Theatre in Review: Radio Downtown: Radical '70s Artists Live on Air (The Civilians/59E59)

	Colleen Werthmann. Photo: Hunter Canning

"Where would we be without Marcel Duchamp, huh, and his ready-mades?" How often have I thought that? Haven't we all? All right, none of us have, but it is exactly the kind of kooky, yet arresting, statement that makes up the text of Radio Downtown. In a way, you could say that Duchamp is the guiding spirit of this exceedingly eccentric romp: The artist's "ready-mades" were found objects (bicycle wheels, urinals) that he would proclaim as artworks. The Civilians often create theatre pieces out of similar materials, diving deeply into research materials or conducting interviews that get spliced into collage-like theatre pieces. This time out, writers Steve Cosson and Jocelyn Clarke have gotten their hands on God only knows how many hours of broadcasts from WNYC, New York City's Public Radio station, during the bad old decade of default, blackouts, crime, and nonstop nightlife. And what a gold mine this material proves to be.

It will probably come as no surprise that, during the 1970s, WNYC ran a series of programs with such titles as Arts Forum and Poetry of the Avant-Garde, and that any number of personalities -- some notable, some forgotten -- took the opportunity to opine on just about any subject. It's quite a parade: The choreographer Yvonne Rainer admits turning to film to exert more control over the audience's viewpoint; during a dance performance, they might waste time looking at the scenery. Filmmaker and Hollywood scandal-meister Kenneth Anger rhapsodizes about Bobby Beausoleil, star of his film Lucifer Rising, whom he praises as "extraordinarily talented," his career sidelined by joining the Charles Manson family. Well, that will do it. (In the footage we see, Beausoleil is a vacant-eyed himbo; for the record, he is currently serving a life sentence for murder.) Anger also rails amusingly about Maya Deren, a rival filmmaker, who, he is certain, is out to destroy his career by showing up at his premieres in flashy outfits.

Some comments hit the bull's-eye. The painter Benny Andrews pushes back at white critics who identify him and others as "Negro artists," adding, "But when they talked about an American artist, or the de Kooning or Andrew Wyeth, but they didn't say Andrew Wyeth the white artist. You understand, he was an American artist or European, whatever." Others are bafflingly off-target. The Guggenheim Museum curator Edward Fry, asked about the future of such institutions, says, "Sculpture and painting as cultural forms of expression are reaching the end of their life term just as museums of modern and contemporary art are beginning to reach the end of their cultural term." Ruth Bowman, his counterpart at the New York University Art Collection, happily agrees. Their nonplussed interviewer, asks, "What's going to happen to [the] canvases?" "Someone will take care of them," Bowman serenely replies.

And some sequences simply couldn't be made up. The poet/playwright LeRoi Jones (later Amiri Baraka), in response to a question from a reporter at the Saturday Evening Post (!) about an alleged plot to blow up the Statue of Liberty, coolly notes he was told "people were planning to do that because the television was getting so dull and people were losing interest in America so that it was sort of done so that people would, you know, be interested in America again, sort of like a publicity stunt." The reporter, not getting the joke, asks, "Do you think it was a good publicity stunt?" "Yeah, it's pretty good," Jones replies.

As the remarks -- pointed, prophetic, attitudinizing, and sometimes just plain loony -- keep coming, a lost world comes to life. It's a New York where George Balanchine's ballets exist side-by-side with the choreographic experiments at Judson Memorial Church, outsider artists roam the streets of downtown Manhattan, and gay and Black artists are beginning to speak their minds more candidly. It's a time before branding, IP, and the corporatization of everything -- when intellectuals, not influencers, are prized; new ideas don't strike fear into the people's hearts; and free expression means fresh thinking, not the exchange of playground insults. As nutty and insular as life sometimes seems in Radio Downtown, it certainly has its points.

This Dada collage of commentary is orchestrated with enormous precision by Cosson, especially given the production's peculiar circumstances. According to a pre-show announcement, "The actors do not know their lines. This is his made from archival recordings. The actual words, pauses, and sounds from back then will be fed into the actor's ears." I find this hard to credit -- the company is exceedingly nimble when swapping out personas -- but they are wearing IEMs, so there you are. In any case, all hail Robert M. Johanson, Jennifer Morris, Maya Sharpe, Colleen Werthmann, and Joshua David Robinson, the latter of whom brings it home with the stunning poem, "Home Thoughts," by Lorenzo Thomas.

I don't know if Andrew Boyce's set is an accurate reflection of the WNYC studio 50 years ago (or if that is even the designer's intention) but it certainly evokes the era with its earth-tone palette and the enormous photo on the upstage wall of a man's face with a fly perched on it. Emily Rebholz's costumes -- polyester shirts, chunky sweaters, denim blazers, and Greek fisherman's caps -- are painstakingly period-accurate and efficient; a simple change of accessories immediately makes it clear who is speaking. Amith Chandrashaker's lighting blends a theatrical rig, track lighting built into the set, and color-changing floor lamps to create a multitude of subtle effects. Attilio Rigotti's video design is a treasure trove of found footage, including Rainer's company in rehearsal, clips from Anger's films, and newspaper headlines plus show titles and speaker identifications. Ryan Gamblin's sound design punctuates each vignette, adding to the rhythm of the staging.

The climactic event of Radio Downtown is the account, by counterculture figure Ed Sanders, of the 1967 attempt at "exorcising" the Pentagon by a motley crew that included filmmaker Harry Smith, musician Danny Kortchmar, and, of all people, Norman Mailer. Of all the events of that wild, wild decade, it's one of the hardest to explain. (I doubt anyone thinks it was a success.) Like so much else in that crazy era, you had to be there, I guess." Watching Radio Downtown, you may wish you had. At least for ninety minutes at 59E59, you can take an invigorating dip in New York City's rogue past. --David Barbour