Throughout "Persephone," the new play by lauded young playwright Noah Haidle, the central character is a statue of the Greek goddess Demeter that comes to life and utters a refrain that perfectly echoes the audience's feelings while watching: "How much can one endure?"
The problem with this tragicomedy is that it is a confused miscellany of non-sequiturs and baffling anachronistic allusions that serve no purpose other than to elicit cheap laughs or to perpetuate the play's insistence on its own idiosyncrasy.
From the beginning, we learn that the sculptor Giuseppe, played by a mugging yet capable Seth Fisher, is beginning work on the statue's left shoulder, which will later stretch the arm of Demeter, who reaches for her daughter Persephone, who has been kidnapped by Hades to the underworld.
Traditionally represented in art as an abduction or rape in which Demeter is powerless, perhaps it is fitting that the actress portraying Demeter lacks any dramatic heft. Melinda Lopez, in the central role of the statue, never rises to the occasion. She is neither captivating nor fiery in her delivery.
Though it is tough to bring dynamism to a role that requires motionlessness, Lopez' movements anticipate every line, giving the performance a measured quality not dissimilar to watching a dancer count out beats on stage.
The one redeeming feature of the first act, and indeed of the whole play, is Mimi Lieber in the role of Celia, the fading artists' model who serves as the muse to Giuseppe and other greats of the Renaissance. Lieber, endlessly charismatic in the entire array of roles she plays here, is a Huntington Theater Company veteran who has also appeared in numerous movies and TV shows such as "Law and Order."
Lieber utilizes her entire body and throws herself completely into every character she portrays, from the 16th century wanton muse, to a modern-day hooker, to a victim of pedophilia, to a cookie-cutter, Brooklyn-accented mother, breathing real life into each and making the endeavor seem effortless.
Her comic timing is superb, and she truly possesses the poise necessary to steal each scene she is in without chewing the scenery to bits, a technique that her cast mate Jeremiah Kissel seems to particularly enjoy. As various characters, including a rat in both the first and second act, he gets the most laughs of all the actors, and is exciting (if a bit exhausting) to watch on stage.
Although the second act is much better than the first, it is just as much a jumble of thematic exploration without a center as its predecessor. A gaggle of characters portrayed by the small ensemble flit in and out while portraying various scenes of human cruelty that make the world seem like a pretty horrible place to live.
Like an unfinished statue by Michelangelo, the play stands as a sad reminder of how much more beautiful it could have been had the author taken the time to edit himself down and to find the soul of his work.
The theater was rolling in laughter at Kissel's portrayal of a particularly erudite rat in the second act, but each peal was preceded by streams of profanity, the most adolescent of punch lines.
The one thing that the play never makes clear is why exactly we should care about how a statue "feels." We are told she cannot look away, but it is obvious she can do so, as Lopez freely moves her head. Does Haidle want us to conclude that art is the only true witness to history, the universal standard by which a society may be judged?
If so, why is he so insistent that the Renaissance was such a great time in which to live? Millions of plague victims would beg to differ.
The fact is that the play never follows any of its pseudo-compelling themes to their conclusions. It parades out graphic depictions of rape, pedophilia, murder and suicide for no other reason than to shock.
What is the point of all this cruelty? The play's completely nonsensical ending explains nothing.
The audience will be left smiling at the play's beautiful childlike simplicity and its quite literal deus ex machina, but will ultimately be left intellectually bereft.
Demeter, breaking out of her stony prison and walking freely off stage, leaves behind her a confused mishmash of a play that, in the end, is only worth the ticket price for Lieber's hilarious exertions.
