By Daniel Reskin
By Hans Morgenstern
By George Martinez
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By Ciara LaVelle
By New Times Staff
By Rich Robinson
By Hannah Sentenac
Overall, however, Himself! says very little about a man who so passionately wanted to be heard. It's unlikely to please either Joyce fans or neophytes, but not for lack of talent. Exuding kilowatts of presence, Cariou dominates the stage, and it is easy to imagine him striding over the landscape of modern literature. Whether flashing a leprechaun's grin or getting his Irish up over censorship, the Tony Award-winner (for Sweeney Todd) infuses each snapshot of Joyce with emotion.
The script, however, offers him no opportunity to bridge the outbursts with a multilevel portrayal. One telling detail is Cariou's attempts to hint that Joyce had glaucoma. In fact, he suffered through numerous eye operations and long periods of near blindness. But the eye patch Joyce wore during his later years is nowhere to be seen, suggesting that the show's creators consider facts about his health superfluous.
Likewise, the rest of the cast is caught between realism and caricature. Dropping his trousers to enjoy a good "shite" in front of the priest, Felix lustily plays Joyce's father as a stereotypical Irish boozer. Working with a script that favors fervor over facts, he can't do much to show the other side of the older Joyce: a college-educated civil servant who wrote letters connecting his wayward son to his homeland. Similarly, Knapp has to literally lift her skirts in an exaggerated portrayal of a prostitute before she is handed the touching role of the self-sacrificing Nora, who pulls a thread from her own clothes to sew on a button for her husband.
On the other hand, Mallon's roles as the priest and a publisher who rejects Ulysses are so one-dimensional that he is able to grab hold and play them with total conviction. The result: You almost root for Joyce's adversaries.
What's missing from Himself! is a full portrait of Joyce. Developed in a couple of staged readings in New York, the play was created by book writer Sheila Walsh and composer Jonathan Brielle, both of whom are also credited as co-lyricists. Oddly, there really are no songs or lyrics. Although Joyce and company may sing a line or two, the show's only musical number is a rousing listing of county names in Ireland, which could have been written by George M. Cohan for all it says about Joyce.
Caught up in Joyce's experimentation with language and style, director George Rondo stages each moment as its own event, leaving the audience to play a game of connect the dots to understand how Joyce's complex feelings about Ireland, religion, and his family affected his life and his work. Thomas Salzman's lighting serves as a welcome Cliffs Notes version of events, seamlessly merging vignettes and spotlighting designer Tim Bennett's glorious Dubliner silhouettes in a way that informs us what is important even when the direction and writing don't.
In the play, Joyce argues with his printer over the final word in Ulysses. He insists the book must end with the most positive word in the human language: Yes. Following his lead, I'll sum up with my opinion on whether or not this play has a future: No.
Written by Sheila Walsh; lyrics by Sheila Walsh and Jonathan Brielle; music by Jonathan Brielle; directed by George Rondo; with Len Cariou, John Felix, Jacqueline Knapp, and Brian Mallon. Through February 15. For more information call 930-6400 or see "Calendar Listings.