Equus

One of life's unexpected delicacies is that you drive up into the hills of Waynesville to see a play, and sit down and listen to the chit-chat around you--everybody seems to know everybody-- and then the play begins, and within five minutes you realize it will be one of the most remarkable evenings you've ever experienced.

HART's production of Peter Schafer's Equus is memorable for a couple of things, and one is the thrift of the set, which might come out of some larger theater's safety pin account. Another thing is the superb direction, which is superb partially by virtue of being invisible. Everything is right, simply, and THAT seems to be the interpretation, rather than those interpretations which are sometimes grafted on or imposed. Yet another thing is the breath-taking virtuosity of acting. I have seen Equus three of four times, including productions in London and New York. Steven Lloyd is by far the best Dysart in my experience, subtle and believable and never once reaching for an unearned dramatic moment. The horses are sexy and wide-eyed, horse-like and god-like in one moment. As for Adam Kampouris' Allen Strang, I'm having a hard time finding the words to praise enough. "Perfect" comes to mind, but the currency of even that absolute word is debased a little by misuse. There was not a wrong gesture, not a line that was not loaded with new and larger meaning than one had suspected. The character wept; the actor didn't. I want to say it is the best performance by anyone of anything I have seen locally-- at least I'd put it on the same shelf as Charlie Flynn-McIver's Hamlet-- but I am not sure it is not among the best performances I have seen anywhere in a lifetime given over, to some degree, to watching theater. Jesus, is this kid good!.

The whole evening was, in the old sense, sublime. A play I thought I didn't like so much is suddenly once again vital and luminous in my mind, and I want to thank HART with all of mine--


Crow