The Morning Journal (Lorain, OH)
In Blank Canvas’ ‘Art,’ the devil is in the details
Acting in Cleveland production of comedy helps fill in the lines of Yasmina Reza work
Kiev-born painter Kazimir Malevich is known for his black squares, many of which are prominently displayed in the modern-art wing of the Tate in England. The National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. has an extensive collection of Mark Rothko’s monochromatic rectangles in shades of red, gray and blue. And on stage in Blank Canvas Theatre’s production of “Art” hangs, appropriately enough, a blank white canvas. “Art,” a 1998 Tony Awardwinning comedy by French playwright Yasmina Reza, is a one-act exposé of the bond between three men. Serge, a wealthy dermatologist, has purchased a trendy, minimalist painting that he absolutely adores. Marc, his best and oldest friend, is horrified that the man whose exquisite taste in art he himself cultivated has bought a large, unframed all-white canvas by a fashionable artist for $200,000. Yvan, a lovable milquetoast with no opinions of his own, is caught squarely in the middle. What begins as an intellectual argument over art aesthetics cleverly, if a bit exhaustingly, unravels and becomes a psychoanalytic study about relationships. “If you screw up your eyes, you make out some fine white diagonal lines,” Marc suggests in his opening monologue when describing the appalling painting. He then applies the same squinting strategy to his friendships by looking closer to see what, if anything, lies beneath the surface to determine whether things have become too monochromatic to still be interesting. The result is delightful. Just how delightful depends largely on how these characters are drawn by the actors playing them. In the play’s premiere productions in London and New York, as well as in subsequent revivals, the take on the three protagonists has varied significantly in terms of age and temperament, which impacts on the delivery of the meaty dialogue and the acerbic comedy. Here, the casting is terrific. Brian Pedaci is a wonderful Marc, whose suave machismo clearly and convincingly establishes the character’s position as the alpha male among the three. Pedaci’s Marc also is a careful listener; he chews on what his friends have to say just before his calm and collected demeanor gives way to explosive outbursts that get reeled in with great effort and humor before the next inevitable outburst. Everything this actor does on stage is honest and interesting, which is exactly what is called for in all of Reza’s works. The role of Serge easily can be overplayed for laughs, as it was in the Broadway production. But Chris D’Amico’s portrayal is marvelously understated, which tends to accentuate his sense of snobbery and disapproval of his friends all while denying he is a snob and disapproving. Only occasional lapses in focus, which make the portrayal a bit too muted and distant, mar this performance and the production’s forward momentum. Inconsistency is also evident in Michael N. Herzog’s otherwise superb Yvan. The character is a walking bundle of insecurities who wants nothing more than for his friends — his only friends — to stop fighting. At times it is not clear which insecurity Herzog is tapping, but he is absolutely brilliant when relaying a recent conversation Yvan had with the people who scare him most — his mother and his fiancé — which nicely balances some of the script’s best comedy with its most intriguing pathos. Director Lara Mielcarek finds a good rhythm for this 80-minute production, though the pacing inexplicably faded down the stretch on the evening of my attendance. Also puzzling is Patrick Ciamacco’s scenic design, which turns what should be ultra-cosmopolitan, character-defining apartments into bargain-basement abodes that share the same white plywood couch and matching side tables. So cheap is their look and construction that no argument for artistic interpretation can hold water. Brad Hughes’ lighting design also is problematic, putting in shadow rather than isolating illumination the hilarious fourth wall-breaking confessional asides taken by each of the characters throughout the show. Even the slightest lack of attention to detail in performance and production values becomes particularly visible in a play called “Art,” where the significance of style and substance is the very topic of conversation.