A Winter's Tale in Georgia

How does one illuminate a political situation?

Without making any claims that this is a rigid a priori formula it would seem that there has to be first, a dramatically interesting story that occurs at a human level, a story resonant with analogies so complex and yet, at moments, instantly and strikingly identifiable, that it fleshes out the political fact. The turbulence of war, the patterns of black-white intimacies, the historically right setting, all these are fit ingredients for such a story. And finally, most important, the touches of unstammering, heroic rhetoric to scald the benches into the grip of the ultimate social and political meanings.

There is a savage joy in yielding oneself up to Rhetoric. As the flinging (over-embracing) phrases roll out one is only too willing to submit to the force that drives them, the force of eloquence, of excitement, of head-busting grandeur. For an instant (it should not be for more than an instant for that is the way to Demagoguery) the literal truth of a statement is submerged in its origiastic flow of energy. An artist cannot be called irresponsible if he is galloping and pretty.

And so to Babe and A Winter's Tale in Georgia. A ruined Southern family waits for the last murderous blow of the Civil War in Sherman's brazen march through the entire swamp of the South. The hurricane comes and the upheaval is as potent as it is wide-ranging. To Mrs. Chestnut, the Southern lady of the manor who tries to preserve her hopes, which comes to mean in the end simply preserving the life of her last son, the effects are puzzling but no more. To the blacks, (the only ones shown in the play are a group of captured soldiers from an all-black Northern regiment) the event is a sordid release but one that, it is amply implied, will get them nowhere.

Working often from documents, of the period and contemporary, Babe has managed to chew on man of the principles of American politics and through them, illustrate those of world history--the frenzied ideology of race, the underlying economic basis of exploitation. At great risk to themselves the Chestnut household insists on appropriating black labor to work its fields; this is satisfying both on an economic level and on the undefinable level at which the Southern family feels more natural and right with black help around.

Babe's jogging insight is thus reflected in the careful contrivances of plot elements. The dialogue is truly gifted for its dramatically effective journalism and in addition there is Babe's irresistable sense of wit, a dark and noxious poison that one sniffs for the resulting quiver.

Nevertheless a sere rendition of the political mileu in dramatic outline would not and cannot be enough to keep a play suspended high and Babe Knows so--the crowning glory has to come from soaring moments of poetry from outbursts of noble fanaticism, the over-statement of the impassioned orator. Thus when the final blackout comes it is to chants of Malcolm's "Give us the Ballot or the Bullet, the Ballot or the Bullet, the Ballot of the Bullet..." The hypnosis the cries generate is appropriate, however inadequate they may be as statements for programmatic action.

When General Sherman explains that his war is different fsom European wars because "we are fighting a hostile people whereas they fought among armies," this is not a scholarly, but, ultimately, a complete analysis of the reasons for which the Civil War is regarded as the first modern war. Sherman's march was the first "strategic rape" and it took a poet to explain it in those perfect words so the political scientists could adopt it later as a crude hypothesis to be refined. Both accounts are equally important, but Babe as a playwright is justified in only employing his own.

The only criticism I can make of the play is that the joins between the rhetorical assaults and the straight human narrative are sometimes hasty and overly contrived.

As a director too, Babe has enfolded his vision in the mot trustworthy terms--spectacle: balloons erupting from the stage to stick all evening to the ceiling; Dance: a ring of slaves and master circling faster and faster to the chorus's "Oles;" Music: fragrant and powerful songs (though the singing was a bit ragged opening night).

One of the more remarkable bits of staging was a film clip of Sherman being interviewed on two screens with a portrait hanging in the middle. The interchange of shots is bristling and in perfect rapport with the equally stirring language thrusts. Sherman is played by Tim Mayer who creates a wierdly fascinating character--the tortured and melodiously wicked psyche of a Historical Man, in the sense of a man who has tasted the feel of strangling men, and cannot forget it.

When all the performances in a play are excellent, a reviewer must unfortunately limit his mentions as much as if the cast were mainly bad. So I will gave a blanket endorsement to all the players for their surpassing intelligence and sensitivity and dwell on one. I have usually found male leads at Harvard unimpressive and Tommy Jones, in particular, has seemed to be not quite right in his previous parts. In this play however, Jones, is a startling presence--uncrowded in his movements, silken in speech, his mettle is of high quality.

They symmetrical sets, of bronzed wood, designed by Mike Boak, was honest and handsome. Costuming was in one or two cases inspired. The lighting was enormously subtle, precisely effective.

In other words, this is a rave.