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Review by Seth Rogovoy
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(Theater Review) The Father
7.12.05
BERKSHIRE THEATRE FESTIVAL
The Father by August Strindberg
Through July 16
The Berkshire Theatre Festival's Unicorn Stage production of THE FATHER by August Strindberg seemed pretty good, but it was hard to tell from my seat, literally the worst seat in the house.
In an intimate house with hardly ANY bad seats, I got stuck in the one with the most obstructed view, so that an entire corner of the set, where a few key moments were acted out, were totally blocked. Additionally, from my vantage point, I got to see most of the play acted out from the backs of the actors' heads. And I THINK there was some key action, or symbolic stage business, occurring on a second, upper level of the set upstage, but I can't be sure, because I had no view of the upstage from where I was sitting.
In spite of the poor view from the extreme last row, house right, I was able to appreciate a few things about THE FATHER. Eric Hill seemed well cast in the title role, and from where I sat, with his back to me for most of the show, he's a pretty good actor.
The costumes were evocative of the era (late 19th century), and the set and lighting design cast a green, sickly pall over a home that was poisoned by lies, doubt, and resentment.
The play itself is a pretty gruesome, morbid exercise in the war between the sexes, with typically Strinbergian obsessions of lying, cheating women. Strindberg's characters, such as they are, are less like people than Freudian neuroses embodied by humans, and much of the dialogue drops out of their mouths like lumps of Freudian invective -- at least that's what it appears to be like when you actually can't see the actors acting, but just hear what they're saying. It's a talky play, in which not much happens, which is why it probably helps to get a good sense from the actors what they are THINKING -- that is, if you can see their faces, which I'm sure the vast majority of the audience could.
THE FATHER is by no means a comedy -- although it has its moments where lines that are not intended to be comic strike modern listeners as funny -- but the funniest line I heard all night turned out to be the one that greeted me upon walking up to the box office and introducing myself. "Oh, we've saved you a seat," the nice young man said, momentarily making me feel, well, if not particularly special, at least appreciated.
Little did I know it was a Strindbergian joke.
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