The
Oakland Tribune, December 1998
Chad Jones
There's
nothing like a good Agatha Christie mystery, and Verdict is nothing
like a good Agatha Christie mystery.
Written in 1958, a few years after her plays The Mousetrap - which
is still running in London - and Witness for the Prosecution had
become huge hits, Verdict was to have been Christie's 'great work,'
a theatre piece of substance and moral weight.
There's a murder in the play, but it happens in full view of the audience,
so there's no question 'who-dunnit.' The real mystery here is what Christie
thought would pique an audience's interest for two hours.
Berkeley's Shotgun Players have taken Christie's troubled, rather dusty
play and found in it quite a lot to interest an audience. Hot on the heels
of the disastrous North American premiere of Ariel and Rodrigo Dorfman's
dreadful Mascara, Shotgun has rebounded by doing what it does best:
infusing modern drama with youthful energy.
To overcome some of the weaker, more melodramatic aspects of Verdict,
director Patrick Dooley and his enjoyable cast approach the play with
a wry sense of humor that keeps the piece afloat.
They have some fun with the outdated Christie stereotypes and let the
audience know early on that there's only so much of this pomp and mysterious
circumstance that you can take seriously.
Within the show's first 25 minutes, we're introduced to the cast of characters,
none of whom is terribly colorful, but who, in true Christie fashion,
exists solely to serve a narrative purpose.
Karl Hendryk (Richard Silberg) is a professor from an unnamed Eastern
European country who has, for political reasons, fled his homeland and
settled in London. His wife Anya (Erin Merritt) is seriously ill and confined
to a wheelchair. The ailing woman is cared for by her cousin Lisa (an
earnest Beth Donohue) who may be more interested in her cousin's husband
than she is in her cousin.
Mrs. Roper (Trish Mulholland), the nattering Cockney cleaning lady, adds
a little low-class spice, while Dr. Stoner (the hilariously droll Kevin
Karrick), Christie's ever-present authority figure, weighs in with occasional
crotchety mumbling and pip-pip-cheerio observations.
The plot kicks in with the appearance of Helen Rollander (Emily Ackerman),
a beautiful young redhead who has her heart set on Professor Hendryk becoming
her personal tutor. When the professor refuses the spoiled rich girl's
offer, she brings in the heavy artillery: her father (Brian Linden).
...It's hard to see where Christie is going with all of this until the
end of the first act when the murder is committed. She seems to be setting
up the second act as a mean little battle between the haves and the have
nots, between the spoiled and the sincere.
Unfortunately, she steers away from such social commentary and veers directly
into lazy melodrama that ends up being about, surprisingly, the folly
of kindness.
Even though Christie may disappoiint, Dooley and his cast do not. They
seem to relish each juicy morsel of plot as it comes dripping out of Christie's
script. The fact that they're having fun means the audience has fun, but
at no time does the cast ever let the wink-wink humor overwhelm the story.
In addition to the fine cast, which also includes Ryan Gowland as a hapless
student, Dooley has put together an attractive production. Michael Frassinelli's
dark-paneled study set is overstuffed with books, while Clare DeShon's
handsome '50s costumes convey a casual sense of period with a nod to contemporary
fashions.
While not the
masterpiece Christie had hoped it would be, Verdict is a lot of
fun in a dated, campy sort of way. Masterpiece or not, the verdict is
in on this Verdict, the final show of the Shotgun Players' 1998
season: This one's a winner. Case closed.
The
East Bay Express, December, 1998
V.C.
Neither
the grand dame of mystery nor the Shotgunners are at their best in this
less-than-thrilling tale of a befuddled professor (Richard Silberg) whose
rebuff of a love-struck student (Emily Ackerman) produces tragic results
for his wheelchair-bound wife (Erin Merritt) and his wife's comely assistant
(Beth Donohue). Christie's usual plot twists and turns are nowhere in
evidence as a murder is committed in full view of the audience, thereby
causing us to believe that the script will eventually take on 'Columbo'-esque
qualities, with the murderer playing cat-and-mouse with detectives until
finally being caught. No such luck, as the slayer is unceremoniously disposed
of after the first act, leaving only a laconic character study behind.
Director
Patrick Dooley seems totally flummoxed by the material and plays it so
straight that the weaknesses in the text are pointed up even more. The
production is further hampered by a flatlining performance by Silberg,
who possesses so little charisma that it's impossible to comprehend how
anybody could go to such drastic lengths to attain his affections.
