Glenda Frank
"Beowulf." Adaptation and lyrics by Lindsey
Turner.
Music and lyrics by Lenny Pickett.
Directed by Charlotte Moore.
At the Irish Repertory Theatre, 132 W. 22nd St., NYC,
Oct. 7- Nov. 27, 2005.
212-727-2737.
Performances Wed-Sat. at 8 PM; W, S and Sunday at 3.
Tickets $45-50.
Beowulf, the hero of the sixth century eponymous Anglo-Saxon epic, may have
battled sea monsters, dragons, fierce trolls and their fiercer moms, but
in the adept rock-opera adaptation by Lindsey Turner at Irish Repertory
Theatre, Beowulf proves every bit the post-modern hero, a talkative cousin
of Rambo and Batman. By remaining true to the mood and primitive setting
of the original, director Charlotte Moore, sound designer Zachary Williamson
and lighting designer Brian Nason created both an action-figure adventure
and a ritualistic evocation that is powerfully affecting and not without
its sense of humor in the use of giant puppets and shadow-narratives.
The action begins with a night attack by Grendel (Jay Lusteck), the electric-eyed
monster (think King Kong with seaweed), and the arrival of Beowulf (tenor
Richard Barth) by Viking ship. The young hero has heard of the challenge
and longs to both build his reputation and repay the Danes for saving his
father's life. The king welcomes him but a rival named Unferth (Shaun R.
Parry) confronts him as a self-promoting liar. Young and cocky, the undeterred
Beowulf underestimates the beast and must go a second round. Although he
pins Grendel's arm on the wall, victory remains illusive when Grendel's
mother retaliates. (Underplayed in this production, this female villain
excited my young, feminist imagination when I first read the saga.) Beowulf
slays her but not before Unferth, who has become his ally, perishes in her
underwater lair.
Conflating the pagan worlds of druidic myths with the new Christian doctrines,
the saga identifies outcast enemies like Grendel with absolute Evil. This
balancing act between the two theologies is part of the charm of both the
epic and the opera. For Beowulf, honor, not wealth, is the essence of life.
Like a gypsies from "Fame," he longs to live forever -- in legend.
He revels in the many battles that await him upon his return home, and only
with great reluctance accepts the crown of the Geats in a definitive scene
that is very moving. The crown is not his reward; it is his gold watch,
his retirement from active life. When he is called upon in old age to destroy
a dragon in its subterranean haunt, his heart celebrates even though he
may face his death. "We can only leave our song," he sings. "Do
not forget my song."
Despite the metaphysical theme, such fabulous tales are often the stuff
of children's theatre, which invites the absurdities of monsters. The adult
audience may need a shift in perspective to enjoy the wild-eyed dragon with
its giant claws (puppetry and masks by Bob Flanagan) as it makes its way
(thanks to two actors) down a theatre aisle to the stage. The adoption of
shadow-puppetry for long voyages, used twice here, has become a dramatic
staple. It seems to me a failure of the creative imagination in this cut-out
form, a curious substitute for the contemporary slide show or film sequence.
The score and lyrics by Lenny Pickett, the musical director of "Saturday
Night Live," capture the stately male dignity -- the honor and dangers
-- of warriors with short life spans. The Danes enter singing, and as they
gathered around the fire, they remember the "bitter warmth" of
battles lost and won. The several dances, inspired by Celtic dance, are
natural outgrowths of the mood, even the court masque where female companions
are masks and flowing scarves. The score embraces the choral and the harmonics
of the male vocal range, but its possibilities are not explored. At the
close, when Erin Hill, the harpist, adds her lovely soprano voice to the
saga, transporting it from the pagan halls of the Anglo-Saxons to today
and history, it becomes clear how much more could have been done. After
all, the epic itself includes the Danish queen and Beowulf, although without
a son, was married.
In graduate school I was so impressed with "Beowulf" I registered
for a killer course in Anglo-Saxon, a combination of the worst features
of Latin and German. Even today there are few good translations. In "Beowulf,"
the 80-minute rock opera, the Irish Repertory Theatre has created a small
miracle.
[Glenda Frank]
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