 Media Credit: Sakura Kelley
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 Media Credit: Sakura Kelley
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 Media Credit: Sakura Kelley
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Contributing Writer
What has made Fordham's Experimental Theatre a success in the past has been its willingness to put on shows that are outside the norm of regular theatre. Performing a stage production of John Hughes' 1985 film The Breakfast Club thus seems like a good idea, something that falls under F.E.T.'s requisite that a show be, in some way, experimental. The scenes in The Breakfast Club film mostly consist of dialogue and are set in the same room, making the film something that could easily be translated to the stage. However, F.E.T.'s transition from the screen to the stage failed to live up to its potential.
What made the film so successful was the development of the characters from strangers to comrades during their nine-hour detention on a Saturday, a facet of the story that the play's cast and director were either not aware of or failed to show onstage. Instead of seeing the characters onstage go through the appropriate evolutions, the audience saw them go through little or no change. Instead of progressing along an arc that built up to a climax, the show flat-lined from start to finish. At the end, the audience is supposed to believe that the characters have undergone enough bonding and relationship building that they have broken through the boundaries and labels of a "brain," an "athlete," a "basket case," a "princess," and a "criminal." None of this was evident in the performance, and the audience was left wondering how in the world these characters could ever become friends when they had remained stagnant throughout the show.
The component of The Breakfast Club that is supposed to incite these changes is the way that the characters pour their hearts out to each other. However, many of the actors failed to make it seem like these characters were doing anything but speaking words in the cramped Blackbox theatre. Sure, they shouted when they were angry, sounded somber when they were sad, and were energetic at the appropriate moments, but at no point did several of the actors make any of those moments seem real to the audience. On several occasions, particularly during crucial scenes, I caught actors faking, or playing emotions that they were not feeling at the time.
For example, during the monologue in which Andrew, "the brain," played by Michael O'Mara, FCRH '09, tells the others how his father pushes him too hard to be a "winner," O'Mara shouted, pounded his fists into his knees, and put his head into his hands as if he was on the verge of tears, but at no moment during that speech did I feel as if O'Mara was close to feeling that level of intense emotion, if he was feeling any at all. He was faking, playing the emotions because the lines seemed like they called for anger and sadness, rather than being in the moment and actually feeling the emotions. Crying is one of the hardest things for an actor to pull off if he or she is not in the moment; if you are not there emotionally, meaning you yourself are not on the verge of crying, then you should play an appropriate alternate emotion that you can get into rather than forcing crying sounds or wiping away imaginary tears.
Arielle Ranalli, FCRH '11, who played the part of Claire, was also guilty of faking emotions onstage, particularly during the scenes in which Bender (Dan LoPreto, FCRH '11) verbally attacked her. She would speak the lines with the intent of sounding upset, but she too was never truly in the moment. Ranalli did have some not-so-bad moments, such as when Claire gives Allison an on-the-spot makeover, but on the whole she was forgettable. Clare Leonard, FCRH '08, who played Allison, seemed to inhabit her character better than some of the others, but she too was forgettable.
LoPreto, as Bender, seemed to think that acting and drama could be portrayed by pausing every third word ("Does … Barry Manilow … know … you raid … his wardrobe?"), which made him seem more like the asthma-plagued Stevie from "Malcom in the Middle" rather than like a tough guy. He also appeared uncomfortable onstage, perhaps because of the specificity of the blocking in the show.
Vincent Pizzimenti, FCRH '09, however, was wonderful as Brian, seeming to be the most emotionally honest actor onstage. The moment when he told the others why he was in detention was the only poignant moment in the show. He even went so far as to create a character voice, which made his performance all the more endearing.
Ironically, the best all-around moments were those with Vernon the principal and Carl the janitor, played by Conor Sullivan, FCRH '09 and Jason Simmons, FCRH '09, respectively. Both actors seemed to have created living, breathing characters and had mastered the comedic timing that was necessary for their parts instead of reciting lines in a forced emotional state.
A lack of direction or a sense of professionalism may have been what stopped the show from reaching its potential. Maybe it was trying to force certain aspects from the movie into the production, such as voiceovers, instead of tweaking them for the stage, but what I think hindered the performance was F.E.T.'s most recent habit of casting people who are friends of those in charge of each show. Before this show, the cast members were already friends with both the director and each other, or one or two of the actors had cast the director in another show, ergo they were cast in this one. By restricting the cast list to the same group of friends each show, F.E.T. limits what it is capable of doing. Sure, people who are already friends will seem to have better chemistry, but that does not mean that they will give better performances because of it. To put on better shows, the people with the best auditions need to be cast and social connections must be forgotten. For F.E.T. to go back to what made it a success, good performances of shows that are outside the theatrical norm, the "dream team" of acting and directing buddies needs to be broken up. Otherwise, more shows will end up like The Breakfast Club.
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