NYFF ’12: The Satin Slipper

America represents the land of opportunity, but the Islamic world remains a very real danger.  It is the late Sixteenth Century or perhaps the early Seventeenth.  French playwright Paul Claudel might have taken a few liberties with his historical timeline, but that is almost to be expected of an epic spanning three continents and bridging Heaven and Earth.  Adapting Claudel’s Satin Slipper is a daunting proposition, but Portuguese centenarian auteur Manoel de Oliveira took up the challenge at the youthful age of 77.  Originally a selection of the 1985 New York Film Festival (in a drastically edited form), Oliveira’s full 410 minute Slipper makes a return appearance tomorrow as part of the Masterworks section of the 50th New York Film Festival, now officially underway.

The Old World has discovered the New World and Spain rules the seas.  However, her grip might be loosening somewhat.  For Don Pelagio, it is a dubious honor to have the King’s confidence at such a time.  He is being dispatched to shore up Spain’s African holdings at a time when his marriage is being sorely tested.  The much younger Doña Prouheze has attracted the unwelcomed attention of Don Camillo as well as the reciprocated affection of Don Rodrigo. 

Due to the political maneuvering of the King and her husband, Prouheze reluctantly accepts command of the Spanish outpost at Mogador, forcing her into the clutches of Camillo and forever separating her from Rodrigo.  However, she eventually entrusts her daughter to the thwarted lover who could never have conceived her, yet to whom she bears an eerie resemblance.

Slipper is talky, rangy, and top heavy with exposition.  It is also a masterpiece of world drama, but an absolute beast to stage.  While full productions generally clock in around the seven hour mark, the Dominican Black Friars Repertory mounted a svelte but worthy three hour abridged Slipper as part of their Claudel Project in early 2010.  Oliveira deliberately emphasizes the dramatic source material, using an apparent proscenium stage production as a framing device and using highly stylized theatrical sets throughout the film. 

This is a strategy that becomes considerably more efficacious as the film progresses.  In fact, the scenes involving the celestial angels are far better served by his contra-realist visuals than they could have been rendered with mid 1980’s special effects.  Unfortunately, Oliveira’s transition away from the ostensive stage undercuts the powerful opening, in which a Jesuit Father lashed to the mast of sinking ship prays directly to God for the redemption of his impetuous younger brother, Don Rodrigo.  It is a rather profound scene that essentially encapsulates the themes of redemption and sacrifice Claudel will explore in the hours to come, in mere minutes.

Despite its lack of verisimilitude and Oliveira’s occasional postmodern flourishes, his cast connects with the deep yearning of Claudel’s characters.  Luís Miguel Cintra conveys both Rodrigo’s recklessness dash and his severe brooding quite well.  As Prouheze, Patricia Barzyk (Miss France 1980) has to be one of the fiercest tragic screen heroines ever.  Probably the most recognizable face in Oliveira’s Slipper is French actress Anne Consigny, who also has some fine moments with Cintra, serving as her adoptive father’s conscience.

Most viewers will need time to acclimate to Slipper’s look and language, just as the ensemble visibly seems to get their sea legs as the film picks up steam.  While periodic scenes of Shakespearean bumpkins offering their rustic commentary could have been excised without causing any grievous bodily harm, the totality of Oliveira’s production is undeniably impressive.

NYFF deserves all kinds of credit for programming Satin Slipper.  At a whisker under seven hours, it presents certain scheduling challenges (note: there will be a half hour intermission).  Yet, it dovetails rather nicely with other selections at this year’s fest.  Oliveira admirers can also watch the master at work helming The Strange Case ofAngelica in Luis Miñarro’s documentary short 101 (Oliveira’s age at the time), which proceeds Francesco Patierno’s War of the Volcanoes tonight (9/29) and this coming Wednesday (10/3). 

Although it is predominantly about Spanish characters, written by a French playwright, Slipper also incorporates a fair bit of Portuguese historical geopolitics, making it an interesting companion film to see in dialogue with Valeria Sarmiento’s Lines of Wellington (originally developed by the late Raul Ruiz), screening October 9^th and 10^th.  Regardless, Oliveira’s Slipper is an ambitious attraction in its own right—one festival patrons will not have many other opportunities to see on the big screen in all its seven hour glory.  Recommended for the literate and adventurous, Satin Slipper screens this Sunday afternoon (9/30) at the Walter Reade Theater.

