Directed by Eric Parness
By the Oberon Theatre Ensemble
At the Jan Hus Playhouse
351 E. 74th
(212) 560-2241
Review by
If you’re anything like me, you can’t see a bunny, without turning to the person next to you and saying “Tell me ‘bout the rabbits George”. Sadly, many people haven’t read John Steinbeck's and think I’m doing an impression of the Abominable Snowman from the Bugs Bunny cartoons. Lucky for me, the Oberon Theatre Ensemble is producing Steinbeck’s play, and I can hang out in front of the theater every night asking people to tell me ‘bout the rabbits.
George and Lenny are migrant workers in Depression Era California. George fantasizes about leaving the hobo life for something better, yet he can’t seem to get anywhere in life because he’s shepherding Lenny, a giant man-child with a knack for getting into trouble and a penchant for fuzzy rodents. When the two bindlestiffs get hired as farm hands it seems that George and Lenny have found a way out of the drudgery of wandering as hobos until... well if you want to know what happens, you’ll either have to dig out your ninth grade American Lit notebook, or (even better) go see the Oberon Theatre Ensemble’s first rate production of the play.
The script is an American classic, and while modern directors like to tinker with classics (usually to their detriment), director Eric Parness has the smarts to present the play as Steinbeck intended. It’s easy to feel the twenty-first century slip away as the set, costumes, lighting and dialects take the audience into the bunkhouse of a 1930s farm, all under the expert guidance of Parness. He even manages to enhance this mostly dark play by bringing out some comic moments which are sorely needed once things start to go bad for George and Lenny.
The cast Parness has assembled is spot-on perfect. Spearheading the ensemble is Ed Jewett as Lenny Smalls—it's hard to image a better Lenny than Jewett. Jewett is lovable and comic for most of the play, but switches to terrifying and tragic with ease, never once giving the audience a glimpse of the actor beneath the character.
Jewitt isn’t the only star here. Jarel Davidow gives us a George to rival Jewitt’s Lenny, and the supporting cast is well suited for each role, especially David Sitler as Slim and the deliberately bimbo-ish Jane Courtney as Curly’s wife.
Sidney Shannon’s costumes evoke the period well and her designs for Curly’s wife provide the perfect amount of sleaziness for this rather misogynistic play’s one female role. Aaron J. Mason’s lighting design successfully captures the look of some unusual scenes, such as a fire lit campground, and a barn lit by lanterns.
Despite the quality of this production, the illusion was occasionally broken. One character who lost his hand has fingers which poke out of his sleeve from time to time, and the same amputee has a miraculous ability to grab items with his stump. The lack of a set crew caused the cast to make the set changes themselves, which was all done in character, and sometimes resulted in a little too much ad-libbing. The set itself is a tad too simplistic, with movable blocks (disguised as farm crates of some sort) and bales of hay moved about the stage to convey the different locations. The sound design by Michael Juarez occasionally lacks subtlety, telling the audience a little too blatantly what’s supposed to be going on offstage. Also the one or two fight scenes, choreographed by Nicole Godino, feel more like stage combat than actual fights. It doesn’t help either to see Lenny deliver a soliloquy to an obviously store bought, stuffed toy puppy, representing a real dog.
But don’t let any of the above gripes dissuade you from seeing this production. Oberon’s Of Mice And Men is a magnificent revival of a classic play whose themes are still painfully universal.
