‘God Fool’ Review: A Singing Hymn, Beating
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The life of Saint Francis of Assisi was a life full of tragedy. The son of a wealthy Italian merchant, he had a 12th-century playboy who went to war and was imprisoned for a year. He had mystical visions, stole from his dissenting father to give to the church and devoted himself to a life of poverty following Christ’s example, founding a religious order. He saw God in nature, thanked the sun, taught the birds – an example of equality and ecology followed by many, including the current Pope.
Very few of these movies register in the “God Fool,” The dance theater production about Pope Francis opened at La MaMa’s Ellen Stewart Theater on Thursday. And although conceived and directed by Martha Clarke, creator of many famous dance theater productions, “God Fool” contains very little of theatrical dance.
Instead, Francis (Patrick Andrews) and his followers mostly walk around a cobbled stage in monks’ robes, talking about God and faith. When in doubt, they sing.
That’s not a problem in itself, as the vocals, mostly unaccompanied, are excellent. Arranged and directed by Arthur Solari, it helps set the world up in the first place, as the robed cast begins the Easter ritual. And the frequent retreat into song gives the impression of a herd of confusion clinging to fellowship.
But the vocals contribute to some of the show’s confusion over time and genre. Selections have strayed from the time of Pope Francis to an African-American spiritualist and some Gustav Mahler. When Francis started a Broadway-style duet of the American folk song “Wayfaring Stranger” with Clare, the female member of his ensemble, we were definitely not in Assisi anymore.
Andrews’ Francis is purely American, a lost boy. This way, he won’t sound out of place in a David Mamet play or maybe “Rent”. He has great mood swings, laughs hysterically, cries when necessary, hovers over nature like a Beat poet. The saint must have been a disruptive, bewildering figure, but when Francis’ exasperated father called him a parasite and a brat, it felt all too accurate.
This central performance contrasts with Fanny Howe’s poetic text. The script remains the same, alternating between solitary stories and scenes that are not natural dialogue but an exchange of fragmentary passages. A representation goes like this:
Francis: Hit me, Leo.
Leo: I can’t beat you Francis.
Luca: You should join the circus, Francis.
Francis: I should die.
The delivery makes this and many similar exchanges inadvertently comic book. Veteran performance artist John Kelly, who plays the red-horned devil accompanying Francis and his followers, contributes a number of purposeful comedies and commedia dell’arte flavors. But neither Kelly nor the oversized animal heads (Margie Jervis’s mask) nor the movements between shots (people being blown by the wind or carrying Francis overhead) don’t compensate enough to give the production the weirdness and wonder it needed.
And so while some dramatic incidents in Francis’ life are covered up – abuse from his father, teaching to birds, the appearance of the holy mark and the bolder kiss of Clare and ghosts – almost nothing appears convincingly or illuminating.
Something that resonates, along with the singing, is something hidden but implicit in Howe’s words: “explorations of a world just an inch away from our senses, like perfume you can’t see, the perfume you catch from the May tree.” What “God Fool” may have revealed.
God Fool
Come July 2 at the Ellen Stewart Theater; lamama.org.