Jean-Paul Sartre's hell doesn't have demons, dungeons or gorges. Actually, it's adorned with Victorian furniture (to be fair though, it's smaller than the furniture on this side of the earth's crust - can you imagine?). And you have to share it too, because in his hell, you're in a room with two other people for eternity. Not bad, eh? At least you have a chair and some company.
But Sartre's engaging play "No Exit" shows us that the worst torture of all - worse than branding irons, daggers, or the Swedish pop sensation Abba - is what we have to deal with on a daily basis: other people.
"No Exit" is the hottest play in Boston right now, and for good reason. Its philosophical points are crisp, and its dark, satirical view of the course of humanity seems particularly up-to-date. Now, Sartre is no playwright, and it shows. For the most part, his characters are not expertly crafted, and the play's dialogueoften comes off as a bit redundant.
But Sartre knows what he's good at, and that's laying out incredibly sophisticated philosophical points in user-friendly terminology. When that's mixed with the remarkably skillful directorship of Jerry Mouawad, the result isn't as much a play as it is a late-night coffee shop discussion about existence and social dynamics.
When Sartre came out with his play "No Exit" in 1944, he knew that he was writing for a different audience than his previous works. His 1943 book, "Being and Nothingness," is slightly more enjoyable to read than a phone book (just slightly). And unlike "Being and Nothingness," "No Exit" is not an academic philosophical manifesto.
With "No Exit," Sartre sought to create an allegorical play to capture his idea that human pain and suffering result from individuals acting out in a random world. In a way, he wanted the principles of his existentialist philosophy to be condensed down and made commonly accessible. And amazingly, he pulls it off. Even more amazingly, he does so with humor, which is a bit surprising for an academic French atheist.
The play chiefly concerns two women and one man, all of them recently deceased, who find themselves in a small room somewhere in the corridors of hell. There is no torturer (much to their surprise), and they have the room all to themselves. The only other character is a butler (who is stodgy even for butler standards), and are no set changes. The actors are always in the room, and a single, locked door is their only hope for escape.
Hands down, the most captivating character in the production is Estelle (Karen MacDonald), a loud, alcoholic hussy who claims to be a member of Parisian high society. Initially you hate her, but her grave complexity is revealed as she eventually recounts the horrifying acts she committed before her death.
Next up is Garcin (Will LeBow), a solemn, jaded journalist who can't quite remember (or at least muster up the courage to tell) why he was sent to hell in the first place, even blaming the whole ordeal on a bureaucratic mess-up. Garcin is a clever character and a necessary foil to Estelle, but LeBow takes away any empathy the audience might have had for Garcin through his bombastic performance; he sounds as though he's trying to combine the vocal gravitas of John Wayne with the pitch of Alan Alda.
Whether or not he gets there is a moot point anyway, because LeBow must have decided early on that it'd be much easier to achieve this gravitas by simply screaming 90 percent of his lines. If LeBow's intention was to portray Garcin's anger and fear, then the effort barely got off the ground. Garcin comes off as more psychotic than fearful, and it's a noticeable distraction.
The third denizen of their little hell, the working-class lesbian vixen Inez (Paula Plum), adds structure to Garcin and Estelle's relationship. Inez is a bit of a drinker - she manages to smuggle a flask into hell - and she quickly sets her eyes on Estelle. Since Estelle likes Garcin, and Inez likes Estelle, the tension between the three is palpable.
In fact, it's exactly Sartre's point: Humans create a daily hell for themselves through their actions and words. There is no need for a fiery cavern beneath the earth, because the torment that humans place upon others suffices for the torture, which the three characters come to realize. As Inez puts it, "Each of us will act as torturer of the two others."
As usual, the American Repertory Theatre has made an incredibly engaging play. "No Exit" is funny and clever and twisted and dark and everything you'd hope for and expect. The actors are crafty and the director is brilliant (the stage sinks and rises as the focus of attention changes). Of course, you won't leave in a chipper mood, but it's winter anyway.
