La Bete

There's not a whole lot to say about a show that opened months ago that hasn't already been said. But I won't let that stop me. When La Bete was announced for Broadway, very little about it appealed to me. Sure, Mark Rylance is supposed to be one of the greatest living stage actors, but I already missed him in Boeing-Boeing, and that didn't kill me. And Joanna Lumley's great, but let's face it: I'd really be going to see AbFab's Patsy, not the actual actress. David Hyde Pierce is charming, but I've seen him before and found him very talented but wasn't desperate to get back. And the play. The play! Written entirely in verse (shudder), it was loathed when it first played Broadway, and it sounded like a big wad of pretentious. The character name Elomire is an anagram for Moliere. The title's in French. Did I mention it's in verse? And besides, the whole thing is a comedy about the division between fine art and crass commercialism. It sounded like I'd be beat over the head with a single point for just shy of two hours. And that point would rhyme.

But I sucked it up last night and attended for two main reasons: too many people had told me that Mark Rylance's nearly 40-minute monologue was a thing of sheer amazement for me not to have my curiosity piqued. And having already earned raves for this, he's going to be back on Broadway later this Spring with another role he played in London and earned raves for. The chance to see a master actor do one intensely comedic and one seriously dramatic role nearly back to back? That was intriguing. With the clock ticking to the January 9th closing, I headed to TKTS and snagged a ticket in the third row of the half-empty theater.

So...where to start? I mean, I'm not at all surprised that this was reviled when it first opened. Between the extraordinary monologue and the play within a play in the last half hour, there's a solid half hour where the air seemed to be completely let out of the show. It just tries SO hard. And it DOES beat you over the head with its point. But but but...goddamned if the performances weren't exquisite enough to save the whole thing.

That monologue! WTF, Mark Rylance? No one should be able to land that many laughs so consistently for so long. I checked the time twice, not because I wanted it to end, but because I was actually dazzled that it was still going. I started to think (and hope) it might never end. It's so funny, so grotesque, so perfectly done, that there's precious little chance anything after the fact can compare. In the words of the person directly behind me upon the end of the speech, "Holy. Shit."

As for the point of the show, suffice to say that even though it's filled with fart jokes and lots of other low humor, it goes on to explain that we really need artists with integrity who won't compromise. Which I think is true. I wish it were slightly less damning of the joys of popular entertainment (since, let's face it, any play that has a man shitting just offstage while two onlookers are aghast) isn't exactly the height of respectability and integrity. I like to think there's room for balance, partly because I make my living off popular entertainment. Partly because I went home from La Bete and watched Bridalplasty. But on the other hand, if it weren't for intellects and committed artists, both groups which are quietly denigrated at this particular moment in time, the world would be less rich.

Of course, now that I've seen La Bete, I'm super bummed that I missed Boeing-Boeing, and I now feel like I absolutely have to see him in Jerusalem when it begins in April. A perfect performance makes a decidedly imperfect play into a complete and total joy. I walked out grinning like a moron. And besides all that, Joanna Lumley's entrance--all regal music, wind machines, and gold confetti strewn across the stunning set of stories-high book cases--was such a beautiful moment to watch, even if it was just cheap pageantry.