Do you ever get the feeling that reality is becoming unbound? That your friends are drifting off to some strange upside-down interpretation of events? That some unseemly force is transforming once ordinary people into primal grunting purveyors of violence and chaos? Of course, I'm speaking of Eugène Ionesco's, Rhinoceros.
“They might say something like, ‘Well, of course, the Nazis are terrible, terrible people, but you know, you must credit them with their good points.’ And you wanted to say to them: ‘But don’t you see, if you start granting them a good point here, a good point there, eventually you will concede everything to them.’ Which is exactly what happened.
“But they looked upon you as an alarmist, then a nuisance, finally an enemy to be run down. They looked like they wanted to lower their heads and charge.”
~ Eugène Ionesco (1985)
“But they looked upon you as an alarmist, then a nuisance, finally an enemy to be run down. They looked like they wanted to lower their heads and charge.”
~ Eugène Ionesco (1985)
I first encountered Eugène Ionesco and Rhinoceros as a precocious nine-year-old boy. I wasn't really hip to the man in the theatre world, but I found a 1974 American comedy film that was an adaptation of his play. It remains to this day a mercurial moment of discovery in my life. I identified with the boozy Stanley Bérenger. I further identified with absurdism. And, like the protagonist of the film, I wanted to be unique; to retain my sense of original self and purpose no matter the forces set against me. Best of all, I discovered Gene Wilder, Karen Black, and the brilliant Zero Mostel, who played the character of John (Jean in the play). He played this role prior to the film on Broadway as well. Although the film is an adaptation and differs in a number of Hollywood ways from the original play, it retains the point: Don't ever give in to Totalitarianism; I mean, if one wishes to truly be free. Or is that the point? More on this later.
I think you should watch the film. Even though this ultimately is a review of the play which was bravely directed by Lauren Warhol Caldwell at the University of Florida, you should go into it having seen the film. As of today - 11/30/2022, the link works. If it goes down, let me know and I'll do my best to update it. I do want to preface your viewing by quoting the opening title card. Let me remind you, this film came out in 1974. This being 2022 is 48 years later.
"What you are about to see could never take place. Several eminent scientists have assured us of this fact. For, as they are quick to point out ... the world is flat."
I think you should watch the film. Even though this ultimately is a review of the play which was bravely directed by Lauren Warhol Caldwell at the University of Florida, you should go into it having seen the film. As of today - 11/30/2022, the link works. If it goes down, let me know and I'll do my best to update it. I do want to preface your viewing by quoting the opening title card. Let me remind you, this film came out in 1974. This being 2022 is 48 years later.
"What you are about to see could never take place. Several eminent scientists have assured us of this fact. For, as they are quick to point out ... the world is flat."
The University of Florida Theatre Department typically has fairly short runs. A few weeks at best. Then, they're on to the next show. Blink, and you miss it. But I felt it important to write up this particular performance for two reasons: 1.) It's timelier than ever and serves as both a warning and a lesson. 2.) Folks forget truly how blessed we are in Gainesville, Florida (the Known Center of the Universe) by how much amazing theatre is available to see. Especially, at Santa Fe, the University of Florida, The HIPP, and the independent theatre throughout the city. Some of the best, riskiest, and most provocative shows I've seen are from our campuses and independent theatres. More than you might imagine, theatre happens in alternative spaces like Black C Art, or the High Dive, in the park, at the Civic Media Center, even in high schools, and around the corner in The High Springs Playhouse. For being a craft said to be "...always dying," I suspect the live theatre experience may outlive even Twitter. If we want it. I only know we need it.
