Will Miranne and Daniel Morgan give top-notch performances, playing Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso in soon-to-be Lipscomb University theater grad Jonah Jackson's production of Steve Martin's Picasso at the Lapin Agile, now onstage at Brentwood's Towne Centre Theatre through May 7.
Miranne, whom we've watched grow onstage as an actor during his own years at Lipscomb, delivers a confident and thoroughly committed portrayal of Einstein in Martin's one-act absurdist comedy that first debuted in 1993, while Morgan - a new name in our theatrical gallery of actors - is just as impressive in his performance, easily showing off the painter's expertise in wooing Parisian women (here represented by Gracie Smith in the role of Suzanne). The two men play well off each other, their energy providing a sometimes frenetic pace to the onstage action while firmly establishing the play's comic pedigree with more than a little panache.
Under Jackson's focused direction, the play's strengths, as well as its shortcomings, remain unchanged. Yet the script seems better suited to this ensemble of actors who are all on the same creative page: together, they and their director are successful in crafting an engaging and entertaining production that, despite its absurdist underpinnings, never goes fully over the top. Instead, they maintain a sense of ease that allows each line, no matter how sophomoric or sophisticated it might be interpreted, to land precisely where the playwright intended.
Thanks to the cast's delivery of Martin's scripted lines and the company's obvious understanding of the subject matter - and their comic wherewithal - there is a strong foundation for the plot's mechanics and maneuverings. Martin's unique brand of comedy (and make no mistake about it, Picasso at the Lapin Agile could be written by no one ese but Martin) shines through, even if the play does sometimes seem like a Saturday Night Live sketch gone on too long for lack of editing. In fact, if Picasso at the Lapin Agile were shortened by a good five minutes or so, the result would be far more compelling.
Martin's play delivers a pleasantly diverting 90 minutes of fantastical theatricality, but at moments it seems a self-indulgent treatise on the 20th century - the American century, as it were - imagining a serendipitous meeting of artist Picasso and scientist Einstein in 1904 in the Parisian bistro that gives the play its name ("Lapin Agile" may be translated into the phrase "nimble rabbit" - oh, those stinky cheese-eating French surrender monkeys and their clever turn of phrase), wherein they engage in a discussion of art v. science, the possibilities that await each in the new century and how they will be remembered in years to come. There are some genuinely witty one-liners, stagey anachronisms that provide a great deal of fun and a sense of lightheartedness to be found in Martin's script.
As characters break the fourth wall from the stage, with self-referential glee, the artists onstage invite the audience to invest more personally into the story unfolding before them. As a result, the audience's responses seem more hardy, more invested than might at first be expected.
In the play, Einstein is a schlemiel - a struggling, lower level bureaucrat, who is not quite the theory of relativity guy whom we all venerate today, who has come to Lapin Agile for an assignation with a mysterious red-headed woman (played by Jacqueline Smoak) who recognizes him for the genius that he is. While he's awaiting her arrival, he meets Picasso - not yet the world-famous artist whose name and reputation is so easily recalled in the 21st century, but still a person of some regard in Parisian salons - and the two men engage in a well-intentioned (and punctuated by one liners that are expressed pithily) debate about life and its paradoxes.
Martin's characters are broadly drawn, as could be expected in absurdist comedy, and although they are clearly more than one-dimensional (much to the playwright's credit) his observations about the creative processes - whether artistic or scientific - are certainly provocative, I still long for something more laugh-out-loud funny to fend off a sense of ennui that plagues me post-curtain every time I see Picasso at the Lapin Agile. Damn it, I want to leave the theater exhilarated by fast-paced comedy rather than gently bemused by what I've just witnessed.
This is, of course, where Jackson and his terrific ensemble come along to infuse the play with their estimable theatrical skills, which result in an impressive stage comedy that is fully to their credit. Jackson has a keen eye when it comes to providing a vision for his work, assembling that talented cast, all of whom more or less deliver the goods.
Jackson is to be commended for casting Miranne and Morgan to lead the ensemble, as each man seems adept at creating his character and, perhaps more importantly, maintaining different and separate German-inspired and vaguely Spanish-sounding dialects for their onstage personas. It's an impressive achievement, to be sure; in fact, I expected everyone to eventually sound like a artificially and inauthentic gaggle of Eurotrash lamenting the introduction of a unified Europe. Miranne and Morgan interact with each other rather convincingly, sharing the stage while they command it with force.
Andrew Johnson proves himself a capable comic actor in the role of Freddy, the bistro's owner, while Emily Eytchison is delightfully contemporary and forthright as his paramour Germaine, the very embodiment of the modern woman. There's an easy grace in the pair's interactions that lends an air of believability to the couple as characters in a play.
Phil Brady, one of Nashville's best character actors, adds yet another impressive performance to his ever-growing resume, as does Randal Cooper, who is ideally cast as art dealer Sagot, who has some of the script's best-written rejoinders to deliver. Christopher Jennings is hilarious in his brief scenes, playing an ambitious inventor named Charles Dabernow Schmediman, who believes he will be remembered alongside Einstein and Picasso as a genius who shaped the 20th Century in unknown ways, thanks to a building material made primarily of asbestos and radium.
And, finally, Bowd Beal very nearly steals the entire show with his wonderfully theatrical and on-target portrayal of "The Visitor," an interloper from the late 20th century who infuses a sense of whimsy into the play. Somehow, Beal manages to give a nuanced performance despite his character's larger-than-life attributes.
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