Everything I knew about Lizzie Borden I had learned either
from the whacky jingle (“Lizzie Borden took an axe…”) or the Agnes DeMille ballet—but
now that I’ve been to Imaginary Beasts’ THE FALL RIVER AXE MURDERS (@ BCA
through Oct. 22nd), I know Lizzie’s (extremely sympathetic) side of
the story. British novelist Angela Carter’s luminous short stories have served
as the jumping off point for other Imaginary Beasts productions. Like her
Vampire stories were, this one proves to be the perfect armature for the
Beasts’ imaginative brand of theatrics.
The Beasts, under Matthew Woods’ dexterous direction, often
duplicate roles in a story, exchange roles with puppets or integrate narration
and repetition into the action of a piece… all of which amplifies the material
and causes it to resonate in the brain. Their spoken and gestural language
marries dance, song, sound and ritual to metaphor, working in a way that is
unique only to them. If you haven’t experienced an IB production, you’re
missing what theater can become, beyond the traditional form.
Carter’s sumptuous storytelling illuminates the facts in
glorious detail like the monks illuminated ancient manuscripts with color and
filigree. Her vivid descriptions cut through mere words like a knife. Take the
self-righteous “gentlemen” of the era who “garrote[d] themselves with neckties”
equating virtue with discomfort; Her Lizzie is a prisoner of a time when women,
even women of privilege, “belonged” to men, as possessions to be displayed and
controlled, corseted and blanketed in layers of clothing to cover and keep
their bodies hidden, one presumes from other men.
The scene is set for murder: A humid, “combustible day” in
August, a father who cruelly deprived his daughter of her beloved birds, a
stepmother who could never replace Lizzie’s own, and the deep, soul numbing
realization that she could never escape her life. The performers unwind the
thread of fate, tangling it about her, sending her downward on the thinnest of
tightropes, surrounding her ears with the relentless, buzzing wings of a fly…
despairing and depriving her of hope, perhaps even of sanity.
Six remarkable women people the play as the many Lizzie
multiples/narrators, as Victorian ladies, ghosts, flies, father, servants,
stepmother, even death. They work so seamlessly that when they switch a role,
it’s impeccably designated, always expertly defined. Kamelia Aly is the
portrait keeper; Catherine Luciani is the Victorian companion; Kaitee Tredway
is the Master Puppeteer (although they all manipulate the various puppets);
Melissa Barker is the voice of Mrs. Russell; Joy Campbell is the fly; Cari
Keebaugh is the voice of Lizzie. Most importantly, even as they share the role
of Lizzie, they emote as one.
Cotton Talbot-Minkin’s stark, exaggerated costumes evoke stifling
emotionality, as does Christopher Bocchiaro’s shadowy lighting and Sam Beebe’s
eerie sound design. Woods, Beth Owens and Jill Rogati share puppet design with
Luciani, Treadway and Sarah Gazdowicz in the puppet shadow play. What sets IB
apart is the ensemble work which is so integrated in the DNA of the piece that
separating out the individual components seems a disservice to their
creativity. Suffice it to say, you will not find better ensemble performance
anywhere.
