`Saints' pulls drama from failing troupe
But A Company of Wayward Saints twists that traditional scenario. The Rice Players' latest show focuses on the process of creating drama. A troupe of actors shows us the comedy and tragedy that transpire offstage.
Another play within a play? Hardly. That form has become a complete cliché, but the Rice Players have succeeded in producing a show that's anything but trite.
George Herman's script, as well as the Players' acting and the direction of Sandy Havens, feels fresh and insightful. A Company of Wayward Saints paints a colorful picture of the theatrical world, offers serious insights into human souls and manages to be both sensitive and hilarious in the process.
Typical of Players' shows, Thomas Fowlkes' minimalist set and Melanie Schuessler's fabulous costumes enrich the play.
The Company of Wayward Saints is an improvisational theater troupe on the verge of falling apart. But since they have no money, they can't go home and must continue touring.
They luckily receive a commission from the Duke to perform a show of his design. His theme, "The History of Man," at first confounds the actors, but they eventually rise to the challenge.
After arguing about who will play God, they enact three scenes (Adam and Eve, the Greeks and the Roman Empire) but each of the scenes dissolves into chaos when the actors let their "creative differences" get in the way.
These scenes are lively and hilarious. The playwright juxtaposes classical themes with modern details, and the actors execute the lines with a great blend of sarcasm and literal delivery.
After an argument gets out of hand, they come to their revelations about working together, regroup during intermission (one of many terrific dramatic devices in this show) and come back with a new approach. The actors both finish a scene and discover themselves without losing all their humor in the process.
These serious scenes are as moving as the first scenes are comical. The actors have to face the feeling of having a seeming eternity of scenes to present. They realize that they must stay until the last scene is played.
The opening of the play shows the conflicts among the actors and introduces them individually. The playwright livens up this potentially boring exposition by lacing it with irony and sarcasm.
Each character represents a traditional theatrical stock figure.
The role of dancing, juggling troop clown, Scapino (Aaron Pierce) could have been written for Pierce; he captures it perfectly. Pierce even delivers lines while standing on his head.
Dottore (Peter Rogers) is also tremendous as the company's intellectual figure. Rogers brings wonderful deadpan humor to his lines and keeps his tongue firmly in his cheek, except in serious scenes, when he appropriately deletes all traces of that delicious irony.
The troupe includes offstage lovers Isabella (Emily Meyer) and Tristano (Mike Kass), who also fill the requisite actors' roles of ingenue and leading man. Meyer gives a terrific speech about why actresses detest the role of ingenue. Kass absolutely swaggers and adopts every convention of the romantic hero.
Pantalone (Scot Martin) is another clown figure, an old man forbidden to speak, who carries all sorts of mysterious items in his bag.
Columbine (Rachel Gilg) is the older, serious woman. She's great as a foil for the comedy in the early scenes and comes into her own when given the chance to reveal herself in later moments.
Ruffiana (Courtney Knuepper and her breasts -- which really do deserve separate billing) is the troupe's token harlot. She cannot act, and is also stupid and rude, but the company's leader acknowledges that sometimes actresses are chosen for "other talents."
The company's leader, Harlequin (Dave Maas) provides a fulcrum for the play's action. Maas is charismatic, and his commanding presence fills the stage. He encapsulates the actor's experience beautifully when he says, "My real name is of no concern ... I've forgotten who I really am."
A Company of Wayward Saints is far from complimentary toward actors. Harlequin says, "the real actor is in this field for ... the gratification, the glorification, and -- he hopes -- the perpetual deification of himself!"
But Harlequin adds that theirs is "the eloquent testimony of Everyman, be he actor, plumber, writer or nobody. The miracle is, with so much pride and self-centeredness, that any of us ever work together."
Suddenly he's not just talking about actors. The farcical characters in A Company of Wayward Saints aren't just exaggerated theatrical devices, but representative of us all.
The play shows us the real tragedy that occurs when people have "lost their art" and let their differences obscure a common goal. When no one cares about each other, and individual pride grows too strong, nothing happens.
The players adopt a new motto: "We need one another," and see that the motto serves them well.
It's a good thing, too. Their scenes make the audience both laugh and think. A Company of Wayward Saints is a play about acting that even the untheatrical will relish.
This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the March 31, 1995 issue.
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