‘Assassins’ Hits Right On The Mark

Productions of Assassins, Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s controversial musical about historic gunshots, have historically shot themselves in the foot by opening—or trying to—in politically volatile times. The show’s premiere at Playwright’s Horizons was crippled by the climate of the Gulf War, and a recent Roundabout Theatre Company revival was canceled in the wake of the events of Sept. 11. In a Roundabout press release on Sept. 13, the authors announced, “Assassins is a show which asks audiences to think critically about various aspects of the American experience. In light of Tuesday’s murderous assault on our nation and on the most fundamental things in which we all believe, we...believe this is not an appropriate time to present a show which makes such a demand.” Such a time has now come. The current production at the Loeb Ex, directed by Adam R. Perlman ’04, while not tailored in any specific way to the aftermath of Sept. 11, skillfully allows current events to form a new lens through which to view the domestic terrorists of Assassins.

Searching and at times bleak and darkly comic, Assassins is framed as a series of pseudo-historical vignettes depicting presidential assassinations and attempts, beginning with assassination “pioneer” John Wilkes Booth and ending with Lee Harvey Oswald’s shot from the book depository. Time and space are fluid. Garfield assassin Charles Guiteau gives a shooting lesson to would-be Ford assassin Sara Jane Moore, and Booth suggests to Guiseppe Zangara that he might relieve his stomach pains by shooting Franklin D. Roosevelt, Class of 1904. Allowing the assassins throughout history to meet each other highlights the common themes that drove them to do the unthinkable.

None of the imagined interactions sink to the level of absurdity that often comes with such anachronism, and the characters remain entirely believable throughout. Perlman made a shrewd decision in casting Samuel H. Perwin ’04 in two roles. As the Balladeer, he sings simplistic folk-style description and commentary on the first three completed assassinations. After the Balladeer is driven from the stage by a horde of bitter assassins, Perwin reappears in the final scenes as Lee Harvey Oswald.

By casting the two roles as one, the danger of oversimplifying history and the ultimate futility of the assassinations themselves are underscored. The Balladeer’s platitudes don’t convince the hapless, desperate assassins that their problems could have been solved without violence, that “when you lose, what you do is try again.” Defeated, he returns to join them as Oswald, only to fail again to find an easy solution.

Perwin is amply equipped to handle both roles, with vocal capabilities driving forth the stories of the Balladeer and the acting ability to project the manipulatable persona of Oswald in one of the more bizarre peer pressure scenes ever conceived.

Overall, the voices in the cast, a mix of Harvard and other Boston-area students, do more than justice to Sondheim’s notoriously difficult music. Other than an occasional asynchrony between voices and music, the only real weakness was during “How I Saved Roosevelt,” where not all of the supporting cast seemed quite up to the demands of the song. Otherwise, the quiet power of Dan O’Shea’s Czolgosz along with the comically scatterbrained delivery of Megan J. Gaffney ’02 in “The Gun Song” are more representative of the vocal versatility of the cast.

The musical nature of the songs is often in direct contrast to the content. For instance, the lyrical love duet sung by John Hinckley (Patrick W. Hosfield ’05) and Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme (Julie Goldin) to the absent Jodie Foster and Charles Manson is musically the most beautiful number in the show, and their voices resonate with passion and fervor. Yet it is actually a song about obsession, control and the desire of two unbalanced individuals to do something tragically drastic to prove their love. Hosfield and Goldin play it totally straight, refraining from descending into caricature, rendering “Unworthy of Your Love” a powerful piece and leaving it entirely to the audience to discern the irony.

Guiteau, played by Oussama Zahr ’03, has another such number. Endearingly overbearing throughout, Zahr cakewalks while ascending the gallows, performing the upbeat number with the thinly masked confusion and desperation that the song demands.

Appropriately, we are (almost) never asked to laugh at anyone who succeeded in killing a president. But several failed attempts give fodder for the more humorous scenes in the show, allowing us to laugh only in the comfort of knowing that Ford and Nixon survived. While they are never without a serious subtext, several scenes are highly comic. The two scenes leading up to Fromme and Moore’s attempts on Ford are priceless, delivered with impeccable timing and grooviness by bell-bottom-and-love-bead clad Goldin and Gaffney.

Sam Byck, played by Jared M. Greene ’03, is alternatively coarsely acerbic and plaintive, a perfect study in contradiction. Yet the fragility of the American dream is never far from the comedy. Greene’s off-key delivery of a few lines from West Side Story highlights their shared theme of disillusionment.

It is impossible to watch Assassins without considering Sept. 11. Audiences today will probably wince more at hearing Byck describe his intent to crash a plane into Nixon’s White House, and accusations of civil liberties curtailment may strike an especially resonant chord. Even the set design, resplendent with American flags, campaign posters and news clippings reminds that this is a show about American values and affronts to them.

Yet it is precisely because the show, written more than a decade before the national tragedy, has such relevance that it should be seen. Although we are at times asked to look critically at the humanity of the characters, no excuses are made, nor should they be. This production staff and cast has done the community a service by presenting this show, and in such fine form, to keep us thinking.

theater

Assassins

Book by John Weidman ’68

Music & Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

Directed by Adam R. Perlman ’04

Music Directed by Michael A. Schuler ’02

Produced by Zadoc P. Angell ’03

Loeb Experimental Theater

April 4-13