“Why do people still write letters when there’s the telephone? People don’t make silent movies anymore…”
– Richard Greenberg’s Night And Her Stars
One of the characters in Richard Greenberg’s Night And Her Stars ponders this dichotomy—writing as communication versus writing as speaking—in a play about the now infamous rigging of the 1950’s quiz show Twenty One, on stage now at The Garage Theater in Downtown Long Beach.
The same question could be asked about why people still write plays when there’s the cinema, or a bit more apropos for Night And Her Stars, when there’s television.
At its best, Greenberg’s historical fiction answers this latter question; at its worst, it leaves you asking one. People still write plays for a multitude of reasons, but most seem to share a common opinion—that the telling of their narrative would resonate more poignantly by employing theatricality and an audience’s imagination. I would like to say that Night And Her Stars is a perfect example of this line of thinking, even though Greenberg’s play can be a little uneven and heavy-handed at times. There are of course also moments of insight and beauty however, and sometimes its heavy-handedness and beauty function simultaneously. It is these moments that are perhaps the play’s most fascinating.
As should now be expected from The Garage Theater In Collision with Alive Theater, the results of this current production are resourceful, creative and, at times, even transcendent.
For those of you unfamiliar with the historic events on which this play is based, I’ll recap a little bit for you: set in 1956, the action is centered around an actual television quiz show called Twenty One and the rigging of its contestants success by the show’s producers; it was also made into a critically-acclaimed film by Robert Redford in 1994 titled Quiz Show. As the play begins, the audience is introduced to their master of ceremonies and guide, Twenty One’s main producer Dan Enright, who is played here by the superlative Robert Edward. We then meet the first of Twenty One’s two most famous contestants, the frantic and socially awkward Herbert Stempel (Anthony Galleran) and later, the bookish, and subtler Charles Van Doren (Sumner Leveque).
Stempel is a bit of a loose cannon but seems harmless enough for Mr. Enright to entice him not only into appearing on the quiz show, but into having the answers to the questions fed to him as well. When the public response begins to slip from Stempel’s favor, Enright decides it’s time the show finds a new and more palatable contestant, a role in which he installs Mr. Van Doren who goes on to become the show’s longest running champion.
Mr. Van Doren’s moral dilemma in becoming the game show’s new (rigged) hero and Stempel’s desperation upon suddenly being cast off of the show create much of the drama in Night And Her Stars, but as we already know the end results, the action is a little drawn out and the book a little over long for the play to be as compulsively watchable as its potential suggests.
However, Greenberg’s script gives us a lot to chew on in regards to the effect television has had on our society, and the way in which this television scandal reflects the political manipulations of the two decades that follow the play’s action is uncanny.
There are many great things to speak of in The Garage’s production but the aforementioned performance of Robert Edward as Dan Enright is possibly this production’s greatest asset. Mr. Edward’s portrayal is bewitching and sinister. He is able to embody the smooth-talking soothsayer of the era in a style that is both overtly theatrical and surprisingly human. You can understand why the contestants and fellow co-workers trusted him, just as easily as you can see his underlying venom. This is a masterful performance and while Edward is on stage, where he usually sits overlooking the action even if he isn’t participating in it, the show is in good hands.
The rest of the cast turns in some excellent work as well. Anthony Galleran is perfect as Herbert Stempel, projecting a neurotic, almost manic energy that is off-putting and engaging simultaneously. His Stempel has enough balance to give the character some real empathetic undertones as well, something that is essential to not only the believability of his character but to the infrastructure of the play itself.
Sumner Leveque is also excellent as Charles Van Doren, by far the play’s most humane and empathetic character. Mr. Leveque exerts a quirky, geeky charm to the role of Van Doren early on, but as his conscious catches up with him and he starts to feel affected and overtaken by his participation with the quiz show, his performance really blossoms. The final scene of the play, a beautiful if heavy-handed allegory for the end of the pre-television era could easily come across as melodramatic if Van Doren isn’t played just right. Luckily, Mr. Leveque as well as a touching turn by Stephen Alkus as Van Doren’s father really hit it out of the park.
The rest of the ensemble delivers quality work but only Matthew V. Julian is fully convincing in each of his various roles, most memorably as the quiz show’s oblivious host, Jack Barry.
The set design by Yuri Okahana and the lighting design by Yammy Swoot both serve the text and space well, as do the projections (unlisted), which really tie the action together beautifully. The magical change of scene at the end and the moment where Stemple and his wife share a bed draped in television static are just two of many memorable moments.
My only gripe with the set is that a separate box from Enright’s main office is created to serve as the playing space for the quiz show. Separating this space physically, instead of merely creating the effect with lighting, limits the playing space at times and sometimes made the happenings inside of either location feel cramped and awkward. I also kept worrying that one of the cast members would miss their footing slightly and fall between both set pieces. In a small space, it is always best to make as much effort as possible to keep things from feeling cramped. I think perhaps this would have been a more practical choice.
The play was directed by Matt Anderson with assistant directing by Robert Young, and together the two create an almost pitch-perfect interpretation. The use of space is resourceful and inspired and the pace is kept brisk to the benefit of the material. There is a keen understanding of the tone these characters need to posses in order to come across as human and relatable. Likewise, the directors understand the theatricality necessary for the more artful and abstract moments of the play to register as well.
The only time the direction missteps is when the play slips into blatant satire. The evangelical broadcast early in act one and the gibberish mumblings of the court that tries Mr. Van Doren near the play’s conclusion are two rare examples when the play feels overtly obvious and pandering. Happily though, these moments are few and far between.
“What was life like before television?” is a question asked again and again over the course of Night And Her Stars. For whatever it’s worth, the entirety of this cast, as well as most of the audience at the Thursday night performance I attended, will never know the answer, at least, not in a first-hand sort of way. While the evils of technology and the distancing of ourselves from the natural world is a concern for every generation, there will forever be a deep running and primal humanity that ties each of us together.
As time goes on and old patters and rhythms of life are diminished and forgotten, it is comforting to know that here, in Long Beach California, in a small store front on 7th Street and Long Beach Boulevard, a group of people still gather to partake in a ritual that extends beyond the newest technologies of our time, and even beyond that of the era of television.
Night And Her Stars may be imperfect, but it offers us a good dose of insight and humanness in an era that many may believe is over-saturated with distractions. May those who never check their phones when they’re out with friends, or stay in to watch a TV show instead of going for a walk, cast the first stone.
Editor’s note: this article misstated the title of this play as The Night and Her Stars rather than Night and Her Stars and the television show as 21 rather than Twenty One.