Review: Yasmina Reza's Winning ART at the Carrollwood Cultural Center

"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." --Edgar Degas

I was five years old when I first laid eyes on it: Jan Vermeer's The Girl with a Red Hat. It was hanging in The National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., and I remember it as if it had been just a few years ago, not over five decades. There was something about that painting, something mysterious, something that would change my life forever. The way she looked at me, and I, knowing that the painting was over 300 years old, understood even then that that gaze of hers was from a long, long time ago. I knew then that the woman was now dead, but that she still lived on that canvas, staring back at me from the past. It was as if she was still alive. And I somehow knew that this was what I would do with my life--I would be in the arts.

I told that story of my first glimpse of a Vermeer to a friend the other day, and she shuddered as if I turned into Linda Blair and suddenly spat pea soup all over the table. "Why did you respond that way to my sweet story of discovering my love of art?" She looked at me, still freaked out, and said, "Scary dead lady staring at a little boy." I laughed and told her that wasn't the point of the story at all. The point was: Art lives forever.

But two people interpreted a story in very different ways, and that's really what art appreciation is all about: We all see things quite differently. And that's what Yasmina Reza's brilliantly funny and acerbic Tony-winning play, ART, is all about.

In it, Serge has purchased an original painting by a renowned modern artist for $200,000. The painting is nonrepresentational, pretty much white on white, with some faint white lines and angles on it. Serge's friend, Marc, is horrified by both the painting and the amount Serge purchased it. He disdains the way Serge thinks it's a "masterpiece," the way Serge condescendingly talks about it, and he can't believe how anyone in their right mind, especially a close friend of his, could do such a thing. Their mutual friend, Yvan, is caught in the middle, unable to take sides and make up his mind. And that's that. But the play is far more penetrating than that; it becomes a microscope into friendship, taste, allegiances, class, honesty, intellect, and in the end, and as always, art. Three long-term friendships hang in the balance with arguments, the airing of grievances, and a micro-war exploding, all due to this innocuous white painting.

Playwright Reza, with help from translator Christopher Hampton, loves to dig deep into fractured friendships and warring relationships. And ART battles God of Carnage as her, to use Serge's word, masterpiece.

The production I saw at the Carrollwood Cultural Center, directed by the uber-talented Derek Baxter, was wonderfully realized. It's all there: Strong performances, perfect (almost immersive) staging for the venue, an appropriately minimal set, and that biting script that has you laughing and hanging onto the edge of your chair.

When the show starts, each of the three actors emerge from a seat in the audience. They often talk directly to us--the masked audience members--in key monologues, wanting us to join their side of the argument. The three actors in question--Jeremiah Murzinsky, David the Day, and Steven C. Fox--carry the show with whip-smart timing and a deep understanding of each character. They love battling one another, but they also love their friends, so there's a dynamic back and forth throughout it; it's not a one-note night of theatre.

David the Day rightfully underplays the part of Serge. His Serge comes across the most level-headed of the threesome, even though he spent $200,000 for what he calls a masterpiece and what his friend, Marc, calls a "piece of shit." His more relaxed nature-and he puts up quite a fight, so relaxed only when compared to his friends-works here. I constantly wondered what he saw in his two best friends-he makes more money than they do; they don't share the same tastes; and they are always at war about something. But maybe that's it; maybe they provide the excitement that his failed marriage could not.

Jeremiah Murzinsky owns the part of Marc. He's fast talking, snippy, judgmental, smug, inflexible, larger than life yet small in his worldview. He can't tolerate Serge's happiness, looking down on anyone, especially Serge, who thinks of themselves as a "collector." He's an antagonist to the world, and yet, Murzinsky wins us over. He's so funny and does more with a single eyebrow than most people do with their entire bodies. He reminds me of both Jeffrey Tambor and Alfred Molina. (Molina, though, played a different part in the Broadway production of ART: Yvan.) He bulges his eyes, smiling lovingly at his own sarcasm, stalking the stage like a trapped animal waiting to get loose to devour his prey. Murzinsky's performance, dare I say it, is a work of art.

And then there's Steven C. Fox. His Yvan starts his moments by crawling on the floor, looking for a pen cap; he even crawls under the audience's seats. He's nerdy and wired at the same time, like Urkel meets Alan Harper but on amphetamines. Yvan is called "spineless, an amoeba, an ass kisser." He's "disastrously open-minded" and refuses to take sides: ""I didn't like the painting," he says, "But I didn't hate it." But the world gets the best of him, both with his frantic upcoming nuptials and here with his pals--where the world and their friendships are going to hell. Fox's Yvan breaks down near the end and it's a thing of horrific beauty; rarely will you ever see a tantrum like this (it's like Linus when he loses his blanket, but on steroids). And there's a moment I love as Serge offers him a napkin and he just swats it away without thinking. It's an over the top performance, especially in this small venue, but it still works wonders.

Baxter's staging is remarkable; there's nary a false move in it. And he's smart not using their more traditional stage, and setting the play in the audience, on the carpet. (I hesitate to mention that the carpet at the Carrollwood Cultural Center looks like it might need a shampooing, especially since it's being seen so clearly here.) The set itself, with the audience surrounding three-fourths of it, is quite sparse: just a table and chairs, and a portable mini-bar that's constantly in use. It's a proper playground for these fine actors to let go.

The painting in question is onstage for the entire play, and it, in essence, becomes the fourth character.

Sadly, this production of ART runs just this single weekend, and it closes today--Sunday, February 6th at 2:00 PM (with a talk-back afterwards). If you have the time, by all means see it. It will have you debating, laughing, questioning...all the good stuff that the best plays bring us. But there is no question that director Derek Baxter does things right, even down to the program design: The cover is white on white, like Serge's beloved (or hated) painting.

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