Simple ‘Camelot’ a royal joy at RVP
Human fallibility scuttles high-minded ideals in Lerner and Loewe’s “Camelot,” at the Barn Theater in the Marin Art and Garden Center in Ross.
“Camelot” is solidly rooted in legends of fifth century King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, and their probably fictitious attempt at creating social equality and impartial justice throughout medieval Britain. Lyricist Alan Jay Lerner and composer Frederick Loewe spun the enduring tale into one of the most beloved musicals ever presented; several of its songs long ago became breakout hits.
Ably helmed by the versatile Zoe Swenson-Graham, this scaled-down production, from Nov. 26 through Dec. 19, by the Mountain Play Association works perfectly on the Ross Valley Players’ compact stage, intentionally arranged to look more like rehearsal space than a fully developed set. This may irk traditionalists expecting a heavily landscaped production.
“Camelot” has been performed many times with elaborate depictions of Arthur’s castle, the grounds around Camelot, battlefields, woodlands and more. Instead, we’re given a sort of backstage glimpse of ladders, scaffolding, partial walls and steamer trunks filled with props. Traditionalists should put their misgivings on hold. The deceptively simple set by Michael Walraven is a refreshingly informal introduction to what proves to be a truly engaging production.
Swenson-Graham gets firstrate work from a cast of only eight performers, foremost among them Phillip Harris as the tragic king. The show’s music director, Harris stepped into the lead role due to last-minute cast changes. He was in fine voice on opening night but had to glance at notes while reciting dialog — not from a full-size
script, but from a small notebook that he made part of Arthur’s character, something the king carries with him everywhere to jot down ideas about how to make his world a better place. An adjunct professor at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Harris is a formidable singer and actor with an enviable ability to make his moments in the spotlight less about him and more about the story itself — a rare talent.
Blessed with a gorgeous singing voice, Krista Joy Serpa aces the role of Guenevere, Arthur’s wife, as idealistic as her husband but easily distracted by Lancelot (Izaak Heath), the charming French knight who shares Arthur’s
devotion to righteousness, and his devotion to the queen. Not a singer at the level of Harris and Serpa, Heath more than compensates with a deeply committed portrayal of the principled but flawed Lancelot. The ensuing love triangle has disastrous consequences, of course, made worse by Arthur’s estranged manipulative son Mordred, in a gloriously evil portrayal by Matt Skinner.
The remaining cast members are exemplary in multiple roles — David Schiller as Sagramore, with Alexandra Fry, Rachel Menendez and Anna Vorperian as various revelers, squires, soldiers and functionaries in the “Camelot” community.
All eight in this streamlined cast — no Lady of the Lake, Merlin the Magician or bands of bellicose knights, sorry to report
— display deep obvious commitment to this show, which begins with them assembling parts of the set then performing the introductory song accompanying themselves by banging long poles on the stage, a clever opening that merges “Camelot” with “Stomp.”
Costumes by Michael A. Berg blend modern dress with elements that suggest ancient Britain while keeping the audience in the present, a visual allusion to the fact that some aspects of human existence never change, the doomed love triangle among the most eternal.
The show’s presentation is an homage to experimental theater of the 1960s, ‘70s and ‘80s that attempted and in many cases succeeded in breaking down “the fourth wall,” the formal separation of performers and
audience: order-emerging-from-chaos ballet recitals that began with the curtain open and dancers warming up in full view of the audience; plays in which characters emerged from the audience and took their
places onstage. Jonathan Demme’s “Stop Making Sense,” his 1984 film of pop group Talking Heads, took this approach to the maximum with blackclad stage hands assembling the set as the concert progressed.
Demme’s piece is arguably the greatest concert film ever made and may have been a conscious or unconscious influence on this production of “Camelot.” There’s a strong aroma of art school drama club stuff about it, but despite small wooden swords, children’s bows and arrows and comically tiny shields, it comes off without a hint of hipster irony. It’s like a new, compellingly inventive jazz riff on a familiar old standard.
Takeaway: Totally cool, contemporary, sincere and highly recommended. Lerner and Loewe might even be pleased.