Playwright: Tom Stoppard . At: The Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn. Phone: 312-443-3800; $25-$75. Runs through: June 7
The Great God Pan as a metaphor for Sid Barrett. Barrett as a metaphor for the history of Czechoslovakia from 1968's Prague Spring to the collapse of Soviet communism. The Plastic People of the Universe as a symbol for the revolutionary forces that exposed the Stalinist tactics of communist hardliner Gustav Husek and the catalyst for the fall of his brutally oppressive regime. Only Tom Stoppard could connect such sprawling, seemingly unconnected dots into a drama of both epic emotional and historical sweep.
Factor in lengthy passages of dialogue on Sapphic poetry, dialectical materialism and debates on moral exhibitionism versus true dissidence, and you've Rock 'n' Roll, a drama that engulfs and excites with the galvanic power of the opening chords of a Stones concert.
To be fully immersed in the world of Rock 'n' Roll, it helps—a lot—if you have a rudimentary knowledge of Czech history from 1968 through 1990. A basic foundation in of the Greek poet Sappho and her bold celebrations of Eros' impact on the body won't hurt either. Yet even if you lack both, Rock 'n' Roll remains a glorious journey.
As Stoppard's man in Chicago, Charles Newell puts his own spin on the piece—This is a markedly different production from the one that premiered in London, transferred to Broadway and eventually lost the 2008 Best Play Tony to August: Osage County. Other than a radically revised ( mis ) reading of Stoppard's final scene, Newell's revisionism works.
The heart of the story is Jan ( Timothy Edward Kane ) , a Czech student at Cambridge in 1968 and prize pupil of communist idealist Max Morrow, ( Stephen Yoakam ) . After Soviet tanks roll in to Czechoslovakia to crush the budding reformist government of Prague Spring, Jan goes home to care for his mother, taking with him little more than his treasured, reverently cared for record collection. For Jan, rock is salvation, release and reason for being, an unbridled sonic celebration of upstart individuality that becomes increasingly, urgently necessary as Communist hard-liners tighten their grip on his country and its people.
Alternating scenes of Jan in Prague with Max and his family in Cambridge, Stoppard explores globally significant historic events through the lens of individuals—and through the fate of Syd Barrett and Jan's beloved Plastics.
Instead of the conventional set design that depicted Jan's apartment and Max's Cambridge home in Rock 'n' Roll's Broadway and London incarnations, Newell turns the stage into the epicenter of an arena concert, speakers towering from floor to flyspace. It's a concept that works especially well during Stoppard's many "smash cuts"—between-scenes blackouts filled with eardrum-rattling snippets of lyrically resonant Stones, Beach Boys and Pink Floyd songs.
As Jan's freedom in Czechoslovakia grows increasingly imperiled, time and politics and cancer and Margaret Thatcher roll relentlessly over Morrow family. As Max's wife Eleanor battles terminal cancer, their daughter Esme ages from wild and wide-eyed flower child to sad-eyed woman.
Playing Eleanor and middle-aged Esme, Mary Beth Fisher is exquisite, undiminished as a warrior/ scholar losing the battle with cancer and heartbreaking as the middle-aged key to Jan's ultimate redemption. As Jan, Kane isn't quite at her level. Hopefully, his performance will deepen and solidify as the run continues. Yoakam's Max is more problematic, lacking the distinctive, acerbic British edge the role demands, Moreover, his rants about class and consciousness often seem more like prepared statements than spontaneous conversations. That flaw, while significant, isn't deal-breaker.
In all, Rock 'n' Roll offers a jubilant celebration of love and survival—of finding joy after one's beauty fades, one's heroes disappoints, and one's life settles into something never imagined in the throes of a passionate youth. As for that last scene: Stoppard's original ending was provocatively ambivalent, a clash of between rebel, anarchic yells and Capitalist establishmentarism, both embodied by the Rolling Stones. Newell's ending is all about sex and passion and catharsis. While we wish he'd left well enough alone, Rock 'n' Roll remains a triumph.