On
the flip side, the women in his orbit - particularly Ackerman, Donohue,
and Trish Mulholland as a tea-addicted housekeeper - manage to inject
more verve than their roles deserve, and Kevin Karrick's crusty Dr. Stoner
is right on the money. If Dooley is guilty of anything, it's of not encouraging
the rest of his cast to follow Karrick's lead and have more fun with their
clichéd roles.
SF
Bay Guardian, December 9, 1998
Brad Rosenstein
'Verdict':
guilty pleasure It takes guts to wind up your season with a play that
was originally a resounding flop, but Berkeley's Shotgun Players is never
short on chutzpah. When Agatha Christie's Verdict premiered in London,
in 1958, it was booed and closed within a month. But in keeping with recent
revivals of such psychological thrillers as An Inspector Calls, Christie's
interest here in social responsibility over mystery strikes a contemporary
chord.
Professor
Karl Hendryk (Richard Silberg) and his invalid wife, Anya (Erin Merritt),
having fled repression in an oddly unidentified Central European country,
are struggling to adjust to their new home in England. Anya is cared for
by their fellow refugee Lisa (Beth Donohue), and the three scrape by on
Karl's university salary. Into their world swoops the rich, glamorous
Helen Rollander (Emily Ackerman), determined to work her way into the
professor's life as his private student.
Verdict
does boast a murder, but it's hardly a mystery, leaving no question as
to perpetrator or motive. The play is much more concerned with establishing
who was morally responsible for the death, entertaining various claims
of high-minded principle. But Christie is clearly no Ibsen, and the play's
slight (and sometimes surprisingly clumsy) obeisances to her usual melodramatic-thriller
mechanisms only make you miss them more.
Patrick
Dooley's direction keeps things hopping just this side of camp, however,
and there are several fine performances. Kevin Karrick does the evening's
finest work as Anya's sardonic, Wellesian physician. The production doesn't
convince us that Verdict was a devalued gem, but it's a diverting, playful
curiosity.
SF
Weekly, December 9, 1998
Michael Scott Moore
The Verdict
Is In Verdict
The first
production of Agatha Christie's Verdict was a miserable failure, booed
by the gallery on opening night because of a miscue -- so the story goes
-- that caused the curtain to fall too soon. But the play really isn't
so bad. And the fact that the Shotgun Players would polish up this near-forgotten
relic instead of doing The Mousetrap or some stage adaptation of Murder
on the Nile marks a return to form, since making risky material work is
what they do best -- if you ignore their last show, Mascara.
Verdict
plays out in the book-lined study of Professor Karl Hendryk, a political
emigre (from Germany? Russia?) who declines a lavish offer of tuition
from a rich young woman. Helen Rollander wants private lessons from Hendryk,
but the professor believes she isn't serious; he would rather give his
time to dedicated scholars. Helen's rich and indulgent father makes a
personal call to the professor and offers him cutting-edge medicine for
the professor's wife, Anya, to treat a sclerotic condition that keeps
her in a wheelchair. Hendryk has no choice, one thing leads to another,
and Helen gives Anya an overdose of some heart drug. Verdict is not a
whodunit -- we see the murder happen -- because Christie was trying to
be literary, and the final mystery of the play is a dark one of character
rather than plot.
The script
is not a total success. It has wit, dash, humor; but it also has a ridiculous
confession of love that feels so unmotivated it should be played for laughs.
And the side of Hendryk's character Christie wants to condemn -- a devotion
to principles, not people -- is unconvincing. There's something brittle
and guarded about the morality here, and Verdict offers a taste of what
Christie's critics meant when they charged her with failing to understand
totalitarianism.
But as
a story, the play is a lot of fun. Trish Mulholland plays a brilliant
charwoman, Mrs. Roper, full of cockney inflection and bug-eyed faces;
Kevin Karrick plays a nicely understated Dr. Stoner, who at least as much
as the beautiful set gives the show a stolid British air; Emily Ackerman
has good rich-girl flourishes as Helen Rollander; and Brian Linden, as
her daddy, has a wonderfully sinister manner in his homburg, ashplant,
and coat. Richard Silberg needs improving -- Hendryk's accent is forced
-- but otherwise the cast seems to enjoy doing the show immensely, and
no one in Berkeley on opening night, at least, tried to boo them off the
stage.
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