By Monique Jones
By Travis Cohen
By Liz Tracy
By Terrence McCoy
By Morgan Golumbuk
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By Michael E. Miller
In a starkly furnished Paris apartment, spectator Marc (Judd Hirsch) circles a white canvas with the wary step of a big-game hunter while Serge (Cotter Smith) looks on expectantly; we can't help but wonder if it is the art, or his best friend, that Marc is about ready to attack. Later, when Yvan (Jack Willis) asks his two best friends how they have reached such a crisis point over a simple white square, he's not exaggerating. Serge, a dermatologist, has purchased a piece of modern art for 200,000 francs, and Marc loathes the idea that his long-time friend has just paid so much money for what appears to be nothing more than a white canvas. Yvan tries to act as mediator, but in trying to please them, he ignites a quarrel that forces the trio to re-evaluate the direction and meaning of their friendship. Like the stage itself, which is both barren and full of possibilities, the canvas -- a fourth character really -- appears alternately ridiculous, intriguing, ominous, menacing, and ingenious. Artasks what happens when we can no longer relate to our friends. But if you think you are going to get a pat answer to this question and an erudite look at the art world, think again. Art's brilliant and organic use of satire reaches beyond comedy, into the hilarious drama of the human heart and its feckless sidekick, ego. The excellent acting and superb script transform the Coconut Grove Playhouse's main stage into a blank space redolent with the gradations of comedy and drama essential to interesting theater.
Dominated by color, shape, form, and impression, the Modernist style tends to be more abstract and subjective than earlier schools of painting. Much like the white-on-white canvas of painter Robert Ryman (the "maximal minimalist" who helped revolutionize the school of monochromatic, abstract paintings), the work of Art's fictional painter, Antrios, is about brushstrokes, opacity, sheen, and so on. "As far as I'm concerned, it's not white," Serge says. Marc, on the other hand, retorts, "It's a white piece of “shit.'"
Is the painting a blank canvas or a great work? Obviously Art is a parody of the art world, its patrons, critics, and collectors. It raises questions about what is considered art, the validity of abstract art and Modernism, and who assigns aesthetic and monetary value to a work of art. Part of the play's success comes from its intimate knowledge of a specific aspect of the art world: that of the amateur collector. For example Serge explains his acquisition by commenting: "It's a Seventies Antrios -- that's important to know." And he replies to Marc's inquiry about whether the painting was expensive by noting, "In absolute terms, yes. In fact, no."
But Art also is about the nature of friendship. The play approaches with humor and frankness the difficulties that arise in human relations owing to envy, competitiveness, and downright insecurity. French playwright Yasmina Reza makes us delve deep into that well reserved for relationships -- of all kinds. We discover that we can fear losing our friends as much as our lovers, and that we can go to any length, including destruction, to prevent this. As modern art asks us to see art differently from what's offered in pictures, with their narrative connotations, this play asks us to look at friendship as something as volatile and emotional as marriage, something as complicated and important as any other love relationship, and it succeeds. Art goes further in exploring human relations by using the metaphor of friendship than do most plays that claim to plumb the depths of love. During the course of the play, Marc, Serge, and Yvan discover they have inherently different attitudes, opinions, and ways of behaving, and as a consequence the very basis of their friendship is challenged. But friendship is more valuable than a work of art -- or is it?
Even the most realistic portrayal must be revealed through a specific lens. Art's combination of satire and the brilliantly modulated energy of the actors helps make realism interesting theater. One of those aspects is perspective. Satire would be considered simply ridicule if it were presented as one person's biased point of view, but the satire in Art is successful because both Serge and Marc are smugly convinced of the veracity of their opinions. The conflict that this provokes makes for an almost forensic theatrical experience while opening up a Pandora's box of vulnerability. While uproariously laughing at Yvan's dizzying account of his horrible day, which later becomes a sobering admission of his failure in life, one experiences the inherent duality of drama: Laughter is as complicated as tears.
The textual richness of Reza's script is both its virtue and its challenge. Director Judd Hirsch must modulate a verbally dense (and uninterrupted) 90 minutes that takes place on a predominately static set. The director and actors take advantage of the script's alternating scenes and asides to break up the rapid fire of this catty, intellectual dialogue.
The movement from two actors onstage to three actors keeps the play flowing so the hour and a half without an intermission is not cumbersome. It is key that the play is not interrupted, as it is a steadily mounting discourse that has its own denouement based on a verbal progression, not on dramatic action. Save for one stellar moment, there is little in the way of such action.