We have megapixel cameras in our phones and gigapixel cameras on our telescopes. Before digital took over photography (and the world,) we had film. Light struck silver and made a mark and behind it all was some marvelous physical chemistry. It is still awe-inspiring to think of how these processes came about when knowledge and instrumentation were not nearly as advanced as today. Each step could have millions of alternatives and sorting them through brute force would take the age of the universe. Yet somehow it all came together and spawned industries. The American Chemical Society takes us through the science as it was in 1940.
On the surface Nilo Cruz resets Tolstoy in 1920s Tampa where workers in a family-run cigar factory explore life, love, and everything with the man brought in to read to them during their rolling sessions. Director Jon Lawrence Rivera marshals a fine cast complemented by Open Fist’s traditionally strong stagecraft but the Pulitzer winning script disappoints with a bang. The women we see, two sisters, their mother, and a silent factotum are taken metaphorically by both the Lector and ‘Anna Karenina,’ his choice of reading material. The men are unsurprisingly less so. As the action unfolds, one of the sisters is taken quite literally by yon Lector while her equally unfaithful husband stews and belatedly asks for tips on how to rock her like a hurricane. The aspiring half-brother of the factory owner, having lost his own wife to another Lector, isn’t any happier with this one’s presence. It all strives to be dreamy, lyrical, mysterious, philosophical, and evocative but just plods along steadily and soapily and ends dangling in the air – one might say like a languid coruscating puff of bluish-white cigar smoke in the fading sunlight. For it is that kind of play. It may make sense to fans of the book. Others beware.