Playwright: adapted by Ed Rutherford from the novel by Peter S. Beagle At: Promethean Theatre Ensemble at Edgewater Presbyterian Church,1020 W. Bryn Mawr. Phone: 773-305-2897; $20. Runs through: Nov. 14
Where you find Peter S. Beagle when you look for him in the bookstorestravel journalism, art reference or fantasy/science fictiondepends on the scope of the proprietor's own reading. Since 1960, this enigmatic writer has defied taxonomic labels with a canon rooted in a deeply personal whimsy blending a playfully childlike candor with verbal sophistication to equal any 10 stuffy linguists. Indeed, the intellectual density of his proserevealing its store of hidden treasures gradually, according to the age of the readeris arguably the factor contributing to his enduring popularity with a readership transcending generational boundaries.
It also renders his intricately wrought yarns exceedingly difficult to re-shape for less leisurely consumption. A questing tale of magical creatures ( calling for elaborate makeup ) suggests grandeur ( in other words, dazzling special effects ) while the florid imagery invoked by our omniscient narratore.g., a voice like "a boat bottom gritting on pebbles" or a captive bound with ropes "tied in knots the size of skulls"cries out for voice-overs. Add in the myriad auxiliary personnel encountered by our questing heroesto wit, the practical Mistress Molly Grue, the clumsy wizard Schmendrick, and the beautiful ( but rather spoiled ) title animaland you've got almost more myth than a second-floor church hall can hold.
The Promethean Theatre Ensemble's production has the tone right enough. Likewise, the imagination and the commitment. What it doesn't have is the money, making for a decidedly skimpy display of fairy dust and flower petals. But Ed Rutherford's adaptation faithfully chronicles its source's external action with an efficiency that brings the show home in a tidy two and a half hours. And, ironically, the stark barnlike scenic design, leotards-and-yardage costumes, and acting-class choreography facilitate, more than hinder, the plot's swift transitions over a wide range of locales ( the author, himself in the house on opening night, declared himself well-pleased with the absence of Wal-Mart literalism ) .
There's no disgrace in a theater company barely three years old not yet boasting the resources of a Steppenwolf or a Victory Gardens, and only the future will decide the fortunes of this palpably earnest band of thespians armed only with planks and passion. But as one member of the audience observed, "They [ the Prometheans ] accomplished this with a budget of 80 cents. Think what they could do with two dollars!"