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Henry Thoreau: Drama Transcends Flaws...

By Steve Wells
Cavalier Daily Staff Writer

Jerome Lawrence and Robert E.
Lee have always been masterful
story tellers, whether dramatizing
the Scopes trial or relating the
madcap adventures of an eccentric
aunt, and their new play, "The
Night Thoreau Spent in Jail,"
which the Virginia Players opened
on Monday night in Minor Hall, has
the makings of an eloquent
dramatic ode.

It is unquestionably their most
significant contribution to
American theatre since "Inherit the
Wind" and, given the right
production, its future on Broadway
could be quite bright. That
production, however, would have
to be stronger than the one Robert
McLaughlin has mounted here,
which, on the whole, is little more
than passable and which only
occasionally allows the material to
achieve its full theatrical potential.

"The Night Thoreau Spent in
Jail" must be viewed as a work in
progress. Most of the difficulties in
the script are in the first act and,
unfortunately, this is also where the
production is weakest. The second
act is much more cohesive, much
better written, and, thankfully,
much better performed.

Focal Point

The focal point of the play is
the night which Henry David
Thoreau passed in a Concord,
Massachusetts jail for refusing to
pay his taxes because he did not
support the war in Mexico which
they would help finance. The play
is not about Thoreau the author,
but rather about Thoreau the man,
the naturalist, the romantic, the
transcendentalist, and the
quasi-revolutionary. It is about, in
the playwrights' own words, his
"decision to return to the human
race . . . his evolution from
withdrawal to return, the journey
from hermitizing to social
conscience."

All well and good. This could
make an interesting play. And it
does-once the authors begin to
structure their play with this end in
mind. But it is not until the very
end of the first act that we even
begin to view Thoreau as an outcast
of society. Then the play takes
shape. Its dramatic purpose
becomes evident and Thoreau's
relationships with Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Emerson's son Edward,
his deceased brother John, and,
most important, his beloved Walden
Pond take on real significance. And
the play begins to build beautifully,
through a dramatic confrontation
between Emerson and Thoreau,
through a vivid nightmare, through
crisp, economical dialogue to the
poignant final scene in which Henry
makes his final decision, his
ultimate commitment.

First Act

But what about the first act?
Well, we learn a lot about Henry,
about his deep affection for his
brother, about his philosophy and
his almost romance and his love of
nature and freedom and teaching
and being. Still, he is joyfully
relating to people in the society
around him. These people talk
about his peculiar ways, but, felt,
he's a spirited kid with original
ideas and a full head of steam. It
isn't until his arrest, a good fifty
minutes into the play, that we
clearly see the gap between Henry
and society.

The first act, as it stands, is a
pastiche, a series of incidents which
tell us about Henry but either don't
tell us enough or tell us things
which put his character in the
wrong perspective. Mssrs. Lawrence
and Lee need to re-structure this
act with their controlling dramatic
purpose at the front of their minds.

Weak Henry

I am not certain just how serious
this script problem is, for it is
compounded by several production
flaws, the most critical of which is
Thomas Busch's portrayal of Henry
during the first act. He simply falls
to ignite the spark in Thoreau's
character. He speaks far too many
of his lines in a monotone and
doesn't inject enough emotion into
the man. Some of the speeches
which Lawrence and Lee have
written for Henry are poetic,
lyrical, and capable of creating
theatrical magic, but Mr. Busch's
delivery makes most of them fall
flat. The one outstanding exception
to this is when Henry is describing
the details of his brother's death to
a girl for whom they shared a
mutual affection (a rather nebulous
character whose significance in
Henry's life is never adequately
explained), and Mr. Busch captures
the spirit of the man and the
emotional fury of the moment.

He has other such moments,
mostly in the second act. His
characterization strengthens as the
play progresses and by the time he
has his big confrontation with
Emerson, he is in fine form. But
this is late in the evening, and,
other from making Henry a
sympathetic character from the
start, Mr. Busch has made us wait
an uncomfortably long time for
Henry to come to life, so we can
take an interest in him. If only
earlier he could fully convey the
joy Henry finds in teaching or the
anger that flies into him whenever
anyone makes a statement with
which he strongly disagrees.

Fluid Staging

"The Night Thoreau Spent in
Jail" requires very fluid staging and
Mr. McLaughlin has fulfilled this
requirement as well as I think is
possible on the Minor Hall stage,
which is much too small to
comfortably accommodate this play.
He has been aided by set director
David Weiss, who has added a
thrust to his raked, sectional stage
design, which is quite functional.

Mr. McLaughlin has, however,
committed a few unforgivable sins
in his handling of the play. For
instance, at one point in the first
act, he has Henry's cellmate sit
upstage by his cot whittling while a
scene is being played downstage. It
is almost as if Mr. McLaughlin were
intentionally trying to distract the
audience's attention from the
characters involved in the
downstage scene.

More Criminal

But, perhaps even more
criminal, at the end of the play
after Henry has disappeared up the
center aisle to an all-too-soft
drumbeat, and the curtain calls
have begun, instead of having the
irregular drum-cadence build and
resound (as is indicated in those
words in the script) to celebrate
Henry's breaking out of the shell to
rejoin society on his own terms, Mr.
McLaughlin has sounds of a flute
take precedence. Now, I've got
nothing against flutes, but
throughout the play the flute has
been associated with Walden Pond
and it represents Henry's life at
Walden. The flute should not be
heard after Henry says he must
leave Walden and the fact that it is
presents an obvious contradiction
to the spirit of the ending and,
indeed, the entire thrust of the
play. This is the sort of directorial
carelessness that sends playwrights
up walls.

Supporting Cast

Now to the supporting cast,
which is generally quite good.
William Olson's portrayal of
Emerson is consistently excellent,
as is Carol Hurlburt's portrayal of
his wife, Lydian. James Carrington
comes across well as Henry's
brother, Donald Gourley has an
unusually good stage presence for
an amateur child actor as Emerson's
eight year-old son, and Helen
Benham has little to do but look
pretty as the girl in the Thoreau
brother's life, but she does that just
fine.

What might well be the evening's
most carefully drawn performance
is that of J. Craig Johnson, who is
nothing short of superb as Henry's
illiterate cellmate. Ken Lambert as
the constable of Concord and
Elizabeth Mochel as Henry's
mother are also satisfactory. The
only ones who disappointed me
were Lee Medinets as a deacon who
is a prisoner of his own conventions
and Tank Wells as a runaway slave
who is befriended by Thoreau, both
of whose characterizations
border on caricature, a fault for
which Mr. McLaughlin has to at
least share the responsibility. I
should say that the cast in general
capitalizes on most all of the humor
in the script, which is a
considerable amount, and there are
many laughs to be enjoyed.

Has Its Rewards

Not a perfect evening by a
longshot, but one which does have
its rewards, such as the beautifully
choreographed and lighted dream
sequence which is performed
flawlessly by the company. The
authors haven't gotten all the
potentially dramatic elements in
the first act untangled and set in
solid dramatic shape yet and the
Players haven't mounted as even a
production as we might desire. Still,
the theatrical promise of the
evening is clearly evident and its
merits are not to be denied.

Thomas Busch And Ken Lambert In A Scene From The Play

— Ed.)