New York—An early speech in Richard Foreman’s “Idiot Savant” delivered by an unseen Voice contains the following: “Message to the performers: Do not try to carry this play forward. Let it slowly creep over the stage with no help, with no end in view.”
That is sound advice for the audience as well—and for a helpless, hapless reviewer like me.
It’s difficult to make sense out of this play (written, directed, and designed entirely by Richard Foreman, whose oeuvre covers 40 years of theatrical creations). But sense is apparently not the point. Let it roll over you, and then you can surely find points of enjoyment. I did. And so did members of the audience, judging by the frequent hearty laughs.
Playing the eponymous Idiot is that always interesting actor, Willem Dafoe. He is accompanied by two lovely women, the black-garbed Marie (Alenka Kraigher) and Olga (Elina Löwensohn), garbed mainly in a Russian-esque, somewhat exotic dress.
Dafoe wears a billowing poet’s shirt, a black skirt, and a samurai’s topknot. He walks pigeon-toed. He is serious throughout, but not heavily so. At times he shucks his serious stance, shrugs, and even takes in the audience sympathetically.
The trio engages in somewhat disjointed conversation. A gift package arrives. Olga opens the box; it contains an oversized, bejeweled watch, which she immediately dons, although it was presumably meant for Marie. The Idiot has an odd mouthpiece in his mouth. They discuss such subjects as the benefits of a table as opposed to a tripod.
It gradually appears that Foreman is playing with language, with communication. There is, for example, a discussion about fruit, which is (no pun intended) rather delicious. Then it veers into talk about the digestive system. The text switches content abruptly. Don’t even try to make sense of it.
At one point the two women are besieged by giant spiders, which drop down from the flies. But it is not a crucial encounter. The women escape intimidation or injury.
But we are in for a lot of fun when the ducks take over. A duck in a small cage was introduced at the show’s beginning, but it is later on, when the Great Duck, so labeled, appears, that we are drawn in. This Great Duck is about 10 or more feet high; one can see the actor’s feet amusingly sticking out from under the duck costume. And he wears an enormous duck’s head, bill and all.
The trio tries to ignore the Great Duck’s presence. But that proves difficult. The audience reaction is divided. Some folks are convulsed in laughter; a man in front of me tried to stifle his laughter and his whole body shook. The elderly couple seated next to him glared at him; they took Duckman quite seriously and were trying hard to follow Foreman’s meaning.
The set is artfully cluttered. It contains two standing old clocks; there are strings and letters crisscrossing the stage. The whole entity is very colorful. Three formally attired Servants perform elementary tasks (these are actors Joel Israel, Eric Magnus, and Daniel Allen Nelson) from time to time.
Perhaps remarks from the leading actor and artistic director of the Public Theater offer the most definitive explanations: In a recent interview in “The Village Voice,” Willem Dafoe stated: “Sense is found through the music and poetry. You can’t really explain it.”
In a program note, the Public’s Artistic Director, Oskar Eustis, writes: “[Foreman’s] plays are not literal, are not even narratives in any conventional sense. They are philosophic examinations of the working of his own consciousness.”
In any case, the proceedings are visually beautiful, and the ebb and flow of language and introduction of various props keep one stimulated, and ultimately, I think, pleased, with an unmistakably unique experience in the theater.
Foreman has stated that this is to be his last play. If true, “Idiot Savant” may mark an event in the world of experimental theater.
Idiot Savant
Public Theater
425 Lafayette Street
Running time: 1 hour and 30 minutes (no intermission)
Tickets: 212-967-7555 or www.publictheater.org
Closes: Dec. 13
Diana Barth writes and publishes “New Millennium,” an arts newsletter. For information: diabarth@juno.com.
