By Geary Danihy
So how do you find fault with a
play that in 2001 won both the Pulitzer and Tony awards for Best Play? Perhaps
by saying that what we have in David Auburn’s engaging work now on the boards
at Playhouse on Park is a series of character studies linked by multiple conflicts
that are less resolved than allowed to drift away. Thus, although the current
production is often vibrant and certainly entertaining, it suffers only in the
fact that you come away saying, “And so?” Or, perhaps, that’s the point.
Made into a film in 2005 starring
Gwyneth Paltrow and Anthony Hopkins, “Proof” centers on Catherine (Dana
Brooke), a woman in her early 20s who left college to take care of her father,
Robert (Damian Buzzerio), a brilliant mathematician now suffering from
dementia. Catherine has inherited her father’s skill in and love of numbers,
yet she has apparently opted not to pursue her talent, instead becoming a
somewhat disgruntled caretaker. The play opens the week after Robert’s death,
but Catherine envisions him, and they have a conversation, which suggests that
Catherine may have inherited more from her father than just a love of math. As
an aside, there’s a problem (or a clue) in this first scene that involves a
bottle of ersatz champagne as a birthday gift – if it’s a figment of
Catherine’s imagination then how does it later materialize in real time, and if
it is not, then who has supplied the champagne? Robert’s ghost or Catherine? If
Catherine, then…?
Catherine’s sister, Claire (Melissa
Macleod Herion), arrives for the funeral. A take-charge woman, Claire suspects
that Catherine may be showing early signs of the dementia their father suffered
from, a suspicion Catherine bridles at, especially when Claire suggests that one
of Robert’s former students, Hal (Marty Scanlon), who Catherine says has been
at the house researching Robert’s work, is a fiction.
Themes abound: the responsibility
of the young to care for their elders; the role (or lack of same) of women in
the discipline of mathematics; the relationship of trust and proof (used in
multiple senses – that of a mathematical proof and proof of the truth); the
publish-or-perish climate of Academe; insanity as a concomitant of genius. All
of these themes are interwoven into the play’s conflicts: Catherine and Claire
as siblings with different views on responsibility towards a parent, Catherine
and Hal dealing with the academic, mathematical and emotional meanings of
proof, and Robert dealing with the agony of what happens when “the machinery”
will no longer function, when a mind that once soared is now mired in
confusion.
Damian Buzzerio and Dana Brooke
Such interweaving allows for scenes,
deftly directed by Dawn Loveland, that are, in and of themselves, quite
riveting. To name just a few: Robert’s dawning awareness that he is slipping
back into dementia as Catherine reads to him from his notebooks – Buzzerio
grippingly creates the picture of a man trembling again on the brink of
insanity who, in a clear moment, sees the abyss into which he is about to descend.
It is harrowing, made more so by Brooke’s controlled reaction: a mere tremble
in the voice and a flicker of the eyes conveys her inner agony. It’s great
theater. So, to, is the confrontation that ends the first act, with an
appropriate reveal that makes the audience want to rush back to see what
happens.
There are several confrontations
between the sisters that evoke more than the specifics of their arguments, and
Herion and Brooke perform intriguing, sibling “dances” as they take on the
various roles that have defined their characters’ relationships throughout
their lives. As Hal, Scanlon has perhaps the most difficult (and pivotal) task,
for he is perpetually the odd man out, distanced from the familial histories
and conflicts that suffuse the play. He
is appropriately intense, yet there seems to be a lack of ardor in his
performance such that his protestations of concern for Catherine ring hollow.
Perhaps that’s the point, yet if it is, then the play’s final scene is darker
than as written and presented. If so, then “Proof” becomes a familial tragedy
on the order of Oneill’s “Long Day’s Journey into Night.” As Catherine begins
to explain her “proof” to Hal, is she taking a tentative step towards freedom
or stumbling onto a path that will lead to her ultimate destruction? A slight
shift, either way, in how Scanlon plays, or has been directed to play, his
role, might suggest an answer.
There is no denying the power of
“Proof,” mainly because its multiple, well-written scenes are an actor’s dream,
and this team of talented actors takes full advantage of what Auburn has given
them. And yet, one comes away less than totally satisfied, though not through
any fault of the actors. The dissatisfaction stems from lurking questions: what
have we just seen and what does it mean? Perhaps there is a streak of
philistinism in me, but am I asking too much to have a play decide what it is
emotionally and intellectually trying to say? The “You decide” answer doesn’t
sit well, but that’s what we’re left with. Then again, in the words of
playwright David Mamet: “The theater exists to present a contest between good
and evil. In both comedy and tragedy, good wins. In drama, it’s a tie.”
“Proof” runs through Feb. 8. For
tickets or more information call 860-523-5900, X10, or go to www.playhouseonpark.org
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