Review: THE GRADUATE Goes Singularly Deep at Aux Dog Nob Hill

I'd wondered what the Aux Dog's play version of The Graduate--the story of Benjamin, the young man just out of college who has an affair with Mrs. Robinson, a married family friend who is twice his age--could possibly add to the classic 1967 film. Honestly I wasn't too enthused to see a re-run, minus Dustin Hoffman. My reluctance was naïve; the essential differences between film and stage ensured this show would stand apart. And the ensemble--especially the leads--so thoroughly possessed their characters that I soon forgot entirely 'how Hoffman, et al did it in the movie.' But they went further, delving through the expansive script with raw and ruthless energy so not only did I stop comparing to the film, I stopped comparing to reality--this performance was singular. Yet as the saying goes, 'the theater is reborn every night': Go next week, and they'll create a new reality for you too!

That's pretty bombastic praise; I should qualify, with a little expectation-management. The show isn't spectacular: The technical elements were effective--a rotating stage making full use of a small space, and a symbolic ever-present bed--but to the status quo of most Albuquerque shows I've seen so far, nothing swept me off my feet (few lighting tricks, the same chair in the same place the entire show, perfunctory three-second bursts of Simon and Garfunkel's famous soundtrack).
This standard of only-just convincing artifice carried into the supporting cast. Excepting J. Ryan Montgomery--whose multiple bit roles were delightful and hilarious gems--the non-principle actors were, like the sets, effective--with humor, and heart--but not spectacular. They had the problem of going through the motions instead of listening and responding to the moment, so I often became more aware of the actors on the stage than the characters in the play.
If I never fully suspended my disbelief, then why do I claim this the show 'created a singular reality?' First of all, the artifice, though meager, was not distracting. The production did not need to envelop me with illusion order make an impact--the concussive effect of the key characters, and their relationships, were enough.
The principals were a perfect storm: Bridget Kelly as Mrs. Robinson was a godlike, bitter presence of unaddressed sorrow; Kir Kipness as Elaine brought a starry-eyed young woman seamlessly and sincerely across the serrated edge of adulthood's disillusionment; and Matt Puett as Benjamin employed the volatile power of youth's neuroses to burn the fuze of action all the way through. This trifecta transformed the otherwise unremarkable stage--by way of lengthy, undulating, nuanced scenes--into the expansive territory of their complex relationships. In an hour and a half, they explore further into this territory than we in mundane (or even exceptional) society do in a decade.
What they discover is not some universal moral principle (this story bears the mark of passing social standards, and I'm not sure I agree with the way things turn out) but better than morality, the characters find their own, singular truths--for better or worse. Watching them find this clarity, even in the midst of such a twisted crazy plot, is the primary reason you should go: It's helpful to see, and to realize, "if they can do it, I might too."

Aux Dog Nob Hill

Runs until April 10

Friday and Saturday 8pm

Sunday 2pm

Tickets