CenterStage's Stunning "Death and the Maiden"

         Ariel Dorfman 's Tony Award-winning play, Death and the Maiden, which opened last week at Baltimore's CenterStage, is a study in extremes. The characters are extremely happy, extremely angry or extremely confused. The plot is extremely tense - nearly excruciatingly so. The language is extremely simple, graphic, and accurate. As such, this production will likely polarize audiences, and that depends on both the frame of mind and baggage each audience member brings with them. This was never more evident than during intermission on opening night when some folks were actually laughing about the graphic language and extreme behavior of the protagonist. Still others debated the wisdom of laying out the entire plot in act one, with seemingly nowhere else to go. And a small group was even discussing it in terms of feeling empathy for the imprisoned in Iraq and Cuba, considering the horrifying torture pictures all too recently in the headlines. One thing each group had in common, though, was an intense enough interest to rush back into their seats long before the intermission ended.

 

         Even technically, this production is extreme. The expansive, multi-leveled beach house with interior and exterior, designed by Todd Rosenthal has severe angles and soars to the ceiling. It appears to be meticulously constructed of rigid perfect wood planks, suggesting both a box and a prison. Decorated in places with tremendous South American tribal masks, eerily lit by Mark McCullough, there are times when the incessant beating of the waves outside give way to the tribal drumming of times past (sound by Paul Peterson) when the three characters are at their most primal. The result is moments of brilliant, multi-sensory theatricality.

          The truth is, this play should make you question. Argue even. It tells the tale of a woman and her husband in an unnamed country (one assumes it is Latin American given their names and the construct of the dialogue) who are now reaping the benefits of a regime change after years of torture under a nasty ruler. The husband, Gerardo, has, in fact, gotten named to a key position in the new government to oversee the research into claims of torture, murder and the like, and seeing that justice is brought to those who deserve it, and closure to those who suffered (it is more complex than that, but I simplify for understanding). No one knows about suffering at the hands of these monsters than the wife, Paulina, who suffered for months at the hands of her captors. Their acts against her person are, suffice it to say, extremely horrific, and her continued trauma is more than understandable. The third character, Roberto, a doctor, has unwittingly stepped into a volatile snake pit, when he offers aid to a stranded Gerardo and comes into the beach house home of the couple for a visit. Paulina immediately recognizes the voice and feel of Roberto as one of her heretofore unseen captors. Paulina will have justice of the eye-for-an-eye variety, whether her accused is guilty or not. What ensues is roughly two hours of some of the most intense theatre I have ever sat through in nearly 30 years of play going.

          Part of the difficulty some audience members might have with the play is that it comes across as melodramatic at times, but considering the details of the tortures, it is really all too realistic. What victim wouldn't want to give the pain and suffering back ten-fold? Paulina is simply doing what each of us probably wishes we could do, all the while we are thanking God it was her and not us. And truly, the first scene, after comparing it to the rest of the production, in hindsight comes across as almost Pollyannaish, so sunny and cheerful Paulina and her husband are as they whine and cajole over the inconveniences of a flat tire or a late dinner. Smart money would say that they'd give their eye teeth to go back to those problems if they only knew what the next 24 hours held for them. The Latin American cadence and vivid imagery of the piece might also be off putting, but that depends on one's familiarity with literature from that region, where, when translated into English, the words are mostly monosyllabic and very simple, but when combined create a beautiful tapestry of imagination, or in this case, a vivid horror story. And then, of course, there is the intensity of the vulgar language that is unleashed in Paulina's rage, where the f-word is surprisingly tame compared to the rest. Finally, the graphic detail of her torture made me literally squirm in my seat and caused many around me to giggle in terrified nervousness.

         It is the performances, however, that make this CenterStage production must-see theatre. All three have their stunning moments as individuals, but ultimately, it is the tight cohesive quality of their performance as a company that really gives this work its explosive power. Stephen Rowe, as Roberto, the doctor and possible criminal gives a masterful performance that is at times touching, evasive, cruel, and maddening. He makes it nearly impossible to decide did he or didn't he? And when he is forced to make a potentially life-saving decision where he is damned if he does or doesn't, his obstinacy is so aggravating, I wanted to rush the stage and knock some sense into him. What makes his performance all the more riveting is the fact that he spends much of his stage time bound and gagged, forcing him to act with his eyes and a few well-chosen grunts. The real-life marriage of the husband and wife, Triney and Mhari Sandoval, gives added weight and perhaps even more meaning to the marriage of Gerardo and Paulina. Mr. Sandoval at first comes across as a whiney sap, more at place in a Wendy Wasserstein play than this tense psychological thriller. His overt weakness at the start makes him rather hard to warm up to, but as Gerardo is faced with life-defining decisions, Sandoval develops quite a nice backbone and one becomes completely sympathetic to his plight - his wife, his career or justice? What happens to Gerardo in this brief period has implications beyond his own life and he knows he must navigate these treacherous waters carefully. It is the performance of Ms. Sandoval, however, that is the true centerpiece of the show. Her angst, agony and terror are palpable, and never less than completely convincing. She gives a bold, unflinching portrayal, never more real than as she literally gags to keep herself from vomiting at the memory of her past. And as she rails against propriety and unleashes her anatomically correct, tear-inducing description of rape and other such tortures, she has the audience confidently wrapped in her trembling fingers. As she prowls the set with a pistol, constantly on the verge of snapping, her mere presence creates unbearable tension. (A word about that pistol and her vivid description - the gun shot is as loud as the real thing, and her speech is not for the faint at heart.)

          Clearly, director Lillian Groag has a tight hold on what she wanted from this production. It is as precise a staging as I have seen in years, with each movement fraught with meaning and economy, suggesting a lethal chess game where each move could lead to resolution or worse, more conflict. The entire production leaves you guessing, and with more questions about justice, power and morality than answers. To me, that is grade A theatre.

PHOTOS: Courtesy of CenterStage.  TOP: (L to R) Triney Sandoval, Stephen Rowe and Mhari Sandoval.  BOTTOM: (L toR) Mhari Sandoval and Stephen Rowe.

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