[ad_1]
Trailing the glowing clouds of Old Vic's runways in London and the West End, Conor McPherson's treatment of the classic Bob Dylan is a vivid transformation of individual songs into a coherent and extended narrative of drifting America. In this production that is currently taking place at the Off Broadway Public Theater, songs like "Slow Train" and "Duquesne Whistle" appear to be written especially for The Depression, while "The Dancing" and "The Dukesne Whistle. a set inspired by actors-singers turns into heroes of their own stories. as well as characters in the lives of others.
It was clear that McPherson ("The Weir", "Shining City") composed the songs at a shabby boarding school in Duluth, Minnesota, in 1934. The barely-furnished Rae Smith room had the sad and dejected look of A house has had better days, happier days. His costumes – in dark greens, muddy browns, muffled prints – hang limply on the characters, like ill-fitting handpieces that weigh down them. (The ugly scarves are the perfect image for depression.) Upstage, a quartet of instrumentalists play the same way as musicians playing for their survival.
For reasons unknown, the staging suggests that the lives of the residents is broadcast on the radio. Robert Joy wisely plays the role of Dr. Walker, who takes on the narrative tasks for this program; but far from clarifying things, the frame only confuses scenes that play wonderfully like snatches of pension life.
Mark Henderson's sober lighting plunges the scene into strangely soothing brown shadows. Even in the dim light, all eyes are drawn to Mare Winningham, haggard and haunted by Elizabeth Laine, Nick Laine's depressive wife (Stephen Bogardus, rock-solid), who owns the boarding house. Elizabeth is showing signs of early dementia, an illness that Winningham is slowly doubling in dread. Nick is frantic. Their son, Gene, an aspiring writer played with a series of Colton Ryan egoism, is too engrossed in himself to feel compelled to do a filial assignment at one or the other. parents.
Some of Dylan's songs are not suitable for this very specific environment. Although sung expressively by the melancholy Jeannette Bayardelle, "I went to see the gipsies" does not suit the independent character of Mrs. Neilsen, widow and happy. And "Like a Rolling Stone" seems a cruel choice as a reference to Elizabeth's dementia – if that's what she's supposed to be. In contrast, "Tight Connection to My Heart" makes sense when sung by Kimber Sprawl, in the character of Marianne, the adopted daughter of Laines, who yearns for love.
It may be a lost cause to try to adapt each chosen song to a time worthy of the plot of the show. But this does not preclude McPherson from understanding that Dylan's narrative lyrics, written mainly in the 1960s and 1970s, express a feeling of existential detachment, a desire for connection that reflects the uncertainties of America in the 1930s.
"Slow train" could be the opposite feeling of a young man regarding his future. Here is the complaint of Joe Scott, a mysterious wandering nomad, under the spell of Sydney James Harcourt. Thought by someone who does not foresee a future, the song evokes a sense of fear that would not be out of place during the Great Depression. As a counterpoint, "License to Kill" hints at Joe's fears about what a "bend" might be.
In the end, it's a joyless intellectual exercise to stay in the theater trying to match the lyrics of the songs to specific emotional moments on stage. Better to sit down and just enjoy the music – and credit McPherson to give each song a gift of clarity. If it's not always about their dramatic moments, the lyrics are clearly intelligible. And indeed, Winningham's thoughtful presentation of "Like a Rolling Stone" and "Forever Young" is a revelation – a revelation of the poems Dylan wanted them to be.
Source link
