Taking Art seriously

Talking postmodernism, friendship dynamics, and what makes people laugh

By Katherine Joyce

Art plays at Portland Stage Company, through May 5. Call (207) 774-0465.

ART-FULLY DONE: Tom Ford, Aled Davies, and Lawrence Nathanson as three contentious buddies.

Playwright Yasmina Reza has expressed some degree of chagrin over the uproarious laughter heard from audiences seeing the various productions of Art around the country. Although she is aware of the humor in the piece, what stands out to her is the tragic story of the disintegration of a friendship.

A group of three men have been comrades for 15 years. They are very different personalities, with very different lives, but they, at one point, felt they complimented each other. And then one friend makes the very expensive purchase of a new painting. It is modern — an entirely white canvas with a few diagonal lines painted in white paint, discernible only in the brush strokes. This purchase sets off a debate that has the potential to destroy the individual friendships and the group altogether.

This debate is based on values — the extent to which a person’s choices and tastes reveal their true selves, but there are two layers to the debate. Serge, the purchaser of the painting, perceives himself as attacked by his friend Marc, who thinks the painting is ridiculous. Marc perceives Serge’s purchase as a horrific admission of modern and deconstructionist values — something Marc abhors. And the pathetic third wheel to this conflict is Yvan, pegged as spineless for not wanting to disagree with either Serge or Marc. And, as is bound to happen in groups of three, Yvan becomes the scapegoat — the only thing Marc and Serge can agree on in the heat of their conflict is their sharp criticism of Yvan.

In the intellectual layer, the characters debate about art. What is the value of art? What is good art? How revealing are artistic preferences? This is an interesting debate, but, in spite of the title, it is not the soul of the play. The soul of the play lies in the deeper stratum — the debate about the meaning of friendship. How well do we know even our closest friends? Are we willing to adapt to the inevitable surprises they have in store for us? Are we friends out of convenience, out of habit, who can be jolted to our senses by an event that opens our eyes to how different we really are?

The script was translated from Reza’s native French by British director and playwright Christopher Hampton. The translation for American audiences was particularly satisfying to Reza, as American English is very informal and malleable, something she finds befitting to her style.

And the script is quite impressive. Apparently inspired by the purchase of an all-white painting by a personal friend of Reza’s, the playwright wondered what might have happened if he had joined in when she burst out laughing upon seeing it. She sets up an architecture that keeps the play very sharp in spite of intensely emotional interchanges. The inherent problems associated with triangular friendships are illustrated with a simple cleanness that allows the audience to fully appreciate the dynamics of what is happening by keeping the audience from forming any particular alliance with any of the friends.

This sharp, clean atmosphere is supported by Anita Stewart’s set design. Combining a feeling of sterility with the warmth of a home, Stewart uses abstract white panels to give the stage the potential to take in the dimensions of whatever space the characters are inhabiting at a particular moment. The center is set with distinctive Green Design modern-mission style furniture. It creates the visual impression that this conflict between traditional and modern need not be resolved with one clear winner. The compromise, or melding of the two, that is evident in Green Design’s furniture is proof that the compromise can create a new kind of beauty.

The lighting does its part to create the atmosphere, as well. A white glow that seems tempered to reduce its harshness, the lights are generally fully illuminating, but there are times when they go dim, and one character is lit for a personal aside. These asides seem to happen with less and less frequency as the debate becomes more heated, and the friends are addressing what might once have been asides directly to one another. As the issues are woven into some semblance of a resolution, the asides resume, suggesting that circumstances have returned to a variation on their origins.

The characters are an unlikely trio, each a caricature of a personality type. Marc (played by Lawrence Nathanson) is the Woody Allen/ George Costanza character: neurotic, stressed-out, obsessed with how his friends live their lives, and firmly rooted in his own rightness. Serge (Aled Davies) is the progressive thinker who loves modern art, deconstructionist literature, and telling people about his love for each. Yvan (Tom Ford) is the worn out, quasi-yuppie bohemian who has failed both in his career and in his relationships. Each of them finds comfort in the friendships of the others for his own reasons.

With a clean backdrop, clean lighting, and a clean script, it’s up to the actors to get down to the nitty gritty. Davies does a great job of portraying the indignant Serge, offended at Marc’s immediate condemnation of the piece of art he felt strongly enough about to spend a fortune on. From his clothing to his demeanor, he plays a man who strives to be stylish. He also plays a man willing to let this painting eat away at a 15-year friendship, an unappealing trait Serge shares with Marc.

Nathanson plays a strong, if overeager Marc. He underplays the character’s incredible stress level in favor of his pragmatism and perfectionism. His tendency to over-enunciate lends him a slightly-less-than genuine quality that detracts somewhat from the quality of the dynamic between the friends. It does, however, add to the sense that Marc is condescending to be with these men, a sense that is validated by the script.

Ford is a scattered, and slightly effeminate Yvan. Ford plays him with a great deal of nervous energy that is almost never subdued, even in the most emotional of moments. Although I would have liked to see still moments from him, his pacing and fidgeting indicate a lack of strength true to his character. Yvan’s emotional life is the most visceral of the characters, and Ford plays it well.

Art is an emotional play, disguised as an intellectual play. It has an appealing structure and rhythm that has attracted audiences all over the world. It deals with art and friendship in a way left untouched by most plays. And despite Reza’s chagrin at the audience’s laughter, it is uproariously funny, even in its tragic moments. In fact, as a past director of the play noted, “the more seriously and earnestly you play it, the more people laugh.”

PSC clearly understands the serious aspects of the play, but can’t help inducing laughter from the crowd just the same.

Katherine Joyce can be reached at ingliskat@aol.com.