suntimes.com
February 29, 2008
BY HEDY WEISS Theater Critic
Plays about the hateful behavior of First World types who arrive in the Third World in power positions are so predictable. This is not to say that heinous behavior does not occur in such situations, or to in any way excuse the abuses visited by outsiders on those in vulnerable nations. But almost without exception the abuses from outside are vastly magnified, while little is suggested about the way those who inhabit such countries very often exact the most hideous violence on each other (see, for example, recent events in Kenya, Sri Lanka, the Congo, Lebanon and East Timor, and earlier catastrophes in Rwanda and Cambodia -- and the list, sadly, goes on and on).
In "Skin in Flames," now in its Chicago premiere at Stage Left Theatre, Guillem Clua, a young playwright from the Catalan region of Spain, follows the predictable pattern. Too bad, because an essential element of his story -- the true meaning and intent of a photograph taken during one particularly tragic moment in what appears to have been a civil war, and the way it might have been used to make the case for one side in the conflict -- could have been an ideal way to deal with questions of authenticity, and the manipulative use of striking images.
But Clua, whose play has been translated by DJ Sanders and directed by David M. Schmitz, seems more interested in churning up a certain quasi-pornographic sensationalism than anything else. (See Jon Robin Baitz's "Three Hotels" for a far better play on a similar subject.)
Clua's setting is "a hotel suite in a postwar country," so the generic aspect already is in play, although set designer Kurt Sharp and sound designer-composer Christopher Fuller create a richly atmospheric, vaguely sinister environment.
Two white men -- the spirit-broken photographer Salomon (Gerrit O'Neill) and the corrupt United Nations-sponsored physician Dr. Brown (Ben Veatch) -- represent the West. The two women are "ethnic": Hanna (Amber Starr Friendly, who is black) is a local journalist, and Ida [Susaan Jamshidi, easily able to play either Middle Eastern or Latin American) is the mother of a gravely ill child. Hanna is a survivor who has learned to play the game; Ida is a tragic victim.
Salomon has returned to this wartorn country for the first time in decades to accept an award for what has long been considered a tide-turning photograph, even if the picture has left him a broken man. His interviewer, Hanna, though initially fawning, begins to play some profoundly threatening mind games with him. Neither of the two seems terribly disturbed by the fact that they can see the dead body of a young woman lying in the courtyard beneath the hotel room where they are talking.
Meanwhile, the previous occupants of the room simultaneously play out their ugly little drama in the same space, and we learn what transpired during their earlier encounters in this same room. As it turns out, the doctor demanded the most debasing sexual acts from Ida, a poor mother desperate to get medicine to keep her young daughter alive. These scenes involve full frontal nudity and extremely graphic simulated sex, and for what feels like a good 10 minutes the encounters between Dr. Brown and Ida ludicrously upstage the debate between Salomon and Hanna.
The actors do the best they can under the circumstances. But frankly, it feels to me that they are being exploited in the service of a play that is more interested in shock value than anything else.
February 29, 2008
BY HEDY WEISS Theater Critic
Plays about the hateful behavior of First World types who arrive in the Third World in power positions are so predictable. This is not to say that heinous behavior does not occur in such situations, or to in any way excuse the abuses visited by outsiders on those in vulnerable nations. But almost without exception the abuses from outside are vastly magnified, while little is suggested about the way those who inhabit such countries very often exact the most hideous violence on each other (see, for example, recent events in Kenya, Sri Lanka, the Congo, Lebanon and East Timor, and earlier catastrophes in Rwanda and Cambodia -- and the list, sadly, goes on and on).
In "Skin in Flames," now in its Chicago premiere at Stage Left Theatre, Guillem Clua, a young playwright from the Catalan region of Spain, follows the predictable pattern. Too bad, because an essential element of his story -- the true meaning and intent of a photograph taken during one particularly tragic moment in what appears to have been a civil war, and the way it might have been used to make the case for one side in the conflict -- could have been an ideal way to deal with questions of authenticity, and the manipulative use of striking images.
But Clua, whose play has been translated by DJ Sanders and directed by David M. Schmitz, seems more interested in churning up a certain quasi-pornographic sensationalism than anything else. (See Jon Robin Baitz's "Three Hotels" for a far better play on a similar subject.)
Clua's setting is "a hotel suite in a postwar country," so the generic aspect already is in play, although set designer Kurt Sharp and sound designer-composer Christopher Fuller create a richly atmospheric, vaguely sinister environment.
Two white men -- the spirit-broken photographer Salomon (Gerrit O'Neill) and the corrupt United Nations-sponsored physician Dr. Brown (Ben Veatch) -- represent the West. The two women are "ethnic": Hanna (Amber Starr Friendly, who is black) is a local journalist, and Ida [Susaan Jamshidi, easily able to play either Middle Eastern or Latin American) is the mother of a gravely ill child. Hanna is a survivor who has learned to play the game; Ida is a tragic victim.
Salomon has returned to this wartorn country for the first time in decades to accept an award for what has long been considered a tide-turning photograph, even if the picture has left him a broken man. His interviewer, Hanna, though initially fawning, begins to play some profoundly threatening mind games with him. Neither of the two seems terribly disturbed by the fact that they can see the dead body of a young woman lying in the courtyard beneath the hotel room where they are talking.
Meanwhile, the previous occupants of the room simultaneously play out their ugly little drama in the same space, and we learn what transpired during their earlier encounters in this same room. As it turns out, the doctor demanded the most debasing sexual acts from Ida, a poor mother desperate to get medicine to keep her young daughter alive. These scenes involve full frontal nudity and extremely graphic simulated sex, and for what feels like a good 10 minutes the encounters between Dr. Brown and Ida ludicrously upstage the debate between Salomon and Hanna.
The actors do the best they can under the circumstances. But frankly, it feels to me that they are being exploited in the service of a play that is more interested in shock value than anything else.
