Review: Politics of Fairytales
NoHo Studios, North Hollywood
by Jeff Nelson
Once upon a time, I received notice of The Politics of Fairy Tales, now enjoying a run at the NoHo Studios. Then, before I could spin my hair into gold or sleep for one hundred years or squeeze my foot into that tiny little shoe, I immediately made a number of assumptions, all of which turned out to be wrong. To start, I assumed that The Politics of Fairy Tales was going to be some sort of rehash of The Three Bears or some other story I’d heard a million times. (Wrong.) Then I assumed that, as an adult, I couldn’t possibly be entertained by stories written for mere children. (Wrong.) And then, of course, being the politically correct person that I am known throughout the land for being, I assumed that fairy tales are politically incorrect, sexist, and violent, and teach children to grow up acting politically incorrect, sexist, and violent. (Well, maybe my assumptions weren’t completely wrong.)
The Politics of Fairy Tales is, in fact, a trio of engaging short plays which, together, loosely explore the connections between political issues, such as nationalism and its prerequisite conformity, and the kinds of fairy stories that we tell our children and ourselves. As Director Stephen Moore notes, “I think politics and fairy tales are probably blood relations. They both look like one thing but, in actuality, are something else. The difference is that fairy tales are, for the most part, harmless, while politics are not. Politics, all too frequently, prove to be quite deadly.”
This connection between fantasy and politics is made most clear in the first of these short plays, Augustus. An English version by George Hauger of Jean Anouilh’s Humulus le Muet, Augustus tells the tale of a young, lovelorn mute (winningly played by Michael Matthys), who is able to speak only one word a day—a definite problem when it comes to expressing feelings for the object of his affection, Helen (Kitty MVName). Despite its unusual use of language (a problem of translation, perhaps?), Augustus is playful and intriguing, and introduces a fine cast.
The second play of the evening, The Ugly Duckling, by A.A. Milne, is an entertaining little trifle that investigates the relationship between exterior and interior beauty, and the oppressive nature of beauty standards. The story concerns a queen and king who are unable to marry off their daughter because she is too ugly. When a prince from a far-off land comes to ask for the princess’ hand in marriage, the royal parents devise a plot to switch the ugly princess for a more beautiful (although very stupid) attendant.
The Ugly Duckling is a well-crafted piece that is marked by pleasing performances. William Knight as the King and Patricia A. Stephen as the Queen have a nice chemistry and scheme together adroitly. Jennifer Rade as the Princess Camilla plays the change from duckling to swan with insight and humor. But it is Smith Forte who steals the show with a very charming, low-key portrayal of Prince Simon that is reminiscent of a young Jimmy Stewart.
The third play, Dennis E. Noble’s A Game, is the most serious and thought-provoking of the three, and moves away from the fairy tale genre completely. Set in the present, the play shows us what happens when three adults take part in an experiment: under the watchful eye of a doctor, the three are placed in a bare room, their only instructions to chant a nationalistic refrain every time a red light comes on. It does not take long for the situation to degenerate, and the play’s central idea, about the relationship between personal and national identity, becomes clear. The play asserts that human beings are capable of descending to depravity whenever resources are limited, that even when there is nothing to fight over, we will assign abstract meanings to our particular “nothing,” and defend it to the death.
In The Game, as in all of The Politics of Fairy Tales, Moore’s direction is deft, but the connection between the “duplicitous” fairy tales he refers to in the program and the politics of the real world are not always as well illuminated as they could be. Nevertheless, The Politics of Fairy Tales is a diverting and thoughtful program, just the thing for a Sunday evening. Lights and sound are by Pamela Reese. ♦