STAGE REVIEW : A Poignant Reminder of Riddle of Death

Why do people have to die? And is there any escape?

In “Johnny Pye and the Foolkiller,” Stephen Vincent Benet tells the story of a young boy, Johnny Pye, who spends much of his life trying to evade death, whom he knows as a Foolkiller that only he can see.

The show, now in a new musical adaptation by Mark St. Germain and Randy Courts at the Lamb’s Players Theatre, is a rousing and poignant reminder of the ancient riddle of death. It tracks Pye from his childhood when he first meets the Foolkiller, and follows Pye through years when he tries to escape death by running away from his roots.

But death always walks one step behind him, striking down people he knows. Eventually he returns to the small town he came from and marries the girl he loves; the odyssey of the first act gives way in the second act to a seriocomic “Our Town,” pulsating with a fear of death. Pye never ceases searching for ways to outwit the Foolkiller when he comes again.

What makes “Johnny Pye and the Foolkiller” special is not just the fine production of this West Coast premiere by the talented Lamb’s Players Theatre ensemble.

In part it is the vivid anthropomorphization of the Angel of Death, even though Benet was not the first or the last to do this. Herakles-Hercules fought an emissary of death in Greek-Roman mythology. Even contemporary writers have come up with a variety of names and images in varying degrees of seriousness to humanize the concept. Ingmar Bergman had a knight play chess with him in “The Seventh Seal,” Woody Allen wrote about a character playing gin rummy with him in “Death Knocks,” Bernard Malamud portrayed him as a fishy smelling fellow named Ginzburg in “Idiots First.”

Still, the Foolkiller in “Johnny Pye” provides an unforgettable image of a long-haired craftsman, sharpening knives on a stone, admiring the sparks as they fly like so many sparks of life. As played by Tim Peirson, he is neither an angel of anger or malice. He is simply a messenger following orders. “Nothing personal,” he tells Johnny Pye at one point when the boy sees him take someone away. “She’s suffering,” he explains at another time, when he comes to take Johnny’s wife away.

Deborah Gilmour Smyth’s sensitive direction keeps an often predictable flow of events moving gracefully. One doesn’t always mind seeing the expected dance steps when those steps are done so well. The ensemble cast of Lamb’s regulars David Cochran Heath and Cynthia Peters as well as R. Douglas Smith and Mark Topor play their multiple parts well, segueing in and out of a score by Randy Courts that is more pleasing than powerhouse.

Most cleverly, the two charming, fresh-faced children actors, Danica Jones and Jason Russell who play young Suzy and young Johnny Pye, interchange with the mature and consistently warm and engaging Kerry Cederberg Meads and Mike Buckley, as the adult Suzy and Johnny Pye.

The young and mature actors replace each other sometimes in mid-step, like square dance partners do-si-do-ing over generations: Buckley as Johnny Pye’s father and Russell as young Johnny; Mike Buckley as the grown Johnny and Russell as his son and later grandson and great-grandson.

And for comic relief, Tom Stephenson is Wilbur, the town weasel who will do anything to get Suzy and to get ahead--no apologies proffered--he is what he amusingly is.

Buckley, who also doubles as Lamb’s resident set designer, here designed a wonderfully unfussy set of curving wooden planks and a suggestion of a tree; the simplicity handsomely serves the mythic nature of the story and is well lit by Jerald Enos. Jeanne Reith’s costumes provide inviting color and warmth. The music, directed by Todd Neal, falters in the opening scenes, but soon picks up confidence and style. The accompaniment by Mark Manning in an overhead booth serves the show well.

This show is likely to touch a nerve in anyone who has railed against the unfairness of death or lost someone he or she hopes to see again. The show may be disturbing to those who resist the symbolism here and comforting to those who embrace it.

But to its credit, even for the comforted, the show does not provide easy answers. Being able to see the Angel of Death does not make death seem any less inevitable. But it does put a human face on an unknowable terror and so, gives the relief of making that final act seem negotiable--if only for the briefest and most illusory of times.

‘JOHNNY PYE AND THE FOOLKILLER’

Book by Mark St. Germain from the story by Stephen Vincent Benet. Music by Randy Courts. Directed by Deborah Gilmour Smyth. Musical direction by Todd Neal. Set by Mike Buckley. Costumes by Jeanne Reith. Lighting by Jerald Enos. Musical accompaniment by Mark Manning. Stage manager is Sonja Anderson. With Mike Buckley, David Cochran Heath, Danica Jones, Kerry Cederberg Meads, Cynthia Peters, Tim Peirson, Jason Russell, R. Douglas Smith, Tom Stephenson and Mark Topor. At 8 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday, with Saturday matinees at 2 and one Sunday matinee Nov. 11. Through Nov. 11. At 500 Plaza Blvd., National City, (619) 474-4542.