Playwright: Adapted by Heidi Stillman
from the novel by Fyodor Dostoevsky
At: Lookinggglass Theatre,
821 N. Michigan ( Water Tower Water Works )
Phone: 312-337-0665; $30-$60
Runs through: Dec. 7
BY CATEY SULLIVAN
Everything about The Brothers Karamazov is lusciously super-sized. The thickly serpentine story bursts at its gorgeous, intricately woven seams with voracious debauchery and true piety, with soul-trying passion and pure holiness, with madness and murder and money and mystery and this above all else—an utterly accessible exploration of an epic battle.
Here, in the bleak years of early 20th century Russia, harsh, inarguable feats of immaculately constructed logic go to war with breathtaking, unshakable and intellectually absurd faith.
The battle scarred factions are huge. The warriors—some 30 or more characters—stab the heart with their vividness. And the outcome? It gives nothing away to say that Dostoyevsky creates a quiet, insistent prose aria that blooms like rubies from a rock, goodness in a world of unfathomable, capricious cruelty.
Director and adaptor Heidi Stillman doesn't capture the entirety of Dostoyevsky's massive novel; there are missing characters and subplots. But she and her 15-person ensemble—a cast of both extraordinary individual performances and a unified, unwavering sense of overall purpose—surely capture Dostoyevsky's intent and even essence. It's remarkable and riveting, all three and a half hours of it.
The titular brothers are the sons of Fyodor Pavlovich, a fellow whose grotesque sexual gluttony and rapine pursuit of pleasure are illustrated in a riotous, dialogue-free prologue that combines the irresistible, hedonistic lasciviousness of a brothel with blood-red fires of hell ( a mighty tip of the hat to scenic designer Dan Ostling, sound designer Ray Nardelli and lighting designer Chris Binder who work similarly evocative magic throughout the entire panoramic sweep of 'Brothers.' )
As Fyodor, Craig Spidle hammers home a milestone role, giving audiences a hateful, hate-filled buffoon whose corruption is so complete he can scarcely be called a true father to his sons.
And in that trio ( or very probably, quartet ) of sons, Dostoyevsky creates a cross current of belief systems so strong that their intersection can only result in radical change or annihilation.
Dmitri ( Joe Sikora ) is ruled by passion and temper, a firebrand whose sudden free-falling plummets into obsessive love come twined with the ability to betray people without a thought to future consequences.
Ivan ( Philip Smith, disappearing into some of his best work in years ) appears to ne a stone-hearted logician: If God existed, he reasons, children would not be tortured, innocents would not be at hard labor in Siberia. Ivan's opposite is Alyosha ( Doug Hara, a white light of simple, honest goodness ) , a monk-in-training whose faith in God provides the bedrock of his entire life.