Arcadia
Seattle Public Theater at the Bathhouse, 7312 W. Green Lake Dr. N., 524-1300, seattlepublictheater.org. $15–$29. 7:30 p.m. Thurs.–Sat., 2 p.m. Sun. Ends June 8.
Tom Stoppard’s beloved and brilliant 1993 comedy takes place in the garden-fronting room of a Derbyshire manor called Sidley Park. Scenes alternate between 1809, when the owners supposedly hosted Lord Byron while redesigning the garden, and the present, when two competing academics scavenge the grounds for evidence to bolster their esoteric, career-making theories. Gigantic themes from math, philosophy, history, and science rub up against hilarious, petty, everyday stuff in one of the most satisfying, idea-rich, pitch-perfect scripts ever: an irresistible challenge for theater companies large and small.
But transferring the magic from page to stage relies on crystalline clarity of everything: diction, relationships, logistics. Arcadia is a Swiss watch of a play, especially when the two time periods overlap. As in other multi-era dramas that take place in unique, mythical houses (Bruce Norris’ Clybourne Park, for example), Sidley Park itself is a character—which presents a challenge in the tight confines of the Bathhouse Theater. Despite Craig Wollam’s elegant Georgian-era set (mostly occupied by a gigantic library table), there’s no room for director Kelly Kitchens to choreograph the bustle and froth in suitably grand scale, nor do we have the proper seating distance to observe the complex tale’s ingenious mechanics.
Notwithstanding the spatial handicap to this spirited production, the script’s hyper-articulate charms flourish in certain performances. In the modern period, pretentious Byron-biographing blaggard Bernard benefits from Evan Whitfield’s high-energy bravado, which screwballs well with Alyson Scadron Branner’s phlegmatic Hannah (a rival author). Trick Danneker and Jocelyn Maher are also excellent as the house’s modern heirs. Kitchens pushes some roles too far into caricature, though, principally the 19th-century poet/botanist Ezra Chater (Brandon Ryan). The situations and text are plenty funny minus the ham. Case in point: a lovely moment in which landscape gardener Noakes (Mike Dooly) is commanded to comment on the horrendous racket of a steam pump he’s implemented (a harbinger of the Industrial Revolution). Dooly’s blank look implies he hears nothing but the dulcet tones of this new kind of paradise, which is perfect . . . ’nuff said sans ham.
Trevor Young Marston makes an endearing Septimus Hodge, tutor to 13-year-old polymath Thomasina (Izabel Mar) back in the Byron era. However, Mar’s graceful movements and charm-school smile seem odd for Thomasina (she’s usually interpreted as more of an awkward nerd, which makes her arc more poignant). We’ve got to love her for the magic of the ending to bloom. That didn’t quite happen opening night, but who’s to say what a few more days in the hothouse might yield?
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