Culture Writer
Beginning with one of those expedient love-at-first-sight scenarios that really only occur in fiction (I think), The Changeling (currently in The Studio Theatre at Long Beach Playhouse) opens with the noble Alsemero professing his love for Beatrice, whom he has met in a church just minutes before. Alsemero decides to cancel his voyage from Alicant, Spain, to Malta, so that he can marry Beatrice, but she regretfully informs him that, a mere five days ago, she had promised to marry Alonzo de Piracquo.
Enter De Flores, who was born a gentleman, fell on tough times, and is now the servant of Beatrice’s father, Vermandero. De Flores is characterized as an ugly man, with a face full of scars, and Beatrice is clearly repulsed by him, as evidenced by her constant insults. However, he is in love/lust with her; his every move in the story is driven by his obsession with Beatrice (and her virginity), and he exploits every opportunity to be with her.
Beatrice persuades her father to invite Alsemero to their castle, and she devises a plan to have her fiancé killed so that she can wed her new suitor: she treats De Flores kindly for a change and offers him money to murder Piracquo. However, in a rather delicious bit of misunderstanding and irony, the servant mistakes her financial offering as a sexual one, and he acts accordingly.
The voluptuous Terri Mowrey at first seems too mature to play the chaste Beatrice, but the actress possesses a sophistication that works fittingly in the scenes in which she is scheming and manipulating. Her maturity level also renders her scenes of a prurient nature more palatable and less cringe-inducing, as The Changeling is a very sexual story (and The Playhouse is taking a nearly “no holds barred” approach to this production).
Rick Kopps, who appears attractive in his headshot within the show’s program, is suitably creepy as De Flores, and he relishes his scenes in his pursuit to quash Beatrice’s maidenhood. He and Mowrey establish a love-hate, arousal-repulsion relationship that is dynamic, exciting and, at times, subtle; in her quest to charm him into murdering Piracquo, she caresses his scarred face, then, out of his sight, rubs that hand on her dress. The make-up on Kopps’s face does indeed transform him into what many would consider a hideous creature, but it would have been more complete and effective had it been extended down his neck.
There’s a subplot in The Changeling that is set in a madhouse run by Alibius, who is worried that he cannot sexually satisfy his wife, Isabella. Alibius asks his servant, Lollio, to protect Isabella from the occupants of the asylum who might want to copulate with her. Lollio agrees to guard her, in the hopes that he himself can have sex with her, and he tells Alibius that neither fools (people born with mental diseases) nor madmen (those suffering from a decline of mental acuity during the course of their lives) will have intercourse with her. Alibius expresses that it is neither type of patient about whom he is worried, but rather the sane visitors to the asylum that might try to seduce her.
Acting on that foreshadowing, friends Antonio and Pedro soon enter the picture. Pedro gives Alibius a substantial sum of money to take proper care of Antonio. After managing to get his own cut from Pedro, Lollio agrees to watch over Antonio and make him wise. Lollio then introduces Antonio and Francisca (Francisco in the original script but played here delectably by Jill Cary Martin), who is another madhouse resident, to Isabella, unaware that they are just pretending to be a fool and a madman, respectively. When Lollio tries to seduce Isabella, she denies him and threatens to have Antonio kill him. He then sets out to pit Antonio and Francisca against one another by telling each that Isabella is in love with him/her.
As the plot lines further develop toward an intersection that is, unfortunately, a tenuous one, much blood is shed (through stabbings and gunshots), and almost as much clothing is shed. (In a rare case of gender equity regarding undressing, there’s a congruent amount of male nudity as there is female nakedness.) The simulated-sex scenes are handled artfully, but each is treated differently. One is skillfully manipulated with the use of sheets covering particular parts, only after they’ve been “peep-show” revealed, while the other is performed with more of a gruffness that serves both of those characters perfectly in an act that is at once cathartic and retributive.
Primarily through costume, director Dave Barton and The Playhouse have modernized The Changeling, which was written by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley during the English Renaissance. For example, as Jasperino, who is Alseremo’s friend, Jeffrey Gilbank is rather punked out in faux-hawk, leather motorcycle jacket and combat boots. That type of updating feels copacetic, as it is modern enough yet vague enough so that his true character can come through without too much distraction. However, when it’s time for a dance scene to occur, and the intro to Michael Jackson’s hit “Thriller” is queued, it reads like an uninspired choice that elicits some (presumably unwanted) chuckles from the audience. It was especially disappointing since other sections in the production utilize songs that were a bit more obscure, such as David Lynch’s “The Pink Room,” from his Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me soundtrack. When a song is too familiar, and we have too many pop-culture associations with it already, its appropriation can be a bit cheesy. All other attempts at rendering the show more contemporary worked more subtly and effectively though.
Although there are times that the language of the play and the dualing plotlines can become cumbersome, overall, the actors seem to grasp the complexities of the writing and convey their characters’ arcs with finesse and gusto.
The Changeling will continue in The Studio Theatre at Long Beach Playhouse, 5021 East Anaheim St., through Saturday, Sept. 29. Friday and Saturday performances are at 8pm, and Sunday matinees are at 2pm. General admission is $24, $21 for seniors, and $14 for students. For more information, call (562) 494-1014, option 1, or visit lbplayhouse.org .
