No Brontesaurus

Wuthering Heights: A Pop Myth

Directed by Alec Keshishian

At Loeb Mainstage

IT'S SELF-INDULGENT, it's flawed, but the first student-conceived production to grace the Loeb Mainstage in many years is ultimately intriguing.

Wuthering Heights: A Pop Myth is the creation of Alek Keshishian, who directs and choreographs a lip-synch adaptation of the Emily Bronte novel, using the music of Kate Bush, Rickie Lee Jones, Madonna and Billy Idol.

The er, well, Loebeo has more MTV than Bronte and while it lacks the novel's intensity and passion, master veejay Keshishian spins a clever series of vignettes, which manage to tie the simple plot line and lyrics together.

The subtlety, drama and emotion may have been left back in the 19th century, but Keshishian's adaptation is a fast-paced, techno-pop extravaganza. It's not deep but it's solid, homespun student theater '80s style.

The whittled-down plot has the lovers Catherine and Heathcliff falling apart and coming back together after being seduced by the bright lights of the big city. Catherine (Julie Glucksman) leaves her home, Wuthering Heights, and the man she loves to become Madonna. She finds a new life gyrating across stage in a hyper-kinetic frenzy as adoring fans slavishly flay themselves against the stage.

Glucksman seems totally comfortable as Madonna, her lip-synch numbers are overwhelmingly realistic, as her smug self-indulgence captures that of her musical alter ego.

Catherine finds a perfect match for her new persona in Edgar Linton (John Vaughan), whose rousing Wham! number is an early highlight of the production. Heathcliff (Michael Allio), too, leaves Wuthering Heights and finds the stage, transforming himself from an introspective Sting to the raucous Billy Idol.

Allio makes the transition less easily than Glucksman and his Idol isn't as comfortable in front of the crowds. And while Glucksman manages to maintain a shadow of the passion of the original Catherine, Allio's Heathcliffe comes off somewhat mechanical.

Amy Brenneman delivers perhaps the finest performance as the narrator Nelly Dean, another servant at Wuthering Heights. Her Rickie Lee Jones lip-synchs are convincing, almost soulful, and she anchors the loosely constructed production with a quiet but firm presence.

Though Brenneman's even pacing doesn't help Keshishian avoid the ups and downs of individual numbers which range from spectacular to stifling, his painstaking musical selection carries the show. Most of the songs seem appropriate, well-placed, almost meaningful. The projection of the lyrics on screens beside the stage helps the audience focus on the importance of what exactly the actors are mouthing but is admittedly distracting. With no dialogue, except for Brenneman's narration and one brief and painful incident of normal speech, the lyrics have to glue the show together and they do.

As the music takes over, Kate Bush, Rickie Lee Jones, Sting and Madonna help to steal the show. However, the sets don't match the fullness of their music. While some of Keshishian's visual innovations are fun, too many of the numbers are performed against the starkness of a white backdrop.

The essential fantasy of the video, the lush and bounteous scenery used to recreate imagination, is thus somewhat lost. As Catherine, for example, stares out into the real live crowd, tosses back her head, sidles back and forth and purses her lips, the audience stares back at the actress against the white sceen and feels left out.

KESHISHIAN'S STAGING strategy is, in some sense, the opposite of television or film--where the performer wanders against elaborate scenery and looks soulfully into the camera, forced to imagine his audience. On the sound stage, the performers do the work and the audience is left to take it in at their leisure.

Wuthering Heights operates counter to this scheme, making the show seem self-indulgent. The actors, particularly Glucksman, are having a blast, as they act the Tom Cruise fantasy scene with loud music, costumes, and a crowd. But the audience is less happy, trapped in someone else's dream without the requisite backdrops and richness of scenery that might be needed to carry the fantasy to reality.

Some aspects of the staging are marvelous. Without complicated sets, the lighting must carry the burden, and John Malinowski often brings the stage to life with his intricate work.

The five dancers as "The Moors" literally provide live scenery, contrasting with the otherwise minimalist setting. A video, though, needs more. This is more than your average two and a half minutes of Van Halen and 20 women in bikinis, it's two hours, 26 numbers and quite intricate. And for that reason alone, the dancers are not sufficient to create the setting.

While it might be argued that Kershishian is making a stylistic point, the starkness of the stage is infuriating, particularly for the concert scenes which beg at least a large slide backdrop of a screaming horde of teeny boppers or some illusion of grandeur. The aural illusion needs a stronger physical complement.

When you watch a video on TV, you can talk to your friends, pass the Doritos and even change the channel. With Wuthering Heights there is no such option. The viewer is trapped for the duration of each number--songs which lose their cleverness in the first 30 seconds. The next two and a half minutes just continues to play out a dead punchline.

But all the jokes aren't stale. The production may not in the end break ground for a new genre. While Keshishian doesn't give us much Bronte, he gives a whole lot of Madonna to whistle on the way home.