"BY THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES" at Goodman Theatre
BY LUCIA MAURO
I was anxious to experience the world premiere of "By the Music of the Spheres" – a multidisciplinary theater work with two central protagonists who are deaf – at Goodman Theatre because it made alternative forms of communication its foundation. Frequently, I’ve seen deaf theater productions that were merely adapted hearing plays (from William Shakespeare to Sam Shepard), with the deaf actors performing center stage and American Sign Language interpreters on the side.
But this new historic drama by Chicago playwrights Carson Grace Becker and David Barr III was going to be different. It would be a play with actual deaf characters in the lead, and the work would address issues of deafness while tackling a larger theme – one involving the many ways communication can suppress or liberate.
And, although "By the Music of the Spheres" is a valiant effort on the part of the playwrights, director Chuck Smith and his stellar cast, it would benefit from some aggressive editing and re-focusing. Ideally, it could tell a moving and provocative story in 90 minutes with no intermission. Instead the work aims for epic stature on everything from slavery to women’s rights to primitive psychiatric treatments to deafness (which, oddly, gets short-changed the most). And all of these issues are addressed with a bothersome superficiality; the characters seem to speak more through historical facts than humanity.
The play is set in a late 19th century insane asylum in Massachusetts, where two deaf siblings – Katherine, the daughter of a Southern plantation owner, and Nicholas, her ex-slave half-brother – are confined. They wear signs around their necks with the dehumanizing titles of "Idiot" and "Dumb" scrawled across – testaments to the ignorance of equating deafness with mental illness. While inside, they befriend Ellenore, a fervent suffragette (and sign-language interpreter) who’s been committed to the institution by her devious husband as a way to seize her property (a disturbingly common practice that has been well documented).
Presiding over the patients is the sadly undeveloped Dr. Newholm, a staunch believer in dangerous treatments, like water dousings, a spinning-chair device and all manner of brutal restraints (from iron ankle chains to straight jackets). Since his character is not probingly explored in writing, Dr. Newholm becomes an ineffectual shadow. He’s neither diabolical nor misguided – just a wax figure who spouts the wrong-headed (as we now know) theories of his day. There’s even a groaner of a scene in which one of his colleagues refers to hydrotherapy as "a bit of a wash."
At the heart of the story is Katherine’s, Nicholas’ and Ellenore’s determination to get out. The only buffer that stands between them and Dr. Newholm is their gruff keeper Thomas, who does all the dirty work. He takes a liking to Ellenore, who believes he may be her ticket out of the asylum. She later has in her possession a key she thinks leads to an exit – only to find out that it points to Thomas’ burningly intimate secret (involving his Native American roots – a thoroughly out-of-the-blue aside).
American Sign Language, spoken word, dance and even silence make this an innovative and engaging staging, whose stultifying Dickensian design is well suited to Goodman’s rather nondescript Owen Bruner studio space. Felix E. Cochren’s grimy, multitiered set design, with its imposing windows, is accented by Robert Christen’s gray-grim lighting. And Ray Nardelli’s original music/sound design mesmerizes on an ethereal level.
But, throughout this omni-communicative experience, I couldn’t help asking why the playwrights felt this work was so important and if it was really telling me something new. Apart from the work’s inventive structure, I didn’t find the messages to be particularly fresh or compelling – at least in the play’s current sprawling yet incomplete state. An embarrassing and unrealized minstrel subplot (which unbelievably leads to Nicholas’ liberation) is more uncomfortable than enlightening.
The neat way Katherine (via a mail-order bride ad) and Nicholas (via traveling entertainers and an incongruous invitation by a doctor to produce their shows in London) get out turns a very messy and disturbing story into tidy Hallmark Hall of Fame fare. In the end, and with a certain lopsided foreshadowing, the drama shifts radically to Ellenore’s horrific plight.
I left the theater wondering who’s story this was, and which issues did I learn something new about. I certainly did not gain a better understanding of deafness and how it was viewed during the post-Civil War era. I knew going in that it was not well understood (but I’m sure that wasn’t always the case). And, although they appear to be the protagonists, Katherine and Nicholas are often relegated to the side lines – their story reaching its flashback climax with Katherine’s envious mother pouring honey into the infant Nicholas’ ears in overblown Gonzago-esque fashion.
Apart from an intriguing poetic resonance, the concept of Katherine’s amnesia toward her past but gift for predicting the future circles around familiar otherworldly cliches.
I also want to point out – and this may have been totally unintentional and unrelated – but the final scene between Katherine and Nicholas is lifted almost verbatim from the film, "Out of Africa." As the siblings go their separate ways, they recount how Katherine served as a scout when the pair pretended to be soldiers as children. They talk about making a great big fire so they will be able to find each other – mirroring one of the film’s most crucial parting scenes.
The ensemble smoothly – and musically – joins gesture and speech, with Arlene Malinowski’s steadfast and compassionate Ellenore delivering one of the most touching performances. Antoinette Abbamonte as Katherine and Fred Michael Beam as Nicholas share an invigorating synergy on stage. And Troy West, a deeply centered actor, poises Thomas between savage resentment and anguished loyalty to his heritage.
Any one of these characters could be the impetus for their own play, where their dramatically rich stories need to be intricately explored. Right now, this crucial drama – operating within the framework of deafness – bounces from issue to issue, never once harnessing their long-term conundrums or complexities.•
"By the Music of the Spheres" runs through March 16 at Goodman Theatre (Owen Bruner Studio), 170 N. Dearborn. Tickets: $10-$40. Call 312-443-3800; 312-443-3829 (TTY/TDD) or log onto www.goodman-theatre.org.
