A Horse of a Different Color

A boy blinds six horses with a metal spike. Shocking? Yes. Disgusting? No doubt. Lock the boy up and throw away the key? Well...maybe.

It is the great feat of Equus that, despite this horrifying premise, the play succeeds in forcing even the most confident judge of right and wrong, crime and punishment to hesitate on this last question. Written by playwright Peter Shaffer, Equus grabs hold of that mysterious pointer on the moral compass and sends it spinning out of control. In a welcome if somewhat disconcerting departure from the tidy morality tales so often dished out on stage, the production of Equus performed last weekend at the Loeb Ex baffled, bewildered, but ultimately satisfied by feeding that questioning voice within us all.

Equus is the story of a boy, Alan Strang (Henry Clarke '00), and his psychiatrist, Dr. Martin Dysart (Ryan McCarthy '97). In delving into Alan's brutal crime, the good doctor attempts to uncover what could possibly have motivated such depravity. With a clever interweaving of flashbacks, testimony, and action sequences, Alan's past and psyche are gradually revealed.

The audience is slowly introduced to the boy's bizarre deification of horses in a manner so clearly illustrative of the underlying thought processes and circumstances that his religion becomes almost understandable. At the risk of drowning in psychobabble, suffice it to say that a combination of unguided passion, spiritual and sexual repression and mental confusion arising from the tag-team influence of socialist-atheist Dad and Bible-thumping Mom lead Alan to worship the mystical horse-deity Equus (Latin for "horse"). It is the intersection of reality with Alan's fantasies that leads the emotionally undeveloped boy to commit such a ghastly deed. As the play progresses, however, it becomes less about Alan and more a commentary on the restrictive conventions of normality that "society" imposes. Dr. Dysart questions his own mission in light of Alan's passions. Through a series of well-written but somewhat overly weighty monologues, he challenges the audience to do the same.

The "who's really normal?" theme in Equus won't win any points for originality. But the fact that the question is even asked in the face of the initial revulsion towards the crime is a tribute to the well-written script. As if animal mutilation wasn't enough, the play insists on bringing in anti-religiousness, bestiality and profanity--as if to ensure that every member of the audience is offended at some point. Remarkably enough, these themes illuminate rather than distract from the core of the story.

This production clearly does justice to Shaffer's work. The complex and potentially confusing storyline is delivered clearly but not condescendingly. By placing the stage in the center of the audience, intermittently rotating the carousel-like platform in the center and constantly shifting the lighting, director Matthew Kwatinetz '98 let each audience member receive a unique perspective of the action onstage. The accompanying instrumental music often blended seamlessly with the tension and emotion of the events on stage--although some of the first act scores seemed better suited to the contrived drama of a made-for-TV movie.

Though boasting a cast of ten, Equus is really a two-man show. Fortunately, the two men were well-equipped to shoulder the burden. Clarke's Alan, in the tradition of Rain Man and Shine, made his tics and facial expressions consistent and believable without making a mockery of his mentally challenged character. As Dr. Dysart, McCarthy demonstrated an impressive command of a demanding script and shifted skillfully, if a bit belatedly, from two-dimensional straight man to anxious Everyman in the second act.

The rest of the cast did their best but could never match the intensity of the two principals. But the portrayal of the horses on stage deserves special mention. From the swaying of the head to the resting on one leg, the actors had mastered all the subtle mannerisms of that animal so well that any horse costuming beyond the simple wire mask would have been overkill. Because the human faces were always visible within the horse mask, the presence of human emotions within the horse character provided a chilling insight into Alan's world view--especially the mischievous grin of the Equus horse-god (Matthew Williams '97).

In the post-Menendez brothers era, it's hard to accept the criminal as a victim and truly sympathize with someone like Alan. It's also (perhaps intentionally) hard to commiserate with Dr. Dysart, who comes off as more of a middle-aged yuppie whiner than a genuine care-giver. Nevertheless, the doctor does succeed in exposing the complexities of what seemed to be an open-and-shut case of guilt. While most viewers probably still end up condemning the boy for his crime, the rush to judgment is not nearly as hasty or eager as at the beginning of the play.

This production of Equus was undoubtedly worthy of the fine writing on which it was based. Following the performance, the audience expressed this sentiment by calling the cast back on stage twice for a standing ovation. It is only a shame the show will not be back for a second weekend of performances to allow more theater-goers to surrender their moral certitude and applaud in gratitude.