One-note love
YOU may not have heard of him — actually, you probably haven’t heard of him — but in certain circles, Richard Maxwell is a demigod. Fans of experimental theater go gaga for the writerdirector’s ultradeadpan style, where actors refrain from traditional acting and speak in a flat near-monotone.
“Isolde,” the latest by Maxwell and his company, the New York City Players, is actually pretty accessible, and the dry tone is often very funny. There even appears to be emoting at times! But you also wonder: So what?
It’s interesting to see Maxwell tackle a heated love triangle — the simple plot very loosely parallels the story that also inspired Wagner’s opera “Tristan and Isolde.” Here it involves the titular actress (Tory Vazquez) being torn between her stolid contractor husband, Patrick (Jim Fletcher), and dashing architect Massimo (Gary Wilmes). Isolde and Patrick are meant to be wealthy, but Sascha van Riel’s set is a beige blank, with a plywood wall and a few basic chairs in front of a pulled curtain. The overall effect is neutral, maybe to better emphasize the violence of the emotions.
Not that you can tell what anybody is going through. A sexual encounter between Isolde and Massimo is as detached as an exchange at the deli counter.
Isolde is unhappily losing her memory, yet Vazquez tends to have a fixed grin plastered on her face. Massimo provides relief from Patrick’s footballwatching ways, but he’s also a bloviator who doesn’t finish his blueprint for his clients’ new house.
The production is technically accomplished and beautifully performed — antiacting is just another kind of acting, after all, and it can be as mannered as the most contrived Oscar bait. But the overall effect just isn’t as deep or revealing as Maxwell seems to think it is.