The Clouds

Aristophanes' Clouds, when produced in competition in 423 B.C., didn't even cop second prize; but it has since taken its rightful place among the masterpieces of satire, rivalled only by some of the works of Moliere, Gilbert & Sullivan, and Shaw. It is particularly appropriate for the Cantabrigian community, for it is perhaps the most brilliant treatment ever given to the controversy over traditional vs. progressive education; arguments about "why Johnny can't read" are nothing new.

Clouds was directed against the educational practices of the Sophists in general, and of Socrates in particular. The fact that Socrates was not a valid representative of the Sophists made no difference; a well-known whipping dog was needed, and fairness be damned. Ironically, Aristophanes could vent his aristocratic and antisocratic bias only in a highly democratic community that permitted slander, libel, blasphemy, and indecency. Socrates (played with gusto and the proper amount of eccentricity by Upton Brady) appears as the pettifogging proprietor of a "think-shop," a sort of Rube Goldberg of the intellect with his head in the clouds of the title; and his students stoop over so their brains can look for profundities while their arses master star-gazing. The playwright achieved a special mixture of satire, criticism, obscenity, invective, wit, fantasy, and lyricism-all within a set of conventions as rigid and complex as those of the 18th-century opera buffa.

In present-day terms, the story tells of a Massachusetts state senator, a Republican of rather low I.Q., whose son has driven him into debt from frequenting Lincoln Downs too often. In order to weasel out of his debts, the father (performed with virtuosity by Daniel Garrison, complete with belches and burps) enrolls after hours at a fly-by-night school in Boston, in the hope of mastering legal quibbles and learning how to persuade a jury that red is really green. He flunks out, though, and forces his son (cleanly played by Marsh McCall) to matriculate in his stead. The son assimilates his course in Unethical Practices so well that he commits assault and battery upon his father without fear of reprisal. But when the son threatens to beat up his mother as well, the senator, fed up with the results of his numbskullduggery, decides to go on a book-burning spree and ends up burning the entire school to the ground.

Kenneth Reckford, the director, has decked the production out with an enormous amount of comical business, including a hilarious if anachronistic blackboard lesson, and the attribution of an obscene epithet to various members of the audience. Commendable performances in smaller roles are turned in by Martin Kligerman, Andrew Hamilton, Frank Carden, Jeremiah Brady, and others.

The Chorus of Clouds, superbly led by Elizabeth MacNeil, collide harshly to produce thunder, gesture formally in their odes, and dance gracefully to pipe and drums in their lovely pastel costumes (by Sheila Finn). And Nick Boone has achieved a wide variety of effects with only nine lights.

Don't hesitate to attend tonight's performance even if the play's text is all Greek to you. The Classical Players' production is unflaggingly engrossing to both eye and ear; and the entire cast and personnel can justifiably repeat the Chorus' concluding sentiment: "We've done our job very fairly indeed today."