I live in a little college town in Florida. Here, we have this local theater company who puts on plays in this historic building downtown. Currently, in honor of the season, they are putting on a production of Night of the Living Dead. What could be scarier than rampaging zombies? We gotta go see it! And so we did.
First of all I should admit that this theater is so known for its safe, unchallenging, "fun" plays that I haven't ever been very motivated to go see very many of them. And on the rare occasions that I do, I always walk away with the same impression: gee, that was mildly amusing and maybe rather cute but not very daring or profound. But with George Romero's movie as the basis of the script how could they disappoint?
For those unfamiliar with the movie, the original Night of the Living Dead movie was made in 1968 at the height of the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement. Seen within that context, the movie is very daring and provocative. Fear of something "out there", a great threat to "life as we know it", talk of "containment", and "cures" that are as bad as the disease (the only way to kill zombies is to shoot them in the head and many non-zombies are killed not by zombies but by other humans trying to kill zombies)! And in the middle of all this is a great power struggle between an older "law and order" white man and a young rebellious black man in which the more sympathetic character of the two is --amazingly enough now remember this was 1968-- the black man. Wow!
It's one of the greatest films of all time and admittedly it'd be hard for a play to achieve something like the level of ingenuity of the original movie, but the story line is so ripe for biting political commentary updated for the 21st century that you'd have to have your head in the sand to waste it. And wasted it was. The Hippodrome's was a cute version that I really wanted to like --and probably would have if I didn't know how brilliant the Romero movie was-- but it could have been so much more.
The play was fun: the set impressive, the acting superb and the dancing zombies quite freaky-looking. Ben, the black man, was played by Armando Acevedo, in jeans and a muscle-revealing white tank and to their credit, they did maintain somewhat the social power dynamic of the movie while updating it to 21st century prejudices. Ben could've been an illegal immigrant or a farmworker. Mr. Cooper the white man was perfect in his polo shirt and slacks. I also appreciated it all being adapted to our area with lots of local references (Barbara and Johnny come from Tallahassee and the zombie attack takes place in Gainesville). But that's about as far as they push the envelope in this one.
Okay you might say, so it was maybe a tad on the bland side but what's wrong with that? Isn't Halloween supposed to be about having fun? Sure, but how much fun is it when it's obvious that stuff has been intentionally toned down so as not to offend the funding sources?
Here's an example: At one point in the play a woman in the audience stands up with a microphone and plays a local news anchor reporting on the situation. In the list of preparations the city has undertaken she tells us that Ted and Linda McGurn, two locally famous wealthy developers, have opened a zombie-free "SafeSpace" downtown. Now, practically that entire audience would know "SafeSpace" as the name of a one-stop center that the city has been trying for years to open to provide services for the homeless. The reason it has taken so long is because there are some pretty powerful interests who are aligned against such charitable endeavors in the downtown area. The biggest and most powerful of those interests are --yes, indeed-- the McGurns! It was the perfect setup and they just turned and walked away leaving everyone smiling painfully at a lame quip about parking enforcement!
The McGurns, you see, are one of the largest donors to the Hippodrome State Theater. Can you spell i-n-f-l-u-e-n-c-e?
Alright, I can understand not wanting to deliberately piss off your largest donors with personal jibes at their heartlessness towards the poor but ignoring the themes of racism, patriotism and militarism that are so present in the movie sunk the rest of the play for me. There are so many rich parallels to George W's America. The part, for example, in the story where the other young man trapped in the house is chosen to go out and face the zombies alone. Romero put that scene in the movie for a reason: He's the young, loyal, good all-American boy going off to fight the good fight. (hmmm... haven't seen anything like that on the news around here lately, have you?) They could have played America the Beautiful, for example, during the scene where he's saying goodbye to his girlfriend, throwing red, white and blue lights on them as they embrace for the last time, both knowing they're likely to never see each other again. Instead, the playwrights here made it a cheezy melodramatic dance scene as if it were a romantic comedy relevant to nothing.
The USA of 1968 and the USA of 2007 have a lot in common. The climate of fear G.W's America rivals that of Romero's time. What better way to illustrate that point than with a classic zombie story all about what people will do when faced with an incomprehensible threat of "epic proportions"?
So you see the first lesson in art patronage: money buys good entertainment but not-so-good art.
I've said it before and I'll keep saying it until they prove otherwise, if you want to be entertained, the Hippodrome is the place to go. If you want to see real provocative performances, you'll have to look somewhere else. Because in a country once again so firmly in the grip of paranoia, nothing's scarier than safe zombies.
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