| An Electric Sensation |
Rock’n’Rollwritten by Tom Stopparddirected by Trevor Nunn starring:Rufus Sewell, Brian Cox, Sinead Cusack, Alice Eve, Quentin Mare, Nicole Ansari, Seth Fisher, Mary Bacon, Stephen Kunken, Ken Marks, Brian Avers, Alexandra Neil, Anna O’Donoghue. Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre 242 West 45th Street rocknrolltheplay.com Performances: from October 19, 2007  Rufus Sewell as Jan in "Rock 'n' Roll"  The cast of "Rock 'n' Roll" gathers together  Nicole Ansari as Lenka and Brian Cox as Max in "Rock 'n' Roll" “Rock’n’Roll”—which moves briskly in time from the earth-shattering events of 1968 to those of 1990—follows the Czech dissident, Jan, who was born in Prague and moved with his family to London at a young age. Any similarity to Stoppard ends there, because he remained in England to write plays for the past half-century, while Jan returns home following 1968’s Prague Spring–even though he was close to earning his PhD at Cambridge–gets arrested for his underground activities and keeps the rock’n’roll faith with his extensive record collection, smuggled in, of course, from England. (The Czech authorities rile Jan in the worst possible way by destroying the records while he’s in prison.) Unlike last season’s “The Coast of Utopia,” Stoppard’s three-part marathon about the origins of the Russian Revolution which was a hit at Lincoln Center, “Rock’n’Roll” is far more than a theoretical construct, however artfully done: here, the characters—led by Jan—live and breathe as real people, always earning our sympathetic commiseration whether they are rational or irrational in their beliefs and strongly-worded arguments. Jan and his mentor, the Cambridge professor and unapologetic Communist party card-carrying member Max, have fiery debates about socialism and capitalism in both theory and practice: Max believes in Communism no matter what its outcome vis-à-vis the governments practicing it, and Jan is concrete proof that actually rolling up one’s sleeves and fighting for the people is how it should be done, not merely paying lip service to Communism’s virtue in the abstract. As usual, Stoppard writes elegant, witty, supremely intelligent dialogue. His best lines, however, are those that straightforwardly take the measure of his characters. One enlightened character says about Max after the Berlin Wall falls, “You’ve been wrong all your life and now you know it.” Max himself concedes that “It seems I’ve devoted my life to a mistake.” Although Stoppard has fun at the hard-headed Max’s expense, he clearly has a soft spot for old leftie. Stoppard saw for himself what the Soviet experiment wrought on Czechs and others in Eastern Europe, which brings us to the importance of rock music in his play: it may not have changed the world, but it was one way that the oppressed living under socialist governments were able to dream about the freedom that was denied them. That’s why Syd Barrett–founding member of Pink Floyd–is Stoppard’s unlikely muse. Barrett appears as the Piper in the opening scene and becomes an unseen character in “Rock’n’Roll” as the whacked-out ex-rocker neighbor of Mx in Cambridge. Barrett’s music—with the group and after he left–is heard along with other tunes from the likes of the Stones, U2, the post-Syd Floyd, and Czech rockers The Plastic People of the Universe, a band which also serves as a metaphor for the youth of Communist Czechoslovakia never giving up hope that better days were ahead for them and their country. Most of the songs are heard as interludes between scenes, along with unnecessary information about where and when they were recorded, who played on the tracks, what album they were on, etc. It’s probable that it’s assumed that most regular theatergoers are unfamiliar with the likes of The Plastic People, Syd Barrett, The Cure and even John Lennon and Bob Dylan, and so they need more grounding. In any case, Stoppard is at his best as he draws compelling parallels between the anarchy of rock music and the quiet revolution that eventually overcame Communism; he even pulls off a subplot in which Max’s wife Eleanor–a professor of Greek poetry–discusses the erotically charged work of Sappho, which Stoppard obliquely throws out as a forerunner of the heady, unbridled sexuality of rock’n’roll. This nearly perfect production, directed by Trevor Nunn, was brought over pretty much whole from its hit London run. Robert Jones’ sets and Emma Ryott’s costumes contrast the socialist squalor of Prague with the comforts of Cambridge living, while Howard Harrison’s superlative lighting is as intense as the best rock-concert light shows. Nunn’s staging persuasively makes the case for Stoppard’s invigorating intellectual and emotional adventure, and his flawless cast gives “Rock’n’Roll” the biggest theatrical kick of Stoppard’s career, even topping “The Real Thing” and “Arcadia.” Rufus Sewell brilliantly portrays Jan, the Czech dissident with a weakness for vinyl; as Max, the unapologetic Communist, Brian Cox is once again a commanding onstage presence; Sinead Cusack is phenomenally touching as both Max’s cancerous wife Eleanor and his daughter Esme; Alice Eve does wonders as the young Esme and her daughter Alice; the rest of the cast–American actors sporting authentic British accents–is on an equally lofty plain. But it’s the writing of Tom Stoppard that transforms “Rock’n’Roll” into his most sublime achievement–one that should be missed by no serious history lover, rock fan or theatergoer. {mos_ri}
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