Insignificance: A play with some significance

 

The Nora Theatre Company is presently performing British playwright Terry Johnson’s Insignificance at the Central Square Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In residence along with the Underground Railway Theatre at the up-to-date, attractive, and flexible black box playhouse, the companies have an affiliation with the Catalyst Collaborative at MIT, located nearby. The affiliation includes a mandate to produce works of scientific interest whenever possible. Insignificance falls somewhat awkwardly into this category given that the theory of relativity is connected to the storyline.

Insignificance makes use of a familiar plot device seen in such plays as Steve Martin’s Picasso at the Lapin Agile and Tom Stoppard’s Travesties, in which notable twentieth-century personages are juxtaposed in unlikely circumstances. Here, the locale is a mid-level New York hotel room, the time 1953. The brightly colored baby blue room has two doors, one stage left which leads to the corridor; the second, stage right opens into a bathroom unseen by the audience – a common farcical set up. Scene designer Brynna Bloomfield further accentuates the impression that we are about to watch a Feydeau-like farce by placing a large bed downstage.

Although Johnson gave the characters emblematic tags – the Actress, the Professor, the Ballplayer, and the Senator – they are easily recognizable as Marilyn Monroe, Albert Einstein, Joe DiMaggio, and Joseph McCarthy. Stacy Fischer’s blonde wavy wig and white halter dress is identical to Monroe’s in The Seven-Year Itch. Richard McElvain’s eccentric demeanor, overgrown curly white hair, bare feet, and gray sweatshirt emblazoned with a large P (for Princeton) similarly mark him as Einstein. Alexander Platt bears a passing resemblance to DiMaggio as does Barry M. Press to Senator McCarthy.

Almost every scene begins with a knock at the door of Einstein’s room, followed by the appearance of one of the characters and then his or her exit. Whether this is intended to parody bedroom farce is unclear, but the result is monotonous. In the first scene a garrulous Senator McCarthy attempts to manipulate an unintimidated Einstein into testifying at the HUAC hearings. Marilyn Monroe, who has been filming the grate sequence in The Seven-Year Itch in the street below, arrives next to explain relativity to Einstein in her trademark breathy voice. A scene that has the capacity to be funny with Monroe coming onto Einstein as she explicates his theory becomes pedantic. Whether the scene is underwritten or underplayed is difficult to discern, but it just doesn’t go far enough, though both McElvain and Fischer are competent actors.

Monroe’s husband, the former big-league baseball player Joe DiMaggio, is the last of the characters to appear. This gum-chewing DiMaggio is vain and dumb. He enters upset, angry, and jealous that his wife’s sexuality is enjoyed by the world. That she would be filmed with her dress blowing into the air, her legs and panties exposed while passersby leer, humiliates him. He accuses Einstein of having slept with Monroe, which is not far from the truth. Monroe no longer finds her husband sexually exciting. Einstein leaves so the two can play out their marital problems.

Act II begins with the return of the Senator who discovers Monroe asleep in bed, although he doesn’t recognize her. Monroe offers to have sex with the Senator if he ceases to harass Einstein. His bewildering response is to punch Monroe in the stomach. The Senator responds to a knock at the door and is flabbergasted to see Joe DiMaggio. In a rare three-person scene, the Senator discusses solipsism at length, as DiMaggio desperately tries to prove that he exists outside of the Senator’s world.

The script poses and plays with philosophical, scientific, and political ideas without succeeding in fully integrating them into the work. What the characters share in common is their celebrity. Like most cultural icons, they are viewed one dimensionally: Monroe for her sexuality, DiMaggio for his athletic prowess, McCarthy for his power, and Einstein for his intellect. This last characteristic is not usually found among American heroes.

But we learn in Act II that they are more complex than their reputation implies. DiMaggio loves Monroe and is willing to change for her and accept her values if she will stay with him. Monroe yearns to be taken seriously. The undereducated and brutal Senator is a closet philosopher. Einstein surrenders his documents to the Senator because of the guilt he suffers over the atomic bomb. In the last scene as Einstein reveals his feelings to Monroe, images of explosions are projected, reflecting his constant pain.

While the play is not the farce it sets out to be nor the thinking piece it has pretensions to, it is funny at moments and sometimes thought-provoking.

Insignificance plays through Feb. 9.

Written by Terry Johnson
Directed by Daniel Gidron
Scene Design by Brynna Bloomfield
Costume Design by Gail Astrid Buckley
Lighting Design by Scott Pinkney

Cast
Stacy Fischer – The Actress
Richard McElvain – The Professor
The Senator – Barry M. Press
The Ballplayer – Alexander Platt