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Friday, August 19, 2005
‘Tibetan Book’ a death trap
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW. “The Tibetan Book of the Dead (or how not to do it again).” Through Aug. 27 at Actor’s Express.
When it comes to Eastern thought, I am but an ignorant Westerner with an open mind and humble heart. I can barely tell the difference between the Kama Sutra and a yoga mat. (Well, that’s not exactly true.)
But one of these days I’m going to arrange myself in the Lying Posture of a Lion, crack the spine of my “Dharmapada” and wait for all to be revealed. I sure hope my spiritual crash course will be more enlightening than my experience with Jack in the Black Box Theatre’s production of Jean-Claude van Itallie’s “The Tibetan Book of the Dead.”
Based on the sacred Buddhist text on death and dying, van Itallie’s play was first produced at New York’s La Mama Experimental Theatre Club in 1983. This was around the time that quartz crystals and Andreas Vollenweider’s electric harp floated into the New Age culture bin and common sense seeped out.
For most of us, you see, ideas like death and the transmigration of the soul are wholly unknowable and virtually indescribable. But where Westerners despair of death, some Easterners embrace it, and spend a lifetime preparing for it.
Working from translations of Tibetan texts, the noted avant-garde playwright incorporates elements of dance, mime and dialogue into an ensemble piece for seven actors. As directed by Marty Aikens, with choreography by Rachel Craw and live music by Nathan “Mudpuppy” Green and Jamie Dedakis, the show packs images of terror and ecstasy, chaos and stillness into a single, 90-minute loop.
Candles flicker. Performers draw in the sand and create kaleidoscopic circle dances. But such evocative moments are fleeting, and too often eclipsed by the verbal gobbledy-spook.
Considered in a contemplative state, this material might seem infinitely wise or profound, but when it’s pronounced by actors speaking in affected, disembodied tones, it comes off as shrill and empty.
Usually, death is where the narrative stops. In “Book of the Dead,” it’s where it starts. The idea of providing a guided tour of the afterlife seems wild with possibility, and kind of freeing. Here it’s inert and reductive, a theatrical dead end.
THE 411: “The Tibetan Book of the Dead (or how not to do it again)”. 8 p.m. Wednesdays-Saturdays; 7 p.m. Sundays. Also: 11 p.m. Saturday and 8 p.m. Monday. Through Aug. 27. $12-$18. Jack in the Black Box Theatre, Actor’s Express, King Plow Arts Center, 887 W. Marietta St. N.W., Suite J-107, Atlanta. 404-432-9847, 404-607-7469, www.jackintheblackbox.org.
THE VERDICT: A bad trip.
