STAGE REVIEW : A ‘Temptation’ Without Passion

It’s all there in the title. Dissident Czech playwright Vaclav Havel is nothing if not direct. His “Temptation” at the Mark Taper Forum is about many aspects of the word: the forces that draw us deeper into the wrong kind of obedience, and those that tempt us away into areas of self and other knowledge. Good knowledge and bad--depending on where you are when, who you are and what is expected of you.

Like the other Havel plays seen in Los Angeles (“A Private View,” “Largo Desolato”), “Temptation” re-creates that indeterminate police-state atmosphere of doubt and insecurity, where Big Brother is always watching and no one is ever at ease. But this time Havel has wandered into more fantastic territory, moving into the realm of the metaphysical to make his anti-totalitarian stand. He shows us the torture of self-doubt under pressure, lending it color, body and a voice in a re-enactment of the Faust legend.

Stylistically speaking, this is a real departure for Havel, whose work until now--or what we’ve had of it--has been firmly anchored in a Kafkaesque reality. Absurdist but concrete.

With “Temptation,” we enter a realm of repression that reaches beyond politics to the frontiers of man’s conscience. It’s not enough that there are external constraints in the so-called real and politicized world. What about the inner ones of the soul? Those we impose on ourselves? What about our weaknesses--those haunting, nagging “temptations” from within?

The result is a more theatrical play than Havel’s previous ones--down to some vibrantly colorful scenes and costumes (the creations of Csilla Marki) at the end. But as staged here by Richard Jordan, “Temptation” remains willfully dry and--as most plays of protest seem condemned to be--a bit obvious, both in terms of the dialogue (most often explicit) and of its symbolism.

The place is a generic scientific institute in Prague. (John Iacovelli did the eclectic sets that include a giant fountain pen hanging, Damocletian--get it?--diagonally over the stage before the action begins, returning to that position as the play winds to its conclusion.)

Our protagonist is Henry Foustka (Mark Harelik), one of the young scientists, who tries to walk a fine line between the pure and occult sciences, goodness and badness, loyalties to his superiors--and/or to himself. His supernatural dabblings have the predictable result of provoking a visit from a poisonous little devil. He’s the well-named Fistula (Robin Gammell), a ubiquitous, Chaplinesque fellow who smells like Limburger cheese and who, like his aroma, won’t go away now that he’s here.

We watch Foustka/Faust, a former favorite, lose ground in the hermetic environs of the institute he serves--a sycophantic world of whispering Special Secretaries (Richard Vidan), unctuous Directors (Michael Constantine), yea-saying Deputy Directors (Ron Campbell) and craven scientists (John Apicella, Savannah Smith Boucher, Tim Pulice).

Since Foustka is fundamentally a bit craven too, his wishy-washy denials and recantations merely backfire when his forbidden experiments are exposed and he is accused of serving other masters.

With Fistula pulling invisible strings, all--er--hell breaks loose: The sweet little secretary Marketa (Keeley Stanley) is fired for trying to defend Foustka; his colleagues jockey shamelessly for his position; his girlfriend, the strong-minded Vilma (Lillian Garrett), is propelled into the arms of another man (Hector Mercado) and, despite Foustka’s efforts at self-redemption (truth juggling and avoidance tactics), havoc results.

A final costume ball, designed to exorcise the very devils that led to the misunderstanding between Foustka and his superiors, is themed as a witches’ sabbath. The institute director, in counterpoint irony, comes dressed as a Pope holding a trident. Here director Jordan goes beyond Havel’s call for a “conspicuous devil” costume and opts, rightly or wrongly, for making his own political statement.

He doesn’t go far enough. In an otherwise well-acted production, Jordan’s staging remains much too restrained. While Harelik, Garrett, Constantine and especially the brilliantly physical Gammell provide juice and color, Jordan doesn’t let the second act rip.

Instead of sweeping to a lurid, phantasmagoric climax, this “Temptation” only gets to the general vicinity--and by degrees. The ending as written specifies a no-holds-barred, rip-roarin’ descent into Hades. But Jordan delivers an entirely too cool and too manicured facsimile.

Just why is hard to tell. We can’t lay these choices at the tired old feet of “different sensibilities.” American theater knows how to be every bit as passionate as its European counterpart. Havel overcame the detachment of the early, didactic scenes to end his play with a deliberate flamboyant flourish of jeering and spent emotion. He got it right. The Taper gets it partly right. That’s all. The disappointment is especially keen because “Temptation” is arguably Havel’s best play to date.

At the Music Center, 135 N. Grand Ave., Tuesdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7:30 p.m.; matinees Saturdays and Sundays at 2:30 p.m. Through Aug. 27. Tickets: $20-$26; (213) 972-7690 or (213) 410-1062. TDD: (213) 680-4017.