Rhinoceros is nothing to fool with. The play has three acts and runs nearly three hours (about 154 pages of script). It's a beast, no pun intended. Immediately upon entering the Nadine McGuire Black Box at U.F., I am immediately struck with the brilliance of the set design (Laura Swarner). The house rule is that one is not to take photographs. Here's mine:
Rhinoceros is nothing to fool with. The play has three acts and runs nearly three hours (about 154 pages of script). It's a beast, no pun intended. Immediately upon entering the Nadine McGuire Black Box at U.F., I am immediately struck with the brilliance of the set design (Laura Swarner). The house rule is that one is not to take photographs. Here's mine:
Caldwell in the liner notes likens the Rhinoceros metaphor to mob mentality. She makes mention of social media exacerbating the condition, "... where anyone can fall prey to the Rhinoceroses' mentality at the drop of a Tweet." It's a fact that something is lost in our online interactions. Normal speech between people is the spoken word (7% of what is communicated), tonality (38%), and visual cues from body language (55%). If we take body language and tonality out of the equation as is often the case, we're left with 7% understanding; or put another way, 93% misunderstanding. Add to that how differently we talk to each other in person vs. how we talk across a digital platform, and the situation is ripe for trouble. Caldwell mentions people determining their worth in "Likes" and "Comments". Finally, she talks about anonymity which has been shown to breed contempt, rudeness and trolling. In the empty void of connection, the people are ripe and easy for any form of propaganda. This is the NOW Rhinoceros. You look around and people's faces are virtually glued to their devices. Mark Zuckerberg's dream of a helmet-wearing public immersed in the Metaverse (a bad cartoon version of the reality we inhabit) selling and buying renderings of property and purchasing with real money imaginary food to META-eat, it's all fairly bonkers on several levels. This is all the long way of saying the play could not be more relevant to what we're experiencing in our society in real life. Flat Earthers think Round Earthers have been living a lie. Round Earthers think Flat Earthers are fucking idiots. Are we each, each other's Rhinoceroses?
So, the play. In this dystopian oppressive angular set, we see our scenes (restaurant, office, bedroom) as aspects of a prison factory. Just getting in and out of the office requires an emergency worker with a big ladder. Our protagonist, Bérenger (Bryce Hagen), extolls the virtues of drink to his fussy extroverted companion, Jean (Joseph Meisner) in a restaurant. Jean: "You reek of alcohol." Bérenger: "You always look so immaculate." Jean: "Look! A Rhinoceros!" The seats shake, a sad grunting trumpeting sounds in the distance (brilliant sound design by Storm Smith - and that's the greatest of all sound designer names). The lights flicker. The start of transformations-to-come begins.
As an absurdist piece, Caldwell's directorial choices are all across the play in a signature way, and expertly so. Her stage pictures throughout resonate with emotional content and stunning significance. The scene just before one of the two intermissions finds a circle of former townspeople, adorned in horrifyingly stylized Rhinoceros costumes (designed by Jade Zhang). Absolutely chilling. A sudden break in the dialogue jump-cuts to a retro song; the cast stops what they're doing and breaks out in dance! Daisy (Katie Medved), a modish ingénue in a daisy dress, parasol, and Lana Turner sunglasses commands the stage causing all manner of titillation and discomfort between the two gentlemen. A waiter with great flair (Gianfranco Madonia) enraptures the audience with prodigious physical comedy and wordlessly steals just about every scene he's in. A logician (Conor Matthews, masked for Covid safety) tries to explain to an old gentleman (Nicholas Bennett) what a syllogism is. Strangely, the real-world need for masking only makes the dystopian nature of the circumstances even better. It's hard to get a mask on a Rhinoceros, as we've seen. Great standout dramatic turns from the entire cast, especially Alan Toney in a dual role as Mr. Botard and the Cafe Proprietor.
The most physically demanding role besides that of the lead is Meisner as Jean. It's awesome to watch this actor embody such a proper oafish dandy coming apart slowly at the seams. We can almost see his body turn to leather as he huffs and puffs, evolving before our eyes into the monster we knew was coming. He almost didn't need the final costume; so effective was his voice and bodywork.
In the end, though, the demanding role of Bérenger finds Bryce Hagen equal to the task. He plays a man going through the emotional ringer of losing all his companions to the scourge of the mysterious Rhinoceros transformation, and yet his resilience, his absolute refusal to capitulate, his final decision to stay human, a man alone against the tides of oppression is, if not a victory of permanence, a victory of conscience and moral dignity. The actor was all in!
To stage this play in modern times - Rhinoceros being a long, strange, and challenging piece of theatre, is a triumph for the cast and crew, the program at U.F., and Director Lauren Warhol Caldwell. Further, this is the kind of theatre you won't see everywhere. This is why I return to the other goal of presenting my experience of the play. Theater is there for you, all over the place. As I've said many times before and it bears repeating: Storytelling is the root of culture. Without culture, people cannot survive on the face of the Earth.
