The harsh reality of social bigotry faces off against the deep humanity of a Southern attorney and the coming-of-age of his innocent children.
Marking the fourth offering of Intiman Theatre's American Cycle, the stage production of "To Kill a Mockingbird" is a decent effort, but not one that will astonish you.
Based on Harper Lee's 1960 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel and the 1962 film of the same title, the stage adaptation lacks the rich texture of its literary and screen predecessors. Unfair as it seems, you can't help but compare the theatrical work to Lee's book as well as the classic film, starring Gregory Peck in his Academy Award-winning role of Atticus Finch. Plus, Horton Foote's Oscar-winning screenplay is one of the finest book-to-film adaptations ever written. So after having read the novel and seen the movie countless times, this critic must confess a reluctant disappointment in the stage version now playing at Intiman.
Despite director Fracaswell Hyman's talents, the production flounders, in large part due to Christopher Sergel's 20-year-old stage adaptation. Many of the most evocative scenes have been rearranged and reduced to snippets, pieced together in a way that that fails to sustain the rhythm and complexities of this touching Southern saga.
Although the second act plays better the first, the action should be a seamless tapestry of poignancy and power, with touches of humor woven into its rich fabric. Unfortunately, Sergel decided to forgo the voiceover reflections of a grownup Scout in favor of narration by the Finch's warm-hearted neighbor, Maudie. Sorry to say, but this transfer is far less moving than Lee's original concept.
The drama unfolds in Depression-era Alabama, the town of Maycomb circa 1935. Where a day was 24 hours long but seemed longer. Where ladies wore white gloves and gentlemen donned suits no matter the temperature. Where outdoor activities and friendly neighbors helped fill the leisurely days of a long, hot summer. And where segregation flourished and a black man dared not look a white woman in the eye, lest there be repercussions.
So when Atticus Finch, a white, widowed attorney with two young children, agrees to defend a black man falsely accused of raping a white woman, he must brave the wrath of the town bigots, armed only with his courage, integrity and quiet dignity. It's an overwhelming notion for his children to grasp, especially when they must endure the racial taunts of hate-filled grownups and misguided schoolmates.
Alec Hammond's highly visual scenic design sets the mood. A quartet of similar-looking two-story houses dominates an earth-red apron stage floor, parched by the heat of a Southern summer. The ramshackle Radley house tilts to one side in trashy disarray, while flowery vines wander across the roofs and weathered boards of nearby homes. Out front, a pair of shabby-looking tennis shoes dangles haphazardly atop an electrical pole, its wire lines sagging with time. Birds chirp in the background, one presumably being the revered mockingbird. In the middle of this folksy setting, a stalwart tree and its roots have been painted blood red, while matching red chairs randomly hang from noose-like ropes above the stage and audience -curious symbols that distract from the play's action.
As Atticus, David Bishins has obviously studied the movements and postures of Peck's virtuoso performance. Bishins makes a gallant attempt to fill Atticus' compassionate and courageous shoes, but he ultimately lacks the Lincolnesque stature and the emotional nuances. He's most effective during the trial scene, working off the fine performances of Russell Hodgkinson as the repulsive and bigoted redneck Bob Ewell and Liz Morton's pitiful vulnerability as Ewell's ignorant and battered daughter, Mayella. Sean Phillips adds grave sincerity in his portrayal of defendant Tom Robinson.
As for the kids - Scout (Jean Louise), her big brother Jem (Jeremy) and their runaway summer playmate Dill - they're full of energy and curiosity. But you can't always understand them when they speak, especially Scout. The tomboyish Keaton Whittaker mumbles and rushes her words in an attempt to deliver an authentic Southern accent. Her inability to do so undermines many of the play's significant moments. Lino Marioni looks a mite too well-fed to play Dill, the effete, whimsical boy based on Lee's childhood chum, future author Truman Capote. Nick Robinson fares best as Jem; he's quite believable, plus you understand most of his dialogue.
Waylayn Sharples captures the essence of the harsh-spoken harridan Mrs. Dubose, who periodically spews the 'N' word - and we don't mean "neighbor" - without hesitation. And Lori Larsen personifies another neighbor, Miss Stephanie Crawford, a gossipy, long-in-the-tooth Southern belle who always wears a hat and gloves but seldom, if ever, has a good word to say about anyone. Luckily, Miss Maudie Atkinson, a sympathetic Patti Cohenour, offsets these two women's negativity with wisdom, honesty and kindness.
One huge plus, the feisty and joyful Josephine Howell brings chutzpah to her marvelous turn as Atticus' singing housekeeper Calpurnia. Howell breathes much-needed life into this predictable production as she simultaneously scolds and protects the Finch children.
Lightning and thunder shake the rafters when Scout and Jem finally embark on their perilous journey home from the school pageant. David Drummond has a dramatic end-of-play moment as Sheriff Tate spins his fabrication of Bob Ewell's death. And Peter Crook makes a short but effective appearance as the mysterious recluse Boo Radley. But why in tarnation did adapter Sergel have him speak aloud? Boo's silence made him far more compelling.
Regardless of any flaws, we must applaud Intiman's decision to present this classic. Almost five decades after "To Kill a Mockingbird" was written, its relevance endures. Oh, there are those who claim that Civil Rights travesties have allegedly dwindled and disappeared. Not so. The shackles of slavery will cast a shameful shadow on American democracy as long as pockets of racial injustice continue to exist. Just look at the Jena 6 controversy now unfolding in Louisiana.
Our humanity is fragile, yet ever dear. The character of Atticus teaches us about the meaning of courage by having his son read to an elderly neighbor addicted to opium, yet determined to shake her habit before she dies. He teaches us respect for our neighbors by encouraging his children to do the same. And he teaches us about justice for all by upholding its principles in the face of hatred and ridicule.
No wonder our hearts can still be moved by his simple words, "You never really understand a person until ... you climb into his skin and walk around in it."
'TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD'
Intiman Theatre
Tuesday-Sunday through Nov. 10
Tickets $10-$50, 269-1900 or www.intiman.org
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