Also this issue:

Is There a Left Left?
Finding a place for liberalism in the new America.
-Sam Adams

Making the Video
Doug Aitken's work mixes film, art, social commentary and a dash of MTV.
-Robin Rice

More Than Words
-Sam Adams

Wares House
-Diane Eacret

History Lessons
-Elisa Ludwig

Sets and Lucia
-Steve Cohen

Carmen, and All the Rest!
-Howard Altman

Run and Hyde
-Toby Zinman

November 7-13, 2002

theater

Noir Gold

by David Anthony Fox

Time stands still for no man, and certainly for no Madwoman. Since the play’s premiere in 1945, its fortunes have fallen, and what was once a poignant avant-garde political fable has recently seemed a relic. A ghastly (and largely unseen) film from 1969 didn’t help her cause, nor did Jerry Herman’s flop musical version, Dear World, which premiered and closed that same year.

Nowadays, Madwoman productions are generally relegated to high schools. Who are the brave souls to rescue her?

Enter director William Roudebush and the brilliantly talented ensemble at Mum Puppettheatre, with a production of dazzling charm, invention and freshness. If, in the end, I remain dubious about the play's viability, in these loving hands the fragile Madwoman emerges as more robust than I could have imagined.

In a small Parisian café, sinister leaders of politics and business discuss a momentous potential windfall: the discovery of an oil source below the neighborhood. Oil means money, of course, as well as the literal and figurative fuel for war. The café's regular denizens, a raffish but shopworn crew, gradually learn of the nefarious plot, and realize that their lives have already been made grimmer by the likes of the president, the prospector and their ilk. Led by the Countess Aurelia, a sometimes confused but always wise local madwoman, the locals determine to bring their "leaders" to justice.

At Mum, Madwoman's immense cast is played entirely by an ensemble of six actors and their doppelgangers, a series of puppets and masks that the actors deploy (and in some cases, helped to design and make). They bring it off with such exhilarating virtuosity that I found myself again and again checking the stage, certain that there had to be more actors there than were listed in the program. And the puppets and masks themselves -- resembling everything from Toulouse-Lautrec's portrait of Yvette Guilbert to Sesame Street's Ernie -- are enchanting.

It's also clear that Roudebush and company believe that Madwoman's message, forged as a response to the Nazi occupation, remains timely. The actors commit to it with all the force of their considerable talents. Jennifer Childs is a wonderful Aurelia, and the rest of the performers (Michael Canfield, Aaron Cromie, Dawn Falato, Dave Jadico and Robert Smythe) are her absolute equals.

Finally, there is lovely scenery (by Dirk Durossette), lighting (James P. Murphy) and costumes (Susan D. Smythe). They and Roudebush fashion a first-act finale that is simply breathtaking in its beauty and honesty.

By all means, see this Madwoman -- and bring the family!