Stories, like viruses, can be transmitted. In the brain, in the blood, they change and change. Tragedy becomes comedy; TV series become legends. And in the visionary and wackadoo of Anne Washburn “Mr. Burns, a post-electric game,” revived by the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festivalan episode of “The Simpsons” becomes an opera, and that opera becomes a way for post-apocalyptic society to reflect on all that has been lost.
After a devastating contagion and simultaneous nuclear meltdowns, America’s population has shrunk by maybe a million, maybe half. In the first act, set in the very near future, somewhere in the northeast, a few survivors gather around a campfire (didn’t the fire governor allow that?) to telling stories. Or like on this night, a particular story. Collectively, they piece together the facts and jokes of “Cape Feare,” a Season 5 episode of “The Simpsons.”
Recalling Sideshow Bob’s flourishes and Homer’s doofus behavior connected them to a lost world in a way they found bearable. Memories really hurt. The memory of a TV show – in the days when televisions no longer worked – is what they can manage. In the second act, these scattershot flashbacks were reworked into a recall. The third act, takes place decades later and is completely sung throughout, with the composer’s music Michael Friedmanconvert them further.
“Mr. Burns” Released in May 2012 at the Woolly Mammoth Theater in Washington, and later moved to Playwrights Horizons. September 11 is more vivid in the cultural memory of a decade ago. One passage includes a haunting allusion to the twin towers of light. But with the pandemic, we have a new cataclysm to absorb, causing “Mr. Burns,” directed by the festival’s artistic director, Davis McCallum, a timely choice. (Will there always be some new catastrophe? Does this play seem to always be right for the moment? Yes. Maybe. Ugh.) In its invention, its wonderful cruelty, the interrogation at stars and the way we use narrative, it doesn’t age at all.
In a way, the festival, with its sandy background and decorated tents, was an ideal venue. The opening at the back of the tent overlooks some old trees. Even considering the lawn has been mowed – a concession for the picnickers and the tick-averse – it shows what the landscape might look like if nature were to return. (If the vista had shown the recently decommissioned Indian Point nuclear plant, located directly below the Hudson, that would have been even more suggestive.) But the play was built for the proscenium, not the place. sit three-quarters and sometimes McCallum and his designers struggle to make the action visible to everyone, especially in the final act.
The acting is uneven here, the rhythms are sometimes off, although Sean McNall, a veteran of the film festival, made a great move as newcomer in the first act, and Merritt Janson, a welcome Off-Broadway presence, does the job specifically and clearly as an actor-second manager. Zachary Fine, who was very weak in the first two stages, won the third stage. During that performance, a choir member smacked a drum right into my ear, which I wouldn’t have been able to do without.
And yet, if you’re in the area, and you can make a reservation away from that drum, you’ll see “Mr. Get a burn. Here’s why: It seems to me that none of the new works of art – theatrical, television, film, novel – produced in the past few years really represent the pandemic, At least as I have experienced. Sometimes the higher they are on the nose (say “Station 11”), the further away they feel.
“Mr. Burns” doesn’t exactly capture it either, but it does capture something else. Over the past two years, when I’ve had a hiatus, I’ve moved on to doing comedies and procedural shows, these the show makes the whole world feel regular and known.” Mr. Burns” explores the ways in which we use stories, even seemingly unrelated ones, to give meaning to our lives. “Mr. Burns” is a play about where we find comfort and more shivers, about the limits of that comfort, about how reality can intrude even before the credits are given. launched.
Reality sometimes intrudes, even here, out in the city, outside the door. The opening screening was delayed due to coronavirus infections among the cast. Those closest to the actors were asked to wear masks; most did. However, we can lose ourselves for a while, imagining how a society like ours might deal with a disaster far worse than this one, how we can get over it. To see this feels exciting and painful and mysterious and strange. Or to put it another way: D’Oh.
Mr. Burns, a post-electric play
Through September 17 at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, Garrison, NY; hvshakespeare.org. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes.