With kind regard to all theatre in Gainesville, whether it be the U.F. Blackbox or Constans, the A.R.T., the G.C.P., The Hippodrome, the Performing Arts Center, The Florida Players, Shakespeare in the Park, The Jackson N. Sasser Fine Arts Hall at Santa Fe College, The Star Center Theatre, the Vam York Theatre, The Actor's Warehouse, Buchholz Drama, or wherever one can find or make theatre, get thee there soon and often.
“Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.”
― Eugene Ionesco
So, the play. In this dystopian oppressive angular set, we see our scenes (restaurant, office, bedroom) as aspects of a prison factory. Just getting in and out of the office requires an emergency worker with a big ladder. Our protagonist, Bérenger (Bryce Hagen), extolls the virtues of drink to his fussy extroverted companion, Jean (Joseph Meisner) in a restaurant. Jean: "You reek of alcohol." Bérenger: "You always look so immaculate." Jean: "Look! A Rhinoceros!" The seats shake, a sad grunting trumpeting sounds in the distance (brilliant sound design by Storm Smith - and that's the greatest of all sound designer names). The lights flicker. The start of transformations-to-come begins.
As an absurdist piece, Caldwell's directorial choices are all across the play in a signature way, and expertly so. Her stage pictures throughout resonate with emotional content and stunning significance. The scene just before one of the two intermissions finds a circle of former townspeople, adorned in horrifyingly stylized Rhinoceros costumes (designed by Jade Zhang). Absolutely chilling. A sudden break in the dialogue jump-cuts to a retro song; the cast stops what they're doing and breaks out in dance! Daisy (Katie Medved), a modish ingénue in a daisy dress, parasol, and Lana Turner sunglasses commands the stage causing all manner of titillation and discomfort between the two gentlemen. A waiter with great flair (Gianfranco Madonia) enraptures the audience with prodigious physical comedy and wordlessly steals just about every scene he's in. A logician (Conor Matthews, masked for Covid safety) tries to explain to an old gentleman (Nicholas Bennett) what a syllogism is. Strangely, the real-world need for masking only makes the dystopian nature of the circumstances even better. It's hard to get a mask on a Rhinoceros, as we've seen. Great standout dramatic turns from the entire cast, especially Alan Toney in a dual role as Mr. Botard and the Cafe Proprietor.
The most physically demanding role besides that of the lead is Meisner as Jean. It's awesome to watch this actor embody such a proper oafish dandy coming apart slowly at the seams. We can almost see his body turn to leather as he huffs and puffs, evolving before our eyes into the monster we knew was coming. He almost didn't need the final costume; so effective was his voice and bodywork.
In the end, though, the demanding role of Bérenger finds Bryce Hagen equal to the task. He plays a man going through the emotional ringer of losing all his companions to the scourge of the mysterious Rhinoceros transformation, and yet his resilience, his absolute refusal to capitulate, his final decision to stay human, a man alone against the tides of oppression is, if not a victory of permanence, a victory of conscience and moral dignity. The actor was all in!
To stage this play in modern times - Rhinoceros being a long, strange, and challenging piece of theatre, is a triumph for the cast and crew, the program at U.F., and Director Lauren Warhol Caldwell. Further, this is the kind of theatre you won't see everywhere. This is why I return to the other goal of presenting my experience of the play. Theater is there for you, all over the place. As I've said many times before and it bears repeating: Storytelling is the root of culture. Without culture, people cannot survive on the face of the Earth.
With kind regard to all theatre in Gainesville, whether it be the U.F. Blackbox or Constans, the A.R.T., the G.C.P., The Hippodrome, the Performing Arts Center, The Florida Players, Shakespeare in the Park, The Jackson N. Sasser Fine Arts Hall at Santa Fe College, The Star Center Theatre, the Vam York Theatre, The Actor's Warehouse, Buchholz Drama, or wherever one can find or make theatre, get thee there soon and often.
“Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.”
― Eugene Ionesco
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