I have a slightly embarrassing confession: I've never liked The Great Gatsby. For a total book lover, this is almost blasphemous to admit. The story, characters and the relationships between them have never seemed as compelling as many suggest. However, I had never seen the story played out onstage. The Sioux Empire Community Theatre's production of The Great Gatsby, running through November 13th, allowed me to see new aspects of the tale that I had never before recognized.
When the show began, it opened on a stage filled with dancers silently dancing the Charleston, the Breakaway, and a few other classic dances from the 1920's. Although the dancers were talented, it was eerie to see a large group of people smiling and dancing quietly. If this decision was made to set to the tone, it worked very well - by the time our narrator first entered the stage I felt uncomfortable and tense.
Speaking of the narrator, Brandon Hanson did an admirable job with a role that exists simply to introduce other characters. He was quiet, logical and extraordinarily likeable. Corbin Biltoft had a unique twist on Jay Gatsby, the mysterious title character. My favorite moments were all when he seemed to embrace the childishness of his character: panicking at the thought of seeing an old lover, excitedly waiting on a phone call.
But, in my personal opinion, the girls ran this world. The energy of the female characters seemed to electrify the stage, compelling us to watch them even as others were speaking.
Lena Howe was stunning as the adored Daisy Buchanan. Daisy was always my least favorite part of the Fitzgerald's novel. However, Howe's immature but world-weary portrayal of Daisy allowed me to find the character interesting for the first time. Even her chemistry with Biltoft's Gatsby was compelling in a way that was reminiscent of an elementary school crush.
Christine Pietz, as the inscrutable JorDan Baker, managed to turn a relatively minor role into a secretive and manipulative character. Her confidence was eye-catching, and her intensity was a great foil to Howe's girlish Daisy. Unfortunately, I saw no romantic tension between Pietz and Hanson's Nick Carraway, making their scenes together feel slightly unnecessary.
And lastly, the heart-breaking Myrtle Wilson. Oh Myrtle - the summation of a culture of commercialism and lack of loyalty. Amanda Pitzer as Myrtle Wilson made me despise both the character, for her selfishness and greed, and myself, for despising such an obviously miserable person.
Entering the Orpheum theatre, the visitor was immediately placed into the roaring '20s with jazzy, purposefully tinny music pumped through the speakers. The stage was empty besides a tall green light, the orchestra pit covered in a projection of waves. These waves were, in my opinion, one of the strongest choices made in the production, as a constant reminder of the inevitable ending.
The opera boxes, on the other hand, were both full of set pieces and props. The stage left opera box in particular was filled almost entirely by a billboard advertising, "T.J Eckleberg, Optometrist." This billboard is one of the most oft-debated metaphors in the novel, representing anything from God to the growing power of capitalism. Unfortunately, the script does not include Nick's ongoing ramblings about the billboard, as the novel does. This unfortunately left two audience members in front of me confused as to whether or not the billboard meant anything.
I saw several children in the audience: I would warn parents and guardians that there are several onstage deaths that seemed to disturb some younger members of the audience. To be totally honest, the final scene was bit jolting for me as well. Considering the book does not explicitly outline the death as it is occurring, it was odd to see it played out step by step onstage.
Overall, this production made me see aspects of the show I had never considered. If you're looking for an intriguing theatrical experience, I suggest buying tickets for the Sioux Empire Community Theatre's production of The Great Gatsby this weekend.
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