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"This is a complete farce," says a character in Terry Johnson's "Hysteria." "If I saw it in the theater, I wouldn't believe it."
You might feel the same if you catch the stylish Rep Stage production of this 1993 play at Howard Community College, but you're likely to find yourself absorbed, amused, even a little astonished, as well.
"Hysteria" has a historical starting point, the 1938 meeting in London between the fatally ill Sigmund Freud and the fanatically self-absorbed Salvador Dali. A decent straight play might have been created from that documented encounter, but Johnson creates something else entirely, revealing, like some other British playwrights, an advanced affinity for the farcical.
There aren't just Freudian slips here, but an actual slip, and other undergarments, shed with calculating rapidity by a strange woman who invades Freud's home. Things are already well on the way to absurdity when Dali arrives, but the zaniness only intensifies from there. By the time the Austrian analyst is seen trying to remove the Spanish surrealist's trousers, everybody could use some therapy.
Where Johnson parts company with traditional farce is the introduction, subtly at first, of extremely dark and uncomfortable issues. Those deeper elements are acutely woven into the nonsensical ones, keeping the viewer off-balance, all the while opening unexpected windows into the psyches of the figures onstage.
Director Steven Carpenter reveals a sure hand at guiding both the silly and the serious sides of the action through Klyph Stanford's elegant set, atmospherically lit by Dan Covey, and gets assured performances from a well-matched cast. (Note that there is some nudity in this staging to go with the mature subject matter.)
Freud is a mix of physical fatigue and acute mental energy, eager to defend himself and speak his mind ("You murder dreams," he tells Dali), but he's much more interested in being left alone to die. Jeff Baker creates a subtly detailed portrayal that becomes all the more endearing when the insanity starts to erupt around the unsuspecting father of modern psychology.
In Dali, the playwright had a wealth of material to work with; it's a very juicy role. Bruce R. Nelson, sporting a most flavorful accent, enters with a mad flourish that recalls the prelates popping up in a Monty Python Spanish Inquisition sketch. The actor's vibrant physicality is complemented by a surprising, rather lyrical softness that proves useful in conveying Dali's curious fixation on the armpit of the mysterious female hiding in Freud's closet.
That uninvited guest is Jessica, who, when asked by Freud what she wants, says simply, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet." She proceeds to create a remarkable degree of havoc in her quest to uncover troubling matters from Freud's past. Marni Penning gives a smooth, telling performance, handling the bits of farce as neatly as the sober moments of truth-seeking.
Conrad Feininger vividly animates the role of Abraham Yahuda, Freud's gruff, opinionated doctor who stumbles into an inexplicably mad house. (The character is an amalgam of two significant people from Freud's later years.)
With its dichotomy of moods and messages, "Hysteria" is an unusual case of theatrical imagination that receives here a sympathetic and successful treatment.
You might feel the same if you catch the stylish Rep Stage production of this 1993 play at Howard Community College, but you're likely to find yourself absorbed, amused, even a little astonished, as well.
"Hysteria" has a historical starting point, the 1938 meeting in London between the fatally ill Sigmund Freud and the fanatically self-absorbed Salvador Dali. A decent straight play might have been created from that documented encounter, but Johnson creates something else entirely, revealing, like some other British playwrights, an advanced affinity for the farcical.
There aren't just Freudian slips here, but an actual slip, and other undergarments, shed with calculating rapidity by a strange woman who invades Freud's home. Things are already well on the way to absurdity when Dali arrives, but the zaniness only intensifies from there. By the time the Austrian analyst is seen trying to remove the Spanish surrealist's trousers, everybody could use some therapy.
Where Johnson parts company with traditional farce is the introduction, subtly at first, of extremely dark and uncomfortable issues. Those deeper elements are acutely woven into the nonsensical ones, keeping the viewer off-balance, all the while opening unexpected windows into the psyches of the figures onstage.
Director Steven Carpenter reveals a sure hand at guiding both the silly and the serious sides of the action through Klyph Stanford's elegant set, atmospherically lit by Dan Covey, and gets assured performances from a well-matched cast. (Note that there is some nudity in this staging to go with the mature subject matter.)
Freud is a mix of physical fatigue and acute mental energy, eager to defend himself and speak his mind ("You murder dreams," he tells Dali), but he's much more interested in being left alone to die. Jeff Baker creates a subtly detailed portrayal that becomes all the more endearing when the insanity starts to erupt around the unsuspecting father of modern psychology.
In Dali, the playwright had a wealth of material to work with; it's a very juicy role. Bruce R. Nelson, sporting a most flavorful accent, enters with a mad flourish that recalls the prelates popping up in a Monty Python Spanish Inquisition sketch. The actor's vibrant physicality is complemented by a surprising, rather lyrical softness that proves useful in conveying Dali's curious fixation on the armpit of the mysterious female hiding in Freud's closet.
That uninvited guest is Jessica, who, when asked by Freud what she wants, says simply, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet." She proceeds to create a remarkable degree of havoc in her quest to uncover troubling matters from Freud's past. Marni Penning gives a smooth, telling performance, handling the bits of farce as neatly as the sober moments of truth-seeking.
Conrad Feininger vividly animates the role of Abraham Yahuda, Freud's gruff, opinionated doctor who stumbles into an inexplicably mad house. (The character is an amalgam of two significant people from Freud's later years.)
With its dichotomy of moods and messages, "Hysteria" is an unusual case of theatrical imagination that receives here a sympathetic and successful treatment.
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