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The 'Art' of the Matter
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| (l to R) Yvan (played by Ryun Yu), Serge (Francois Chau) and Marc (Bernard White) debate the worth of a piece of a work of art, and get into some personal matters, in East West Players’ revival of the 1998 Tony winner Art. Photo by Michael Lamont |
East West Players Revival Asks Whether a Creative Work Is Treasure of Trash
by Jeff Favre, Contributing Writer
Two people stand in front of a piece of art. One sees brilliance and is moved to tears. The other swears it’s ridiculous and fights back a nauseous gag.
This recognizable scenario serves as the centerpiece for Yasmina Reza’s 1994 French comedy Art, which took home the 1998 Tony for an English translation by Christopher Hampton.
A new Downtown Los Angeles revival of Art, at East West Players through Oct. 11 and directed by Alberto Isaac, proves that the simple concept of art’s subjectivity still offers a wealth of rich material. It remains as timeless and relevant as it was 15 years ago, and likely will be 15 years (and beyond) from now.
Still, Art requires a trio of insightful, charismatic actors that can convey its subtleties to reach its full potential. Fortunately, that is realized in the talents of François Chau, Bernard White and Ryun Yu.
For 75 intermission-less minutes, Isaac and his cast hit all the script’s high notes, while inventing more humor through tone, pace and well-choreographed physicality.
The central figure in Art is not a person but a four-foot by five-foot canvas that has been painted either entirely white, or various shades of white, depending on whom you ask. For Serge (Chau), the painting is a masterpiece of texture, style and, yes, color. On the other hand, Marc (Bernard White), Serge’s friend of 15 years, thinks the painting is a piece of garbage.
Their differences wouldn’t matter so much except Serge, a dermatologist, spent 200,000 francs for the painting, which causes Marc to rethink his entire relationship with Serge.
The men turn to mutual pal Yvan (Yu), whose desire not to offend either one infuriates both of them. The incidental subplot concerns Yvan’s impending marriage and how it is causing friction with his mother.
Plenty of plays have dealt with the debatable merits of art, but Reza’s stands out because she (and translator Hampton) refrain from too many specifics. Serge frequently uses the word “modern,” but his main reason for buying the painting is that he loves it.
Serge’s powerful emotion upsets Marc because, if his best friend loves something he hates, what does it say about their friendship? Further, what does it mean that Yvan is unable to formulate any opinion about the white canvas?
The three actors provide a study in contrasting personalities through their sharply defined portrayals. White, dressed in a conservative suit, struts the stage with a sense of arrogance, which combined with well-timed guffaws paints Marc as a man with a superiority complex.
Serge doesn’t lack confidence, but Chau displays moments of uncertainty through occasional stutters and a slight waver in his voice, which reveals that Serge is somewhat intimidated by Marc.
The pair bickers in the style of “The Odd Couple,” but it’s Yu who grabs the biggest laughs with a memorable turn as Yvan. With every entrance Yu directs another layer of exasperation at his friends. Though the story is non-specific regarding cultural background, Yu uses a Korean accent when Yvan recounts conversations with his mother.
Isaac crafts several visual comic bits, the best involving a shared snack. The men pass a bowl of olives in a continuous circle, followed by an empty bowl in which they spit out the pits. The silence, broken only by pits hitting the glass, grows funnier with each turn.
Not every moment is meant for laughs, though, and Isaac slows the pace to allow for somber reflection as the men decide the fate of their friendship.
Like the play’s painting, Alan E. Muraoka’s set is a study in monochrome. Clean, white walls match the white furniture and floor. One wall rotates to relocate the setting to each of the men’s homes.
Jeremy Pivnick’s lighting design, which uses shadows when the characters address the audience, only occasionally adds touches of color, as if to reference the debate over whether Serge’s painting truly is all-white.
Art opens the 44th season for East West Players — a season in which all of the plays selected are intended to spark debate over the value of art in society. It’s an ideal choice, executed to near perfection.
Art is at East West Players, 120 Judge John Aiso St., through Oct. 11. Information at (213) 625-7000, or eastwestplayers.org.
This recognizable scenario serves as the centerpiece for Yasmina Reza’s 1994 French comedy Art, which took home the 1998 Tony for an English translation by Christopher Hampton.
A new Downtown Los Angeles revival of Art, at East West Players through Oct. 11 and directed by Alberto Isaac, proves that the simple concept of art’s subjectivity still offers a wealth of rich material. It remains as timeless and relevant as it was 15 years ago, and likely will be 15 years (and beyond) from now.
Still, Art requires a trio of insightful, charismatic actors that can convey its subtleties to reach its full potential. Fortunately, that is realized in the talents of François Chau, Bernard White and Ryun Yu.
For 75 intermission-less minutes, Isaac and his cast hit all the script’s high notes, while inventing more humor through tone, pace and well-choreographed physicality.
The central figure in Art is not a person but a four-foot by five-foot canvas that has been painted either entirely white, or various shades of white, depending on whom you ask. For Serge (Chau), the painting is a masterpiece of texture, style and, yes, color. On the other hand, Marc (Bernard White), Serge’s friend of 15 years, thinks the painting is a piece of garbage.
Their differences wouldn’t matter so much except Serge, a dermatologist, spent 200,000 francs for the painting, which causes Marc to rethink his entire relationship with Serge.
The men turn to mutual pal Yvan (Yu), whose desire not to offend either one infuriates both of them. The incidental subplot concerns Yvan’s impending marriage and how it is causing friction with his mother.
Plenty of plays have dealt with the debatable merits of art, but Reza’s stands out because she (and translator Hampton) refrain from too many specifics. Serge frequently uses the word “modern,” but his main reason for buying the painting is that he loves it.
Serge’s powerful emotion upsets Marc because, if his best friend loves something he hates, what does it say about their friendship? Further, what does it mean that Yvan is unable to formulate any opinion about the white canvas?
The three actors provide a study in contrasting personalities through their sharply defined portrayals. White, dressed in a conservative suit, struts the stage with a sense of arrogance, which combined with well-timed guffaws paints Marc as a man with a superiority complex.
Serge doesn’t lack confidence, but Chau displays moments of uncertainty through occasional stutters and a slight waver in his voice, which reveals that Serge is somewhat intimidated by Marc.
The pair bickers in the style of “The Odd Couple,” but it’s Yu who grabs the biggest laughs with a memorable turn as Yvan. With every entrance Yu directs another layer of exasperation at his friends. Though the story is non-specific regarding cultural background, Yu uses a Korean accent when Yvan recounts conversations with his mother.
Isaac crafts several visual comic bits, the best involving a shared snack. The men pass a bowl of olives in a continuous circle, followed by an empty bowl in which they spit out the pits. The silence, broken only by pits hitting the glass, grows funnier with each turn.
Not every moment is meant for laughs, though, and Isaac slows the pace to allow for somber reflection as the men decide the fate of their friendship.
Like the play’s painting, Alan E. Muraoka’s set is a study in monochrome. Clean, white walls match the white furniture and floor. One wall rotates to relocate the setting to each of the men’s homes.
Jeremy Pivnick’s lighting design, which uses shadows when the characters address the audience, only occasionally adds touches of color, as if to reference the debate over whether Serge’s painting truly is all-white.
Art opens the 44th season for East West Players — a season in which all of the plays selected are intended to spark debate over the value of art in society. It’s an ideal choice, executed to near perfection.
Art is at East West Players, 120 Judge John Aiso St., through Oct. 11. Information at (213) 625-7000, or eastwestplayers.org.
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