A Number: Shepard And His Flock

Okay, let me make this clear right from the start. I've never been a fan of those tense, intimate dramas that stress an "economy of language" by having characters speak in sentence fragments punctuated by extended, thoughtful silences. If I want slow pacing and short spurts of action I'll go to a baseball game where I can drink beer and yell rude remarks at the players during the long pauses.

BUT... I'm well aware that a good deal of intelligent, sophisticated theatre-goers totally dig that stuff. And since I can appreciate and admire the artistry and professionalism of director James MacDonald's American premiere production of Carol Churchill's new play, A Number, I will attempt to give you a clear description of the piece without letting my personal prejudices get in the way.

What we've got here is a kinda science fiction morality play without the special effects. The sorta thing Rod Serling did so well. Sam Shepard plays Salter (the pun of that name will be apparent momentarily), a man in his sixties whose wife and 4-year-old son Bernard died in a car crash. (So he says. Salter is a big-time liar.) "I wanted one just the same because that seemed to me the most perfect" is the explanation he gives as to why he had his son cloned. But for reasons that are never entirely clear (see "big-time liar") the procedure was repeated several times and now it seems there are as many as twenty or more Bernards bopping around town.

Dallas Roberts plays three of these creations, who are now aware of each other's existence and are all confronting dad for a few answers. He nicely portrays contrasting characters with subtle similarities. (No, there aren't a lot of door slams and quick changes. Each character has his own full scene.) Shepard, on the other hand, is staged to barely move from his comfy couch and often seems to underplay to the point of indifference. (Salter's indifference, that is.)

Eugene Lee's set is perhaps the most effective contribution to the production. The New York Theatre Workshop's seating area has been converted into a very steep arena-style auditorium, nearly surrounding a small playing space containing a solitary couch under a harsh flood light. The intention is to simulate a 19th Century surgical auditorium. Only those in the bottom rows can strike a real connection with the actors. The rest are just looking down and observing the behavior of subject matter for a medical procedure.

Does A Number have much to say about our loss of individuality? About scientific advancements that we are not capable of dealing with on an emotional level? About responsibility for our actions? Perhaps. Maybe you should go see it and tell me. If you're not my clone you may get a little more out of it.