Rinne Groff writes her like she’s peeling off pages backstage; they seem that spontaneous. Groff, true to form, is telling a complicated tale, spinning out competing narratives, occasionally forcing the audience to pause and take stock.
Kate wants to tell us the story of the great Coney Island fire of 1911 — about the noble black lion… about the mermaid who saved the Shetland ponies… about the innocent baby elephant who loyally waited in vain for redemption. Kate is taken with the story but it is not her story. It was whispered in her ear by the man who wants to make it his film. She wants to whisper it in our ear.
The man, a charismatic Dutch filmmaker, Jaap Hooft (Enver Gjokaj), is struggling to make the film with his singular vision and without artistic compromise. He is, however, prepared to compromise on other levels. He’s gorgeous, and as his young admirer, Lance (Kyle Beltran), notes: “Very compelling.” To Lance and to the women Jaap meets, he is both lamb and lion.
Enver Gjokaj plays Jaap with a beguiling charm of the outsider, eager to engage. It is not until you see Kate’s wallet in his hand — while she searches for it — that you wonder: “Is he what he seems?” — and that is well into the play.
Kate’s real-life engagement with the destruction that hurricane Sandy visited on the current Coney Island residents all around her, draws her to her story line — the contemporary story of their resilience and redemption versus Jaap’s story of noble, if pointless, death. The other “ball you must keep juggling,” of course, is the romance between them, a constant metaphor. Kate wants something real. Jaap wants something else. A brilliant division. He keeps insisting they don’t yet know how the “film” will end.
Jones’ Kate holds the stage for the whole 90 minutes, with lively monologues interspersed with scenes, she plays off the two men: Gjokaj’s Jaap and Lance, the latter played with a brilliantly contorted eccentricity by Kyle Beltran. His scratchy presence is worth the price of a ticket. Still, Jones is the gravitational force.
Director Marissa Wolf makes the most of a talented cast. She pushes them to execute even the silences with power. She uses a small audio device to pace the action — a clapperboard — a filmmaker’s artifact to mark scenes in a powerful stage play about filmmaking. You think it will get old but instead, you long for it.
The setting in Coney Island has an artful dodge about it. There’s a fare amount of gimcrackery and a rich supply of laugh-out-loud moments, to be sure. It takes a long time, in the frame of 90 minutes, for things to turn dark. Until they do, the audience has a lot of fun.
There are the cosmic themes of creation-vs-destruction and redemption-vs-damnation. But, perhaps because this play is debuting right now, the playwright seeds the script with something an American audience is much in need of — a reminder that Americans, unlike Europeans, are, at core, a hopeful people.
It is in the DNA of the Public to produce theater that is destined for more. It is easy to see that this production — this small cast, with this remarkable script, and deft direction already in hand —could move uptown. With that in mind you might want to stroll over to Lafayette Street now.
(Photos by Joan Marcus)
What the popular press says...
"Fire in Dreamland, Rinne Groff’s shaky parable of art and love and licorice at the Public Theater, is set just after Hurricane Sandy, the 2012 catastrophe that devastated New York’s coastline, flooding Coney Island. But Ms. Groff has another calamity in mind: the conflagration that tore through Coney Island in 1911, destroying the Dreamland amusement park’s wood-and-plaster fantasia. No people died, but many exotic animals did. That really happened: the baby elephant that suffocated because his trainer wasn’t there; the black-maned lion that was shot as he fled up a railroad track, while the fire hoses sprayed hopelessly. (Some consolation, six Shetland ponies were blindfolded and led to safety.) You may find all this somewhat easier to believe than Ms. Groff’s affectionate, but never especially persuasive play, directed by Marissa Wolf."
Alexis Soloski for New York Times
"Its main tragic moments, told in monologue, concern animals that have been dead for more than a hundred years. For a drama that's about focusing on reality and present suffering, there's more sentimental smoke than emotional fire."
Helen Shaw for Time Out New York
"Under its forced whimsy, Rinne Groff’s new play offers odd messages about immigrants and abortion."
Robert Hofler for The Wrap
External links to full reviews from popular press...