Griller Thriller

The action for this production, at the
Mulroy Civic Center’s BeVard Studio, takes place in a police station in
some unnamed totalitarian country apparently in Central Europe. Before
a word is spoken, a hooded man facetiously waves his fingers
rhythmically, as if conducting the Mozart we hear piped in. Bursting in
upon him are two interrogators: tall, suave, well-dressed Tupolski and
the more pugnacious, uniformed Ariel, a new recruit eager to show his
toughness. They will play good cop/bad cop, as the dialogue
acknowledges, to get what they want to hear. The motif of good vs. bad
characters competing for spaces will be repeated throughout the action.
The accused, the formerly hooded man, is named Katurian, a writer of
hundreds of Brothers Grimm-like children’s stories, only one of which
has been published. The issue: Is Katurian guilty for what appears in
his stories?

The harshness of the interrogation in a
Central European detention room is meant to invite comparison with
Franz Kafka’s Joseph K. in The Trial. McDonagh plays with the
allusion by having the accused bear the name three times, as first,
middle and family name: all Katurian. The title of one of his stories,
“The Three Gibbet Crossroads,” is borrowed directly from Kafka. But
that does not mean The Pillowman is an adaptation of The Trial. McDonagh is just toying with us, spoofing those know-it-alls who want to show off that they have read The Trial. The playwright has quite different things to say, and besides, a stronger influence on The Pillowman is Quentin Tarantino, especially the giddy humor juxtaposed with grotesque violence in Pulp Fiction.

Although McDonagh has been a serial
misinformer in interviews, regularly delivering straight-faced
whoppers, there is good reason to believe his claim that Pillowman was
partially inspired by his response to the destruction of the World
Trade Center on Sept. 11, with TV footage of burning bodies and people
jumping from the heights. Not that the playwright has anything to say
about Islamic fanaticism or the clash of civilizations. Instead,
McDonagh appears to be interrogating himself (and other artistic
dramatizers of violence and sadism, Tarantino or the late Sarah Kane,
author of Crave and Blasted) by putting Katurian on trial. Is an author guilty if his/her vision of cruelty is imitated in life?

As The Pillowman runs nearly two
hours and 45 minutes with two necessary intermissions, it entails more
plot twists than can or should be related here. Suffice it to say,
there is a surprising revelation about every five minutes, including
the too-long dialogues in the second act. Many of them turn on the
information that what we have been told, or what we think we have seen,
is not true. An artist produces artifice, a very old idea. John Nara’s
direction is well in tune with what McDonagh’s dialogue is telling us.
One character chides a second for blood on his bandaged hand that is
badly faked. In a crucifixion scene, dramatized as one of Katurian’s
stories, a tormenter takes out a squeeze bottle of raspberry juice and
squirts some on a wound. Adults are supposed to know this anyway. No
matter how Grand Guignol the action, and in The Pillowman that’s often, we know that when the play ends the actors wash up and go unscathed to a party.

Among the many strengths of this
production is director Nara’s resistance to allowing the action to be
stuffed into a post-modern box. Much as we’re told what we’re seeing is
contrivance, and that a truth proclaimed in one scene will be disavowed
in another, we are never denied full-blooded characterizations and
rising dramatic tension that holds our interest. Katurian, we learn, is
a decent human being with some admirable virtues. He is defensive about
his possibly spastic brother Michal {sic}, who is ”slow to get things,”
a useful dramatic device. His inability to grasp the moral severity of
such questions as murdering children, invites Katurian to explain it
all to him and to us. Katurian is speaking for McDonagh, of course. And
Michal’s imaginative reconstruction of events points him toward the
beloved wise fool archetype, a kind of Rain Man given to insightful
paradoxes.

Breaking from the grimness of the
detention room, McDonagh also introduces—with a flourish that sounds
like Hungarian folk music—a subsidiary cast of 10 players to act out
what Katurian has been telling us, his harrowing family narratives as
well as the disputed stories he has written. Simply New has invested
heavily in these scenes that come late in the action, starting with
Navroz Dabu’s startling, peek-a-boo set, and strong players in tiny but
important roles. Such is the confidence that people have in Nara that
leads from other shows, like Katheryn Guyette, Tom Ciancaglini and
Katharine Gibson, stamp quality on extended walk-ons. Two excellent
elementary school children, Hanna Sweet and Juliana Slocum, appear in
alternate performances as the crucified Little Jesus Girl.

The astute casting choices that have
marked Simply New’s rebirth are much in evidence. Consider the boyish
earnestness of Garrett Heater as Katurian. Heater is best-known for
light comedies, many with the Baldwinsville Theatre Guild, and there’s
good reason to think that Katurian out of jail could be such a figure.
Slighter, shorter and fairer that his tormentors, Heater’s Katurian
projects the right degree of innocence and vulnerability.

Less-known faces appear in the other
three leads. Nara had to reach back to his college days at Le Moyne to
cast Wil Szczech as Tupolski, a confident leading-man hunk with a flair
for mordant humor. Josh Canfield as Ariel, the bully who takes a
surprising turn before the end, is a member of the Screen Actors Guild
who reveals nothing of himself in the program notes. The scene-stealer,
however, turns out to be Philip Davoli as Michal, a frightened victim
whose limbs are constantly aquiver. Davoli racked up professional
credits before returning home, appearing on a local stage here for the
first time.

Speaking as someone who saw the original Pillowman in
London, your reviewer proclaims that this production can stand
comparison with the professional best anywhere. At a time when serious
folks wonder if we’re facing financial Armageddon, having something
this good nearby makes the heart soar.        

This production runs through Saturday, March 14. See Times Table for information.