Let’s go crazy

If you choose to see Brüka Theatre’s production of Marat/Sade, start by putting all of your expectations aside. When you enter the theater, you’ll probably be confused. When you’re seated, you’ll probably be uncomfortable. When you leave, you’ll probably be exhausted and maybe, like me, have a bit of a headache and a desire to drink.

These are not necessarily bad things—if you’re willing to be consumed by the art, to be chewed up by it and spat out again.

Written by Peter Weiss in 1964, Marat/Sade depicts the infamous Marquis de Sade directing a play while in an insane asylum. The head of the asylum, Coulmier, has come to see this form of “art as therapy,” and you, the audience, are his guests. The actors—aka patients—will re-enact the assassination of French revolutionary leader Jean-Paul Marat by Charlotte Corday, and de Sade will interrupt the action often to argue philosophical points with the doomed man.

The range and intensity of psychological problems exhibited by the cast are pretty impressive; most of the mannerisms seem real enough to creep me out. For example, Heather Edmiston’s Charlotte Corday suffers from a sleeping sickness that causes her to stumble around the room and talk in a creepy, halting voice. Rodney Hurst’s Duperret is a sex fiend who won’t stop grabbing at Corday, and who occasionally manages to catch her. Dingy white hospital garb streaked with dirt and grime adds an extra layer of authenticity to the patients, as does their tendency to climb on things and talk to the audience at inappropriate moments.

The Herald (Jeremiah Nelson), dressed up like a jester king, acts as a narrator and fleshes out the storyline in rhyming couplets. Four characters dressed as clowns add raunchy comic relief and spice up the proceedings with song. The volume level of these four voices combined can be overwhelming—they’re probably the reason for my headache—but their manic energy is a perfect touch, combined with the free-for-all musical stylings of the small orchestra.

In contrast, the two central characters are played fairly straight. Tom Plunkett’s de Sade is a cool, calm, collected guy who sports an evil grin whenever the proceedings get out of hand. Michael Grimm’s Marat, despite being a diagnosed paranoiac, is an intelligent man whose idealism is marred by his bloodthirsty righteousness. Sitting at opposite corners of the room, the two act as anchor points amidst the lunacy.

Unfortunately, the verbal sparring between Marat and de Sade is long-winded and mostly unintelligible, or I would have given this production a higher rating. The concepts they discuss demand your undivided attention, but that’s impossible with all the patients stomping around and hitting themselves in the head. To clear things up a bit, you might want to take a moment to read the author’s note included with your program before the play starts.

Again, this is not an easy play to watch. The night I saw Marat/Sade, a handful of people (including a well-known local reviewer) actually walked out during intermission and didn’t come back. But even if the feeling Marat/Sade inspires in you is discomfort, I encourage you stick it out until the end; after all, art isn’t always pretty, and genius is rarely sane.