Playwright: Peter Barnes. At: Strawdog Theatre, 3829 N. Broadway. Phone: 773-528-9696; $20. Runs through: May 23. Red Noses. Photo by Chris Ocken
When forces of profound social change are unleashed—whether intentionally ( say, war ) or unintentionally ( say, economic depression ) —it's difficult to put the genie back in the bottle. The French Revolution went through increasingly radical stages which only the combined forces of Europe could halt. Stalin and Mao imprisoned or executed many of their co-revolutionary comrades. Iranian students who supported the Shah's overthrow in 1979 didn't expect the strict fundamentalist repression they helped engineer.
Politically, Red Noses is about putting the genie back. It's set in 1348 France when bubonic plague killed one-third of the population. Not understood scientifically, the Black Death was considered God's wrath against wickedness, engendering off-shoot religious movements when the universal Catholic Church was weak. Once the plague passed, Pope Clement VI ( in Avignon, not Rome ) had to restore obedience to the Church and its allied secular governments.
On a metaphysical level, however, Red Noses is about a fundamental of faith: Do we love or fear God? Is life's cup half full or half empty? Is earthly existence a punishment or a joy? Father Flote, the play's heroic simple priest, believes laughter is the best medicine and founds a traveling clown troupe to fight the despair and anarchy of the plague years.
By turns serious or bizarre, Red Noses most definitely is a comedy—a sprawling pageant with several dozen characters. If well done, the verbal wit and physical comedy should be laugh-out-loud funny, and so they are in director Matt Hawkins's production. Scenically it's nothing special—some tricks with paint and body fluids are the chief visual devices—but with 23 actors in a small space, the focus must be on people and not scenery.
And what people they are! Stephen Taylor's martini-dry, razor-sharp Pope Clement is a joy. John Ferrick's kindly and sympathetic Flote is a blessing. Sarah Goeden's ethereal Sonnerie is radiant, wordlessly speaking the language of angels. And the clowns really are funny, among them blind juggler Anderson Lawfer and lanky assistant Andrew Trygstad. And the collective cast joyously takes up instruments as a jug band. Despite lacking impressive spectacle elements, this is engagingly theatrical theater.
I could quibble: the show is imaginative modern clown dress ( Aly Renee Greaves, designer ) with no 14th-century flavor. And 1980s pop tunes replace playwright Barnes' lyrics. Why not set Barnes' words to original music? Director Hawkins's program note says he equates the play to the Reagan-Thatcher era in which it was written, but it doesn't work on any obvious level. Yet the wildly imaginative Red Noses must have something to say to us, because this is the play's second production of this season. And a shining Nose it is. Could profound social change be around our next corner?