The Dying Gaul
Intiman Theatre, 269-1900. Through Aug 18.
Playwright Craig Lucas has been lucky in his film projects; his first produced screenplay was the well-received Longtime Companion, a movie that broke barriers in its open depiction of gay men. But Lucas has clearly been wondering, what if his luck had been bad?
The Dying Gaul opens with Robert (Jay Goede), a young writer, meeting with Jeffrey (Laurence Ballard), an older and powerful studio executive who wants to buy Robert’s screenplay for a million dollars–if Robert will turn it into a straight love story instead of a gay one. Reluctantly, Robert agrees. Jeffrey has an agreement with his wife, Elaine (Myra Platt), that allows him to have sex with men (as long as it doesn’t threaten their marriage), and initiates an affair with Robert. But Elaine, desperate to gain some access to this hidden side of her husband’s life, uses a gay chatroom on the Internet to begin a disguised relationship with Robert as well, and here a taut psychological thriller is set in motion–one with aspirations to tragic dimensions. (I’m not going to spell out the rest of the plot, because much of the show’s pleasure comes from its surprises.)
For sheer playwriting skill, Craig Lucas is hard to beat. Each scene is a tightly crafted nugget with propulsive dialogue and subtle undercurrents that burst out in surprising ways. He’s particularly skilled at exposition, setting up characters, and seeding necessary information with a deft hand. His play unfolds as a series of discoveries and revelations: Robert’s entrance into Hollywood success; Elaine’s entrance into gay chatrooms; Jeffrey’s entrance into a richer affection than he’s previously known. Lucas makes the lure and rewards of these new worlds palpable, drawing us into the characters’ desires and actions.
The Dying Gaul‘s second act deals with repercussions, and here–though the writing remains crisp and dynamic–questions start to come up; there are moments where motivations are a little obscure, or events aren’t altogether plausible (including the most ostentatious salad-making scene you’ll ever see). Lucas argues in an interview (excerpted in the program) that a certain level of preposterousness is simply intrinsic to both tragedy and thrillers, but tragedy and thrillers depend on different kinds of preposterousness, and therein lies a tension the play can’t resolve. In a thriller, an audience embraces ridiculous plot moments because the sensations aroused (suspense, fear, and vicarious malevolence) are so delicious; in a tragedy, an audience accepts absurd actions by the characters because the decisions are so firmly rooted in undeniable basic drives (greed, lust, envy). The Dying Gaul layers plot contrivances on top of character flaws, making both sides of the issue suspect. Also, Lucas punctuates the action with Buddhist principles, which serve as an ironic counterpoint to the characters’ choices. But the time I took to parse these philosophical sentences took me out of the play for a moment–and in a thriller, anything that slows the forward momentum is trouble.
Fortunately, the production has the strength to carry the audience over any speed bumps. The cast (also featuring David Pichette as a guilt-ridden psychiatrist) is excellent. All the design elements–from the set (Andrew Jackness), costumes (Candice Donnelly), lights (Mary Louise Geiger), and sound (Stephen LeGrand)–work in sleek unison, drawn together tightly under Bartlett Sher’s lean and precise directorial eye. A row of lights peeks out from under the scrim at the back of the stage, stylishly evoking the Los Angeles skyline; a deep pulse of sound nicely underscores some crucial moments in the second act. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so held by a production that I feared if I let my mind wander, I’d miss some subtle twist.
And frankly, even the play’s faults are admirable: they’re evidence of Lucas’ dramatic ambition. In an age when movies, television, books, and all too often theater are content with simply passing the time or recycling familiar sensations, where The Dying Gaul stumbles is more intriguing than where most plays dance.