The Stone Witch – A Monstre Sacré with Monsters of His Own
“The Great Man” lives in an upstate cabin in the woods. A wall of window shows us where we are. Two stained glass installations depict fantastical dragons. Over a small side desk, a great many sketches are tacked to the wall. There’s a beat-up drawing board, an old plaid-covered couch, and weathered leather seating. Books and classic toys line the floor. Large black and white cut-outs of imagined creatures perch in the rafters.
These benign, looming beasts are reminiscent of work by the great illustrator/author Maurice Sendak (1928-2012) who seems to have inspired the play’s protagonist. Like Sendak, the character was born to Jewish parents and affected by his family’s Holocaust experience. Like Sendak, he had health problems that gave him an early sense of mortality. Like Sendak, he broke barriers by creating the first naked child in a children’s book and writing more darkly than his predecessors. The actor even resembles Sendak.
Dan Lauria and Rupak Ginn
Simon Grindberg (Dan Lauria), the country’s foremost children’s book author/ illustrator, has become a recluse in his cabin. He’s 12 years overdue producing a contracted book. Long time editor Clair Forloni wants to publish in time for an anniversary and then reissue his previous oeuvre. She’s getting desperate.
Recommended by a writing teacher at the YMHA, aspiring children’s book author/illustrator, Peter Chandler (Rupak Ginn), is interviewed by Forloni, who finds his work rather like that of early Grindberg. Would he, she asks Peter, like to work with his hero? Acting as “an uncredited sounding board,” the young man would earn a flat $10,000 for helping bring the book in on time. Peter hesitates. He has a full time job and can only drive up on weekends. Grindberg is reputed to be obstreperous and monomaniacal. Still…
Rupak Ginn and Dan Lauria
Peter and Simon thrust and parry, the latter bombastic, insulting, demanding, evasive and unwittingly revealing. In weeks that follow, they do more drinking, swimming, walking, playing (soldiers), and arguing than working. Simon is suddenly frightened of inevitable judgment and, though in complete denial, desolate. “The loneliness of my exceptionalism used to be endurable” At one ostensible work session, he unabashedly steals the title of Peter’s own book. “If you want what I have to offer, I want your first born in exchange.”
The monstre sacré is menaced by a personal demon and converses with a daughter who may or may not exist elsewhere. He regularly throws Peter out then counters with unexpected bonhomie. How long will his ‘assistant’ stick out what appears fruitless effort? As they grow closer and the young man really sees his hero, what will he be willing to sacrifice to help Simon meet his deadline and, in fact, have the courage to go on?
Dan Lauria and Carolyn McCormick
Playwright Shem Bitterman skillfully presents the plausible arc of a famous artist’s later years. Writing is taut and expressive. Fantasies are traceable; disdain for an exhausting public sympathetic. Simon’s relationships with Clair and Peter make perfect sense. Each character is his/her own person.
Steve Zuckerman’s Direction is as physical as it is emotional, bringing characters to life with natural extension of feeling. The stage is well used. Timing sweeps.
The play belongs to Dan Lauria whose mercurial, industrial strength Grindberg exists in the O’Neill/Shakespeare realm. The actor creates a charming rogue whose muse has abandoned him to lifelong nightmares. It’s a rage against the dying of the light performance (Dylan Thomas), yet Lauria never goes over the top. Riveting.
As Peter, Rupak Ginn delivers unevenly, not quite having yet reached a stride. Frustration, discomfort, and resignation come across better than outrage, doubt and wrestling against sacrifice.
Carolyn McCormick’s Clair is a real person, credible from driving ambition to deep affection.The actress even carries herself like the editor.
Yael Pardess does a wonderful job with Scenic Design, less so with Illustration. The Cabin is beautifully detailed both in terms of architecture and specific character. Drawings by the protagonist (projected on the windows) are, however, pedestrian. A predatory spirit is much better shown as shadow, without its comic book-like face.
Magical Projection Design (Brad Peterson) gives us moody woods, weather, and actual geographic change. New York artfully draws itself and then fills in; a bar is accomplished with creative, visual suggestion. Peterson is aided and abetted by Lighting Designer Betsy Adams.
Roger Bellon’s Music deftly walks the line between fanciful and foreboding.
Photos by Russ Rowland
Opening: Dan Lauria
The Stone Witch by Shem Bitterman
Directed by Steve Zuckerman
Westside Theatre (Upstairs)
407 West 43rd Street
