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Georgia Rowe
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The
Examiner
They all had their reasons. Charles Guiteau wanted
to be ambassador to France. John Hinckley hoped to impress actress
Jodie Foster. And John Wilkes Booth was pushed over the edge by
bad reviews.
In “Assassins,” the madmen, sad sacks
and wingnuts who have stepped out of the crowd to kill —
or attempt to kill — U.S. presidents finally get their say.
The new Shotgun Players production of Stephen Sondheim’s
provocative, darkly satirical Tony Award-winning musical creates
a rogues’ gallery of historical shooters.
Susannah Martin’s production is staged as a vintage carnival
sideshow. As it begins, the Proprietor (a wily Jeff Garrett) issues
warnings — that gunshots will be heard, and that audience
members should “leave behind any preconceived notions.”
Over the next 100 minutes (without intermission)
we meet Booth (a hyper Galen Murphy-Hoffman), Garfield killer
Guiteau (a loopy Steven Hess), McKinley assassin Leon Czolgosz
(a fiery Dan Saski) and Guiseppe Zangara (a distressed Aleph Ayin),
who fired at Franklin Delano Roosevelt and hit Chicago Mayor Anton
Cermak.
Some of them spew undiluted rage (Ryan Drummond,
as would-be Nixon killer Sam Byck); others are simply pathetic
(Danny Cozart as Hinckley, who croons a love song to Foster.)
Sondheim’s songs — a wonderful mix of
patter, patriotism and showbiz — and the musical’s
book (by John Weidman), wring some horrifyingly funny moments
from history.
Watching spaced-out Sara Jane Moore (Rebecca Castelli)
and Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme (Cody Metzger) reminisce
about Charles Manson hits just the right note of absurd improbability.
Sondheim lets us laugh at the insanity, but the
songs — played by an assured eight-piece ensemble under
music director David Moschler — suggest that these assassins
were motivated by a skewed version of the American dream.
“Everybody’s got the right to be happy,”
they sing, even as pulling the trigger leads them to the gallows.
It also suggests that lone gunmen don’t act
alone. In the show’s chilling coda, the cast gathers around
Lee Harvey Oswald (Kevin Singer), urging him to join their ranks.
Martin’s production isn’t ideal. A few
of the singers are overmatched by Sondheim’s challenging
vocal writing. On opening night, the amplified sound was harsh
and muddy.
But “Assassins” still exerts a dreadful
allure. As one of its songs observes, the events portrayed are
grisly. But attention must be paid.
