You can't cure the woes of the human race and world in one day. Or one play. But Thornton Wilder ponders them in his 1942 Pulitzer Prize-winning tragicomedy "The Skin of Our Teeth."
Way back when, what turned Wilder's satirical work into an avant-garde, play-within-a-play sensation seems old hat by today's devices. Stage directors interrupted the action, while actors time-hopped, broke character and spoke directly to the audience, even talked trash about the play. All de rigueur for contemporary theatergoers.
Director Bartlett Sher specializes in making theater classics more accessible to audiences. As imaginative as Sher is, even he's challenged to juxtapose Wilder's complicated satire with solemnity, while simultaneously keeping the theatrical momentum building till the end of the three-act epic. The absurdity that makes this play so delightful to some can also be baffling to others.
More ambitious but less popular and poignant than Wilder's other Pulitzer-winning play "Our Town," "The Skin of Our Teeth" makes the case that history always repeats itself with the same catastrophic mistakes over and over. Eventually, mankind's fated flaws destroy each civilization the human race strives so hard to create.
Obviously influenced by James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake," Wilder created his own allegorical, archetypal middle-class tribe, the Antrobus family and their sassy maid Sabina of Excelsior, New Jersey. From ancient and Biblical eras to the present, these philosophical time travelers barely escape one disaster after another by "the skin of their teeth."
As far as Wilder's concerned, it's just one big leap and three acts from caveman to suburban swell. Act One takes an absurd look at humanity during the Ice Age freeze, then Act Two advances the action to the boardwalk of 1942 Atlantic City, where the six hundred thousandth annual convention of the order of Mammals-Subdivision Humans has, well, convened despite warnings of a great flood (can you say Ark?) and finally, Act Three takes place after a devastating war. We don't know what war; it doesn't really matter. A pile of rubble becomes a metaphor for death and destruction. Thus it begins again. The Antrobus family must rebuild the human race.
Their patriarch, George Antrobus, supposedly invented the wheel, lever, alphabet, multiplication table - and beer. During the play, he's elected President of the Mammals, and like many leaders, he's seduced by power and his own pomposity.
His wife, Maggie Antrobus, thrives on being a housewife and overprotective mother. Credited with inventing the gusset, the bustle and frying in oil, in Act Two she delivers a hilarious address to the Society of Mammals, informing them of good tidings: the tomato is now edible. Above all, Maggie's a Rock of Gibraltar. No matter how dire the circumstances, she can always find food and the will to survive.
Daughter Gladys (Kelly Balch) likes to whirl her skirts and show off her underwear, but she also quotes Longfellow with perfection, even though her father has just invented the alphabet. Later in the play, Gladys becomes an unwed mother, and her swaddling babe, Wilder's symbol of hope for mankind.
As child and teenager, son Henry (J.D. Tracy) developed a fondness for trouble, especially for throwing stones at people and animals and killing them. Which may be why he changed his name from "Cain" to "Henry." So it's no surprise he turns into a revolutionary and ultimately fights against his father, who leads the opposing army.
Sher shows his theatrical savvy by casting the highly respected deaf actor Howie Seago as Mr. Antrobus. As Seago signs his words, Laurence Ballard speaks the dialogue in his glorious, Burton-esque voice. Thanks to this inspired combination, Seago delivers a richly poetic and powerful performance, a shining beacon for Wilder's words. Plus it adds dimension to the action, in that one of Ballard's characters, the blind poet Homer, often speaks out for Mr. Antrobus.
Kristin Flanders portrays the saucy peroxide-blonde vamp Sabina, Mr. A's former mistress who's been demoted to maid. But that doesn't stop Sabina, who often steps out of character to comment on the play's faults. In Act Two, garbed in a flaming red slip-dress, matching stockings and bandana, she entices Mr. A away from his wife of 5,000 years for a lusty romp under the Boardwalk. Although on opening night Flanders' "Joisey" accent was sometimes hard to understand, overall she plays her part with cheeky chutzpah, evoking a playful blend of Michelle Pfeiffer, Carole Lombard and Marisa Tomei.
As Mrs. Antrobus, the multi-dimensional Anne Scurria becomes a perfect pillar of strength, absurdity and poignancy, while Laurence Ballard gives his usual superb performance in a variety of roles. Other standouts include Seattle favorite Clayton Corzatte, his most humorous turn being a scuba diver splashing his way across the boardwalk in swimming attire, complete with rubber fins and goggles.
In the mammal department, the family's Chewbacca-cuddly pet Mammoth is inhabited by two actors, Ernest L. Pumphrey Jr. and Derek Schreck. Their lovable antics make you want to scurry back to prehistoric times and adopt one of these furry critters. Ditto for the cute baby dinosaur, compliments of an adorable first-grader, Lucia Sher, in her theatrical debut. And yes, she's the daughter of director Sher.
Designer Michel Yeargan creates diverse worlds in each of the three acts. The Antrobus house rests on a high stage platform, and the lawn below hosts a bramble of branches. For Atlantic City, Yeargan showcases a miniature version of the Boardwalk with its Bingo dens and vibrant red and white tents. Stagehands openly shift and maneuver the sets during two intermissions, another breakdown of the wall between actor and audience. One drawback: The elevated floors can be distracting when the actors clunk noisily across them.
With finesse and style, costumer Catherine Zuber endows each era with individuality, especially the Atlantic City segment. Zuber's bright, colorful Boardwalk swimwear and Shriner's garish red togs dazzle the eye with their flamboyant "enjoy life" message. Lighting honcho Marcus Doshi makes it snow and illuminates the Boardwalk, while Peter John Still orchestrates the offstage crashes and musical transitions of impending doom and enlightenment.
At the end of the play, Wilder quotes Plato and Aristotle, throwing in a few licks about books and knowledge. If this philosophizing seems preachy and sentimental, think back to when Wilder penned his work. After the Great Depression, little more than 20 years had lapsed between the end of the Great War and the beginning of World War II. Now jump forward to 2007. For more than four years, American soldiers have been fighting a dreadful and unwanted war, and we're still asking, "Why did we let this happen?"
As we reflect upon our future, Wilder-style, this critic is reminded of a true story told to her by a siege-of-Leningrad survivor who had been separated from her husband for months. But it was Christmas Eve. So he walked for five days to be with her. Because of the holiday, she had hoarded a candle stub and gone without eating to save her rations for a special celebration. A few slices of bread and a bowl of oil cake soup.
Such is the strength and promise of the enduring human spirit. People are capable of great sacrifices. As Mrs. Antrobus says, hopefully something good will come out of this suffering.
'THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH'
Intiman Theatre
Tuesday-Sunday through June 2
Tickets: $10-$48, 269-1900 or intiman.org
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