Kiss of the Spider Woman
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
A Noise Within
Thru April 27
RECOMMENDED
In Manuel Puig’s stage play, Kiss of the Spider Woman, two fundamentally different personalities — a gay man accused of sexual relations with a minor, and a political prisoner-slash-macho straight guy working to overthrow a repressive regime — are housed together in a dingy cell with wretched food, dim lighting, and minimal water or heat. How they cope and the means they use to preserve their humanity in horrific circumstances is the poignant core of what at times seems a too wordy play.
Puig, an Argentinian, adapted the drama from his 1976 novel of the same name; translated by Allan Baker, it premiered in London in 1985, then opened again at the Donmar Warehouse in 2007. American audiences first got to know Spider Woman through the 1985 film with Raul Julia and William Hurt (who won an Academy Award for lead actor), and later through the musical version that featured score and lyrics by Kander and Ebb and book by Terence McNally. If Puig’s nonmusical original has been staged elsewhere, I haven’t seen it noted on the Web — which makes the finely crafted production at A Noise Within under Michael Michetti’s direction a rare effort.
The play’s principal characters are Molina (Ed F. Martin), a gentle nurturing soul who dreams of a monogamous love with a man, and the younger Valentin, a committed revolutionary who, despite torture, has so far resisted betraying his comrades. (In his personal life, he’s sacrificed a relationship with the woman he truly loves for the sake of his ideals.) Looking to ward off madness and wile away the hours, the two spend time recalling various films — or rather, Molina, who is given to storytelling, recounts the plots in detail for both their benefits.
Following a slow-ish start, the plot gathers steam after Molina is summoned to the warden’s office and we learn (via voiceover) that he’s been spying on Valentin in exchange for groceries and the promise of an earlier release. Unable to refuse the authorities, Molina struggles inwardly over this treachery; his affection and yearning for his cellmate, evident from the beginning, deepens even as the demands made on him by malevolent forces intensify.
Both actors inhabit their roles with surety and truth, though the burden for driving the story is on Martin, given the angst his character carries within. In the end, the two performers execute the production’s most difficult delicate moments in artful tandem.
Besides the performances, director Michetti and the show’s collaborating artists have forged an accomplished frame for the action. Rather than use the entire proscenium at A Noise Within, the playing area has sagely been compressed to a smaller space, with designer Tesshi Nakagawa’s scrupulous scenic design enhanced by Stephen Taylor’s props (Molina’s done his best to make the tiny room home) and Jared A. Sayeg’s lighting, which reflects the sad underground aspect of these men’s lives. Robert Oriol’s intermittently foreboding sound and composer Alex Mansour’s corresponding music likewise underscore the fear and desolation that permeate their endless days.
And yet — even observing what I felt to be fine work, I wished for more — what perhaps a playing space more intimate than this one might have delivered. For while the current lighting is appropriate to an incarcerated setting, it also makes discerning faces— and the nuances they convey — difficult from even a moderate distance. In a play with a lot of descriptive dialogue (the film and musical versions created visuals to accompany Molina’s narratives, but here there are none), such observance of nuance seems essential. Also, a live actor doing the voiceover, or at least a recording that does not sound so much like a recording — would have created an ambiance that much more chilling.
A Noise Within, 3352 Foothill Blvd., Pasadena. Thurs., 7:30 pm; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sat.-Sun., 2 pm; thru April 26. www.anoisewithin.org Running time: approximately one hour and 45 minutes with no intermission.
