With the opening of “A Few Good Men” on Friday, September 4,
the Danny Hoskins era has officially begun at Blackfriars
Theatre. And in the 1989 play (which became a star vehicle for Tom Cruise and
Jack Nicholson in the 1992 movie), the company’s artistic and managing director
has chosen a deceptively challenging work for his debut at the helm of the
organization.
The story is
by now exceedingly familiar: a Navy JAG lawyer is tasked with defending two
Marines accused of murdering a third after a hazing incident known as a “code
red” goes awry. The work’s signature line “You can’t handle the truth!” has
arguably become one of the most memorable accusations in film history and an
indelible, lasting phrase in our culture. But the substance and complexity of
the play can’t be encapsulated in these five unequivocal words.
The central
problem is that “A Few Good Men” is far more effective through the lens of film
than it is as live theater. Playwright Aaron Sorkin’s script is the story’s
great, abiding strength, but in play form, it is also a glaring weakness. The
dialogues possess singular crackling wit, brisk pacing, and a conversational
tone that reveals insightful character quirks even as it provides
nuts-and-bolts plot points. In and of itself, this would be a major boon to any
play. But this kind of intimate repartee is best suited for the one-to-one
intensity of interaction typically captured in deliberately cropped, close
camera angles. It doesn’t work as well in the wide-open spaces of the stage,
where a more declamatory style in key moments can more actively engage the
audience. On film, subtleties in characters’ exchanges with one another can be
more fully articulated, and a compelling score can communicate even more.
None of
these advantages were afforded the Blackfriars
Theater cast — nor would it be granted to any ensemble of live actors — so the
performers were saddled with a severe disadvantage, over which they have no control.
Despite these limitations, Hoskins has a firm grasp of the dramatic tenor of
the play: Is institutional morality justified when serving “the greater good?”
Is there ever a situation in which mistreatment of a person is acceptable under
the auspices of honor and duty?
The cast
does an equally admirable job fleshing out the ethical conundrum at the core of
Sorkin’s play, but a few standout performances resonate especially well. In the
role of Lance Corporal Harold W. Dawson, Sam Carter perfectly embodies a man
marooned by his own principles, which seem alien, misguided, even
reckless in the eyes of the one person able to rescue him from his predicament.
The rescuer,
Lieutenant J.G. Daniel A. Kaffee, is a cocky,
underachieving lawyer who finds his previously cavalier attitude toward his
work and the people he defends suddenly ineffective when he is fighting for the
lives of military men who maintain they were following orders. The role of Kaffee is the obvious linchpin of the play: the audience
must see a transformation in the young lawyer — a formerly selfish and small
individual who has risen to his responsibility, internalized the plight of the
accused, and become a bigger man in the process.
E.J. Cantu’s
interpretation of Kaffee is fully formed,
three-dimensional, and by the end of the play, engrossing. Cantu has a rich and
diverse emotional palette, which he uses here to detail the intangible process
of a man formed by his experiences, rising above the anxiety, fear, and panic
that threatens to swallow him. Kevin Sweeney is every bit the gruff,
intractable Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Jessep, even
channeling Nicholson’s defiant sneer.
The play
itself merely scratches the surface of the inner motivations of the accused
Marines. It doesn’t truly address where their convictions and strict value
system originate within themselves. While such an exploration may have made
for a far more interesting drama, the Blackfriars
Theatre production is more than sufficient in excavating the depths of Sorkin’s
play as it stands.
This article appears in Sep 9-15, 2015.
