As if to emphasize the variety of its 43rd season, Geva Theater Center follows its raucous season opener, Spamalot, with a Tony Award-winning drama of artistic struggle and aesthetic conflict, John Logan’s Red.
Witty, amusing, disturbing and always thought-provoking, this imaginative reconstruction of a real event in our art history shows the great expressionist painter Mark Rothko in his cavernous studio in the Bowery of New York City working with his newly hired assistant on some huge paintings he has agreed to create for the more than upscale new Four Seasons Restaurant. Ken, his assistant, represents a newer generation of artist who is awed by the chance to learn from this master, but also in essential conflict with Rothko’s aesthetic ideas.
We watch and listen to their physical work on the murals and both appreciative and antagonistic responses to each other, until Rothko eventually has to refuse to let his paintings go to the playground of the over-privileged spoilers, and this two generations of artists find a common affection and purpose, if not an agreement on method. Sound remote and off-putting? Logan is more than skilled enough to make these developments and struggles fascinating. And Stephen Caffrey not only channels the commanding, eccentric genius of Rothko but also subtly suggests the frustrating conflicts that actually resulted in the historic Rothko’s despair and suicide more than a decade later. Complementing Caffrey’s stunning performance, young John Ford-Dunker is equally persuasive and empathetic as the younger painter Ken. We are, after all, just watching two men in a single space for an hour and forty minutes. Skip Greer’s flawless direction makes the drama develop effectively, and the men’s pantomimed work preparing and cleaning and painting the huge unseen canvas seems clear and authentic. Greer blocks and moves the two men with unobtrusive variety and with such telling and natural picturizing that we never lose interest or belief. Robert Koharchik’s designs for the very large, dark, multi-leveled set seem foreboding, but though focusing on the action dramatically, seem almost photographically set and established. Kendall Smith gives the stage-picture variety and even intimacy with expert lighting. And Ann R. Emo’s costumes are both realistic and characterizing without ever calling any attention to themselves. I’m hardly surprised to find so much thought in the writing, production, direction, and performance of this intriguing play, but I was unprepared to be so moved by the experience.
