Playwright: Peter Shaffer
At: Actors Workshop Theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr
Phone: 773-728-7529; $25
Runs through: April 22
By Jonathan Abarbanel
Nugget the horse ( Daniel Han ) appears in tight black leather pants, a studded black leather harness, black gloves and stacked-heel black boots. Woof! No wonder Alan Strang gets naked and worships him. That tidbit of homoeroticism aside, let's get on with discussing this production!
It's better than good, given the tight physical constraints of a postage-stamp-sized stage in a 44-seat storefront theatre, with only one door through which actors can enter and exit. Director Joe Stead's solution is to have the actors seated onstage all the time. Only Han enters and exits, so his appearances have visual impact. Stead does his best to give his blocking kinetic energy, but there just isn't a lot of stretching room. It's a serious limitation for a play that benefits from movement and spectacle as it attempts to convey ecstatic experience in a physical and visceral way.
Stead and company compensate by working the language and emotions of Peter Shaffer's still-popular play, and this they do quite well. Each beat, and each scene is given full, intelligent measure—never rushed but never too slow. The company has a strong lead in resonant-voiced Brian Parry as Martin Dysart, the doctor asked to unravel the psyche of Alan Strang, the repressed but ordinary adolescent boy who inexplicably blinds six horses. Parry's thoughtful delivery evokes Dysart's own dysfunctions and longings, as his alienation parallels that of his young patient. Nonetheless, Dysart's caring—at least on an intellectual level—also is conveyed.
Peter Oyloe grows into Alan Strang. Reviewed at the final preview, his early scenes were merely petulant and wary, not really suggesting the complexities within the boy, let alone his ability to create his own hagiography. True, Shaffer doesn't give him a lot of words, but there are other ways. Fortunately, Oyloe's performance deepened in Act II, just as the play demands. Oyloe is the tallest cast member, which is disconcerting given that Alan is the youngest character.
There is solid work from all the supporting cast, especially Mark Shallow and Debra Rodkin as Alan's somewhat incompatible parents.
One glaringly odd choice: The actors do not use English accents, although Equus is set in contemporary England and certain scenes hinge on British class distinctions and customs. Accent/dialect work is one of the challenges of acting, and this production cheats on it.
Equus is so theatrical and so smartly written that one forgives Shaffer for his far-too-pat psychology and the ease with which Dysart cracks the case. In an era of rising religious fundamentalism, the question of ecstatic spirituality in 'normal' life is potent, albeit not in the Dionysian model of Equus. If young Strang only had seen a stallion and mare mating, there wouldn't be a play.