THEATER REVIEW : ‘Old Wicked Songs’ Strikes an Intelligent, Moving Tone

The Geffen Playhouse opened its second full season on Wednesday night with confidence and style after a rocky first year. Where last season began with a gutsy play (“Quills”) that was badly cast and directed, the Playhouse now opens with Jon Marans’ “Old Wicked Songs,” a well-made, two-character play far tamer in nature.

No one wants to see this important venue put on only safe works or become exclusively an importer of productions (this one comes from New York’s Barrow Group), but “Songs” also happens to be an intelligent play, beautifully produced, at times funny, at times moving. Designed by Markas Henry, the play’s set, an old-world Viennese apartment turned shabby with age, looks lovely and snug in the handsome theater, casting a warm glow of civilization on the evening.

Stephen Hoffman (Justin Kirk) is an arrogant young American pianist who has come to study voice with professor Mashkan (Hal Robinson), an elderly man who is holding onto solvency about as successfully as his apartment, where brush strokes of grime cover intricate moldings. The year is 1986; Kurt Waldheim is running for president. A promising musician, Stephen has pianist-block, and he has been sent to study voice with Mashkan as a kind of humbling exercise, to find his way back to the piano with a greater understanding of the instrument.

Together the men work on the Robert Schumann/Heinrich Heine song cycle, “Dichterliebe.” They play it, sing it and discuss it (Robinson supplies his own piano, while Kirk’s playing is recorded--in either case, the sound, by Red Ramona, is incredibly good). In “Dichterliebe” a heartbroken man goes through trials of the heart to find his way out of heartbreak and grief. This journey is gently limned in the relationship of the musician and his teacher, and the music is woven throughout the play with great sensitivity and intelligence.

Just as “Dichterliebe” is a duet between a piano and a human voice, “Old Wicked Songs” is a duet between the older and younger men, and what they both have to learn and to teach. Under the direction of Seth Barrish, Kirk and Robinson play off of each other beautifully. Kirk is astringent, with a modernist unreadability. His Stephen is a constricted young man who at first feels comfortable only in a pressed suit and tie. His voice is uninflected, both in speaking and singing. He sometimes looks like a circumspect turtle, barely sticking out his head, thinking over everything, revealing nothing.

Looking like the proverbial shaggy professor in his cardigan and bushy eyebrows, Robinson is messier, emotional. His pain is burnished with a cranky quality. Their timing is calibrated like an old-time soft shoe number. One recurring routine in which Mashkan offers his student pastries is priceless--inevitably, one man underplays while the other pushes, and the result is hilarious in a deeply satisfying way.

Both characters harbor secrets. The second act bears the brunt of those secrets, and each one unfortunately smacks of the playwright’s hand at work. Further, in the second act, Marans deals specifically with the Holocaust, and any playwright who incorporates the Holocaust, or any tragedy of ungodly proportion, has a special responsibility to avoid using it as a dramatic shortcut of any kind. This Marans does, as a bridge between Stephen’s stasis and his catharsis.

After a visit to Dachau, which is of course something no one can ever be prepared for, the formerly noncommunicative but bright young man delivers a monologue that implies he has never before thought deeply about the Holocaust, which, even at 25, doesn’t seem likely for someone of Stephen’s education and general intellectual bent. His bitterness that the exhibits at the concentration camp are not more clearly footnoted (as if they did not speak very loudly for themselves) or at finding a brochure that invites him to discover the charms of the town of Dachau actually comes off as glib, instead of deeply tortured and anguished, as intended. Though these may be heartfelt passages, they are the laziest in an otherwise considered and rich play.

In the end, “Old Wicked Songs” makes itself worthy of Schumann’s depth. The last scene, before a more heartwarming coda closes up shop, digs deeply and without glibness into the subject of unfathomable grief. Kirk is particularly brilliant in this section, which is wordless, perhaps the only way to do justice to the specters raised by Marans.

At first, “Old Wicked Songs” looks as if it’s going to be a play about a crusty old codger and an arrogant young man and how they’re both going to teach each other and open each other up. It turns out to be exactly what it looked like, but with unexpected turns, and the exquisite music of Schumann guiding the path.

* “Old Wicked Songs,” Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood, Tuesdays-Thursdays, 7:30 p.m.; Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 4 and 8:30 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends Nov. 2. $33.50-$37.50. (310) 208-5454, (800) 678-5440. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.

Hal Robinson: Professor Josef Mashkan

Justin Kirk: Stephen Hoffman

Presented by the Geffen Playhouse in association with Daryl Roth and Jeffrey Ash. By Jon Marans. Directed by Seth Barrish. Sets and costumes Markas Henry. Lights Howard Werner. Sound Red Ramona. Production stage manager James T. McDermott.