The Wake

Edgardo Mine, the Guthrie Theater’s latest play, is based on the true story of a Jewish boy who was kidnapped from his home, and the ensuing struggle between his family and the Catholic Church. This led me to the assumption that it was going to be a real tearjerker. I’m a fairly open crier, you see. If I was going to have to sit through whole acts of stolen children, unreasonably racist religious establishments and a family struggling in vain, I surely should have flooded the theater with tears. But as the curtain was drawn, my fears were put to rest. Within moments the pope was cracking jokes, and I could tell I was in for an evening that was anything but ordinary. The play was as unconventionally beautiful as the theatre it was being held in.

In my comfy red seat, I let the overwhelming effects of the Guthrie take over. As the pope and his legion of Cardinals and alter boys took the stage, I didn’t just listen to their atmospheric “Amen’s;” I felt the vibrations as their voices in perfect unison resonated off the walls behind me. I couldn’t simply observe the glow of their holy candles; I breathed it in as the room filled with its aroma of warm incense. The McGuire proscenium stage, with its alluring red glow, seemed like the only theater that could have done this performance true justice.

The set consisted of high-arching, seamlessly situated cathedral pillars. The outfits adorning members of the church put the audience into a state of disbelief (in a word, “perfection”). Brian Murray, playing the role of Pope Pius IX, proved himself to be a real ham. Some scenes would call for him to thicken the tension with a quick switch from comedy to fury. Believably cruel when scheming under-handedly, he would effortlessly change moods and quickly fill the room with middle to old-aged giggles.

The play’s most powerful acting, though, came from Jennifer Reganin in her role as Marianna Mortara. She wore so many different shoes, you might have mistaken her for one of those girls on MTV’s “My Super Sweet Sixteen” (who are all, for the record, terrible, terrible people). She starts the play as a young woman, set to get out and experience the excitement of city living. Not long after, she’s a tired mother, with hands near worked to the bone. She’s an obedient wife, who knows her place in society. She’s a proud Jew, who cherishes her scorned ethnicity. She’s a nervous wreck. She’s strong willed in the face of adversity. She’s broken hearted. She’s crafty and shrewd. Basically, she’s one hell of an actress.

Aside from the sterling cast, several other areas of the production are equally as deserving of praise. The play flowed from scene to scene with the snap of a finger. There was no fading to black, the faint noise of shuffling feet as the scenery is readjusted. From one moment to the next, they’d have you believe an entire journey to Rome was accomplished. But it worked. Oh, did it ever work. The fast pace sequenced perfectly with the hustle and bustle of retrieving their kidnapped son. The themes in this play were surprisingly universal, given the mid-1800s setting. Racial inequality, sexism, the restlessness of youth, a family at odds, a marriage gone to shambles and the use of religion to justify that which is clearly not. These are things nearly as prominent today as they were some 150 years ago. The dialogue was also a real treat. I got the feeling that one is prone to get after seeing A Clockwork Orange. With comments such as, “The Empress will treasure your sentiments” and “We receive only the suspicion and insolence inherent to their kind,” it’s enough to make you wish you didn’t say “like” a minimum of three times a sentence.

I always enjoy learning about history I haven’t yet discovered. And when it’s laid out in such a slick and powerful manor, at such a romantic and celebrated venue, it’s quite a ride.