Ryan Chartrand“Animal Farm” had all the potential of being the best live theater I have seen in my time at Cal Poly.
Meg Cunningham’s set was minimal yet inspired, drawing the audience in before they even had a chance to take their seats. Flats with the opening lines of Orwell’s classic novella led patrons to the entrance of the Spanos Theatre, where, upon entering, they audibly murmured “oohs” and “ahs” as they took in the dilapidated barn decor. Even the seating was unique. Comprised of stacked pallets, rodeo bleachers and a few obligatory chairs, it melded with the stage, making it difficult to discern where one ended and the other began.
When the actors first took the stage, it was obvious the production would not buy into any cliches so often associated with live performances of the story. There were no puppets, and as director Josh Machamer had previously promised, nobody wore animal outfits while crawling on all fours and mooing.
Danielle Biondo’s costume design was perfect and a little difficult to put into words. A sort of steampunk/proletariat-chic, the wardrobe hinted at the species and animalistic qualities of its wearers without being overly blunt.
The acting did not waver from the overall theme of excellence. Every cast member truly embodied the spirit of the animal they portrayed.
The attention to detail was especially impressive. The horses stamped their feet and huffed uncomfortably when nervous or frustrated; the sheep huddled together, looking simultaneously vapid and terrified, and the ability of the actors playing pigs to stand on tiptoe and walk in an uncomfortably wide gait (mimicking a pig walking on its hind legs) for the duration of the show made my calves ache sympathetically.
My personal favorite was Moses the raven, played by Max Sopkin. Dressed in a shabby black tuxedo and top hat, he crow-hopped across the stage, flapping a tattered black umbrella, and took up roost at the top of a spiral staircase above the audience. While atop his perch, he espoused the virtues of the mythical Sugarcandy Mountain, all the while bobbing and squawking in the same mocking fashion that makes me want to throw a shoe at the crow that leers in my bedroom window every morning.
By this point, you, the reader, may be asking yourself, “If he liked the play so much, why did he say it ‘had the potential’ to be the best show he’s seen at Cal Poly?”
Unfortunately, the answer to that question can be summed up in four words: “theatre in the round.”
This archaic form of theatre, developed by the ancient Greeks, is so incredibly frustrating that I wish I could travel back to 1947 and beat Margo Jones to death with a shovel before she could introduce it to American stage culture.
For those not familiar with theatre in the round, it combines all the fun of going to a concert and being stuck behind a guy with huge ’80s-metal hair with staring at actors backs for an hour and a half.
Because the audience surrounded the stage on all sides, it meant that actors invariably had their backs to the audience at some point during the show. Throughout the performance, I had grim flashbacks of my junior high drama teacher screaming at me to “cheat out!”
“Animal Farm” was a classic example of the medium getting in the way of the message. For the first part of the show, an effigy of Mr. Jones, made of rakes and assorted farm equipment, obscured my view. Later, I got a great look at the backside of a staircase. But, I by no means had the worst seat in the house. That dubious honor was reserved for the poor people sitting directly underneath one of the most poignant visuals in the show: the Seven Commandments of Animalism.
Since I was sitting directly across from the wall on which the commandments were painted, I had a great view of audience members rolling their eyes every time the sinister Squealer, played wonderfully by Melanie Marshall, stood over their heads and out of their sight, convincing the animals the changes he had just made to the tenets had always been there. Oddly enough, visuals are just not that effective when the audience cannot see them.
While I understand the challenges presented by the long, narrow space, I don’t believe theatre in the round was the right answer. A slight variation on the form, where the audience surrounds the stage on only three sides, would have been much more effective.
However, as a whole, the play was still fantastic. Machamer, his cast and crew have presented a labor of love, and it shows from beginning to end. They deserve to be applauded for pushing the boundaries of audience interaction, and, despite the frustrations inherent in the presentation style, I would hope they face sellout crowds for the remainder of the show’s run.