BWW Reviews: Shopov and Reeves Do the Heavy Lifting in Zeitgeist Stage Company's BENT

Bent

Written by Martin Sherman; Direction & Scenic Design, David J. Miller; Costume Design, Tyler Kinney; Lighting Design, Michael Clark Wonson; Sound Design, J. Jumbelic; Stage Manager, Aaron Leventman

CAST: Victor L. Shopov, Mikey DiLoreto, Brooks Reeves, Ben Lewin, Robert Bonotto, Diego Buscaglia, Ronald Lacey, Thomas Grenon, Josh Clary, Lucas Cardona

Performances through October 11 by Zeitgeist Stage Company at the Plaza Theater at the Boston Center for the Arts, 539 Tremont Street, Boston, MA; Box Office 617-933-8600 or www.zeitgeiststage.com

If producing theater were a horse race, Artistic Director David J. Miller and the Zeitgeist Stage Company just hit the perfecta with a taut, no holds barred staging of Martin Sherman's 1979 Pulitzer Prize-nominated and Tony-nominated play Bent, following last November's award-winning production of Larry Kramer's The Normal Heart. It is nearly impossible to rank these plays as first or second place in keeping with the racing metaphor, as both dramatize compelling moments in history and have been presented with distinction by Zeitgeist. Kramer shows the early days of the AIDS crisis and documents his outspoken advocacy against the unconscionable lack of attention or assistance offered by our government. Sherman depicts the Nazi persecution of homosexuals during World War II, a little known fact that his play brought to the fore. For the utter horror of the acts and the visceral reactions evoked by Nazi atrocities seven decades removed, I am inclined to give Bent a slight edge, but consider it a photo finish.

Miller serves as both director and scenic designer, thereby expressing his vision for the world of the play in tangible and intangible ways. Leading the stellar cast are Victor L. Shopov (Max) and Mikey DiLoreto (Rudy), both of whom gave memorable performances in The Normal Heart, Brooks Reeves (Horst), and Ben Lewin (Greta), who made a remarkable Zeitgeist Stage debut in Good Television last season. Employing a minimalist aesthetic, with a series of benches representing the woods and seats in a train car, Miller suggests want and the harshness of the environment. Michael Clark Wonson's lighting design augments the feeling of dark and cold, or bright and hot, with angles, shadows, and spotlights, and J. Jumbelic provides the sounds of incidental music and foreboding train whistles. Miller's most significant design element is the barbed wire fence he places between the actors and the audience, effectively putting us in the position of the captors (further enhanced by situating a Nazi guard in the midst of the house).

The play starts in pre-World War II Berlin with Max and Rudy living a fairly decadent life of booze and boys, more or less protected by the regime of Ernst Rohm and the SA (Brownshirts), some of whom are openly homosexual. Unfortunately for them, at the end of a night of carousing, Max invites home a third man (Diego Buscaglia) who turns out to be wanted by the Nazis. When they come for him during the Night of the Long Knives (on June 30, 1934, Hitler ordered SS leader Henrich Himmler to murder most of the SA leaders, including Rohm), Max and Rudy escape, seeking refuge from Greta, the drag queen who runs the nightclub where Rudy dances and Max drinks. After a quick lesson in the anti-queer politics of the day, they realize they must leave Berlin, and life will never be the same.

Although Max is on the outs with his immediate family because of his promiscuous gay lifestyle, his discreet gay Uncle Freddie (Robert Bonotto) tries to help him with papers and a ticket out of town, but Max won't abandon Rudy. Eventually, they are rounded up by the Gestapo and put on a train for Dachau concentration camp, but it is the end of the line for Rudy and a turning point for Max as he does what he must to survive. For the audience, it is just the beginning of a relentless series of inhumane events depicted with gravity and veracity, constantly challenging our ability to bear witness to the suffering.

The second act follows Max to Dachau where he is assigned to relocate piles of rocks from one side of an enclosure to the other and back again. Having denied his homosexuality (and being forced to prove it in a depraved way), he wears a yellow star on his striped uniform, indicating that he is a Jew. He works a deal to get Horst transferred from another job to help him so he'll have someone to talk to, but the relationship doesn't get off to a good start. As they traipse back and forth for twelve hours a day, Horst benefits from Max's resilience and ability to survive, while showing Max the dignity in acknowledging your true self. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, the two men use their conversations and their imaginations to evolve from companionship to love and both men are transported by their experience.

DiLoreto lets us know all about Rudy from the get go, a delicate flower who cares about his plants and his dancing, and one who needs to be protected from the cruel world. He shows courage where his character has none and gains our sympathy. Buscaglia exhibits no fear as he makes a bold entrance, sashaying across the stage in a total state of undress, and portrays Max's boy toy with zeal. Lewin gives another strong performance, standing in as the symbol of fading decadence and the new world order. To mark scene changes, he sings cabaret-style ditties with a sense of resignation. Bonotto is dapper and appropriately nervous when meeting with his fugitive nephew. The fearsome Nazis ooze malevolence and are well-played by Thomas Grenon, Ronald Lacey, and Josh Clary, and Lucas Cardona completes the ensemble. Tyler Kinney adds period authenticity with his costume designs, but one suggestion would be for the striped uniforms worn by Max and Horst to be more soiled.

Bent tells an inherently dramatic story, but the degree to which the audience feels the tension is determined by the ability of the director and the actors to build it, stone by stone, as it were. Miller's pacing of the scenes in the yard conveys the repetitive tedium that Shopov and Reeves must be feeling even as they are acting their roles, and it always seems that trouble hangs over them, as if something terrible is just about to happen. Yet, underneath the surface of the daily struggle, both actors let us see that their characters maintain their individuality, refusing to let their captors take that away from them. As part of the story, it is a testament to the human spirit; as part of the performances, it is an incredible achievement to portray the little nuggets of happiness buried under the immense burdens they bear. Shopov and Reeves do the heavy lifting that make this play a must see.

Photo credit: Richard Hall/Silverline Images (Victor L. Shopov, Brooks Reeves)

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