Woyzeck 2.5/4 Starring Claire Kaplan ‘amp; Daniel Rubiano Directed by Gabor Tompa
The play begins the moment you step into the theater. Several white-faced soldiers stand eerily still in various corners, holding props and staring at fixed points. A soldier in a clear glass box directs our attention to the mechanical actions of his daily life: He sorts his peas, he eats his peas, he salutes, he digs, he lifts weights. The black rubber glove attached to the box invites you to touch him, although he will ignore you. As you watch the actor go through the motions while gazing into the void of space in front of him, you can’t help but wonder ‘mdash; what does it all mean?’
Turns out, he doesn’t really know, either.
The soldier in the box is Franz Woyzeck (Daniel Rubiano), the title character of a slate-gray dreamscape of drudgery. He is the army barber, a poor man whose life consists of cyclical toil so that he can earn his two cents for his growing family and beautiful wife Marie (Claire Kaplan). Woyzeck’s diet consists entirely of peas, so that he may earn a little extra money from a nameless mad-scientist-come-doctor (Josh Adams).
Eventually, Woyzeck’s unbearable circumstance drives him to madness ‘mdash; madness that is even madder than all the mad people around him. Trouble is, the play stomps around too symbolically to tie itself down to a clear plot. It teeter-totters on the fine line between performance art and stony-driven theater. Marie and all the other unnamed actors receive a spotlight parody, complete with proto-gothic carnival music ‘mdash; a desperate, cheap-gag attempt to hold the audience’s attention.
Woyzeck and his compatriot Andres spend their idle time mock-marching and needlessly filling buckets of water. Such silent sidetracks only highlight the meaninglessness of their lives ‘mdash; and meaninglessness as central, existential subject matter is just about as interesting as, well, peas.
Despite these setbacks, ‘Woyzeck’ lives and breathes absurdist despair that borders too closely on menial tasks, following the glass-chamber rotation of the young man staring out into the theater. The entire regiment of gray soldiers sprint toward the audience at the play’s beginning, only to be halted by something lingering beyond, amid the harsh light; something that makes them turn back to face the concrete walls in fear. Something then moves them (possibly the depressing chamber music recycled from ‘Danton’s Death’ ‘mdash; come on, step up) to continue fleeing the stage and stumbling back, over and over and over. Only the fool, flapping about in his untied straightjacket, remains oblivious to their attempt at aggression against the cage of routine.
The acting, of course, is remarkably fine ‘mdash; maybe even too fine. Rubiano’s beautifully naive portrayal of the pea-popping Woyzeck, in all absurd earnestness, attracts mockery from those who refuse to understand him. This Ewan McGregor impersonation takes on new life the further Woyzeck descends into insanity, until he deteriorates into a tattered shell of the simple, hardworking man he used to be. The cold authority of the doctor communicates an educated, scientific objectivism, contorted with a strange and sensual perversion as cold and unfamiliar as your annual checkup.
In another scene, the majority of the regiment transforms into white-masked marionettes, and Marie and Woyzeck wander around the stage, enthralled by the dolls. Woyzeck imitates and prods one of the marionette soldiers, remarking to his wife, ‘Look at him go!’
The two characters mouth the exact motions of the audience as we wander through the museum exhibit of soldiers: You are Woyzeck,Woyzeck is you and this is as much our life as it is his.
Doesn’t life suck?