By Peter Hall:
THE BASICS: Red is a two man play directed by Musicalfare Theatre’s Randall Kramer running through Sunday, March 30th at 710 Main Theatre (the old Studio Arena) in which famed Abstract Expressionist painter Mark Rothko grapples with life’s big questions. The show runs 90 minutes without intermission (get tickets).
THUMBNAIL SKETCH: As the play opens, the artist Mark Rothko has accepted a very lucrative commission to provide a number of large paintings which, together, will make a mural inside a new Manhattan mid-town skyscraper. The project is so large that the 55 year old Rothko has hired a 20-something assistant who arrives for his first day on the job full of youthful exuberance. This contrasts with Rothko’s jaded pessimism about people, especially art critics and buyers. Rothko begins a relentless series of questions, beginning with “What do you see?”
For 90 minutes (which go by like 30) Rothko paints, smokes, and drinks while he fulminates, bloviates, and castigates. All of the action takes place on one set – Rothko’s studio – which is sparse. The audience gets a full history of art (Rothko taught art to children for over 20 years) not to mention insights into psychology, philosophy, and mythology. If this sounds terribly dry and academic, recall another Russian Jewish artist, the musician Oscar Levant, so that you can understand how someone can be so pessimistic and opinionated and yet leave you wanting to hear more.
The timeline for the play is two years at the end of which the assistant has grown in confidence and has begun to argue back with Rothko, who thoroughly enjoys having an equal, a verbal enemy to spar with. In the end, Rothko makes a very momentous decision based on a question that the assistant has now asked him.
THE PLAYERS, THE PLAY AND THE PRODUCTION: “RED” by John Logan is the winner of six Tony awards. It is wonderfully written, never awkward, and you don’t have to know anything about art, not even whether you like art, to respond to this play. While it’s always true that the more you bring to the play, the more you’ll take away, still, in this day when the lines between artistic endeavor and marketing are completely blurred, many of the questions raised feel very contemporary.
Mark Rothko (born Marcus Rothkowitz) was born in Russia in 1903 and, as the notes tell us, went from Surrealism to Abstract Expressionism with the encouragement of his friend (they later had a falling out) Clyfford Still. Around 1950 Rothko arrived at his signature style of colorful rectangles floating in the middle of a very large canvas. In 1958 Rothko accepted a commission to furnish over 500 square feet of paintings for $35,000 (a lot of money in those days) to be installed in two executive dining rooms at the Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram Building which was completing construction. The building was designed by Mies van der Rohe while the interior lobby and restaurants were designed by Philip Johnson, who personally commissioned Rothko. That’s where the play begins.
The first scene has Rothko, alone, looking at a painting in progress. The audience is, in effect, where the painting is hanging. There are only two characters – Mark Rothko, played by Buffalo favorite Paul Todaro and his assistant, Ken, played by P.J. (Patrick) Tighe, in real life a senior at Niagara University and a student of Paul Todaro’s. The action is tight and expertly directed by Randall Kramer.
After a few minutes, Ken, the assistant arrives, wearing a suit. It touches Rothko that Ken would want to impress him, but amuses him because he describes the job as hard, dirty manual labor. In the beginning of the play, Rothko treats Ken like a menial. Both actors studied how artists work and the action on stage seems completely convincing. Both actors age over the two year timeline of the action very convincingly, with the young man growing more confident and virile, and the older man on the down slope. Frequent discussions of the young Oedipus killing his father add a context to this.
The audience never sees an actual painting, although vague representations appear as if dimly reflected in a skylight. We do see an authentic canvas “flat” being prepared for painting with the ground color the red of dried blood. There is a heated argument about the color red – is it the red of blood and Satan or the color of apples and sunrises? This key moment in the play, very cleverly written, in which language, personality, upbringing, and memory (to name just a few topics) are all related to painting, both for the creative artist and the viewer, is a writing and acting tour de force. And the scene lends itself to the play’s name: RED (all caps, by the way).
The set is sparse, with a table covered in paint cans, brushes, and dirty coffee cups which are pressed into service to drink J&B scotch. There is an old portable record player and we hear a lot of Mozart on 33 rpm LPs as background music. (One funny/poignant scene has the assistant working alone to the jazz of Chet Baker. When Rothko returns he is outraged and says, reminding us of fathers everywhere, “When you pay the rent on this studio, then you can pick the music.” Of course, this “fatherly” outburst contrasts with another moment in the play where Rothko tells Ken “I’m not your father.”)
There is one chair, a double sink, canvas flats, and a cupboard to hold materials, including a box into which Rothko or the assistant meticulously store receipts from purchases of paint or Chinese take-out. That saving of receipts seems like a minor detail, but it speaks to the idea of Rothko’s resentment of the more popular artist Jackson Pollack – described as the reckless Dionysus – contrasted with the less popular, but more responsible Mark Rothko as Apollo. In fact, one reason Rothko took the $35,000 commission was because it was more than any other artist, including Pollack, had ever been offered.
I could go on and on, but, really, just go see the play.
Up to now, I have only given plays three Buffalos (out of a possible five). However, this play is a five. The writing, the acting, the directing, the set, the lighting, the music, everything works. Go.
*HERD OF BUFFALO (Notes on the Rating System)
ONE BUFFALO: This means trouble. A dreadful play, a highly flawed production, or both. Unless there is some really compelling reason for you to attend (i.e. you are the parent of someone who is in it), give this show a wide berth.
TWO BUFFALOS: Passable, but no great shakes. Either the production is pretty far off base, or the play itself is problematic. Unless you are the sort of person who’s happy just going to the theater, you might look around for something else.
THREE BUFFALOS: I still have my issues, but this is a pretty darn good night at the theater. If you don’t go in with huge expectations, you will probably be pleased.
FOUR BUFFALOS: Both the production and the play are of high caliber. If the genre/content are up your alley, I would make a real effort to attend.
FIVE BUFFALOS: Truly superb–a rare rating. Comedies that leave you weak with laughter, dramas that really touch the heart. Provided that this is the kind of show you like, you’d be a fool to miss it!