Theatre in Review: The Devil's Disciple (Gingold Theatrical Group/Theatre Row)David Staller, who directed this revival of George Bernard Shaw's comedy of the American Revolution, is also listed as the production's adaptor but, really, he is being too modest: He is all but the co-author of this version of The Devil's Disciple. It's a bold gambit that pays limited dividends; in trying to force the text into a feminist statement, he end up in some mighty odd contortions. And -- drat it all -- he has been overtaken by recent events. An early commercial success for Shaw, The Devil's Disciple plays with the conventions of stage melodrama, constructing a sparkling comedy out of war, civilian occupation, and one character's startling, Sydney Carton-like, gesture. That would be Dick Dudgeon, a rascal, cast out by his family, who -- to the shock of his pious, thin-lipped mother -- is revealed to be his late father's principal heir. (This is Shaw having a good time; no proper stage shocker of the era could do without a reading-of-the-will scene.) Still, it is wartime, Dick's father and uncle have been hanged by the British, and he expects he may be next. When he is arrested, however, it is by mistake: His captors believe he is Anthony Anderson, a Presbyterian minister suspected of subversive activities. Shockingly, he refuses to truthfully identify himself. No one is more horrified by this twist than Judith, Anthony's wife, who finds herself unwelcomely drawn to a reprobate while wondering where her husband has run off to. It's a classic Shavian paradox -- a rogue willing to sacrifice himself in a Christlike manner and a man of the cloth who embraces his inner firebrand, the young woman torn between them dealing with a wildly spinning head -- staged against the background of an emerging country bursting with individualist impulses. (The rough energy of America is starkly compared with ossified British attitudes in the riotous court scene that provides the play's climax.) Notably, The Devil's Disciple is, arguably, one of his most conventionally masculine plays; next to the commanding heroines of The Philanderer, Candida, and Man and Superman, Judith is something of a weak sister, prone to tears and startled expressions. Staller, however, has reconceived The Devil's Disciple as a vest-pocket production featuring a cast of five women. He has added a framing device in which a contemporary narrator, rooting around in her family's attic, finds a diary belonging to Judith, her distant ancestor. As she reads, the rest of the cast bursts through the upstage chifforobe and the play begins. Well, sort of: The action has been trimmed and every time things get interesting, we get kicked out of the play for another round of Shaw Story Time. For example, the narrator says, "Now, I'm not sure how Judith Anderson and the Reverend actually met. It doesn't say. And no matter what Mrs. Dudgeon says, I don't know if it was a love match. But here Judith Anderson writes that: 'My life changed that morning, in ways I may never fully understand'." (That comment would seem to come from Daphne du Maurier's The Devil's Disciple, not Shaw's.) This Reader's Digest Condensed Books approach becomes a positive irritation, providing little more than a constant flow of editorializing. If one must do an all-female Devil's Disciple, this quintet onstage at Theatre Row possesses the technique to handle Shaw's contentious arguments and abrasive wit. But the headlong pace of Staller's direction doesn't allow for much nuance. Nadia Brown sneers with brio as Dick but she doesn't fully embrace his humor nor does she effectively scale down her approach in more intimate scenes with Judith; it's a strong, oratorical, but ultimately one-note performance. Folami Williams ricochets with ease between narrating the action and playing Judith, but the character is one of Shaw's least interesting women. Tina Chilip is solid as Anderson and as the major who plays straight man at "Anthony's" (really Dick's) trial. Teresa Avia Lim, a naturally witty performer, has fun in several roles. The standout is Susan Cella looking prune-faced and casting maledictions on one and all as Mrs. Dudgeon and nibbling with satisfaction on her lines as the British General Burgoyne, who sits in on the trial, offering plenty of amusing color commentary. (Martyrdom, he notes, "is the only way in which a man can become famous without ability." He also rejects Dick's request for a firing squad, noting that, given the sharpshooting abilities of the average British solider, the execution is certain to be a dismal failure.) It seems clear that Staller planned this production with a Kamala Harris victory in mind as a celebration the power of women. Seeing the show the night after the election, with an audience plausibly still in shock, many of the interpolated lines -- "America needs strong women if we're going to get anything done!" and "It's time for women to take the stage" -- had us laughing out the other side of our mouths. Dick's fiery speech about America as "a land where we will never again open the door to tyranny, and every person's life holds the promise of purpose and value and an open heart" and "a land that will never be home to kings or tyrants or demagogues!" now ring strangely hollow. Still, Lindsay Genevieve Fuori's set, with its cracked plaster and multi-level staircase, fits the production's conceit; it is lit with unobtrusive skill by Jamie Roderick, who also provides some flashy lightning effects. Tracy Christensen's costumes rely on khaki pants and white blouses plus smartly tailored redcoats for the British soldiers; in an amusing touch, General Burgoyne's jacket is decorated with glittering broaches. Julian Evans' sound design includes Patti Smith's "People Have the Power" plus a fife-and-drum corps, melodies from a music box, thunder, and a specially devised cue that covers the transitions between the narration and play proper. There's something touchingly optimistic about the impulse behind this production, although even with Harris on the way to the White House, much of it might seem questionable. I suppose some in the audience will be cheered by The Devil's Disciple, seeing it as a rousing call to arms. But I wonder if Staller might not start looking at some of Shaw's darker works for the next Gingold production. Or, in the future, he might wait to throw a theatrical party until after the winner is in the bag. History, I fear, is a fickle friend; as the great playwright himself once noted, you never can tell. --David Barbour 
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