Adam Magazine on the Crazy Years

Looting, killing and raping -- by twisting their words they call it "empire"; and wherever they have created a wilderness they call it "peace" -- Tacitus

Tuesday, December 25

Comedy of Terrors
In 'The Thousandth Night,' a Story Spun Is an Ending Avoided

By Nelson Pressley
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, December 25, 2001; Page C05

Cross the legend of "The Arabian Nights" with the Italian movie "Life Is Beautiful" and you get "The Thousandth Night," Carol Wolf's play about an actor trying to dodge the Nazis by spinning amusing tales. The actor in this one-man show at Alexandria's MetroStage is played by the altogether wonderful Ron Campbell, who staves off whatever mustiness might cling to this situation (artist plays for time against tyrant) by doing exactly what the story demands of his character: He entrances his audience.

That audience is a train station full of idle French gendarmes, and it's Wolf's conceit that they are played by the actual audience of "The Thousandth Night." Guy de Bonheur, the drama's lone figure, stumbles into the station after escaping from a train bound for a death camp. (It's been derailed by resistance fighters who have blown up the tracks.) De Bonheur has been accused of performing subversive material, but he swears his act is innocent.

Hoping the gendarmes (that's us) will agree and shelter him, he launches into a few routines. And if they fail to persuade? "I will shoot myself!" the actor jokes to his tough crowd. Campbell executes a clownish caper to accent the grim quip, but the character's desperation shows through in his forced smile and nervous chatter.

The actor is like Scheherazade, the sultan's bride who staves off her own execution by spinning the tales of "The Thousand and One Nights." In this play, de Bonheur knows he can't persuade his audience to spare him, so he distracts them. And it works. Pretty soon we've forgotten all about the Nazisoutside and are happily wrapped up in a lark about a sultan's favorite dwarf, who died bychoking. It's a comedy of errors as a pompous doctor, an effete baker, a swaggering soldier andother characters each believe they've killed the dwarf and the confusion is resolved in a veryfunny crowd scene in which Campbell plays upward of half a dozen characters nearly at once.

This is one of several tales de Bonheur revives from the repertoire of his now-scatteredtroupe, and Campbell gives these vignettes the energy and breezy attitude of street theater. Like arestless comedian, he's got a move for almost every phrase. Take, if you will, the briefly hikedleg as he mentions a camel giving birth, a typical bit of throwaway whimsy that's not even set upfor a laugh because he's moving so fast.

Campbell combines this anarchic spirit with the kind of terrific physical skill it takes tomake lightning-quick character changes as he plays an astounding variety of figures -- everything from a one-legged soldier to a bosomy housewife to a vaporous genie. He's even got an illusion or two up his sleeve; you can see why Wolf wrote the show with this L.A.-based actorspecifically in mind.

Jessica Kubzansky, who directed the play's premiere in 1993, is supervising the crispproduction at MetroStage. The worn wood flooring of James Kronzer's set looks right for the oldtrain station, which turns into a more than suitable stage for de Bonheur's impromptuperformance. Adam Magazine's lighting suggests passing trains and darkening moods, while achill wind can be heard now and then in Tony Angelini's sound design.

This continues the return to form for MetroStage, which is only in its third productionafter moving into its new theater in north Alexandria following some four years of rootlessnessand sporadic activity. The budget has usually been fairly low, but the standard of performance has often been high, as it was this fall in the well-acted "Rapture." "The Thousandth Night" is spare but effective, and Campbell's solo turn spanning a range from pratfalls to pathos todefiance is resourceful and entertaining.

The Thousandth Night, by Carol Wolf. Directed by Jessica Kubzansky. Approximately 85 minutes. Through Jan. 20 at MetroStage, 1201 N. Royal St., Alexandria. Call 703-548-9044.


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