Theatre in Review: Venice (The Public Theater)

	Leslie Odom Jr. (standing) and Haaz Sleiman. Photo: Joan Marcus

Sometimes a theatre's programming creates the most unfortunate juxtapositions, a phenomenon that is happening right now at the Public: Having opened Here Lies Love -- a mordant, inventive, disco-flavored musical that charts the rise and fall of Imelda and Ferdinand Marcos -- the company offers Venice, another musical with a political theme. But where Here Lies Love is smart and satirical, a stranger-than-fiction yarn written with a keen appreciation for the realities of Filipino society in the '60s and '70s, the wholly fictional Venice is an angst-ridden romantic melodrama filled with empty-headed generalities and populated by enough young, pretty people to fill a CW serial. I trust you know which of the shows to choose.

Venice folds the plot of Othello into a vaguely futuristic setting in which society has broken down into sectors of haves and have-nots separated by impassable barriers. The setting is "the fictional city of Venice," according to the script, and it is more like Venice, California than Venice, Italy. The city is under permanent military occupation following a terrorist incident that killed 20,000 people; the privileged live in the Safe Zone out in the countryside. Both areas are under the control of Westbrook Enterprises, one of those shadowy conglomerates beloved of dramatists looking for a catch-all source of villainy. It's typical of the show's easy, pandering nature that this is all the information we get; the use of terms like "safe zone" and "Westbrook Enterprises" are meant to fill us with unquestioning dread.

The terrorist event also separated the childhood sweethearts Venice, son of a famed peace activist, and Willow, daughter of the president. Years later, the grown-up couple is to be married in a public wedding designed to reunite this fractured society. Again, the vagueness that is Venice's most salient characteristic makes itself felt. Venice and Willow haven't seen each other in something like 15 or 20 years and yet we are asked to believe that they are the most eager and tender of lovers. As proof of this, we are told that they have written to each other every day while apart. A marriage based on a multi-year pen-pal relationship? I hate to be a cynic, but I give it six months, tops.

In any case, there are powerful forces standing between Venice and Willow. For one thing, there's Theodore Westbrook, new CEO of the family firm and Willow's fiancé. For another there's Markos Monroe, Venice's half-brother, the head of the city's military occupation and the show's Iago figure. What with one thing or another -- assassinations, bombings, etc. -- the lovers are kept apart long enough for Markos to put into motion some very Iago-ish machinations, leading to a bloody finale and a chastened chorus expressing in song their hopes for a better day.

This neo-Shakespearean soap opera is told through a heavily hip-hop flavored score led by a narrator, known as Clown MC, played by Matt Sax, one of the show's authors. Sax is a charismatic figure on stage -- with his stage presence and skill with tongue-twisting lyrics, he's a little like Lin-Manuel Miranda -- but his lyrics, co-written with Eric Rosen, aspire to topicality without providing any meaningful details. As he tells us in the opening number, "Once a light unto the nations/Darkness fell, our freedom taken/Venice once was our salvation/Didn't think we'd be forsaken/Oh my - oh my/The military stole my life/This occupation never dies." So, to review: Safe Zone, bad. Military occupation, bad. Corporations, bad. Freedom, good. Peace and love, really, really good.

This is as incisive as Venice gets, since all Rosen's book has on its mind is romantic intrigue combined with uplifting sermons about peace and freedom. The music, by Sax, with additional contributions by Curtis Moore, has some attractive melodies, especially "Sunrise," a catchy age-of-Aquarius-style anthem, but Rosen's storytelling and direction often leave one confused. We were several minutes into the second act before I realized whose funeral we were attending. Later on, we see a murder committed, then the victim is suddenly up and about the stage before getting killed again. It turns out that we are seeing a flash-forward, for no good reason that I can discern. Anyway, it's sometimes hard to tell who is living and who is dead in Venice, since the murdered characters join the chorus of ghosts that pops up from time to time.

Keeping Venice watchable throughout is the skilled young cast. In the title role, Haaz Sleiman is the least vocally gifted of the leads, but he can play the silliest scene with conviction and he radiates a natural authority. As Willow, Jennifer Damiano is possessed of an almost unearthly cool, an asset that proves valuable when handed a number that explores a single rhyme (willow/pillow) to a ludicrous degree; her singing is always powerful and incisive. Jonathan-David is appealing as the troublemaking Theodore, lending some credence to Willow's mixed emotions about the men in her life. Claybourne Elder is persuasive as a political operative whose one bad decision leads to disaster. Victoria Platt is a powerful presence as Emilia, Markos' deceived wife. Uzo Aduba provides some strong vocals as the spirit of Venice and Marko's mother. Best of all is Leslie Odom, Jr. as Markos, his smoothly ingratiating manner belying his scheming nature. He has an especially interesting way of pausing in the middle of a sentence, letting you see his brain calculating the effect of his response. Next to the drably serious leads, his complex villainy is the liveliest thing on stage.

Venice is a product of the Public Lab program, designed to showcase new works, but the company has sprung for an alluring and original production design, led by Beowulf Boritt's deceptively simple, layered set, which serves as an excellent surface for Jason H. Thompson's projections. (In one especially intriguing effect, the stage is covered with images of words, which fall, creating a cascade of letters.) Acme Sound Partners has provided a crisp and clear sound design, allowing us to hear every word of the libretto and score, attaining a fine balance with the musicians. (The one exception involves Angela Polk as Hailey Daisy, a kind of pop diva/courtesan figure, who has atrocious diction.) Projections and sound come together most effectively to create a coup de théâtre at the end of the first act, when something goes terribly wrong at the wedding of Venice and Willow. Clint Ramos' chic costumes and Jason Lyons' inventive lighting also make solid contributions.

The sheer amount of talent involved makes the net result of Venice all the more dismaying. It's a good sign to see young writers tackling serious political subjects in a musical theatre format. It's a really bad sign when they exploit this material for such frivolous purposes. Venice wants to make a serious statement about where we are heading, but its plot and characters would not be out of place on a CW serial.--David Barbour