| I’m late to this one, but what a nice surprise. Epiphany is a sort of manifestation of course, a moment when we know something we didn’t know before. In Christianity, it’s the realization of the divine. Either way, wonder informs both meanings, wonder that we live and wonder that we die. Watkins’ play manages to retain a current of mysticism about how we live now and how we still always, must always, die. It sounds bleak, but part of the play’s appeal is its steady humor and, in particular, its celebration of human idiosyncracy. Everyone here is a bit strange, most especially the central character (Burke, ceaselessly beguiling) who is dear and maybe deranged. And all are uniquely sad. James Joyce’s THE DEAD is the template, and Watkins adheres closely to its structure but contemporizes it. Here, no one can dance, or sing, or remember a poem; loneliness is less personal than it is collective. Technology and expanding despair have erased community. The play is well directed and, if it’s a bit broad at times, it is yet a model of ensemble invention and synchrony. EPIPHANY--not a good title but apt enough--is a trenchant reminder that, before we disappear, what we have, all we have, is each other. |
