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A CurtainUp Los Angeles Review
Trainspotting
By Jon Magaril
Harry Gibson's stage adaptation of Irvine Welsh's cult novel requires a difficult balancing act between reckless abandon and feckless inertia. Danny Boyle's heralded film version hummed along on the rush of the first flush of heroin through the system. It depicted its gang of young layabouts from inside their sensations. Gibson and Mathey focus more on their affectless demeanor. They find Joe Orton-esque cutting comedy in the grotesqueries of nihilistic behavior. It gets the feces just right. There's feces in sheets, feces in underwear, feces flung from a toilet bowl. It's a feckin' lot of simulated feces. And a feckin' lot of simulated feckin'. All of it is as funny as it is in-your-face. It also does well by the full-frontal nudity and the shooting-up and the shooting-up with full-frontal nudity - for when a young addict's last good vein is in his penis. AJ Jones as Tommy does that last bit with admirable nonchalance. The young women bring a punk gusto to their disrobing that prevents a sense of exploitation. David Agranov's terrific fight choreography is a prime example of how the production's precision allows the audience to take in the bleak comic tone rather than fear for the performers' safety or self-respect. There's a galvanizing finesse in the fight between a young man and woman that would be useful in some other areas of the production. The staging of transitions between scenes, the stage and sound design are merely functional when boldness might help the two-and-a-half hour production rise towards its climax rather than plateau long before it. The ends of each act, for example, halt awkwardly. Scenes too often hold for a few beats while waiting for a lighting transition. By the same token, Justin Zachary as the chief narrator Mark Renton is accomplished and amiable but doesn't chart many gradations or contrasts. Admittedly, t's a tricky part. Renton doesn't act heroically or even anti-heroically. He doesn't take decisive action all that often. And when he does, he can't keep it up. After seeing that Alison, a fellow addict, has let her baby die of neglect, Renton goes straight — but just for a while. He does little to help when Tommy's destructive slide gets far steeper than his own. It may be true to life that these moments aren't treated with melodramatic twists and turns, but Zachary could find small flag-posts to swoosh around, more points of resistance and capitulation to Renton's weakness. Remarkably though, he keeps us on his side. The same holds true of Mathey's production, which boasts many scenic highlights. Dialogue consultant Louise Linton has done tremendous work corralling the large cast into the same basic region. Audibility suffers only with Sick Boy's Martin George Berishaj, who just needs to speak up, and Martin J. Riddell. His off-hand approach to Begbie's violent acts makes him all the more frightening. But his words mush together to the point of indecipherability. Mathey does best by the women, who show spine and self-awareness. Letlow gives the production's strongest performance. Most roles are double-cast, so the level of accomplishment and sense of ensemble is remarkable. Near the play's end, Alison warns Renton that he's getting too old for his behavior. Mathey's production first ran a decade ago to award-winning acclaim with Zachary and several other cast members. Those actors' older age bring the sense of a ticking clock to characters who are on the verge of becoming human train-wrecks. The production triumphs over the same risks, taking care that we reach our destination shaken perhaps but bracingly entertained.
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