“Everybody’s got the right to be happy,” Nate Perry ’12 sang on Saturday night in the ’92 Theater, playing the role of John Wilkes Booth in the Second Stage production of “Assassins,” directed by Tessa Young ’13 and Mikhail Firer ’13.
Perry and his co-horts seek that happiness, though you’d be hard-pressed to find a stranger and more perverse group of seekers: Perry was joined by a 15-person cast of successful, as well as failed, assassins in Stephen Sondheim’s musical about people who have killed or attempted to kill presidents in our good ol’ U.S. of A. If the premise seems a bit ridiculous, it’s meant to; unfortunately, this production lacked the coherence to move beyond simple, though still good, entertainment.
“Assassins” is naturally a charged piece, despite the comedy of its situation. Case in point—it opens with a festival game where the assassins shoot at their presidents for a prize. Given our currently charged political atmosphere, and a definite sense that the American dream has been lost to most, it seems an interesting time to stage a show that tackles such difficult questions. What do Americans do when they feel that democracy has ceased to function? What is the effect of violence on our society? What do we, as a nation, ultimately do with—and to—our dissatisfied citizens? It’s a tricky show, one that hides its pathos and soul-searching under a crazy, carnivalesque spirit.
To my disappointment, the entire production felt too rushed—both musically and dramatically—to properly explore the more important questions of the play. There were several times when small details drove me away from moments that could have been quite powerful; a rant by immigrant worker Leon Czolgosz (played by visiting international student Flo Weinzierl) was nearly destroyed by plastic bottles. A declamation about the poor laborer who’ll have to make another bottle because of a boy’s stupid carelessness makes no sense if the dropped bottle doesn’t break. Czolgosz’s threat to break a bottle and stab someone is laughable if he’s clearly holding a plastic Coca-Cola bottle. Moments like these lacked an engaging touch of realism.
This is not to say that the production bored me; on the contrary, I was thoroughly impressed by a number of the performers. Alex Heyison ’15 was phenomenal both vocally and dramatically in the role of Charles Guiteau, performing with a manic, off-kilter energy that sent shivers down our spines. Christine Treuhold ’13 and Amanda Sonnenschein ’14 had perfect comedic chemistry as Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme and Sara Jane Moore, and their partner scenes kept the audience in stitches. Perry had great stage presence, and Sam Korda ’13 as Samuel Byck brought more than a touch of the deep, mostly-hidden pain that defines this show to his second long monologue. Alma Sanchez-Eppler ’14 made a strong cameo as Emma Goldman, and Matt Getz ’14 (the Balladeer) continues to have one of the most mellifluous male voices I’ve heard in a while. Solomon Billinkoff ’14 was also excellent as Giuseppe Zangara, the raging attempted assassin of FDR.
Yet what should have been Billinkoff’s highlight moment—the song “How I Saved Roosevelt,” which ends with Zangara in the electric chair—was a perfect example of the production’s seeming unwillingness to engage with the tougher aspects of the show. Billinkoff gave one of the best performances up to that point, and he was literally handcuffed (which was realistic but not used to any effect), and spent most of the second half of the song in silhouette behind a wall. Other songs were static, with little in the way of staging, and many performers seemed too timid to take risks and create great performances within the constraints of the music. To be fair, this was probably the most technically difficult music that most of them had ever (or will ever) work with, but that could not alleviate the occasional lull in energy.
As the show moved into its latter half, it gained pathos and allure. Part of this was due to the production slowing down and taking the time to absorb the impact of what it was saying a bit. “Something just broke,” a series of characters repeat to each other as they reflect on the president’s death—and something assuredly has. Unfortunately, in this production—which, I have to reiterate, was perfectly enjoyable—we’re too distracted by the frantic pace, the perfunctory gunshots, and the slightly-off details to have time to figure out what.