. The waiter? He’s made friends of his
German customers, surely he will be freed?
Richard
Thomas, Derek Smith and Jonathan Gordon
Into
the mix arrives a stuffy, mild mannered, German. No, not a German, an
Austrian. He’s recognized. He’s an aristocrat, a prince. What is he doing
here? They surely can’t do anything to him. Can they? Even if he can’t stand
Nazis? They have to free him, give him a pass. The prince used to own an
orchestra which played for him in his gardens. The musician he treasured most
was taken by the Nazis and slaughtered. He was a Jew. The heartbreak tears at
him daily. He must do something. After the Nazis take the old Jew and scatter
the pink feather contents of his pillow, all he has left in the world, there is
no one except the Austrian prince and the Jewish soldier and doom foretold.
But
in director Wilson’s production there is no agonizing connection with his
audience, no passion, no outrage, only bleakness and a sense of unresolved
questioning. True, Miller wrote the play twenty years after the war well into
the aftermath of intellectualizing man’s inhumanity to man. He knew full well
that in the theater, that was not enough. Linda Loman told him. Attention must
be paid. It’s still true. It will always be true.
Incident
at Vichy. At
the Signature Center, 10th Avenue and 42nd Street.
Tickets: $25. 212-244-7529. 2 hrs. Thru Dec 20.