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Fwd: Invitation to a Beheading Los Angeles play review
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EDNOTE. NABOKV-L thanks Carolyn Kunin for this item.
----- Forwarded message from chaiselongue@earthlink.net -----
Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 07:24:19 -0800
From: Carolyn <chaiselongue@earthlink.net>
Reply-To: Carolyn <chaiselongue@earthlink.net>
Subject: Invitation review
To: "D. Barton Johnson" <chtodel@gss.ucsb.edu>
August 30, 2004 |
Vladimir Nabokov's Invitation to a Beheading
Elephant Performance Lab
1078 Lillian Way, L.A.
At first glance, Vladimir Nabokov's 1938 novel, "Invitation to a Beheading,"
might seem a natural inspiration for a solo performance piece. A feverish,
surreal interior landscape penned by an imprisoned man awaiting execution
for the nonsensical crime of "gnostic turpitude," Nabokov's absurdist
portrait of life under a totalitarian regime contains much theatrical
imagery, often equating reality itself with the artifice of the stage.
Nevertheless, in the Next Arena's ambitiously edgy production at the
Elephant Performance Lab, hardworking adapter/performer Scott Rognlien and
director Jim Peters have not solved the challenges inherent in transposing
Nabokov's fundamentally literary work into a fully successful theatrical
experience.
The biggest obstacle is that for all the intrigue and tension in protagonist
Cincinnatus C.'s dire plight, telling a story is not the author's objective.
In fact, Nabokov is almost contemptuous of plot as his riotous stream of
language careens from introspection to omniscient third-party narration.
Instead, evoking a state of distinctively modern alienation and
fragmentation is the main intent of this work, which has often been compared
to the writings of Franz Kafka. The static, claustrophobic atmosphere
resists dramatic involvement.
An appropriately sallow, haunted figure in a dark overcoat, Rognlien stalks
the minimalist jail cell set like a refugee from a Tim Burton film. His
Cincinnatus C. effectively hits two notes -- cringing victim overwhelmed by
uncertainty and dread, and manic, arrogant egoist who considers himself
above his puny tormentors. It's a harrowing portrait of the schizophrenic
mind-set needed to survive under the Soviet communism from which Nabokov
ultimately fled.
Rognlien's range unfortunately falls short when it comes to the other
characters he tries to assume, including the hero's deceitful mother, his
nymphomaniac wife, and worst of all a fellow inmate named Pierre with a dark
secret and an atrocious French accent -- a portrayal that makes a far better
case for rechristening freedom fries than any political argument.
-- Philip Brandes
Theater Beat; Aug. 27, 2004
Sep. 3: 8 p.m.
Sep. 5: 8 p.m.
Sep. 10: 8 p.m.
Sep. 17: 8 p.m.
Price: $10
Tickets: Box office: 323-878-2377.
Copyright 2003 Los Angeles Times
----- End forwarded message -----
----- Forwarded message from chaiselongue@earthlink.net -----
Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 07:24:19 -0800
From: Carolyn <chaiselongue@earthlink.net>
Reply-To: Carolyn <chaiselongue@earthlink.net>
Subject: Invitation review
To: "D. Barton Johnson" <chtodel@gss.ucsb.edu>
August 30, 2004 |
Vladimir Nabokov's Invitation to a Beheading
Elephant Performance Lab
1078 Lillian Way, L.A.
At first glance, Vladimir Nabokov's 1938 novel, "Invitation to a Beheading,"
might seem a natural inspiration for a solo performance piece. A feverish,
surreal interior landscape penned by an imprisoned man awaiting execution
for the nonsensical crime of "gnostic turpitude," Nabokov's absurdist
portrait of life under a totalitarian regime contains much theatrical
imagery, often equating reality itself with the artifice of the stage.
Nevertheless, in the Next Arena's ambitiously edgy production at the
Elephant Performance Lab, hardworking adapter/performer Scott Rognlien and
director Jim Peters have not solved the challenges inherent in transposing
Nabokov's fundamentally literary work into a fully successful theatrical
experience.
The biggest obstacle is that for all the intrigue and tension in protagonist
Cincinnatus C.'s dire plight, telling a story is not the author's objective.
In fact, Nabokov is almost contemptuous of plot as his riotous stream of
language careens from introspection to omniscient third-party narration.
Instead, evoking a state of distinctively modern alienation and
fragmentation is the main intent of this work, which has often been compared
to the writings of Franz Kafka. The static, claustrophobic atmosphere
resists dramatic involvement.
An appropriately sallow, haunted figure in a dark overcoat, Rognlien stalks
the minimalist jail cell set like a refugee from a Tim Burton film. His
Cincinnatus C. effectively hits two notes -- cringing victim overwhelmed by
uncertainty and dread, and manic, arrogant egoist who considers himself
above his puny tormentors. It's a harrowing portrait of the schizophrenic
mind-set needed to survive under the Soviet communism from which Nabokov
ultimately fled.
Rognlien's range unfortunately falls short when it comes to the other
characters he tries to assume, including the hero's deceitful mother, his
nymphomaniac wife, and worst of all a fellow inmate named Pierre with a dark
secret and an atrocious French accent -- a portrayal that makes a far better
case for rechristening freedom fries than any political argument.
-- Philip Brandes
Theater Beat; Aug. 27, 2004
Sep. 3: 8 p.m.
Sep. 5: 8 p.m.
Sep. 10: 8 p.m.
Sep. 17: 8 p.m.
Price: $10
Tickets: Box office: 323-878-2377.
Copyright 2003 Los Angeles Times
----- End forwarded message -----