Paradise Lost

by
Clifford Odets
Directed by Daniel Fish

American Repertory Theatre
Cambridge, MA

This is a big and long play, in three acts, and each of the first two runs almost an hour. The first act is heavily populated by characters, and decentered in action in not a particularly anticipatory way. The setting is the home of the Gordon family, and the time is the Great Depression, and ill tidings are afoot. But, in the first act, they are not fleet-footed, and I knew that the pace had got the better of me when, as I teetered, my seat neighbor tapped me on the shoulder to offer me some gum. I knew that this was not the most generous method for cultivating alertness in the theatre, and I dutifully but politely refused, then straightened up and stayed focused. When, after the first intermission, I read the program notes and saw that David Mamet had said something like “I’d like to write a really good play sometime… like Odets,” I wondered whether Paradise Lost was one of them. As the evening progressed, however, the drama came very much into relief, and by the end of the third act, I felt as though I had been to a wonderful night at the theatre. Clearly, this was not playwriting in the era of the economy of words or cast members (15+). It seems as though, in 1935, when the Group Theatre premiered Paradise Lost on Broadway (directed by Harold Clurman, with an unbelievable cast, including Morris Carnovsky, Luther Adler, Elia Kazan, Stella Adler, Sanford Meisner and Robert Lewis) people were willing to spend long hours at the theatre and actors were willing to act and not be paid too much for their efforts.

But, despite this megalithic quality to the play, there is something that takes shape out of the inchoate form of the early part and is wonderful to witness. The paterfamilias of the household in question is Leo Gordon, played with subtlety and developing power by David Chandler. In Odets’ hands and Chandler’s interpretation, Gordon emerges at the outset as a kind of earnest, but not very compelling, ideologue. By the end of the play, and through the drama that ensues, Gordon becomes a beacon, and in Chandler’s capable hands, the character shines forth nobly. It is quite something to see a character come into relief as though he were a photograph in a bath of developer, and this is exactly what happens in Paradise Lost. Somehow between Odets’ writing, Fish’s direction and Chandler’s acting, the distinct quality of Leo Gordon’s character emerges out of the barely discernible boundaries of his early halting humility.

The production makes interesting use of video (designed by Joshua Thorson) to highlight encounters between actors, and though the technique portended gimmickry at the outset, it really was quite effective. For such a long and, especially at early points, unshaped play, this serves to vary the pace in a way that is helpful and stimulating. The drawing-room setting of the play is served well by a scenic design (by Andrew Lieberman) that turns that traditional form into more of a Cubist abstraction. This works well to break up the convention of space, as the video works to break up the convention of time, and it’s a good idea with a piece like this in which temporal and spatial bulk could easily dull and overwhelm the essential drama.

Chandler is assisted by a battalion of capable actors. Among them, Hale Appleman is manically energetic in an engaging way as the son, Ben Gordon. It is nice to see Thomas Derrah, an actor of long standing at the ART. slumming it a bit as Gus Michaels. He has not always shown his earthy tones on stage, and, it is pleasing to watch them emerge in this role as a blue collar worker. Jonathan Epstein is beautifully dualistic – stolid and melted down – in his portrayal of Sam Katz, Leo’s partner. There are many other decent performances which lead to a satisfying effect overall, and, at the end of the program, it is wonderful to see members of the Second Line Social Aid & Pleasure Society Brass Band strut their stuff across the stage and toot their horns.

In the end, Paradise Lost comes into relief, not only as a drama, but as a moral tale. In the current climate, battered by storms of decline and desperation, the significance of its philosophical stance, as well as its art, shines through nobly.

— BADMan