Eternal return, free will versus determinism, what it means to be human: the Barnstormers artfully tackle some heavy philosophical fare with their latest production, Elmer Rice's 1923 expressionist satire The Adding Machine.
The story revolves around Mr. Zero (senior Ben Kingsland), stuck in a humdrum job as a bookkeeper with a secretary he's secretly attracted to (sophomore Margaret Deli), until he murders his boss for replacing him with an adding machine. Zero is judged guilty, and in the second act, he is transported to the "Elysian Fields" (a sort of heaven stand-in), which he promptly leaves, only to end up right back at a desk job. In the end, though, he discovers he will be sent back to earth, again and again, each time in a worse state.
It is this preachy second act that presents the production with some problems, since it involves muddled content that one suspects results from Rice's own sense of subtlety and not the director's. It is never made clear to the audience why Zero decides to leave the newfound utopia so quickly. Is he really so put off by its values that he'd just give up the chance to be with the woman he's secretly lusted over for so long?
From that point on, the show becomes more about its message than its execution, and, by the end, the memories of the harrowingly beautiful first act have all but faded. Director Tony Tsendeas points out in his note to the audience, "Rice's play is far-reaching in its concerns." Yes, but perhaps it is too far-reaching. The show works best when it concentrates primarily on the plight of Mr. Zero and allows the audience to draw the larger conclusions. When it becomes about the statement itself, whatever that statement is, it runs the risk of spoon-feeding the audience some philosophy du jour, and frankly, I lost interest.
That being said, the entire production is a tour de force of Barnstormers effort, a truly impressive sign of how far they've come in the past few years. The stage managers, senior Kay Starr and freshman Laura Kilbride and production manager senior Amrit Misra orchestrate what is, above all, a decidedly professional production. The set design, masterfully crafted by sophomore Michelle Zwernemann, along with the lights and sounds (directed by sophomore Emma Marcucci and junior Emily Ethridge, respectively) hurl the audience head on into Rice's off-kilter world.
The set consisted of only three circles to which the actors were mostly confined, highlighting Rice's themes of alienation and detachment. Between each scene, myriad numbers were projected in a disorienting way onto the background, a large, wooden fence with papers intertwined, accompanied by some tongue-in-cheek jazz tunes from the 20s, like "Makin' Whoopee." The only superfluous design element was the black and white makeup, which struck me as a bit more Marcel Marceau than machine-like.
Kingsland, a weathered Barnstormers vet (with major roles in A Doll's House, A Chorus Line and The Butler Did It, among others) is in top form as Mr. Zero. His ponderous performance takes us slowly and deliberately through the character's demise. The lighting design was suited perfectly for Kingsland's harsh, angled features, as his solemn face shone like that of a noirish antihero. His performance in the last scene of Act I reminded me a great deal of William H. Macy's outburst in the final scenes of Fargo, where the quiet and desperate man finally comes apart at the seams. Zero is a tough character to play -- the anchor of the show's pathos, though not exactly a sympathetic man. Kingsland hits just the right notes, never playing for the easy emotions, all the while giving us hints of the darker sides of his character.
The supporting cast is equally impressive, with few exceptions. Particularly memorable were the performances of Deli as Miss Devore, and senior Noah Stanzione as the somber Shrdlu. Miss Devore, the object of Zero's secret passion, reveals in the second act that she killed herself shortly after his sentencing because life wasn't worth living without him around. This particular detail is hard to swallow immediately after the stilted portrait we're first given, but Deli's animated and eager performance makes it as palatable as possible. Stanzione acts as a perfect foil in his role as a man who seems permanently haunted by his former life. He speaks in a low, grumbling voice, in measured sentences that firmly anchor the pace of those scenes. Rounding out the cast were sophomore Julie Sihilling, who did a commendable job as the nagging Mrs. Zero, and freshman Robert Attorri as Lt. Charles, the devil-like character who sends Zero back to the world, each time worse off than the last.
"Why'd you have to tell me?" Mr. Zero screams at the end. Would he be better off not knowing of his predicament, since he has no control over it anyway? It doesn't quite matter, Rice seems to say, since we're enslaved to our adding machines one way or the other. Unplug your laptop and decide for yourself.
The Adding Machine is playing on Nov. 11 and 12 at 8 p.m., and Nov.13 at 2 p.m. in the Swirnow Theater in the Mattin Center.
