PICASSO AT THE LAPIN AGILE
Student Union Ballroom
Dec. 6, 7, 8
In the moment before something extraordinary happens, a certain electricity is palpable in the very air. Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin) tapped into that for his one-act Picasso at the Lapin Agile, performed over the weekend by the University of Massachusetts Theatre Guild.
Martin has devised the encounter of Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso as young men. The setting is 1904, before the publication of the theory of relativity and the painting of what may very well be the seminal work of cubism, “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.” The moment here is the beginning of the 20 century, in the beginning of modernism.
Martin hasn’t constructed a plot so much as a meeting of minds, and the resulting clash and occasional harmony of ideas. The script is peppered with plenty of accessible in-jokes, revealing both his famous humor and his formidable knowledge of art. For instance, Picasso is mentioned as being fond of blue. When the barkeep just can’t believe Einstein is in his bar, the budding scientist tousles his slicked-back hair to become the wild-haired Einstein we all know and love.
Much of the script’s humor comes from Martin’s ability to jump in and out of 1904, drawing on a contemporary audience’s knowledge, while still keeping his story coherent. There is a draw-off between the arrogant Picasso and the confident Einstein. The artist says that his work will change the world, and Einstein, slighted, asks if his won’t. This technique is used most hilariously in the form of Charles Schmendiman, played here by a manic Daniel Bloom, who insists that his invention of “a very brittle and inflexible building material” will change the century.
But the reason Picasso is so fun is the same reason that Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is: the incarnation of famous historical figures. As Einstein, Ryan Murphy is timid at first, but grows into his role as it progresses. He’s at his best when really fired up about his work.
Despite the meeting of science and art, this is, finally, an art lover’s show. Names and style periods are casually dropped (references to masters like El Greco, Courbet and Velazquez abound, and Germaine and Freddy argue over whether her Romanticism is Post- or Neo-). Martin clearly cares deeply about his subject. He makes Picasso not a caricature, but a person, replete with the necessary subtleties and ambivalence. For instance, the artist isn’t as cocky as he might seem; he has both a profound love and obsessive envy of his established contemporary Matisse.
As such a show, it belongs to Picasso. Played by Chamaio Cheyenne-Rindge, he dominates the stage with a suave physical presence and charm. He manipulates the young Suzanne, whom he has hitherto slept with, into forgiving him after he forgets her completely. Suzanne is played by a markedly awkward Franny Murphy. Normally, seeing the famous womanizer in action would be entertaining, but Murphy makes one pray for the end of their affair.
The Lapin Agile is the kind of fin de siecle bohemian dive that artistic types frequent. The eponymous artist doesn’t arrive on the scene for a while, though. But in the interim, Picasso is not without interest. Einstein gets the chance to shine without being overwhelmed by Picasso’s looming shadow. And the audience can become acquainted with the most charming of the characters: the lovable old French curmudgeon Gaston, played by Michael Carr with a perfect mixture of grouchy and amiable. Gaston’s regularity makes the Lapin Agile seem as comfortingly familiar as “Cheers.”
The thoroughly anachronistic art dealer Sagot hangs about like a leech, waiting for artists that he might profit on. His entire character seems to be a warning from Martin (an art collector himself) about what happens when a good art dealer grows cynical. Chris Sullivan makes perhaps the strangest acting choice in this production, as his Sagot is as greasy and untrustworthy as a used car salesman. He would need to be art savvy to recognize Picasso’s early greatness, but Sullivan makes none of his art acuity apparent.
Freddy is the good-natured bartender and owner. Andy Hobgood is competent in the role, but makes it clear that he’s been listening to or watching Martin; his inflection is often an exact replica of the comedian’s. Germaine, Freddy’s lover and employee, is the more urbane of the couple. Despite the general exclusion of women at the time, which Martin lampoons more than once, she finds a way into the boy’s club. Played by an intelligent and nuanced Beth Cartier, she uses men as tools for vicarious experiences. For instance, she informs Picasso, a famous lothario, that the aim of their affair was not an undeniable attraction to him, as he thinks, but so that she might know what an artist is like.
The play falters near the end when Martin combines too many themes at once (including, but not exclusively: how can a young artist can retain his vision, a muse’s inspiration of genius, and modernism as the start of art and science having more influence than government). When the script’s cleverness wavers, the holes in the Theatre Guild’s production become obvious. Director Jennifer Jabaily’s pacing is either lagging or hurried, never just right. This becomes especially detrimental when it compromises the humor. Thankfully, though, Picasso never takes itself too seriously – there is always a wink in the audience’s direction. This, along with the strongest of the cast members, is what sustains it through a rough ending.
