The ecstatic use of music, literature and, of course, paintings elevates Red, the new offering from John Logan, from a play into a celebration of art in its many-splendored forms. Before the show begins, there is already a sense of something different. A shadowy figure sits on the dark stage while the audience filters in. The Playbill offers pages of elegant prose about the life of artist Mark Rothko in place of a traditional plot summary. Its language sets a tone of deep and abiding reverence for art. With the mood set, the theater darkens, the stage lights brighten and Rothko, performed to intense perfection by Alfred Molina, leaps out of his seat and reaches out to caress his canvas.

“What do you see?” This central question is voiced almost immediately. Although the line is directed toward Rothko’s assistant Ken, brilliantly embodied by Eddie Redmayne, a surfeit of staging devices are used to pull the audience into the ensuing discussion about the meaning and purpose of art. The conversation takes place in Rothko’s studio and spans the two years following the artist’s acceptance of the prestigious Seagram commission to paint murals for The Four Seasons restaurant. The passage of time is conveyed through lighting effects which show night turning into day outside the studio and through the subtle evolution of the characters’ personalities.

The merits of various opposing forces are hotly debated by the two actors, but the viewer is always left to make the final decision. Capitalism is lamented as the murderer of creativity, but in the same breath Rothko professes to enjoy being rich. He champions the presence of tragedy within each piece of artwork. However, his assistant wonders aloud whether art can sometimes be pretty and still relevant. Ideas for how to approach, connect with, relate to, interpret and create art are served and volleyed in an increasingly intense conversational tennis match.

“What is art?”

“Does art really matter?”

“What does it add to the world?”

Many questions are asked, but we always return to the one Rothko deems most important. “What do you see?”

The words and the conviction with which they are delivered are enough to pull the audience in, but “enough” is never the goal of a true artist. Illusions are shattered and created. The invisible fourth wall is hung with invisible canvases and the actors turn the tables by staring out into the seats of the theater. Harsh house lights are turned on to reveal the grey concrete blocks and wooden beams behind the set design. The painting on display looks faded and worn in this light. Later, when only one light is on and pointed directly at the painting on stage, the deep red color is saturated and glows with rich fluorescence in the near-complete darkness.

The play draws generously from the wellspring of its subject matter. An ever-changing collection of Rothko’s work is displayed center stage. The paintings are hung in succession on a rack on wheels and tilted to one side and then another so that our view of the art is imperfect at times. The constant changing of the artwork delineates the miniature acts within this one-act play and mirrors the evolution of the characters. Each piece contains more black than the one preceding, illustrating Rothko’s darkening mindset and the impending end to his era of expression.

While the focus is on the paintings, art is present in many ways. Rothko cites a litany of writers and philosophers who influence him, including Shakespeare, Freud, Nabokov, Kierkegaard, and most significantly Nietzsche. The actors select records to play from an onstage pile, lightly scoring their speeches with librettos and concertos. Near the end of the show, the introduction of jazz hints at the vanguard of new artists poised to dethrone Rothko and his ilk.

The most dramatic exaltation of the interconnection between the arts occurs when opera music crescendoes to a volume that fills the theater. Rothko and his assistant perform a balletic choreography of priming a blank canvas by painting it entirely in deep red. Even though Rothko states early in the play that priming the canvas should not be confused with painting, this mundane task is elevated into a work of art in its own right. It is a performance within a performance, the playwright’s version of one of Rothko’s rectangles nestled neatly within the larger rectangle of the whole painting. At the end of this scene, the opera dies down, the canvas is primed and the primers stand drenched in red paint. It is an effective illustration of the lifeblood they have poured into their work.

Rothko insists his paintings are fragile and need to be protected and displayed properly. Yet this play proves that the artwork is so strong that it not only survives the stripping away of its mysteries, but also transcends the brutal treatment. It is not merely the sum of its parts. The actual art floats beyond the physical canvas. It truly lives and gains meaning within the viewer’s mind. Which is why Rothko asks so urgently of us, “What do you see?” What we see is an astoundingly original production that engages the senses and intellect of its audience.

Red is currently in previews. Limited engagement performances will run April 5 through June 27 at the Golden Theater (252 W 45th St). Tickets available through Telecharge.com.

Photos by Johan Persson.

In lieu of sleeping, Shirley Chan chooses to write, volunteer on art installations, design mobiles, make pop-up books and drink entire pots of coffee. Her work is published in The New York Post, the upcoming Scores Entertainment Magazine and several online magazines like the one you are currently enjoying. Please visit www.WhoIsShirleyChan.wordpress.com for more disturbing glimpses into her brain.