Playwright: Carson Kreitzer
At: Next Theatre, 927 Noyes, Evanston
Phone: ( 847 ) 475-1875; $20-$31
Runs through: March 6
J. Robert Oppenheimer, the man credited with the creation of the atom bomb, has become a cultural and historical icon, looming large in modern-day consciousness as representative of a turning point in history. It's only natural that he would ignite the imaginations of artists ( especially theatrical ones ) to mull over his dubious contribution to the state of the world as it exists now, and his affect on war and peace. His work on this seminal weapon has been the stuff of several plays.
But it's playwright Carson Kreitzer who takes the most fanciful look at the scientist's life and work. Kreitzer's distinction is—in its own way—as dubious as Oppenheimer's. One presumes she set out to write a play that would raise many questions: about Judaism, about the arms race, about the good or evil of man's intellect in the growth or destruction of the world, about love, about patriotism, about being caught up in forces beyond one's control, and about regret. I'm not even sure I've covered all the ground Kreitzer attempts to in this award-winning play, receiving its world premiere in Evanston, under the inspired direction of Nic Dimond. Kreitzer, perhaps intentionally, supplies no answers to these questions. And that objective is on target; these questions are open for serious debate and thought … and that's what often makes a work of art memorable.
As a work of art, though, this love song doesn't quite succeed. Although it has many elements going for it, among them the imaginative, yet controlled direction of Dimond, who presents us with a stripped-down, wasteland universe ( the post-disaster set is by Richard and Jacqueline Penrod; the evocative lighting from Scott Zematis; and sound from Andre Pluess and Andy Brommel ) upon which his fiercely talented ensemble struts and frets, it has to contend with a script that allows little room for humanity. Standouts among the ensemble include the astonishing Wendy Robie, who capers above the stage on rusting steel beams, playing the part of Lilith, who in Hebrew mythology, was Adam's first wife, cast out when she refused to be dominated by him; and David Cromer, who makes Oppenheimer a conflicted genius who remains disturbingly calm as his life implodes.
Lilith acts as a kind of conscience for Oppenheimer, when she appears to him after the first atom bomb test at Los Alamos; she's a fitting choice because she shares with Oppenheimer the reality of being an outcast ( Oppenheimer is eventually stripped of his security clearance by the U.S. government ) and, as she puts it, she is 'the heat from inside your head.'
All of this is inspired, heady, and wonderful stuff but it doesn't work for several reasons. The first is that, while there's a surfeit of intellect here, emotion is lacking. While major historical, moral, and private events take place, one never cares about any of the characters, including Oppenheimer's wife or his Communist-sympathizing mistress. Kreitzer's conceit, which almost seems like a self-conscious bid to notice her superior intellect with its allusions to Hebrew mythology, the poetry of John Donne and, of course, T.S. Eliot, and the Bhagavad-gita, becomes distancing, rather than involving. The play is mired in pretense, heading off any opportunity for more visceral involvement in a story that should engage our emotions as well as our minds.