The Toronto Star, August 12, 2007
History, mystery and art
By: Richard Ouzounian
In a world where our theatre seems to be growing ever warier of plays with real intellectual content, it almost seems churlish to complain about a script that contains too much to think about.
But that's the major problem with David Edgar's Pentecost, which opened at the Studio Theatre on Friday night in a galvanically commanding production by Mladen Kiselov, performed with full firepower by the Stratford company.
We are in an unnamed country in southeastern Europe, shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall. A local art curator has discovered a fresco on the wall of an abandoned church that she feels might be the work of a famous Renaissance artist.
She convinces a visiting British art scholar of its authenticity, which triggers a hearing concerning the fresco's provenance, as local representatives of church and state are ready to claim the money and glory attached to such a find. But a cocky U.S. expert arrives with evidence that seems to prove the painting a fake; the officials leave in disgust.
Minutes later, a bus full of gun-toting refugees bursts into the church and seizes the art scholars as hostages in their demand for safe passage to another country.
And that's just Act I.
The play's second half deals largely with the refugees' various stories and Edgar's exploration of how badly the world treats those who are marginalized in any society.
Then, at the 11th hour in the increasingly tense negotiations, the fresco suddenly becomes a bargaining chip and the evening's themes click together like tumblers in a combination lock.
There's a stunning final discovery, a burst of shocking violence and a sad epilogue containing Edgar's moral: "We are the sum of all the people who've invaded us. We are, involuntarily, each other's guests."
Yes, it's a rich and provocative script, but Edgar makes some points a bit too relentlessly and there are passages that could easily be trimmed. And if you find things a bit murky at the beginning, hang in there; it's worth the struggle.
Still, Kiselov's staging is a wonder, with 22 actors (and a bus) crowded into the tiny Studio Theatre, speaking nearly a dozen languages. But yet we never doubt for a moment where to look or who to listen to.
It's impossible to single out every worthy member of the cast, but Jonathan Goad's manipulative American, Adrienne Gould's passionate Palestinian, Lucy Peacock's free-wheeling curator, Nora McLellan's conflicted government official and Dan Chameroy's desperate priest are all winners.
Only John Koensgen's British scholar plays much of the evening in too low-key a fashion, and even he rises to the heights by the end.
If you want to have your brain stretched at Stratford, then definitely go to Pentecost. If you'd simply like a good time, My One and Only is right down the street.