It’s hard enough to make small talk at a party. Watching actors do it for almost three hours is almost unbearable. The SU drama department productions of “The Bald Soprano” and “The Chairs” embody playwright Eugene Ionesco’s belief that English language is full of empty clichés, the actors speaking nonsense for minutes at a time, repeating each other and altogether acting foolish. Their conversation has no art or meaning; it is words, occasionally even devolving into gibberish. Nevertheless, the gibberish is well produced.
Scenic designer Sang Min Kim has created a complete sense of “the other” in “The Chairs,” a world covered in sadness and the dust an old man and woman's life who, like their surroundings, have seen better days. Kim’s clever pulley system has the many needed chairs hanging above the actors, and the old woman can untie and lower them down as needed. The bright yellows and reds of “The Bald Soprano’s” English sitting room similarly reflect the more normal scene of three sets of couples telling anecdotes after and before and after dinner. Neither show is optimistic, but in hindsight, “The Bald Soprano’s” well-lit and colorful set makes it seem positively jolly after the gray of “The Chairs.”
Devon Ritchie’s costume design follows a similar path – drab, gray, tattered clothing for the old man and woman in “The Chairs,” colorful, silly outfits for those in “The Bald Soprano.” The tiny waists and skirts layered with crinoline the women wear in “The Bald Soprano” stand out as each actress uses it as part of her character, particularly the coy Kayla Levitt as Mrs. Smith, peeking her high heels out from underneath the layers in an effort to work her feminine wiles on others in the cast. Even the pearls and glasses the hilarious Kristin Morris wears as Mrs. Martin become part of the character. Her mannerisms – fidgeting with her skirts, nudging the glasses in place, dangling her feet – are reminiscent of a little girl playing with a doll and are some of the best in the show.
The two characters starring in “The Chairs” also commit so fully to their roles, it’s easy to believe they are a lifetime older than Peter Hourihan Jr. and Kelsey Stalter, who play the old man and the old woman, really are. Their story is heartbreaking because Hourihan and Stalter believe it. They clutch each other as if they’ll never let go. They scream and yell, only to run back to each other, as an old married couple would do. However, their performances are tiring to watch, though admirable: Stalter bears false breasts to nurse Hourihan and later a mimes some pretty violent sex with an imaginary guest, and the pair trudge through pages upon pages of dialogue that never seem to get to the point.
Ionesco has not made these plays easy to watch. At the end, he has imparted nothing more than the futility of communication – and after almost three hours, you’ve got to wonder if he could have done it in half an hour. Still, the actors don’t pause for a moment to ask why the tea must be passed around twice or the door opened three times before someone waits to be let in. They give in to Ionesco’s world, even if the audience might not be able to follow.
Go see it
"The Bald Soprano" and "The Chairs" are now playing at the Arthur Storch Theatre [3] at Syracuse Stage [4] through Nov. 22. Tickets are $18.