The Claudel Project: Noon Divide

As the former French consul in Shanghai and a devout Catholic, it is easy to understand how the anti-Western, anti-Catholic Boxer Rebellion might horrify playwright Paul Claudel. However, it was a less than epic event from his own life—namely an illicit affair—that inspired his drama of rootless French expatriates advancing towards their ill-fate in turn-of-the-century China. Yet, as is often the case in his work, the worldly take on hidden, cosmic import in Noon Divide, the final production of the Storm Theatre and Blackfriars Repertory Theatre’s Paul Claudel Project, now running at the Church of Notre Dame.

The entire notion of love, in any context, is highly problematic in Divide. Mesa, an unremarkable French civil servant, has given up on it completely, renouncing his kinship with his fellow man. For the flirtatious Ysé, it is a dangerous, but effective tool. On the proverbial slow boat to China (for the even more proverbial forty days), Mesa resents her attentions, while hating himself for the feelings they stir. There is definitely something percolating between them, catching the attention of the rakish Almaric, but escaping the notice of her easily manipulated husband De Ciz. Claudel though, is more interested in Mesa’s attempts at abnegation than consummation, finding more drama inherent in the former.

As befitting a Zhivago-like romantic saga, the fate all three men will become intertwined with Ysé as the Boxer Rebellion inexorably boils over. Nevertheless, Claudel almost entirely shuns the macro picture, using the Boxers solely as background noise. Instead, his focus is more intimate and infinitely wider. It is a tricky duality that directors Stephen Logan Day and Peter Dobbins pull off quite nicely.

Granted, Claudel’s dramatic instincts might sound counter-intuitive, but he certainly could write. One is immediately struck by the richness of his language and the effectiveness of the French translation of Divide. His dialogue is heavy with significance, but it never sounds awkward or affected. In fact, it is often quite sharp—witty, even.

Claudel’s words are probably not a little daunting, but the four-handed cast proves quite game. Projecting a malevolent magnetism, Chris Kipiniak is particularly gripping as Almaric. Co-director Dobbins also conveys all the contradictions and uncertainties of Mesa, while still coming across as acutely human.

A deep and challenging production, Divide is a strong conclusion to the Claudel Project. Frankly, it leaves one wondering why Claudel’s work has been so rarely revived. While he addresses faith in sophisticated and uncompromising terms that might not attract the materialistic or shallow, his plays offer much for directors to sink their teeth into. Divide is a case in point. Highly recommended, it plays at the Church of Notre Dame through November 20th.

On-Stage: The Satin Slipper

Spanning oceans and bridging Heaven and Earth, Paul Claudel’s The Satin Slipper (or the Worst is not the Surest) is about as epic as it gets. With an equally epic original running time of nine hours (eventually trimmed by the playwright to a mere four and a half), it understandably rarely revived (though some hardcore cineastes might be familiar with Manoel de Oliveira’s 1985 film adaptation). Fortified with considerable ambition and wielding a ruthless editorial hand, the Black Friars Repertory and the Storm Theatre have mounted a lean production that clocks in just under the three hour mark. Appropriately, it has recently opened in the subterranean Theatre of the Church of Notre Dame, the traditional home of New York’s French Catholic community.

Following on the heels of last year’s The Tidings Brought to Mary (one of the year’s ten best independent productions), Slipper represents the second play mounted as part of the Blackfriars and Storm Theatre’s Paul Claudel Project designed to reintroduce the preeminent Catholic dramatist’s work to a contemporary audience. While Tidings casts issues of faith and redemption in the starkest possible terms, Slipper by contrast offers plenty of high tragedy, worldly intrigue, and old fashioned romance. Yet, the entire play is encapsulated in its evocatively staged opening scene, in which a Jesuit Father lashed to the mast of a sinking ship prays for the redemption of his impetuous younger brother, Don Rodrigo.

The Old World has discovered the New World and Spain rules the seas. However, her grip might be loosening somewhat. For Don Pelagio, it is a dubious honor to have the King’s confidence at such a time. He is being dispatched to shore up Spain’s African holdings at a time when his marriage is being sorely tested. The much younger Doña Prouheze has attracted the unwelcomed attention of Don Camillo as well as the reciprocated affection of Don Rodrigo.

With scenes divided between three continents, Slipper unfolds a grand story of a love defined more by its denial than its fulfillment. There is very definitely much pain and misery along the way, but it is never without meaning. In fact, at key junctures divine angels take a direct interest in these affairs of men.

