October 19, 2006
By Barbara Vitello
Caravaggio is a dissertation on faith disguised as a drama that succeeds on both accounts.
Richard Vetere's play about 16th-century Italian painter Michelangelo Merisi Caravaggio covers familiar ground, posing theological questions that have long troubled skeptics and believers alike. How does one sustain faith? Why does an omnipotent deity allow his followers to suffer? How does one reconcile belief in that ideal with the harsh, painful reality of a world where hypocrisy, corruption and evil not only exist but flourish?
At the same time, Vetere paints an intriguing portrait of a troubled artist living a tumultuous life. Born in Milan in 1571, Caravaggio was something of an "enfant terrible," a volatile visionary who drank, fought and painted extraordinary pictures defined by their realism and the striking contrast between dark and light known as chiaroscuro, a revolutionary technique at the time.
Besides the crisis of faith, Caravaggio also examines the conflict between remaining true to one's vision or bowing to convention.
The play's talky at times, and some scenes serve more as a forum for a debate on art and religion than as a way to move the narrative forward. But it's a solid piece of theater given a solid world premiere by director Dale Heinen and the Silk Road Theatre Project. The intimate production, which unfolds on Lee Keenan's sumptuous, burnished set, features projections of the artist's paintings and has an autumnal look thanks to Keenan's evocative lighting that recreates the luminosity and chiaroscuro of Caravaggio's paintings.
This condensed account of Caravaggio's final years isn't history. Writers play with facts and timelines. Vetere suggests Caravaggio (a passionate performance by Mike Simmer who reveals the progressive man behind the troubled artist) was tortured for questioning religious doctrine. He also addresses the painter's sexuality, referencing affairs with his friend and companion Francesco (Levi Petree) and his mistress/model Lena (a playful, insightful performance from Brenda Barrie as the prostitute consigned to "the garden of evil, the anti-Eden"). True or not, those incidents serve to illuminate the character of this enigmatic artist and compelling protagonist: His unwillingness to compromise; his refusal to idealize his subjects and his use of prostitutes, peddlers and hustlers as models for religious figures; not to mention his religious struggle. And that makes for good theater.
The action begins in 1606 Rome with a petty dispute between Caravaggio (a frequent brawler) and another man, which results in that man's death. At the urging of his patron, the politic and artistically astute Cardinal del Monte (Don Blair, very good as the sly sensualist who knows survival demands manipulation and accommodation), Caravaggio flees for Malta. He is welcomed by Alof de Wignacourt (played by Sean Sinitski with a combination of menace and arrogance), leader of a group of knights and a convert whose zeal has made him a tyrant. Wignacourt is an admirer but upon discovering the painter's "heresy," he assumes the role of savior of the artist's soul and subjects him to the rack. Meanwhile, the cardinal petitions the pope on behalf of Carvaggio, offering to intervene in some financial matters if the pontiff grants his request for a pardon.
The stronger second act finds Caravaggio back in Italy where he's sheltered by fellow painter Carracci (the excellent Ron Wells), a conformist whose wealth and success comes from adhering to convention. Carracci emerges as a kind of Salieri to Caravaggio's Amadeus. Carracci is the consummate public servant, producing pleasant but forgettable art that pleases political leaders. His art anesthetizes, while Caravaggio's stimulates and inspires. Caravaggio, not Carracci, is the genius and Wells incredibly subtle performance suggests Carracci knows this. The pain and disappointment that play across Well's face as Carracci realizes he lacks his colleague's greatness say more than any line of dialogue. Wells makes his torment palpable in one of the play's best performances.
Simmer also deserves praise for his performance as a man who recognizes his talent as a gift from God but finds himself unable to reconcile his gratitude for the gift with the ambivalence he feels toward the deity who bestowed it.
"Faith doesn't guide my hand," he says, "my questions do."
Even to the eloquent finale, a poignantly written scene that finds Caravaggio consumed by sadness from having his most profound questions go unanswered, yet resolves to do what he must: embrace the light.
3 1/2 Stars out of four