‘Dazzle’ gives complete dramatic package
“The Dazzle” is a comedy in the first act, a tragedy in the second act and an uncommonly rich and literate production from start to finish.
This Richard Greenberg play – about two eccentric (to say the least) brothers – is the complete package of intelligent theater. It has two outstanding acting performances, a wealth of brilliant language and a filled-to-the-gills set that functions practically as another character.
The result is one of the season’s most satisfying nights of theater.
Director Michael Weaver strikes just the right tone in the first act when we meet the brilliant young concert pianist Langley Collyer and his lawyer brother Homer Collyer. Both are dressed impeccably in tuxedos, and both appear to be dashing men about turn-of-the-century Manhattan.
Before long, though, we learn that this is deceptive.
First of all, their Harlem townhouse is, charitably speaking, a rummage heap. Set designer Jamie Flanery and props designer Kimberly Crawley have created a chaotic jumble of books, newspapers, sleds, pianos and evocative junk.
Also, Langley begins to exhibit symptoms of what today might be called Asperger Syndrome – an obsessive concern with minute detail, a distrust of emotion and an exasperating literal-mindedness.
Milly Ashmore, a beautiful young society woman, arrives at the house and becomes infatuated with them. She likes what she considers their artistic lifestyle, but she is mostly interested in irritating her own snobby family. With Milly around, Langley’s problems seem even more obvious. When Milly mentions an idea she had, Langley replies matter-of-factly, “I never noticed you had any ideas. That doesn’t mean that you don’t have ideas, just that I don’t care about them.”
These kinds of lines are played for laughs, but the laughter has an edge. We know that something is seriously out of balance in Langley’s head.
Homer, meanwhile, is portrayed as an intelligent but acerbic man with a sardonic way of speaking. When he sees Langley minutely examining Milly’s gorgeous red tresses, he says dryly, “Remove your hand from that lady’s coiffure.”
Tralen Doler, as Langley, owns the first act, as we watch him sputter out his disconnected thoughts at breakneck speed. His eyes and his body language are tense with a disconcerting single-minded focus. Doler never goes all the way into “Rain Man” territory – his performance is more subtle, more nuanced and more frighteningly real.
“I wish I didn’t have so many senses,” he blurts at one point. “Five are far too many.”
The second act, which takes place when the brothers have become elderly, belongs to Mathew Ahrens as Homer.
Homer begins the act sitting in a chair and spilling his despair directly to the audience. He can no longer bear his brother’s disjointed thoughts – he longs to hear complete, coherent stories – and his lifelong sacrifice to care for his brother has become unbearable.
Ahrens goes from a suave James Spader-like dispenser of bon mots to a slackened, defeated, and immensely tragic old man. Ahrens exerts a kind of gravitational pull, drawing all of our concentration toward him. Pay particular attention to his eyes.
Julie Zimmer is bright and sprightly as Milly. However, Greenberg never fleshes out her character – it is a little too obvious that Milly is a playwright’s contrivance, “an enzyme in whose presence reactions take place,” as Homer says.
The play’s one flaw is that it is too clearly contrived and self-conscious. Occasionally even the characters sound more like the playwright than the characters, as when Homer describes himself as Milly’s antagonist “because it makes a better scene.”
Yet that matters surprisingly little when compared to the sheer tragic trajectory of the brother’s lives.
How many plays can make you laugh, make you think and ultimately move you to tears? Get ready to be dazzled.