The Cavalier daily :: Tuesday, April 28, 1970 :: University of Virginia Library

WASHINGTON - August
Strindberg's "Dance of Death,"
which Arena Stage is currently
presenting as its fifth production of
the season, can accurately be
described as an early nineteenth
century "Who's Afraid of Virginia
Woolf?" It can also be viewed, as
director Alfred Ryder points out in
a program note, as a "No Exit"
which takes place on earth instead
of in Hell.

It is concerned with the love-hate
relationship of Edgar and
Alice, a couple approaching their
silver wedding anniversary living in
virtual isolation on an island off the
coast of Sweden. They look upon
their neighbors, as well as each
other, as enemies. But just as they
could not survive without the
productive energy of those on the
outside, neither could they function
effectively with other mates.
Strindberg's point is that incompatible
as they are, they are bound
together by a natural force.

Edgar, a captain in the garrison
artillery, and Alice are visited by a
quarantine officer named Kurt,
who introduced them decades before.
Kurt serves much the same
purpose in this play as Nick and
Honey do in "Virginia Woolf;" he is
sort of a catalyst, i.e., his presence
causes Edgar and Alice's emotions
to reach a peak. Thus, with Kurt in
the middle, they bicker, plot, and
deceive, with the play moving
almost in a circle (like Leo Kerz'
serviceable turntable set does twice)
for two acts.

Final Segment

The third act introduces Edgar
and Alice's daughter and Kurt's son
into the turmoil. This final segment
was written some months after the
original two-act play was finished,
but Strindberg wished them to be
presented on the same program.
Perhaps for this reason, the third
act seems vaguely incongruous to
the other two; not necessarily
better or worse, just different. It
should be noted, however, that
Strindberg, despite his switch of
focus in this concluding episode,
admirably does not forget about his
three main characters.

What is missing in the Arena's
production is credible torment.
Edgar and Alice never really come
across as people who hate each
other. Their verbal insults are
usually delivered with instead
of passion. It is almost as if
they enjoy this contest of embittered
witness. Their tauntings
seem harmless, as if a game they
play simply to break the monotony
of their lonely existence. The result
is that "Dance of Death" has no
dramatic fury. It's tame and therefore
pointless and passive.

Too Many Laughs

I tend to think that this trouble
es not so much in the acting as in
the new "free adaptation" by Paul
Avila Mayer and the direction of
Mr. Ryder. There are too many
laugh in this production (though
not nearly enough for it to succeed
as a comedy). The characters aren't
desperate enough for their scheming
and bitching to have any
strong impact.

Under the circumstances, Rip
Torn plays Edgar satisfactorily,
although occasionally there is a hint
of caricature in his portrayal.
Viva Lindfors does extremely
well in the role of Alice, giving the
character much feminine strength.
Mitchell Ryan turns in a fine,
straightforward performance as
Kurt, Julie Garfield makes a graceful,
if somewhat abrupt, move from
adolescence into womanhood as the
battling couple's offspring, and
Robert Walden seems right as
Kurt's son.

Of course, the possibility exists
that the cast is as much to blame as
anybody else for the play's tepidness.
I can't bring myself to accept
that theory, however, for the fact
that the fault is general and not
specific within the production
points to a case of weak adaptation
or misdirection. In any event, Edgar
and Alice emerge as pussycats
instead of tigers, clawing at each
other but never drawing any blood
and, consequently, never kindling
any theatrical fire.