Though the production evidently abridged about a third of Claudel’s own abridgment, director Peter Dobbins maintains the narrative thread fairly well throughout. Still, the large cast of characters can be a bit confusing as they enter and exit, only to often quickly die off stage. In fact, a fair amount of the storyline is revealed by an on-stage narrator, requiring a greater measure of concentration on the part of the audience. Yet, it very definitely builds to quite a memorable payoff—a Claudelian payoff rather than a crowd-pleasing romantic payoff to be sure—but a genuine payoff none the less.

The entire cast exhibits a strong affinity for Claudel’s rich text, particularly Harlan Work and Meredith Napolitano as the star-crossed Rodrigo and Prouheze, respectively. They convincingly err and suffer as required by fate, without coming across as stiffly symbolic figures. Also, Ross Degraw (who was excellent in Tidings) again brings a fittingly commanding presence as the noble Pelagio.

While undoubtedly more accessible than the challenging Tidings, the edited Slipper does not quite pack the same punch. Still, it is a lofty, inventively staged production, featuring some excellent performances. It also admirably underscores the depth and power of Claudel’s fascinating work. It runs at the Theatre of the Church of Notre Dame through February 6th.

(Photos: Michael Abrams Photography)

On-Stage: The Tidings Brought to Mary

Considered one of the great dramatists of the early twentieth century, Paul Claudel’s plays have been rarely produced by American companies in recent years. Clearly, his conservative Catholicism has not endeared him to the contemporary theater world. The younger brother of sculptor Camille Claudel, he served France in a number of diplomatic postings (at one time employing composer Darius Milhaud as a mission secretary), ultimately becoming a vocal opponent of the Vichy puppet regime. Claudel’s The Tidings Brought to Mary finally returns to the New York stage for the first time since its 1922 Broadway premiere, in a Blackfriars Repertory-Storm Theatre co-production currently running at Paradise Factory.

Anne Vercors has amassed considerable land and wealth, but he (yes, he is a he) is alarmed by the chaos and moral decline surrounding him. France has two ineffectual rivals to the throne, while Rome lacks a Pope. In an act of probable sacrifice, Vercors decides to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to pray for France—a journey with a very low rate of survival in Medieval times. Setting his affairs in order before departing, Vercors arranges the marriage of his eldest daughter, the devout Violaine, to Jacques Hurey, who has been like a son to the older man. Violaine and Hurey happily agree to Vercors’ plan, but their wedding is not to be.

With a little help from her jealous sister Mara, Violaine’s past will irrevocably sabotage her engagement. A woman of boundless love and forgiveness, Violaine met with the guilt-ridden cathedral architect Pierre de Craon to absolve him for a clumsy attempt to rape her. After the attack, de Craon was stricken with leprosy in a cosmic act of retribution for his sins. To sooth his ailing spirit and body, Violaine kisses de Craon on the lips. Tragically, such contact is sufficient for Violaine to contract the dreaded disease herself.

When Violaine reveals her condition to her intended, she is banished to the wilderness, forced to rely on the peasantry’s reluctant charity. With her health declining precipitously, she lives like a Stylite saint, maintaining her Christian love for all, including and especially her scheming sister. Tidings might superficially sound like a tale of sibling strife, but the rivalry only travels in one direction: from Mara, projected unto Violaine.

Claudel’s Catholic theology is a far cry from happy church gospel, dealing with themes of forgiveness and sacrifice in the starkest of terms. Like her father, Violaine is willing to sacrifice herself on behalf of her fellow man. Indeed, she is blessed in her suffering, because it those who are most wretched who shall find salvation.

Tidings is an extraordinarily challenging play, but the Blackfriars’ production never loses sight of the fundamental human drama. Claudel’s translated text is obviously quite demanding, but the entire cast handles the material quite convincingly. In particular, Erin Beirnard brings a humanizing vulnerability to the role of the saintly Violaine. Likewise, Ross DeGraw is a commanding stage presence as Vercors, portraying him not as a religious stereotype, but a man of principle and authority.

Claudel’s play might be demanding, but it well rewards the audience’s close attention. It is a meaty work, smartly produced and acted. Happily, the Blackfriars and the Storm Theatre will follow-up Tidings with two more of the French playwright’s neglected plays as part of their Paul Claudel Project. Now officially open, Tidings runs through April 4th.