Reviewed by Iris Mann
Ruskin Group Theatre
Through September 1
RECOMMENDED
The Substance of Fire by Jon Robin Baitz could almost be two separate plays, its two acts tenuously linked by the leading character’s angst. But Baitz’s writing and this production are so profound and dynamic that the work as a whole has a powerful effect on the viewer, despite this divide. The characters are skillfully drawn and totally believable, while the crisp dialogue seems taken from real life. There is also a great deal of humor that flows naturally from the charged atmosphere.
The play was originally produced in 1989 by Naked Angels, a theater company based in New York, and was next presented at New Haven’s Long Wharf Theatre in 1990. It then opened off-Broadway in 1991 and transferred to the Newhouse Theatre at Lincoln Center the following year. A film version was released in 1996.
The story is a potent blend of themes that include family upheaval, business warfare, the aftermath of the Holocaust, generational division, and the conflict between literary standards and commercial considerations.
Isaac Geldhart (Rob Morrow), a Holocaust survivor who was hidden by his family during the Nazi regime, has established a successful publishing firm in New York. Though he was never in a concentration camp, he is haunted by the Holocaust. As the play begins, his company is in financial trouble, but Isaac is bent on publishing a multi-volume work about Nazi medical experiments, which is likely to have to have limited, if any, appeal to the public. His son, Aaron (Emmitt Butler), who manages the firm’s finances, believes his father’s esoteric tastes have run the company into the ground. Aaron wants to publish a steamy novel by his friend that he feels sure will be a commercial success. Isaac considers the book to be trash and beneath the standards he wants to maintain for the firm.
A company takeover by Isaac’s three children, who are stockholders, is in play. His daughter, Sarah (Fiona Dorn), who is a regular on a children’s television show, has flown in from California, and his other son, Martin (Barret T. Lewis), an instructor of landscape architecture at Vassar, has come down from Poughkeepsie. Isaac projects an air of superiority and disparages his children, so that he and they are usually at odds. Yet it is evident that, underneath their varying exteriors, the three long for his approval and recognition.
The second act, which takes place three-and-a-half years later in Isaac’s Gramercy Place apartment, doesn’t directly deal with the family dynamics or the corporate conflicts. Books are everywhere, but there are empty spaces in the shelves. Isaac has been selling valuable books and letters in a vain attempt to raise enough money to buy back his company, which Aaron has failed to save from chapter eleven bankruptcy. Isaac is also displaying signs of early dementia; forgetfulness, sudden outbursts, not knowing what day it is, etc. Social worker Marge Hackett (Marcia Cross) has been asked to pay him a visit and help determine how well he can care for himself. But she has a hidden agenda, which is revealed slowly. And, surprisingly, Isaac still exhibits a certain canniness.
Director Mike Reilly has assembled a first-rate cast and leads his actors into fully immersing themselves in their roles. He also makes the most of each moment and choreographs the transitions smoothly. Morrow’s character has sharp, sudden shifts, as Isaac is given to unexpected outbursts of temper or frustration, and the actor navigates them expertly. His accent is perfect; it definitely informs Isaac, yet is not too intrusive. In the first act, Morrow projects just the right level of superciliousness and intransigence. He shows subtle signs of aging in the second act, during which he portrays a disintegrating and delusional figure while retaining vestiges of the character’s former self. His is a fully realized performance.
It is interesting to note that Morrow played Aaron in the 1989 Naked Angels production (he co-founded the company) as well as the subsequent Long Wharf Theatre presentation —only leaving to star in the TV series, Northern Exposure.
Cross embodies an inner stalwartness, tinged with bitterness. She is an attractive presence and gives a strong performance, but at times she is so inward that one loses sections of her dialogue.
The three actors portraying the Geldhart children do finely delineated work, so that their personas are in marked contrast to each other. Dorn is animated and makes it eminently clear that Sarah is frustrated in her need for attention and love from her father and that she is torn between the warring sides. Lewis gives the softest performance, playing the peacemaker who has tried to remove himself from the family conflict, yet is there when his father needs him. He evokes sympathy as it becomes evident that Martin is living a life he hadn’t planned.
Butler is possessed of an arresting magnetism onstage. His character is the most aggressive of the three, and his performance captures the undivided attention of the audience.
Ruskin Theatre Group, 3000 Airport Ave., Santa Monica. Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm; thru Sept. 1.http://www.ruskingrouptheatre.com – Running time: 124 minutes, with one intermission.
